Fraser turned away to gaze out of the passenger window. What really riled him about Maddocks was that the bastard was right more often than he was wrong. "Initiative" in Maddocks's vocabulary meant taking shortcuts and using methods that wouldn't stand scrutiny for a minute under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, but he got away with it because, in his own terminology, he "could smell guilt." Privately, Fraser put this down to the fact that the Inspector was as ethically bankrupt as the people he arrested-he had heard more than one whisper that Maddocks had taken bribes in the past-but this raised troubling questions about the effectiveness of policemen, and as Fraser was a thoughtful man, the whole issue worried him. For there was an intrinsic absurdity about forcing the police to follow every rule, when criminal behavior, which was dedicated to rule breaking, remained unchanged.
SUNDAY, 26TH JUNE, THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC, SALISBURY-2:30 P.M.
Alan Protheroe listened to what the two detectives had to say with a frown creasing his amiable face. "Presumably there's more to this than meets the eye," he suggested. "If the Hammersmith police only wanted the address of Miss Harris's parents, why didn't they telephone Miss Kingsley and ask her for it?"
"Because, in the message she left on Harris's answering machine, she refers to this clinic as a nutters' hospital," said Maddocks easily, "and, as I'm sure you know, there are rules governing the police in the way they question the mentally disturbed. So, before they approached her direct, Hammersmith asked us to find out why she was here, and we discovered very quickly from our colleagues in Fordingbridge that she had been admitted following a suicide attempt after her fiance deserted her for Miss Harris. We have no desire to upset her unnecessarily, so it was felt that any questions should be asked by plainclothes policemen."
Alan took exception to his references to "nutters" and "the mentally disturbed." More, he took exception to Maddocks himself, disliking the man's overpowering personality, which thrust into the room like a bad smell. "Why didn't you ring me?" he said suspiciously. ' 'I would have been happy to ask the questions for you."
Maddocks spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. "All right, I'll be honest with you, sir. The problem is not Miss Kingsley but Miss Kingsley's father. The orders from above are very clear. Do not give Adam Kingsley any excuse to sue the Hampshire police for alleged insensitivity towards his sick daughter. We haven't a clue what her reaction will be to questions about the woman who seduced her fiance. For all we know, the mere mention of Meg Harris's name will have her climbing the walls, and we have enough difficulty paying our policemen without squandering the budget on court battles with a tetchy millionaire who's already worried about his daughter's state of mind." He turned his hands palms down. "And with good reason, it would seem. By her own admission, she's in a nutters' hospital and she's shit-scared she's going round the bend. Her words, sir, not mine."
Fraser had to admire Maddocks's psychology. Whatever Protheroe's suspicions about their motives for being there, he was sidetracked into defending his clinic and his patient. "I would prefer it, Inspector, if you ceased referring to the Nightingale Clinic as a nutters' hospital," he said tartly. "Jinx has a healthy cynicism about everything, coupled with a dry sense of humor. She was clearly joking. I have no concerns at all about her mental equilibrium, nor, I am sure, has she. She has limited loss of memory following her accident, but is otherwise mentally acute."
"Well, that's a relief," said Maddocks. "It'll be all right for us to talk to her then?"
"Assuming she agrees, then yes, I see no reason why not." He stood up and led the way to the door, noticing with interest that Sergeant Fraser appeared to find Detective Inspector Maddocks as uncongenial as he did. The body language spoke volumes, principally in the younger man's attempts to keep daylight between himself and his superior. He took them down the corridor. ' 'I think it would be better if I remained during the interview," he said, tapping on the door of number 12.
"I see no reason why not, sir, assuming Miss Kingsley agrees," said Maddocks with derisory emphasis.
Jinx, in her turn, listened to the Inspector's explanation for being there. She sat in the chair by the window and, bar wishing the two policemen good afternoon when they came in, said nothing until Maddocks had finished. Even then she didn't answer immediately, but eyed him in silence for a moment or two with curiously little expression on her pale face. "Meg's parents live in a village near Warminster called Littleton Mary," she said finally. "Her father's the vicar there. I'm afraid I can't give you the telephone number because it's in my address book and I don't have that with me, but I should imagine it's in the book. Her father's initial is C for Charles and he and Meg's mother live in the vicarage."
She reached towards the cigarette packet on the table, then changed her mind and left it where it was. She found herself reluctant suddenly to draw attention to the tremors in her hands, and doubted her ability to hold the flame steady long enough to light a cigarette. "But Meg won't be there," she continued in her deep voice. "She's on holiday in France at the moment."
"Well, that would explain why we've had difficulty contacting her," said Maddocks, as if hearing this information for the first time. He glanced towards Alan Protheroe. "In fact, Doctor, I really don't think we need keep you, not unless Miss Kingsley feels nervous at being left on her own." He smiled down at her. "Do you, Miss Kingsley?"
She shrugged indifferently. "Not in the least."
"Then thank you very much, sir. We won't be long." Maddocks stood by the open door.
Alan frowned at him angrily, well aware that he was being railroaded. "I'd rather stay, Jinx," he said. "I'm sure your father would expect me to."
She gave her low laugh. "I'm sure you're right, but as you keep trying to persuade me, Dr. Protheroe, I call the shots, not my father. Thank you anyway. I think I can manage a few questions on my own."
"Well, you know where I am if you need me." He allowed himself to be closed out by Maddocks's firm hand on the door. He wished he knew what the hell was going on. It was obvious that Jinx was as reluctant as the policemen to let him listen in on the conversation.
Inside the room, Maddocks beamed encouragingly at Jinx. "Any idea which part of France, Miss Kingsley?"
She shook her head. "No, but I can probably guess. I know the man she's gone with. His name's Leo Wallader and he has a cottage on the south coast of Brittany. The address is Les Hirondelles, rue St. Jacques, Trinite-sur-mer. There is a telephone, but again"-she gave a small shrug-"the number's in my address book."
Maddocks nodded. "But if you know she's in France," he said with a puzzled frown, "why did you telephone her London number?"
Jinx looked at him for a moment, then picked up her cigarette packet and tapped a cigarette into her fingers. Nicotine was more important than pride. She reached for the lighter but Fraser was there before her, holding the flame steady beneath the wavering tip. She thanked him with a smile. "Meg can ring her answering machine and listen to her messages," she said. "I assumed that's what she'd do."
"Who told you she was in France?"
"Her partner, Josh Hennessey." She gazed at him through the smoke. "He phoned me on Wednesday."
Maddocks glanced towards Fraser to see if he'd written that down. "And has Meg called you back, Miss Kingsley?"
"Not yet, no."
"Is this Mr. Hennessey in contact with her?"
"Not as far as I know. She didn't give him a contact number."
He made a play of consulting his notebook. "In fact, we know about Mr. Leo Wallader. He came up in connection with your car accident. I believe he was your fiance until a couple of weeks ago?"