Then she stopped running and stood still with her hand pressed to her mouth like the actress in a silent film suddenly confronted with the sheikh. Ahead on the northwest corner was the board for Morton’s Auction Rooms, where all this had started. Could Miss Brie be visiting there?
Of course she could.
She crossed the road and went inside. A receptionist behind a desk looked up. A sign above her said VALUATIONS TODAY: ANTIQUE CLOCKS AND WATCHES.
‘Did an elderly lady in a black straw hat just come in?’
‘She did.’
Ingeborg was through the door and into the main auction room, now cleared of all the sales items that were here on the day of the shooting. Alone in the room, a bored-looking clock and watch expert in a tweed jacket and black jumper with an eyeglass hanging from his neck sat waiting behind a table covered with a black cloth. But no Miss Brie.
She asked the man the same question.
‘Yes, indeed,’ he said. ‘But she didn’t want a valuation.’
‘Where is she?’
‘In the office at the back. She came especially to see Denis Doggart, the auctioneer.’
‘You want to get that cleaned up,’ One-Eye said.
The three were still in the cemetery, but Shakes was horizontal and appeared to be asleep.
‘Get what cleaned up?’ Junior asked.
‘Your head. If that goes septic, your brain’s going to get pickled completely. You’ll be more confused than you are already.’
Junior put his hand to his head and ran his finger down the length of an ugly-looking scab reaching from his crown to above his right ear. ‘It’s cleared up.’
‘Don’t scratch it, then. You’ll make it worse. How did you do it?’
‘Can’t remember.’
‘Looks like you were in a fight.’
‘Was I?’
‘Or fell off your bike. D’you ride a bike?’
‘Dunno.’
‘You don’t know nothing. Take my advice and get it seen to. Go to a hospital and see a nurse. That’s their job. When I lost my eye, I was well looked after. Years ago, that was. They was all for giving me a false one, but I didn’t want it. I wore a patch for a while, but people started calling me Nelson and I got fed up and slung it out. Now they call me One-Eye and I don’t mind at all.’
‘That’s all right, then.’
‘Can’t you remember nothing?’
‘Walking through the woods, that’s all. And round the streets. Sleeping in the underpass.’
‘You poor pathetic sod.’
As if the remark was meant for him, Shakes woke up, yawned and propped himself on his elbows. ‘Was I asleep?’
‘Dreaming of a night in the Ritz, I reckon,’ One-Eye said. ‘Have you ever slept in a real hotel?’
‘Only in my dreams.’
‘What’s the best place you’ve ever slept in?’ He turned to Junior. ‘Shakes has been around, you know. He’s a traveller. A real traveller, I mean. A gentleman of the road, they would have called him in the old days. Up and down the country. There isn’t a dosshouse he hasn’t been to.’
‘That’s stretching it,’ Shakes said.
‘You could write a book. Shakes’s Dosshouse Guide. We’d be queuing up to buy it.’
‘Five stars for the best,’ Shakes said, entering into the spirit of this.
‘And where would that be?’
He scratched his white curls, pondered the question for some time and finally decided. ‘There’s a small town near the coast, down Portsmouth way, except it isn’t Portsmouth. Christ, my memory is going like Junior’s. Anyway, the nightstop was the best I’ve ever stayed in and it was called Stonepillow.’
‘Doesn’t sound all that comfortable.’
‘Stonepillow, yes. You weren’t sharing with seventeen others. You had privacy. They fed you dinner and breakfast, gave you a bed, bath, laundry. And if you played your cards right you could stop there for twenty-eight days guaranteed.’
‘Did you hear that, Junior?’ One-Eye said, tapping his own head. ‘Salt it away if you can. You may be glad of it one of these days.’
‘Young fellow his age doesn’t want to know about dosshouses,’ Shakes said. ‘He wants a woman.’
Junior continued to look blank.
‘Stone woman,’ One-Eye said, laughing. ‘Better to have a stone woman than a stone pillow.’
Junior blinked several times. ‘I know a stone woman.’
One-Eye may have winked again. ‘Tell us about her.’
He looked eagerly to each of the others, as if they could unlock the memory for him. ‘Hold on. It’s coming back to me. About this size.’ He stretched his arms like a fisherman describing his catch.
‘That’s wide,’ Shakes said. ‘Too wide for me.’
‘Was that her waist or her bust?’ One-Eye asked.
‘She’s carved on a lump of stone and she’s not just a woman, she’s a wife.’
‘What’s he on about?’ One-Eye said.
‘A stone wife,’ Junior went on, digging deep through the layers of his concussion, trying to connect with the image. ‘My boss brought her back to the office. Him and her together was kind of comical. I can see her now. I can see him. If only I could remember his name.’
31
‘Is he back from Melksham?’ Ingeborg asked John Leaman, still on duty in the incident room he thought of as his own.
‘He was.’
‘I’ve got something urgent to tell him. Has he gone out again?’
‘He’s down in the yard with the fleet manager.’
‘Transport? What’s that about?’
‘He didn’t say. He’s more restless than ever. You’ll have to ask him.’
Deep in the bowels of Manvers Street where the vehicles were kept and maintained, Diamond was examining a two-wheeled trailer. He gave one of the tyres a kick. ‘It’ll need to be strong.’
The fleet manager, a civilian, said, ‘It’s meant to take loads. How much weight are we talking about?’
‘It takes six strong men to shift her. She was too heavy to carry down to the evidence room, which is why she ended up in my office.’
‘And now you want your office back?’
‘That’s the plan.’
‘If six guys can lift her, this’ll do the job, no problem. What have you got to do the towing? Not your old banger?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Day after tomorrow?’
Diamond nodded, looked behind him and saw Ingeborg fidgeting with her ponytail. ‘I doubt if her Ka is suitable either. Let me think about this. I may need one of your Land Rovers.’
‘You will, by the sound of things. Also ropes and a tarp,’ the fleet manager said. ‘We can supply them. How about a motorcycle escort?’
‘Are you being sarcastic?’
‘Only jesting.’
‘I could take you up on this. If robbers can ambush an auction, they can hijack a trailer.’
‘Do they know you’re making the trip?’
‘Not yet, but they could find out. A couple of outriders aren’t such a bad idea. Put me down for the Land Rover and trailer and I’ll let you know what else I need.’ He walked across to Ingeborg. ‘In case you’re curious, I’ve decided to take the wife back to where she belongs.’
‘Bridgwater?’
He nodded. ‘The museum is still the owner. They should take responsibility now. I’m there on Saturday for the scattering of the ashes. Monica doesn’t know where the Chaucer house stood. I promised to show her. She wants company. I know how she feels.’