‘Besides,’ she added, ‘don’t you want to meet this famous Peach? Aren’t you curious?’
‘No.’
The policeman turned round. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Nothing,’ Mary said.
‘I’m sorry. I thought you were talking to me.’
‘No,’ Moses said. ‘We weren’t.’
The policeman dropped back to join them. ‘It’s my hearing, you see,’ he explained. ‘It’s very acute. Take music, for instance. When I listen to music I always have the volume on zero. That’s quite loud enough for me. But my wife,’ and he chuckled nasally and shook his head, ‘she can’t understand it. She says what’s the point of listening to music you can’t hear.’
Moses and Mary exchanged a look behind his back.
They were climbing a steep flight of stone steps now. The police station, a red-brick building with tall narrow windows, seemed to be positioned high above the rest of the village. Only the church tower came close. A chill wind rose. The trees shifted and dipped, hiding the scattered lights below. For a few seconds the village no longer existed.
When they reached the front door, the policeman stood to one side, his face polite and blue in the light of the frosted-glass POLICE lamp. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘After you.’
They walked into a spacious draughty hallway paved with green linoleum. It smelt of bleach, polish, disinfectant. The antiseptic stench of power.
‘As you can see,’ the policeman said, indicating several of his colleagues who were gathered at the far end, under the clock, ‘this is a twenty-four-hour operation.’
I bet it is, Moses thought.
‘I beg your pardon?’ the policeman said.
‘I didn’t say anything,’ Moses said.
‘Forgive me,’ the policeman said. Using the heel of his hand, he banged first one ear then the other, let out a brief but violent guffaw and, excusing himself, marched over to the duty desk where he exchanged a few words with a police officer whose face looked as if it had been hit several times by a hammer.
‘The Chief Inspector will see you immediately,’ he called out. ‘Won’t you come this way?’
He led them down a green corridor which, despite being lit by rows of white fluorescent tubes, gave the impression of dimness. Pipes bulged on the ceiling like veins. Moses heard a long drawn-out groan come from somewhere. It hung on the air, then silence and their footsteps took over, seemed to collaborate, pretend the groan had never been uttered.
‘I don’t like this place,’ he whispered in Mary’s ear. ‘I don’t like this place at all.’
They stopped in front of a door that looked like the door to a strongroom. Grey metal plates. Rivets. The words CHIEF INSPECTOR PEACH stencilled in black. The policeman knocked in a way that suggested both firmness and awe. A deep voice told them to enter.
Peach was seated behind a monumental bureau desk. His hands lay loosely clenched on its polished surface, flanked by piles of paper and trays of pens.
‘This is the gentleman who assisted PC Marlpit in the Dinwoodie case,’ the policeman announced. ‘He just happened to be passing through, sir.’
Did I say that? Moses wondered.
‘Thank you, Grape.’
Peach rose majestically and eased round his desk, but when he saw Moses standing there something curious happened. His entire body stiffened. His eyes seemed to freeze over. Ice and menace in his gaze. Moses steeled himself for some kind of impact. But then the moment passed, the chill lifted, and Peach was extending a plump hand.
‘Delighted to meet you, er — ’
‘Shirley,’ Moses said.
‘Unusual name for a gentleman,’ Peach observed.
‘Mr Shirley.’
‘Ah, Mr Shirley.’
They both laughed quickly.
‘And this,’ Moses said, ushering Mary forwards, not a trace of hesitation now, ‘is Mrs Shirley.’
Peach took Mary’s hand in both of his. ‘Of course. Delighted, Mrs Shirley.’
While Peach was shaking hands with Mary, Moses stared at him. Peach was an amazingly pear-shaped man. His cheeks were wider than his forehead and his hips were wider than his shoulders. He had a bully’s crewcut, and his drooping lower lip made him look as though he wouldn’t believe a word you said. Moses knew he would have to watch himself. It wasn’t only Peach either. There was that constable standing by the door. He could hear what you were saying even when you weren’t saying anything.
Peach waved the couple to a matching pair of seats and returned to his leather chair behind the desk. ‘PC Marlpit informed me of the part you played in the apprehension of Dinwoodie, and I must say that I’m very glad to have the opportunity of thanking you in person.’
‘Not at all,’ Moses said. ‘It was nothing.’
‘If only all the members of the general public were so co-operative,’ Peach crooned.
Peach was a sort of oral masseur. It was a sensual pleasure to listen to his genial rumbling voice and he knew it. He used its soothing modulations to soften you up. He lulled you into a false sense of security. And then he pounced. Framed portraits of his predecessors hung on the wall behind his head like warnings. One of those stern men would be Birdforth, Moses was thinking. The sly and lyrical Birdforth. 1902–1916. He glanced across at Mary. She seemed to be ignoring the danger. Or, if not ignoring it, flirting with it.
‘I’m only sorry I missed out on all the excitement,’ she was saying in a breathy version of her voice.
Peach smiled at her indulgently. ‘And where were you at the time, Mrs Shirley?’
The way he posed this question — so benign, so interested — you would never have guessed that it had been used a million times before, and nearly always during police grillings. So casual, this Peach. So dangerous.
‘Oh, I was at home,’ Mary laughed, ‘with the children.’
She was good at this, Moses saw. She was better than he would ever be.
‘A mother’s work,’ Peach mused. ‘More difficult even than a policeman’s, wouldn’t you say?’ He swung a few degrees on his chair to include Moses. ‘You’re fortunate, Mr Shirley, to have such a charming and conscientious wife.’
Moses smiled graciously. ‘Just as a matter of interest,’ he said, ‘how is PC Marlpit?’
Peach picked up a paperweight (a cluster of houses trapped in clear acrylic) and revolved it in his fingers. ‘PC Marlpit’s a fine officer,’ he said, ‘but he does tend to get a little excitable at times — ’
‘I noticed,’ Moses said.
‘— so I have to ground him occasionally, take him off active duty and give him some quieter employment here in the station. You may laugh at this, Mr Shirley, coming from the city as you do, but life in a village breeds its own peculiar tensions and stresses. Most of my officers are rested from time to time.’
‘No, I understand that.’ Moses smiled. ‘Well, please give him my regards when you next see him.’
‘You can do that yourself.’ Peach rose smoothly to his feet. ‘After the way you helped us, I thought the least we could do would be to give you a brief tour of our police station. In the course of the tour we should come across PC Marlpit. I believe he’s on duty today.’
‘How wonderful,’ Mary said (overdoing it a bit, Moses thought). ‘I’ve always wanted to see the inside of a police station.’
‘Most people do their best to avoid it.’ Peach tucked the corners of his mouth in so that tiny humorous dimples appeared in his cheeks.
Mary put a hand on Peach’s arm. ‘Very witty, Chief Inspector. I’ve never thought of it like that.’
Smiling, Peach ushered them out of the office.
He showed them round at a leisurely pace. He pointed out features and facilities with graceful movements of his hands. He seemed particularly proud of what he called the residential quarters. They comprised a large bedroom with four single beds, a common-room which boasted a colour TV and several leather armchairs, and a kitchenette complete with a breakfast bar and the biggest toaster Moses had ever seen — with its curved stainless steel top and its spindly splayed legs, it looked like a spaceship and toasted twelve slices at once.