Peter Lovesey - The Headhunters

After a pause for thought he said, ‘Suits me,’ and got out.

First base, she thought, and then gave herself a silent reprimand.

Upstairs in the living room Jake said, ‘Nice place.’

‘Not to everyone’s taste,’ she said. ‘The colours are on the strong side, but I like the orange to red range. Shall I take your coat?’

A small courtesy, but the reaction was symbolic of trust when he unzipped the jacket and handed it to her.

‘Have a seat and I’ll get the kettle on.’

Had she prepared for this by some trick of the subconscious? She’d left an unopened packet of chocolate biscuits beside the kettle. She found a plate for them.

‘I seem to remember you like yours black without?’ she called from the kitchen. ‘Put some music on if you like.’

The Lazy Sunday brand of coffee would have to do for Saturday. Humming to herself, she spooned some into the cafetiere and poured on the water. Then she noticed there was a message on the answerphone. Gemma? Unlikely. Gem would have called her mobile. I know who that is, she thought with resignation. Her mother always used the land line.

Jake had chosen her CD of the Goldberg Variations. Glenn Gould, another guy with a personality problem.

‘Do you play?’ she asked as she came in with the tray.

‘Badly.’

‘Better than me. I lasted one week on the violin. My parents were keen for me to learn and that turned me right off. I have a pushy mother, though I have to admit she pushes herself hardest of all. She’s mastered all kinds of skills, from marquetry to martial arts.’

‘I won’t pick a fight,’ he said.

‘Yes, she’d see how tall you are and take you as a challenge. Are your parents anything like that?’

‘Tall?’

‘No. Cringe-making.’

‘Died when I was too young to know them,’ he said.

‘Oh.’ Another gaffe.

‘I was a Barnardo’s boy. Have you heard of it?’

‘I’ve seen the charity shops. That must have been a tough time. Were you in a children’s home?’

He shook his head. ‘They closed all the homes some time ago.’

‘So?’

‘I was fostered, three times.’

‘That’s a lot of changes. Weren’t the parents suitable?’

‘I wasn’t. A right little tearaway.’

She smiled. ‘Hard to imagine.’

‘Oh, yeah? I took advantage. Didn’t settle down until I went to school. Other kids put me in my place, let me know I was different.’

‘Kids are cruel.’

‘I have the hide of a rhino.’ He managed a rare smile while working himself up to say something else. ‘Your mother might knock me over, but she wouldn’t hurt me.’

He did have a sense of humour. ‘She still knows how to needle me,’ Jo said. ‘There’s a message on the answerphone and I’m certain it’s going to be from her. I don’t visit enough for her liking, but when I do she makes me feel guilty.’

‘Do you want to listen?’

‘Right now I’d rather listen to Glenn Gould. And to you. Can I be personal and ask how you and Gemma got together?’ She’d heard it from Gemma already, but his version would be more reliable.

‘I don’t think we did,’ he said with the beginning of a smile. ‘Needed some printing done for my job. Found her firm in the Yellow Pages.’

‘So you visited Kleentext. Who did you meet?’

‘A tough lady on reception.’

‘That would be Hillie. I met her, too. She keeps throwing wingdings, to quote Gem. I think I’ve got the general idea, but I’m not always sure what her expressions mean.’

‘It’s a party, isn’t it?’

‘A wingding? More like some kind of outburst, I think. Yes, from what I saw of Hillie she isn’t the sort to throw a party. Did you get to meet the mysterious Mr Cartwright?’

‘Saw him. He walked through the office. Didn’t speak.’

‘What does he look like?’

‘Dark hair, slicked back. Suit and bow tie. Glasses. Average height.’

‘Bow tie? You know the saying? Dicky bow, no dick below.’ The moment she spoke, Jo wished she hadn’t. It was girl talk, strictly, strictly girl talk, of the sort she’d have a giggle over with Gemma.

‘Haven’t heard that one,’ he said, straight-faced. Then smiled and said, ‘Like fur coat and no knickers.’

‘Much the same, yes.’ He’d spared her blushes and she was grateful for that. ‘And was Fiona about?’

‘I couldn’t tell you. Gemma took over.’

‘I know what you mean. Meeting Gem for the first time is an experience. We were in the same yoga group and for some reason she homed in on me and we were asked to leave for being disruptive. Embarrassing really, but yoga classes are two-a-penny and Gemma’s a one-off. And I’ve interrupted what you were telling me.’

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘You know the rest.’

‘She chatted you up?’

‘Told me I should get a life. Offered to take me bowling. That’s where you came in.’

‘At Chichester Gate. Wasn’t that a strange evening? Rick being difficult and I’m not sure why. Maybe he was miffed about spending the evening with other people. It’s not as if he and I were close. We’d been out together a couple of times and he kept on about this older woman called Sally he’s known for ages who lives in a big house and cooks a roast for him on Sundays, so I was very much the second choice of date, or so I felt. He was totally open about her. I wonder if he’s told Gemma.’

‘Are they going out now?’

‘Rick and Gem? She’s dead keen. He can lay on the charm when he wants. She cleared it with me. We’ll stay friends. Have one of the biscuits.’

‘Thanks.’

‘They’re total opposites,’ she said, ‘so they ought to complement each other, like the two hemispheres of the brain. I never remember which is the intuitive, creative side, but that’s Gemma.’

‘The left.’

‘And Rick is the analytical one. Put them together and you get something formidable. Gemma talks about murdering her boss- which is pretty outrageous-and Rick thinks of ways to go about it. Her ideas are off the wall, but he thinks it through like a chess player. Creepy. He’s harmless, I’m sure, but I felt uncomfortable that evening we discussed it.’

‘The power of suggestion.’

‘Yes, and when I actually discovered a body not long after, it was very weird indeed. Then, on top of that, Fiona dies.’

The phone rang.

She said, ‘Sod it.’

‘Could be important,’ Jake said.

She picked it up and of course the voice was her mother’s. ‘Didn’t you get my message? Does that machine of yours work?’

She carried it through to the kitchen. ‘I only just came in. Is everything all right?’

‘Where were you, then?’

‘Out for a walk. Does it matter where I was? If you want to reach me, Mummy, I carry the mobile almost everywhere. I wrote down the number for you. It’s tucked in with your credit cards.’

‘You haven’t been listening to the radio, then?’

‘No. Is something going on?’

‘You’d better switch it on. Or look at the television. They’ve identified that poor woman you found on the beach. You’d like to know who she was, wouldn’t you?’

‘I suppose, yes. Did they say how she got there?’

‘It’s still a mystery, apparently, but now they know who she is they’ll soon sort it out.’

‘How did they find out?’

‘From the husband. Why don’t I get off the line and let you hear it for yourself?’

One of Mummy’s better suggestions. ‘All right. Take care.’

She stepped back into the living room. ‘I don’t know if you heard. That was my mother. It seems we ought to be listening to local radio. They’ve named the woman I found at Selsey.’