Dead on Arrival Read online

  ‘I hope I didn’t wake you.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’d only just switched out the light, when you got home. I took some work to bed with me, and that’s always fatal. My mind starts going round and round … After I heard you come in, I lay there for a few minutes telling myself I really ought to go to sleep, I’d be tired in the morning, and then I thought oh, what’s the point? I’ll go and talk to Luke … I wasn’t sure if you’d feel like eating that or not.’

  ‘When I got home, I didn’t, but when I took it out of the oven …’

  Joan laughed. ‘Sprig’ll be pleased.’

  ‘She made it?’

  ‘I had to give her something to do, she was driving me mad … She’s all tensed up about Saturday and there was absolutely nothing else she could do, as far as the competition was concerned. After she finished her homework she was wandering around like a lost sheep. So I said, why not try something new for a change, something completely fresh?’

  ‘Delicious,’ said Thanet, finishing the last forkful.

  ‘Good. I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.’

  ‘Why?’ he said suspiciously. Then he grinned. ‘What was in it? Hemlock?’

  Joan smiled back. ‘Deadly Nightshade, as a matter of fact … Actually, it was a vegetarian dish …’

  ‘Veget …’ Thanet looked at his empty plate in pretended horror.

  Joan rested her chin on her folded hands and gave him a cat-like grin. ‘It was delicious, wasn’t it? I told Sprig I didn’t think you’d be too pleased, but she just said you were an old stick-in-the-mud and it would do your taste buds good to be shaken up … Oh, by the way, talking of taste buds … I have a bit of news for you.’

  ‘Oh?’ With relief Thanet abandoned his pose of dismay. The lasagne really had been very good, meat or no meat. ‘What?’

  ‘You remember you were saying how much more cheerful Doc Mallard has been lately?’

  ‘Yes … Don’t tell me! You’ve seen him with a woman!’

  Joan nodded, eyes dancing.

  ‘Well?’ said Thanet impatiently.

  ‘I had lunch in town today and on the way back to the office I was just passing the Black Swan when the door opened and out he came, with this woman.’

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Gorgeous! Oh, not in the glamorous sense, but sweet and gentle, just what he needs.’

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Early fifties, I should say. A little roly-poly type with a lovely smile and the bluest eyes you ever saw. Her name’s Helen Fields.’

  ‘He introduced you?’

  ‘Why not? We practically bumped into each other. He was so sweet – went all pink and bashful … Anyway, you might meet her yourself soon. He was asking after the children, and I told him about the competition on Saturday. He asked her if she’d like to go along, and she seemed quite keen.’

  ‘Good.’ Thanet leaned back, smiling. ‘That’s terrific. I suspected that might be it …’ His hand had strayed to his pocket and came out holding his pipe. He looked at it regretfully. ‘I don’t suppose I’ve got time for this. We really ought to go to bed.’

  ‘You go ahead and smoke. I feel quite wide awake, I told you. Anyway, it’s nice to be able to sit and talk in peace. We hardly ever seem to get the chance these days … I think I’ll make a fresh pot of tea. Want some?’

  Thanet was already filling his pipe. ‘Please.’

  Joan’s company, the food, this late-night intimacy, had generated a warm glow deep within him and he felt that he would be prepared to sit up all night basking in this pleasant, undemanding domesticity. He watched his wife fondly as she moved about the routine task of making a pot of tea, and thought that it was moments such as this that cemented their marriage. The physical side was important, of course, and he knew how fortunate they were that their lovemaking had become more and more satisfying over the years, but it was the pleasure they found in each other’s company that was the bedrock of their relationship. He couldn’t understand people who were happily married jeopardising something so precious for a few cheap thrills. What fleeting excitement, what temporary massaging of one’s ego could possibly replace the knowledge that one is known through and through and loved despite all one’s faults and foibles?

  As for Joan … They’d had their ups and downs, of course, and there had been times when he had felt perilously close to losing her, but he was a lucky man, and he knew it.

