Devices & Desires

'And these, I take it, are Bumble trainers. I had thought of them as shoes.'

'They don't have a label except under the tongue. That's the firm's sales gimmick. Bumbles are supposed to be recognizable without a blatant display of the name. But if these are Bumbles there will be a yellow bee on each heel.'

Jonah didn't reply, but with a sudden vigorous movement swung both feet into the air, held them for a couple of seconds, then dropped them again.

Neither spoke for a few moments, then Jonah said: 'You are telling me that I now have on my feet the shoes of a murderer?'

'Possibly, but only possibly, these are the shoes he was wearing when the girl was killed. You see their importance?'

'I shall no doubt be made to see it, by you or another of your kind.'

'Have you heard of the Norfolk Whistler?'

'Is it a bird?'

'A mass murderer.'

'And these shoes are his?'

'He's dead. This latest killing was made to look as if he were responsible. Are you telling me you haven't even heard of him?'

'I sometimes see a newspaper when I need paper for other more earthy purposes. There are plenty to pick up from the waste bins. I seldom read them. They reinforce my conviction that the world is not for me. I seem to have missed your murdering Whistler.' He paused then added:

'What now am I expected to do? I take it that I am in your hands.'

Dalgliesh said: 'As I said, it isn't my case. I'm from the Metropolitan Police. But if you wouldn't mind coming home with me I could telephone the officer in charge. It isn't far. I live in Larksoken Mill on the headland. And if you care to exchange these trainers for a pair of my shoes, it seems the least I can offer. We're about the same height. There should be a pair to fit you.'

Jonah got to his feet with surprising agility. As they walked to the car Dalgliesh said: 'I've really no right to question you, but satisfy my curiosity. How did you come by them?'

'They were bestowed on me, inadvertently I might say, some time on Sunday night. I had arrived on the headland after dark and made my way to my usual night shelter in these parts. It's the half-buried concrete bunker near the cliff. A pillbox I think it's called. I expect you know it.'

'I know it. Not a particularly salubrious place to spend the night I should have thought.'

'I have known better certainly. But it has the advantage of privacy. The headland is off the usual route for fellow wayfarers. I usually visit once a year and stay for a day or two. The pillbox is completely weatherproof and as the slit window faces the sea I can light a small fire without fear of discovery. I push the rubbish to one side and ignore it. It is a policy I would recommend to you.'

'Did you go straight there?'

'No. As is my custom I called at the Old Rectory. The elderly couple who live there are usually very obliging in allowing me to use their tap. I wanted to fill up my water bottle. As it happens, there was no one at home. There were lights on in the lower windows but no one responded to the bell.'

'What time would this be, do you remember?' 'I have no watch and I take little account of time between sunset and sunrise. But I did notice that St Andrew's Church clock in the village showed 8.30 as I passed. I was probably at the Old Rectory by 9.15, or shortly afterwards.'

'What did you do then?'

'I knew that there was an outside tap close to the garage. I took the liberty of filling my bottle without permission. They would hardly, I think, begrudge me clean water.'

'Did you see a car?'

'There was one standing in the drive. The garage was open but, as I have said, I saw no human beings. I then went straight to the shelter. I was by then exceedingly tired. I drank some of the water, ate a crust of bread and some cheese and fell asleep. The shoes were thrown in through the door of the bunker some time during the night.'

Dalgliesh said: 'Thrown in rather than placed?'

'I imagine so. Anyone who actually entered the bunker must have seen me. It is surely more likely that they were thrown in. There is a wayside pulpit at a church in Ipswich. Last week it said: "God gives every bird his worm, but He does not throw it into the nest." On this occasion apparently He did.'

'And they hit you without waking you? They're heavy shoes.'

'As I have said, you talk like a policeman. I had walked twenty miles on the Sunday. I have an easy conscience and I sleep sound. If they had fallen on my face I have no doubt they would have wakened me. As it was, I found them next morning when I woke up.'

'Neatly placed?'

'Not at all. What happened was that I woke and turned over from my left side on to my back. I felt something hard beneath me and lit a match. The lump was one of the shoes. The other I found near my foot.'

'They weren't tied together?'

'Had they been tied, my dear sir, it would hardly have been possible for me to find one near the small of my back and the other at my feet.'

'And you weren't curious? After all, the trainers were practically new, hardly the kind of shoe anyone would chuck away.'

'Naturally I was curious. But unlike members of your profession I am not obsessed by the need to find explanations. It did not occur to me that I had a responsibility to find the owner or take the shoes in to the nearest police station. I doubt whether they would have thanked me for my trouble. I took gratefully what fate or God had provided. My old shoes were nearing the end of their usefulness. You will find them in the pillbox.'

'And you put on these.'

'Not immediately. They were too damp. I waited until they were dry.'

'Damp in parts or all over?'

'Damp all over. Someone had washed them very thoroughly, probably by holding them under a tap.' 'Or by walking into the sea.' 'I smelt them. It was not sea water.' 'Could you tell?'

'My dear sir, I have the use of my senses. My nose is particularly keen. I can tell the difference between sea and tap water. I can tell you what county I'm in by the smell of the earth.'

They had turned left at the crossroads, and the soaring white sails of the windmill were in sight. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.

Then Jonah said: 'You have, perhaps, a right to know what manner of man you are inviting under your roof. I am, sir, a modern remittance man. I know that, originally, my kind were banished to the colonies but they are a little more discriminating now and, in any case, banishment from the smells and colours of the English countryside would not have suited me. My brother, a model of civil rectitude and a prominent member of his local community, transfers one thousand pounds per annum from his bank account into mine, providing I never embarrass him by intruding on his presence. The interdict, I may say, extends to the town of which he is mayor but, since he and his fellow planners have long destroyed whatever character it once possessed, I have deleted it from my itinerary without regret. He is indefatigable in good works and you could say that I am among the recipients of his charity. He has been honoured by Her Majesty. An OBE, merely, but he has, I am sure, hope of higher things.'

Dalgliesh said: 'Your brother seems to be getting off rather lightly.'

'You yourself would willingly pay more to ensure my perpetual absence?'

'Not at all. It's just that I assume that the one thousand pounds is to enable you to keep yourself and I was wondering how you managed to do it. One thousand pounds as an annual bribe could be considered generous; as a living allowance it's surely inadequate.'

'To do him justice, my brother would willingly make an annual increase in line with the Retail Price Index. He has an almost obsessive sense of bureaucratic propriety. But I have told him that twenty pounds a week is more than adequate. I have no house, no rent, no rates, no heating, no lighting, no telephone, no car. I pollute neither my own body nor the environment. A man who cannot feed himself on nearly three pounds a day must either be lacking in initiative or be the slave of inordinate desires. An Indian peasant would regard it as luxury.'