Peter Lovesey: The Headhunters

‘If it’s there, Miss Peabody, we’ll deal with it.’

‘You shouldn’t have let the fallen leaves lie there. It’s a fungus and they’re spreading it.’

‘The roses aren’t really my responsibility, but I’ll pass it on. Oops, I’ve just remembered I should have made a phone call. Excuse me.’

Jo started walking fast, too fast for Miss Peabody. Any direction would do.

She hadn’t gone far when something else brought her to a stop like a cartoon cat. A man in a black leather coat striding up the next aisle. Was it wishful thinking that he was unusually tall? He was in sight for a moment, then hidden behind the camellia display. Automatically her hand went to her hair and checked it. She wasn’t certain this was Jake, but she’d be an idiot not to find out.

At the end of the row she slowed to a dignified walk. Karen, one of the sales staff, was with the man. From the back he looked right. He was tall enough. Please God, she thought. And Karen was clearly having difficulty understanding him.

As if by telepathy, he turned, blinked, frowned, and gave that lopsided smile that made him look as if he’d come from a session at the dentist’s.

Heart pounding, she stepped closer. ‘This gentleman is a friend of mine, Karen. May I help?’

‘Please do.’ For Karen it was as good as the U.S. cavalry arriving. ‘We’ve established that he wants some plant labels. I was about to show him the range, but if you’d like to… ’ She was round that display stand and out of sight before finishing the sentence.

‘This is a surprise, Jake.’

The big man shrugged, but it was a friendly shrug. If nothing else, he remembered her.

‘You didn’t know I work here? No, you wouldn’t.’ She was floundering for the right words, wanting to show how pleased she was without overwhelming him. ‘It’s labels you want, then. Is that to do with the nature reserve? I thought everything grew wild.’

‘Shingle plants,’ he said.

‘Single?’

‘Shingle.’

‘Oh.’ It meant nothing.

‘Sea campion.’

She was all at sea herself.

He struggled to get something else out. ‘Vi-.’ At the second and third attempts he didn’t get past the V. He grimaced and the words came in a rush. ‘Viper’s bugloss.’

How unfortunate after so much effort that she’d never heard of it. ‘I don’t think we stock anything like that.’

He flapped his hand. ‘Labels.’

‘Of course. Labels. Karen said. For some special plants?’

Much nodding.

‘Ah. So people can tell what they are and respect them?’

He nodded again and she breathed a sigh of relief. The point was made and they could move on.

‘I get the idea. You’ll be wanting something easy to read and quite robust.’ She sorted through the selection of plant labels while thinking how she might turn the chance meeting into something more. ‘These might be just the thing, don’t you think? They’re on tall metal spikes, so you’re not tying anything to the plant.’

‘They’ll do.’

‘But you may like to see some others.’

‘How much?’

He wanted to get out fast and it could only be because of shyness. The opportunity was slipping. ‘But they are a bit expensive,’ she told him. ‘How many do you need?’

‘Hundred and fifty.’

‘That’s a big order. I’ll see if we can get a reduction. Look, the manager will have to okay it. He’s expected in ten minutes or so. Would you mind waiting? I can get you a coffee.’

He took a step backwards. For a privileged customer he was giving a fair impression of a trapped animal.

The garden centre had its own cafe, used mostly by the staff and known unofficially as the Down Tools. She sat opposite him at a white wrought iron table, hardly believing her luck. ‘I was in Selsey recently.’

‘I saw.’

She was confused again. ‘Really? I didn’t see you.’ Then it dawned on her. ‘Oh, you read about me in the paper? Horrid. That experience has put me right off the place.’

A look of rejection came into his eyes, as if she was blaming him for what happened.

‘I don’t mean that,’ she added at once. ‘What a wimp. I’ve got to get over it, haven’t I? Actually, I like the beach a lot. I’m sure it has some of those plants you were mentioning.’

The brown eyes still looked as if there was no hope left in the world.

She wasn’t giving up. ‘In fact I was thinking-before I found what I did-it was a pity you weren’t there to point out some of the features. You must know the beach well, being local. It even crossed my mind that you might have been out that morning, but of course you weren’t.’

He was silent.

This was awfully hard work, but Jo persisted. ‘Are you sometimes down there for a walk?’

‘Depends.’

‘Oh?’

‘Some weekends… ’ His voice trailed off.

She widened her eyes and smiled in encouragement.

He cranked himself up again. ‘… I have to work.’

‘Like me. We do most of our business at the weekends, but I can usually switch with someone if I need time off.’ She took a breath. She was about to push harder at the door than she ever had with a man. ‘Jake, I enjoyed being with you that time at the film. I’d really like to know you better.’

Too hard.

He uttered a loud, ‘Ho,’ and looked away, towards the exit.

She fingered her hair, coiling some and then releasing it, wishing she hadn’t spoken, but what else could she have tried?

It seemed that the ‘Ho’ wasn’t a putdown, because he turned his eyes back to her and said, ‘For real?’

‘Yes.’

‘Me?’

‘That’s what I meant.’

He raked a hand down his face and the fingers made pale lines in the flesh. The guy was under terrific stress. The dire possibility crossed Jo’s mind that he might be gay and hadn’t come out yet. Finally he managed four pitiable words. ‘Not much company, me.’

‘Jake, that’s for others to judge, isn’t it?’

A long pause followed. ‘Where, then?’

‘How about a walk on the beach?’

He tugged at his shirt collar as if it was too tight.

‘I was thinking Selsey, in spite of what I said. I don’t want one bad experience to spoil it for me, so I ought to go back as soon as possible. Having you for company will make it so much easier.’

After more work on the collar he gave a nod.

She turned a mental cartwheel. ‘Cool. And I’ll try not to stumble over a body this time.’

He gave the novocaine smile.

By the same painstaking process they worked out that they would both be off work on Friday. She went to look for Adrian, and negotiated a reduction on the plant labels. Jake paid for them, muttered his thanks, and was gone.

There was excitement of a different sort after lunch. Over the public address she was called to Adrian’s office. Unusual: it was his custom to seek people out on the shop floor, see what they were up to. Mystified, she checked her appearance before obeying the summons.

A young man in an off-the-peg suit that didn’t hang well was standing just inside Adrian’s door. Also, seated on the opposite side, a woman better dressed, in a navy two-piece. They didn’t look as if they’d come to buy flowers. ‘This is Miss Stevens,’ Adrian told them without addressing Jo at all.

The woman spoke. ‘Perhaps you’ll leave us for a while, then.’

Adrian quit his office like a greyhound from the trap.

Jo understood why when the woman said, ‘We’re police officers. DCI Mallin, Chichester CID,’ and showed a warrant card. The rapid way she spoke made the DCI sound like a forename. The card showed she was a detective chief inspector.

The guy in the cheap suit-plainclothes in an extra sense-was evidently playing the nice cop. He introduced himself as Gary Pearce, Detective Constable, placed a chair for Jo and said as if she had done the police a great favour, ‘You found the body on Selsey beach and reported it, right? Would you mind telling us about it.’