  She dropped a kiss on the top of his head as she put a fresh cup of tea in front of him. Then she sat down opposite him.

  ‘Luke, I was thinking.’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘About this video business, with Ben. All right, maybe he did get involved thoughtlessly, because he didn’t realise the seriousness of what he was doing, but the fact remains that we can’t possibly keep him under supervision all the time. Even if we managed to arrange something for the interval between school ending and our coming home, there are still weekends … Of course, I’d like to think that now we’ve talked to him we could trust him not to do it again, and leave it at that. In fact, I think we probably could. I honestly don’t believe he would get hooked on such stuff. But we have to accept that at that age it’s very important to be one of the crowd and the temptation to join in just because everyone else is doing so is very strong.’

  ‘So? What are you suggesting?’

  ‘Well, I know we’ve always held out against getting a video, for various reasons, but now they’ve become a fact of life for so many people … To be honest, I’ve been wondering if it wouldn’t be sensible to get one of our own.’

  Thanet grimaced. ‘I feel as though we’re almost being blackmailed into this.’

  ‘Oh darling, I don’t think that’s true. I honestly don’t believe Ben is that devious.’

  ‘No, I know … But all the same, that’s how I feel.… But I agree, the one advantage of having one of our own would be that we’d have control over what he watches – but even so, it wouldn’t be total control. There’d still be nothing to stop him seeing all sorts of pernicious rubbish in other people’s houses.’

  ‘I think we could get around that by laying down conditions from the start.’

  ‘You mean, by saying we’ll get one so long as it’s on the clear understanding that under no circumstances, unless he has our express permission, would he watch videos hired by anyone else?’

  ‘Something like that, yes. I think it would work. I think he’s basically trustworthy, and I think also that he’d be so delighted we’ve given in, he’d agree to anything.’

  ‘What about when the novelty wears off?’

  ‘I think we’d have to make it clear that if we find he’s broken the agreement, the machine would go straight back to the shop. We’d hire it, not buy it, of course, for that reason.’

  ‘And what then? What if we get it, he goes back on his word, and we get rid of the thing? We’d be back where we started – worse off, really, because Ben would then feel he’s got nothing to lose and the reins would be well and truly off.’

  ‘One step at a time, darling. I think we’d have to deal with that situation if it arose. But I honestly don’t think it would. Besides, we have to trust him, and I think he’d appreciate being shown that we do.’

  Thanet lifted his hands in surrender. ‘All right, we’ll give it a try. I agree, it might work.’

  Joan smiled. ‘I’ll tell them tomorrow.’ She sat back, satisfied. ‘Now, tell me how the case is going.’

  She listened intently as he talked, chin on hand, grey eyes solemn. He had always shared his work with her, right from the beginning. He had seen so many policemen’s marriages break up because of irregular hours and broken promises that he had been determined to ensure that exclusion from his work did not erect yet one more, unnecessary barrier between them. When Joan had finally taken the decision to train as a probation officer his resolve had faltered, for the probation service and the police frequently find themselves diametrically opposed. But he had
decided to continue and Joan, he knew, had appreciated this demonstration of trust. He himself had certainly never had cause to regret it.

  Now and again she interrupted to ask for clarification or amplification, and when he had finished she sat back, looking thoughtful.

  ‘Sounds to me as though Steve was hell-bent on disaster.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘It’s as if he were impelled to behave so badly that even the people he was closest to would turn against him – Frank, Chris, even his wife, who according to that funny little woman, Mrs …’

  ‘Mrs Bence. Dara.’ Just the memory of her was enough to make him smile.

  ‘That’s right, Dara.’

  ‘You’d have enjoyed her, love. In fact, you must meet her. I’m sure she’d be pleased. I told her I’d like to go back, some time, and hear all about her days in the circus, and she was tickled pink. You could come with me.’

