Dying Fall by Sally Spencer Read Free Book Online

said, deadpan.
    As he walked away, Elizabeth Driver giggled quietly. ‘What am I going to do with you?’ she asked Rutter.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Rutter replied. ‘What
are
you going to do with me?’
    â€˜I think we both know the answer to that,’ Driver replied, with just a hint of sexiness in her voice. ‘But before we get to all that heaving and groaning, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been doing since we last saw each other? And remember, I don’t want to hear any police business.’
    It was so easy to talk to Liz, Rutter told himself, as he did as she’d asked. The subject of the conversation – even the words they used to express themselves – didn’t really matter. It was the very
act
of talking which was important – which had such a soothing effect on him.
    And then, belatedly, he realized how much time must have passed, and glancing down at his watch confirmed his suspicion was true.
    â€˜I have to go,’ he said.
    Elizabeth Driver smiled again. ‘And where, exactly, are you off to?’ she asked. ‘Let me guess. You’re going to the Drum and Monkey – for another session of that brains’ trust that runs on best bitter served in
pint
glasses.’
    Rutter smiled back. ‘That’s right,’ he agreed.
    â€˜Will I see you tonight?’
    Rutter shrugged. ‘You know what it’s like during an investigation. I can’t promise anything.’
    â€˜You don’t have to be tied down by this job of yours, you know,’ Elizabeth Driver said. ‘I could hire you as an investigator, to do all my legwork for me. You’d be very good at it, you’d be earning at least twice what you’re earning now – and we’d get to spend much more time together.’
    â€˜I won’t say it’s not a tempting idea,’ Rutter admitted, ‘but how would it look if you employed someone you were emotionally involved with?’
    â€˜It would look exactly like what it was – as if I was taking on the best man for the job.’
    â€˜You’re very sweet,’ Rutter said, standing up. ‘And listen, I really will try to see you tonight, if I possibly can.’
    â€˜I know you will,’ Driver told him. ‘And if you can’t make it, well, I’ll understand – and I’ll try not to be too dis­appointed at spending another night alone.’
    â€˜You really
are
sweet,’ Rutter said, leaning over and kissing her briefly on the lips, before turning away.
    It was only as he was walking to the door that it occurred to Rutter that anyone overhearing the latter half of their conversation would have taken them for an old-established, rather happily married, couple.
    â€˜So we’ve agreed we’ll get nothin’ much of any value out of questionin’ the tramps?’ Woodend said to Beresford and Paniatowski.
    â€˜Except maybe from the one I talked to – the one who calls himself Pogo,’ Paniatowski replied.
    â€˜Except for him,’ Woodend concurred. ‘But even in his case, I wouldn’t put too much reliance on him comin’ up with anythin’ useful.’ He paused, to take a drag on his cigar­ette, then said, ‘So what else have we got?’
    â€˜It might help if we could find out who the dead man was,’ Paniatowski said. ‘But since we don’t even know what he
looked like
, that seems a very remote possibility.’
    â€˜Aye, it’s a real bugger,’ Woodend agreed.
    â€˜Perhaps we’ll get some help from the general public on that,’ Beresford suggested.
    â€˜In what way?’
    â€˜We’ll ask them to describe all the tramps they
have
seen, compare them to the descriptions of the tramps we’ve interviewed, and see if there’s one that doesn’t match up.’
    â€˜An’ hope that the tramp they describe hasn’t simply moved on since the last