‘Hungry policemen,’ Moses said.
‘Yes,’ Peach said. ‘They like their toast and marmalade.’
He combined these bland remarks with glances of chilling power, taking place at the edge of Moses’s vision, sensed rather than seen.
Moses was beginning to feel uneasy. He tried to distract Peach with questions. He pointed to a corrugated-iron building on the far side of the courtyard. ‘What’s that building over there?’ he asked, though he knew perfectly well.
Peach peered through the window as if he wasn’t quite sure which building Moses was referring to.
Moses nudged him with the words, ‘That corrugated-iron building.’
‘That,’ Peach said eventually, ‘is the police museum, Mr Highness.’
Too shocked to speak, Moses stared at the Chief Inspector’s back. He knew Peach could hear the fear in his silence. His heart was banging against his chest like a fist. Peach could probably hear that too.
‘Mr Shirley,’ he said, and knew he had hesitated too long. ‘My name is Mr Shirley.’
Peach swivelled, his eyes close-range, the colour of guns. ‘I do apologise. I don’t know what I was thinking of.’
Moses stepped past him to the window. Say something.
‘Would it be possible to see the museum, Chief Inspector?’
‘I’m afraid not. The museum’s closed at present. For renovation work.’ Peach’s lies were even smoother than the truth.
‘Pity,’ Moses said. ‘Some other time, perhaps.’
Peach turned away, tugging on an earlobe.
He took them through a sort of operations room next and there, on a converted ping-pong table, stood a detailed scale model of New Egypt. Moses hovered above the village, looking down. He could see everything that the old man, his father, had described: the house where the mad lady lived, the stretch of field the greengrocer had tried to cross, the rushes growing beside the river — even the elm outside his father’s bedroom window. And how many more stories there must be, he thought, unknown or still untold.
‘We had it specially built by the people at Hornby,’ Peach breathed over his shoulder. ‘What do you think?’
‘All you need now,’ Moses said, ‘are a few little flags to show where the enemy are.’ He snickered at his own joke.
Peach withdrew. ‘And this,’ he called out, moving towards a door that had the word ACCOUNTS stencilled across its one glass pane in black capital letters, ‘is where we keep Police Constable Marlpit.’
The door rattled open in his hand. Marlpit was bent over, neck exposed as if for a guillotine, face two inches from the top of his desk. Either dozing, Moses thought, or subjecting his figures to the closest possible scrutiny.
‘Marlpit,’ Peach boomed, ‘I have somebody to see you.’
Dozing, Moses decided, as Marlpit jerked upright, his eyes unnaturally wide, a caricature of alertness.
‘Oh — yes — ’ the constable stammered. Saliva welled behind his teeth. ‘Most certainly. What a surprise. What a pleasant surprise. How are you, sir?’
‘Very well, thank you,’ Moses said.
They shook hands.
‘And your young ladyfriend?’ Marlpit grew brighter by the second like a bulb that’s about to burn out. ‘How’s your young ladyfriend? Delightful girl, I thought.’
Peach stepped in diplomatically. ‘This, Marlpit, is Mrs Shirley. Mr Shirley’s wife.’
Marlpit blushed from the neck upwards. He removed his helmet. The colour rose past his eyebrows, beyond his hairline. ‘Oh — I — very pleased to meet you, madam.’ He bowed two or three times in a way that made him look, for those few seconds, peculiarly oriental.
‘You’ll have to forgive him,’ Peach whispered as he pulled the door shut. ‘He’s still in a state of some confusion, the poor fellow.’
You’re a sadist, Moses thought, and I don’t like you. But he smiled as if to say he quite understood.
‘Well, that just about wraps it up.’ Peach’s chest swelled as he breathed in. ‘Except for the cells, of course.’
‘Oh, we have to see the cells,’ Mary said.
Peach led them into a short passage with grey walls and a concrete floor. ‘Now, as you might imagine, there isn’t a great deal of crime in New Egypt so we only have two cells.’ He spread his plump hands. ‘One for you, Mr Shirley, and one for your wife.’
Moses stayed well back from the doors. You never know.
Mary had already peered inside. ‘Why are there tables instead of beds?’ she asked.
‘That’s a good question. We used to give our prisoners beds. Used to, that is, until one man tore his mattress-cover into strips, fashioned a primitive rope out of them and — ’ Peach jerked one clenched fist away from his neck in an unmistakable gesture. He turned to face Moses. ‘The man’s name,’ he said, ‘was Dinwoodie.’
‘How awful,’ Mary said.
‘Most unfortunate,’ Peach agreed, still staring at Moses. ‘One of those things.’
Moses said nothing.
‘So now the prisoners sleep on tables,’ Peach said. ‘It’s better to be on the safe side, don’t you think?’
‘Quite,’ Mary said.
Peach escorted his two visitors to the front door of the police station. ‘Once again,’ he said, ‘thank you for your help.’
‘Thank you,’ Mary said, ‘for the wonderful tour.’
They all shook hands again.
Then Peach suddenly took a step backwards and looked Moses up and down in an extremely cunning way. ‘Have you ever seriously considered a career in the police force yourself, Mr Shirley?’
Moses was flabbergasted. ‘Well, no — ’
‘A man of your imposing size and initiative,’ Peach continued seductively, ‘would be a credit to any branch of our organisation. You would make a magnificent policeman, I’m sure. What do you think, Mrs Shirley?’
Mary took Moses by the arm. ‘I don’t think it’s ever crossed his mind — has it, darling?’
A sickly smile spread over Moses’s face.
‘Well, if you should ever consider it, feel free to get in touch with me.’
Peach was rubbing his hands together, radiating good nature. ‘I don’t have any great influence, of course, but I would be happy to go through the details with you. Think about it, anyway.’ He raised a hand, turned on his heel, and was gone, all in one fluid, smoothly executed manoeuvre.
Still arm in arm, Moses and Mary walked back down the steps.
‘Going to join the force then, are you, Mr Shirley?’ Mary teased him.
But Moses didn’t even smile. ‘He knew,’ he said.
‘He knew what?’
‘He knew who I was.’
‘Peach?’
Moses nodded.
‘How could he know that?’
‘I don’t know. But he did. I felt it right away. Something, anyway. And then he called me Mr Highness, sort of by mistake. He was testing me, I suppose.’
Mary pulled away from him. ‘When did he call you Mr Highness?’
‘Oh, he was clever. He waited till you were on the other side of the room. He chose his moment perfectly. He’s a real cunning bastard.’
Mary stood among the tombstones, hands on her hips now, two lines engraved between her eyebrows. ‘I don’t understand this, Moses. How could he possibly know?’
‘I’ve no idea. But he did. He definitely did.’ He looked round, his right eye twitching, then he whispered, ‘That’s why he came out with all that stuff about joining the police. It was like he was saying, you belong here, your place is in the village.’ He stepped backwards, almost tripped over his own gravestone. ‘It was like a threat. But in code.’