  ‘I’d love to … But, as I was saying, according to her, he even treated his wife so badly that in the end she left him, and it really does sound, from his behaviour since, that he was still very much in love with her … It’s the classic rejection syndrome, I suppose. He grew up thinking he was unlovable and had to keep on behaving in such a way as to make people reject him, just to see if they would. Then, when they did, he’d say to himself, “There you are, I knew they would, in the end.”’

  ‘There speaks the probation officer,’ said Thanet with a grin. ‘All the same, I agree with you. But I have the impression that since Sharon left, this process was accelerated. His behaviour became more and more outrageous, impossible, almost as though …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Almost as though he was trying to precipitate some kind of crisis, I suppose.’

  ‘And look where it got him,’ said Joan sadly. ‘He didn’t have much of a life, did he? His mother sounds awful.’

  ‘She is.’

  ‘And I suppose the fact that his twin did so much better than he … It does sound so unfair, doesn’t it? What’s the twin like?’

  ‘All right. Can’t say I really took to him. But he seems to be the only person Steve didn’t manage to alienate. I suspect that’s because Geoff, the twin, felt distinctly guilty that Steve was so much worse off than he, and was prepared to make considerable allowances for him. And I think he appreciated the misery Steve had suffered as a child, at the hands of his mother and step-father. He got quite hot under the collar at one point, when he touched on this, in passing.’

  ‘Were they close, d’you think?’

  ‘I don’t think so, no.’

  ‘Strange, isn’t it? I thought twins were supposed to have this tremendous empathy.’

  ‘Not necessarily, apparently. Doc Mallard gave me a book about it.’ Thanet reached for his briefcase, delved inside.

  ‘Monozygotic twins, brought up together and brought up apart,’ read Joan. ‘Hmm. Sounds fascinating. I’d like to read it, after you, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Sure …’ said Thanet abstractedly. His eyes were glazed and he was frowning.

  Joan, recognising the signs, said nothing, continued to leaf through the book, and for a few minutes there was silence in the room but for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft flutter of pages turning.

  At last Thanet stirred, as if coming out of a long sleep. ‘You know …’ he said slowly.

  Joan laid the book gently on the table. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s only just occurred to me … thinking of Steve and the way he’s behaving to the people around him … What he’s been doing, really, consciously or unconsciously, is systematically destroying what matters most to them.’

  Joan stared at Thanet, assessing what he had just said. ‘Yes,’ she said, finally. ‘I see what you mean. The most important thing for Frank was security for his wife and the baby, in other words the job he had taken so long to find. And Steve went out of his way to make sure Frank lost it.’

  ‘Yes. And as far as Chris is concerned, well, I suppose that what really matters to him is reputation, respectability. He’s managed to get himself a decent education, escape from his background, and then along comes Steve and proceeds not only to humiliate him at school, in front of his pupils, but at home, in front of neighbours … Then, going outside the family, the same principle applies to our other two suspects, Carpenter and Howells.’

  ‘He was obviously determined to take Sharon away from Ivor Howells. But Mr Carpenter is different, surely, in that you couldn’t say the car accident was intentional, could you? That isn’t what you’re suggesting, is it?’

  ‘Oh no. But the end result is the same. Carpenter lost what he obviously valued most in the world, his wife and his daughter.’

  Joan shivered. ‘It’s almost as though he – Steve – had some sort of destructive power, which reached out to the people around him … I don’t know whether to feel sorry for him or appalled by him.’

  ‘Does one necessarily preclude the other?’

  ‘I suppose not.’ Joan glanced at the clock. ‘Look at the time! Come on, darling, we’d better go to bed, or neither of us’ll be fit for work in the morning.’

  Reluctantly, Thanet allowed himself to be persuaded up the stairs. He took Mallard’s book with him. After such a long day he should be only too eager to get a decent night’s rest, but after the discussion with Joan his mind was fully alert and he knew that there was no point in trying to get to sleep just yet. He would only lie there in the darkness, tossing and turning. He would try to read himself into oblivion.

