The One a Month Man by Michael Litchfield Read Free Book Online Page B

in
Time Out, I thought.
    ‘But she didn’t show?’ I said.
    ‘No, she didn’t. No flowers, no letter, no phone call. No Tina. Two departures from my life that I had to reconcile myself with.’
    If there was a God, he certainly had a wicked sense of timing
, I thought.

4
    S harkey summoned me to his office.
    ‘Shut the door,’ he said, not looking up, fiddling with his pen, his jacket hooked over the back of his well-worn, black leather, spin-chair, his paunch a pliable buffer between old, chipped oak and neglected viscera, a light suffusion of sweat shimmering on his florid face. ‘I’ve spoken with Pomfrey.’ This wasn’t said with reverence; not as if he’d had an audience with the Pope or had made a supplication at an altar.
    ‘Thanks,’ I said. I wasn’t sure whether to help myself to a chair or to stay on my feet, so I hovered between the desk and the deliberately uncomfortable chair reserved for inconvenient interlopers, so they would always be at an aching disadvantage.
    He snorted, pretending to be grumpy, a persona he’d crafted and it suited him. ‘Pomfrey wasn’t inclined towards your request.’
    I guessed that this was a sanitized version. ‘I told you he wouldn’t be.’
    ‘So you did; that was something you got right. No wonder you’re rated so highly at the Yard.’ There was deep-rooted sincerity in his sarcasm and resentment. ‘Pomfrey said you’re only after a hot-water bottle.’
    ‘That’s insulting,’ I said, deciding to sit; never afraid to use my initiative.
    ‘My sentiment, too.’
    ‘Anyhow, it’s the wrong time of year for hot-water bottles,’ I said.
    ‘Bottom line is that your request was granted, albeit begrudgingly .’
    I was surprised and it must have showed.
    ‘It’s no favour,’ he said. ‘Pomfrey reckoned Cable would only sulk while you were away and drag her feet; bad for morale.’
    ‘If he really believes that, then he can’t know DS Cable,’ I said, indignantly.
    ‘Not the way
you
do, apparently!’
    I’d stumbled carelessly into that pothole.
    ‘Anyhow, she’ll be here this afternoon and she’s all yours.’ Any innuendo this time was politely concealed. Finally looking up, he said, ‘Anything of worth to report?’
    ‘Not of
worth
,’ I replied. ‘But I interviewed Tina Marlowe’s mother yesterday.’
    ‘I didn’t even know the old girl was still alive.’
    ‘Tina’s father’s dead, though … committed suicide.’
    ‘Something else I didn’t know,’ he said, glumly. ‘Doesn’t seem, though, as if any of this is relevant to tracing Tina.’
    ‘Her mother gave me more leads than she imagined.’
    Sharkey raised his overgrown eyebrows. ‘Is she in touch with her daughter, then?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Was she able to tell you if Tina’s married?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Has she any idea where Tina’s currently living?’
    ‘Seems not.’
    ‘Does she even know if her daughter’s still alive, dammit?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘And this is what you Yard bullshitters call making progress, eh?’ He gave me a so-what-the-hell-am-I-missing
now
? gesture, arms raised.
    ‘I said
leads
; nothing definite, but at least now I have a trail to follow.’
    ‘All dead ends have a promising beginning,’ he said, negatively ; just to be provocative, I surmised. ‘Fancy a drink?’ he added.
    ‘Too early in the day for me,’ I said. ‘In any case, I’m trying to kick the juice.’
    ‘That’s not what I heard from Pomfrey. Anyhow, I meant a coffee or tea.’
    ‘Too late in the morning for that.’
    ‘
Touchez
!’ he said.
    The time had come for me to beat a retreat. From Sharkey’s office, I took a 200-yard hike in the sun to Folly Bridge, where I phoned Sarah Cable from my mobile.
    ‘Hi, Mike,’ she said, quick to answer her cell-phone, recognizing my number on the screen.
    ‘What time will you be here?’
    ‘About three. Traffic shouldn’t be too snarled through town that time of day. Where shall we meet?’
    ‘How about somewhere