Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 1 24 страница

fine for Wilberforce with his quick mind, Mrs. Rooke-Challenger thought; but these

days she needed time to think things through.

She’d had the Sturgess girl pegged for a blackguard right from the start, but she

took no particular pleasure in being right. It was par for the course. The pleasure

would lie in watching the face of Devoran when the full enormity of the girl’s villainy was

brought home to him. Was there any possibility of error in Wilberforce’s reasoning?

No, there was not.

“She fooled old Dad right from the start,” Bill said eventually.

“I think she was probably good at fooling people. It’s not necessarily your father’s

fault. And I rather doubt that her father the Jackal was involved. The policewoman

Dobbin seemed to think well of him and I respect her judgment, up to a point.”

“Yup, I reckon the Jackal’s clean. Too bad. It seems a waste of a good

name.”

Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 21

“There will be other Jackals. And now we shall deliver the tape to your father

and expose the girl Sturgess for what she is. It’s a pity about dear May, but she must

face the consequences. Her crime becomes relatively minor now the real culprit is

known. Come, Wilberforce. We shall take my car.”

SUNDAY MORNING: AT THE ART SHOW

It was strange, the way a guy could find himself falling in with Gran’s wishes

without conscious volition. When Bill had first viewed the tapes, he’d decided he

couldn’t expose dear old Dad to the distress of hunting down the woman he loved, if

love was the right word, as a pack of wolves might pursue a caribou or, in lean years, a

snowshoe hare. It would destroy the sentimental old fellow. But here they were rattling

along Waterside Road with the tape secured in Gran’s purse and the old lady driving

like a horsewoman of the apocalypse.

“Perhaps she did love him a little, don’t you think?” he said.

“Love!” Gran uttered one of her less pleasant snorts. “She was a schemer and

a gold-digger, Wilberforce. Beware of women wearing short skirts, that’s my advice to

you.”

In his mind’s eye, he saw the way besotted old Dad had looked at Susi. The

time had come to make a stand in the name of moral justice. “Gran, we can’t do this

thing.”

“What on earth do you mean, boy? We must assist your father in his duty.”

“I don’t think he would appreciate it.”

“What your father appreciates or does not appreciate is no concern of mine!”

she shouted in a voice far too big for the car’s restricted interior. “We have a public

service to perform! You of all people should appreciate that, Wilberforce, with your

desire to make the police your career.” She could get quite uppity when she wanted to.

And there was an element of truth in what she said, but on the other hand he wasn’t a

Mountie yet. He would have plenty of time to uphold the law when he became a Member.

For the time being he was a free agent.

“I can’t allow it, Gran.”

She twisted round and glared at him, pop-eyed. “Can’t allow it, you say? Are

you defying me, Wilberforce?” She was clearly upset about having to shop her new

friend Mrs. Vinge as a part of this bout of public-spiritedness, but she could be a rigid

old trout.

“Well, no, I wouldn’t put it quite like that. I’m offering us both the chance for

second thoughts.”

“Only ninnies like your father need second thoughts! My mind is made up. The

situation is clear. May Vinge was foolish in trusting the Fox, but she is no hardened

criminal and the Court will realize this. The girl Sturgess on the other hand is a foul

murderer, pure and simple. We must ensure that she suffers punishment to the full extent

the law allows! By God, I wish they’d bring back the noose!”

Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 21

“Just remember who she killed, Gran. A dirty little trickster who preyed on

women. I seem to remember you saying he deserved to die on more than one occasion,

remember, eh? Remember?”

If there’s one thing that Gran hates, Bill thought, it’s a challenge to her memory.

And really, she was getting a bit vague these days. But on this occasion, prompted by

the car running off the road, she removed her steely glare from his face, wrenched the

wheels back straight and slowed down as the cottages came into view.

“It is possible to view the matter in that light,” she conceded with dignity.

“That’s the way I see it.”

The car slowed further. It often did, when she was thinking hard. “Perhaps the

tape is superfluous,” she said slowly, “Or perhaps not. Too much evidence can sometimes

confuse the issue, admittedly. It can be just one more item for a clever defense

lawyer to pick apart. I shall consider the matter carefully. ”

“That’s very perceptive of you, Gran.”

The car drew to a halt outside the village hall, now devoid of police presence.

It seemed Gran had driven far enough, for the moment. Bill got out and opened the

door for her. She always liked that. She began to shuffle toward the hall, blending in

nicely with a handful of old ladies standing about engaged in mutual grooming. You’d

never know she was worth a dozen of them.

She climbed the steps quite briskly.

“I wonder, Wilberforce,” she said, almost absently, sharp old eyes questing this

way and that. “I wonder.... Ah, there we are.”

The place was full of foul paintings of dead fish and banana-shaped boats. It

seemed they’d stumbled into the local art exhibition. The fruits of Noss Cove’s artistic

talents festooned the walls like windblown litter.

And in pride of place on the end wall hung — no, it couldn’t be! It had to be

some trick of the light. Bill approached cautiously, as he might approach a quietly snarling

pit bull that he must face down or be branded a coward by Maeve. He drew that

simile from real life. He blinked, temporarily disoriented by the swirling colors and

found his gaze drawn hypnotically to a mutant eye in the bottom right-hand corner of a

huge canvas. It aroused emotions in him, that eye — which is what a good painting is

supposed to do. But they were not emotions he would care to experience daily, or

even annually.

At last he dragged his gaze to the brass plate on the lower edge of the frame:

WILDEBEEST PULLED DOWN BY AFRICAN HUNTING DOGS

Adelaide Rooke-Challenger

“May, my dear!” The old girl greeted the Arts Council President with a

crooked smile. “What a delightful exhibition you’ve put together. Please accept my

congratulations!”

Bill felt her slide the cassette gently into his hand.

Foul Play at Duffy’s Marina – Michael Coney 21

“No point in opening a can of worms, Wilberforce,” she murmured, gazing

proudly at her creation.

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