“You’ve met him before?”
“Never.”
“You’re sure?”
“I don’t think I’d forget.”
“He knew your name.”
Rachel swung away from him through a dipping circle and then back, one hand pressed to his chest. Her skin was glowing.
“Charlie?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up and dance!”
A shout went up from across the room as the last of the winning numbers was called from the raffle. Resnick crumpled up a crocodile of salmon pink tickets.
“I had a new student in one of my lectures the other day,” Doria was saying. “A nice boy, Asian, not enrolled in the department, auditing, I suppose you would say. But it’s flattering when people know who you are, your reputation. He seemed to want to stay behind at the end, some clarification he was seeking, I don’t know. He was too shy, finally.” Doria hooked one leg over the other at the ankle. “The reverse side of reputation, I suppose, it can place others in awe of one. But, then, you must find the same yourself, Inspector?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Come now. I would have thought your function depended upon it, to a certain extent at least. Dealing as you must with the public, subordinates, even.”
“I don’t think my subordinates are in awe of me, Doria.”
“William.”
“And I shouldn’t like it if they were.”
“A Detective Constable Kellogg, is she one of your subordinates?”
“She is.”
“She came to, um, to interview me-is that the correct terminology?”
“It’ll do.”
“A charming young woman, earnest. Not of the brightest caliber, possibly, but competent.”
“She’s a good policewoman.”
“She was there under your jurisdiction, Inspector?”
“As part of a routine inquiry, yes.”
“Into the deaths of two women.”
“Yes.”
“You must be relieved that it’s over.”
“Over?”
“National television, the six o’clock news, a man you previously suspected has confessed.”
“All manner of men confess, Doria.”
The academic uncrossed his legs. “A brandy, Inspector? Or are you driving?”
“I’m not driving,” said Resnick, “but I’ll say no to the brandy, just the same.”
With a nod of the head, Doria rose and went towards the bar.
A woman in a purple trouser suit sat in one of the cubicles with the door open and carefully emptied the entire contents of her handbag out on to the floor. Quietly, she was singing to herself.
Rachel combed through the ends of her hair, twisting her head round so that she could see the back of it in the mirror.
“How long have you known Charles?” Marian asked, pretending to straighten the folds of her dress.
“Not very long. A matter of weeks.”
“He seems very happy.”
“I think he is.”
Marian touched Rachel’s shoulder. “You will forgive me, but I have known him for many years, and I know he would not be pleased at my saying this, but for a long time now Charles has needed somebody.”
Rachel pursed her lips at the glass and turned away. The woman in the cubicle was picking up her belongings and replacing them inside her bag, still singing.
“Those flowers are lovely,” said Rachel, looking at Marian’s corsage. “Did your friend give them to you?”
“Yes,” said Marian.
“He has good taste,” said Rachel. “Shall we go back?”
“The taxi will be here in a few minutes,” said Resnick.
“Oh, you are not going already?” Marian protested.
“Afraid so.”
“Then,” said Doria, standing with a flourish, “Rachel must have one dance with me before you do.”
He stood with both arms extended, hands out palms uppermost, eyes shining, daring her to decline.
“Thank you,” Rachel said, “I’ve danced enough.”
“I insist,” said Doria.
“Even so,” said Rachel. “The answer’s the same.”
“On some future occasion, then?” said Doria, resuming his seat.
Rachel just looked at him.
“You don’t want to share our cab, Marian?” Resnick asked.
“No thank you, Charles. I think we’ll stay a little longer.”
He took her hands lightly and kissed her forehead. “Safe journey home.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll ring you.”
“What does a nice, intelligent woman like that see in a creep like Doria?”
Resnick lifted his hand from the switch on the coffee grinder.
“She thinks he’s charming.”
“As a snake.”
“You really didn’t like him, did you?”
“Neither did you.”
Resnick poured water into the machine. “Was it that obvious?”
She put her arms tight around him and rested her head in the small of his back. “Charlie, you’re always obvious.”
He turned to her and kissed her. “Isn’t that preferable to devious?”
“Certainly.”
“In that case,” he said with an expression that was half grin, half smile, “when the coffee’s ready can we take it to bed?”
“You see,” she said.
“See what?” Her face was inches away from his, less. “Let it happen once and straightaway you’re taking it for granted.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh, Charlie.”
“I’m not taking it for granted. Or you.”
“You just naturally assumed that because I jumped into your bed the last time I was here that I would again. Evening out, dance and a drink, bed. Right?”
Resnick laughed, squeezing her. “Yes.”
She kissed him. “One condition.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want to make love.”
How could he stop the disappointment showing in his eyes?
“I think I’d like just to lay there with you quietly and cuddle.”
“Fine.”
“Then let’s have the coffee down here, before we go up.”
When Resnick rang, Marian picked up the phone almost immediately.
“Naturally I am home all right,” she said in answer to his question. “What is the matter with you? Why all of this concern, sweet as it is?”
Resnick told her he simply wanted to be sure.
“Sure of what?”
“Doria, is he…?”
“He left me after I had turned the key in my front door, Charles. A gentleman.”
“Good night, Marian,” Resnick said.
“Charles, you are a strange man.”
Rachel’s shoulder rested in the crook of Resnick’s arm. Pepper lay against her left hip, Bud had dared to find a space between the pillows and the bedhead. Miles made little snoring sounds from beyond her toes.
“I feel honored, Charlie.”
“Mmm?”
“Your cats, the way they accept me.”
“They sense that you like them.”
“They’re right.” She snuggled closer against him. “Where’s the fourth one?”
“Dizzy? Out prowling.”
“I saw Vera Barnett the other day, did I tell you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“She’s coping okay, except that she keeps scraping the bathroom paintwork with her chair and complaining when we won’t come and redecorate it for her. The kids seem fine, not a lot of bounce yet, but fine.”
Resnick was stroking her breast. “Doesn’t it bother you more than you’ll admit, not having any of your own?”
For several moments Rachel said nothing. Then she shrugged off his hand and pushed herself up in the bed until the cats had scattered and she was on her knees, facing him.
“You know what I am to you, Charlie, I mean, really? A vacant womb. A womb with a view to marriage.”
The garden was dark and in shadow. Slow and insinuating, Dizzy wound himself around the man’s legs, pressing his fur against them, in and out. The man paid the animal no heed: he allowed nothing to deflect his attention from the upstairs window, behind which a shaded light still burned.
Thirty-Four
It was the first time Resnick had ever caught the superintendent at it, but there he was, running, head up, even swing of the arms, straight as a die back to the station. Resnick leaned against the post near the foot of the steps and waited. The superintendent’s running suit was light gray, loose-fitting, with fluorescent strips along the arms and down the legs for use at night. A small wallet was velcroed to the tongue of one shoe for his key and some small change. Not one to be caught short, the Super.