  For an hour or more he attempted to do just that, but he had chosen the wrong bedside reading. The book was, as Joan had predicted, fascinating, and confirmed what Mallard had told him. Steve and Geoff were typical in that the most common reason for the separation of twins was the mother’s inadequacy, and it was usually the mother’s sister or the grandmother who took one of them, a temporary arrangement often becoming a permanent one. The mother often kept the weaker, lighter-born twin, and the home was often poorer, both economically and psychologically. As a result, this twin would often be more neurotic than the one brought up probably as an only child in better circumstances. The firstborn twin tended to be heavier and often one of the twins would be left-handed. Thanet found himself constantly relating what he was reading to Steve and Geoff and eventually he decided that the only way he was going to get to sleep was by switching off the light and hoping that he would eventually wind down.

  Joan was fast asleep and for a while he tried to empty his mind completely and match the rhythm of his breathing to hers. But it was no good, he simply couldn’t do it. In the end he gave up, eased his aching back into a more comfortable position and allowed his thoughts to roam at random.

  With his late-night reading fresh in his mind he continued to think for a while about the twins. It was interesting that Geoff was the one person in the family who didn’t seem to have washed his hands of Steve – quite the contrary, in fact. Thanet thought of the two birthday cards on Steve’s mantelpiece, one from Sharon and one from Geoff, and wondered if Geoff’s tender conscience as far as Steve was concerned might even have prompted him to take his twin a present when he visited him on Sunday evening. Steve had seemed depressed, he said, and this wasn’t surprising, Thanet thought, in view of what they now knew. The unpleasant scene at Howells’s flat, followed by the disastrous incident at the Mays’ house, would be enough to depress anyone, let alone someone in such a vulnerable state as Steve. The former, no doubt, had sparked off the drinking which had led to the latter, a chain reaction which had finally culminated in Chris May refusing even to let Steve into the house, when he later came around to apologise on Tuesday. Over the last few days of his life doors were constantly being slammed in Steve’s face, it seemed, and apart from Sharon, who was dominated by Howells, Geoff was the one person who had remained sympathetic to him. Guilt, perhaps, as Thanet had suggested to Joan, at having had by far the best of the bargain? Or perhaps because Geoff had not b
een as close to Steve as the others, nor had his life been disrupted by him.

  Thanet lay for a while thinking of those others. Frank, Chris, and Carpenter all admitted going to Steve’s flat the night he was killed. Howells had been there too, Thanet was certain of it, despite his having denied it. And always the same story – lights on, no answer to their knock. If only forensic could have come up with some nice, clear, prints, some shred of useful evidence. If only they could have found that ashtray …

  Thanet turned over, restlessly, and Joan stirred in her sleep, murmuring. He lay quite still until her breathing had resumed its steady rhythm.

  Where could that ashtray be? At the bottom of the river, probably, or dumped somewhere, like that jacket young Quarry had picked up. Hines had all the luck. Although Thanet was convinced the youth was innocent of Marjorie Jackson’s murder, that jacket would, sooner or later, get Hines his man.

  Thanet’s eyes snapped open in shock as a truly incredible idea winged its way into his restless mind. What if …?

  Suddenly, it was impossible to lie still a moment longer. Mind racing, he slid quietly out of bed, reached for his dressing gown and slipped out of the room.

  In the kitchen he went to lean against the sink, gazing out of the darkened window. Was it possible?

  He sat down and, elbows on table, head in hands, began to think.

  NINETEEN

  Thanet often found that an idea which in the middle of the night had appeared to be a stroke of genius proved in the cold light of morning to be as full of holes as a colander. Not so this time. The moment he opened his eyes his new-found solution to the Steven Long case blossomed in his consciousness, flawless as a rose in high summer.

  He couldn’t wait to put it to the test. Despite his relatively sleepless night he felt fresh and alert, buoyed up by elation, and he threw back the bedclothes and hurried to the bathroom.

  When he went down to breakfast Joan was alone in the kitchen, drinking coffee. She raised her eyebrows as he came in, whistling. ‘You sound cheerful this morning.’