Read Online No Human Enemy (Suzie Mountford Mysteries) by John Gardner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John Gardner
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around the flat, hated being there alone, loathed it ever since the psychotic, murderous Golly Goldfinch had jumped her in the bathroom during that terrible time at the end of 1940. She hated being alone there now, just not used to it: twitchy, moving through the rooms, mind teeming with the horrid memories, touching things to calm her, the locks on the doors, Tommy’s Harris tweed jacket with the big leather buttons – she buried her face in it and inhaled, getting the scent of him, the soap and his tobacco – picked up his ties one by one, old school, police college, a blue with white polka dots, red with the same and a splendid silk creation by Sulka; then the pistol they kept, illegally, in the drawer of the bedside table, checking the mechanism, letting the magazine drop out of the butt, then slamming it home again, making certain there was one up the spout.
In the largest room, at the front, looking over the street, Tommy had hung a painting over the fireplace. He’d brought it up from Kingscote: a copy, Canaletto, Venice, The Grand Canal, a big canvas that she’d have sworn was an original, but he’d never have let on, any more than he’d ever call the artist by his proper name. ‘Ah, old Cannelloni,’ he’d say, ‘good enough to eat.’ That was Tommy: sound, tough copper and schoolboy. She smiled, getting his measure again. Getting it at last.
She was in the front room – the drawing room as her mother called it – looking down on Upper St Martin’s Lane, when the telephone rang and she lunged for it, almost tripping over. But it was James asking if she’d do him a favour. ‘Not today, Suze, but sometime next week.’
She told him to hurry up because she was expecting Tommy to ring.
‘Thing is Suze, that Maren. Emily. One that drove me up.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Well done, Jim. Hormones raging, I’ll bet.
‘Well, we’ve got a kind of tentative date. Been talking to her on the blower.’
‘She’s an OR.’ Meaning other rank, meaning officers keep your hands off.
‘Commandos don’t bother about things like that.’ A bit lofty and full of himself. ‘I want you to cover for me if necessary: back me up with the ma if I say I’m in London for a medical appointment or something. Actually I do have to go back to the hospital soon so it might not be needed.’
She told him of course she would back him up, tickled that her little brother was showing interest in young women. In truth she found it amusing: ‘Old Jim,’ she thought. ‘You can’t get into much trouble, seeing as how you’re a cripple.’ Then she asked how their mother was.
‘Picking fruit. Bottling it. Jams and pickles. All that.’
‘Enjoying having you home?’
‘Think I’m a buffer between her and the GM.’ GM for Galloping Major.
‘And the children?’ Her sister’s kids, Charlotte’s children, Lucy and Ben. Ben, who could not speak and could not hear, locked into his own world, in his head.
‘They’re great. Ben can do a lot of signing now. Seems to know who I am.’
As they said goodbye, Suzie told him, ‘Watch your back, Jim.’ One of Tommy’s favourite warnings.
‘Not my back I’m worried about. Not with Maren Emily Styles,’ Jim closed the connection, Suzie put down the receiver and the phone rang immediately, Tommy breathing in her ear. ‘Who you been talking to, heart?’ Smile in his voice.
‘My brother. Getting the hots for that Maren who drove him over on Sunday.’ She started to tell him about the goings on at Churchbridge, Winifred Lees-Duncan not being the body.
‘You’re absolutely certain, heart?’
‘That Winnie Lees-Duncan’s alive? One hundred and fifty per cent. Absolutely pukka gen. There’s no doubt.’
‘Then who’s the nun, heart?’
‘Someone who knows the Lees-Duncan family that’s for sure, though I don’t trust the father: John Lees-Duncan, gentleman farmer.’
‘OK. Sum him up, heart.’
‘Cold, uncompromising, arrogant. You’re made for one
In the largest room, at the front, looking over the street, Tommy had hung a painting over the fireplace. He’d brought it up from Kingscote: a copy, Canaletto, Venice, The Grand Canal, a big canvas that she’d have sworn was an original, but he’d never have let on, any more than he’d ever call the artist by his proper name. ‘Ah, old Cannelloni,’ he’d say, ‘good enough to eat.’ That was Tommy: sound, tough copper and schoolboy. She smiled, getting his measure again. Getting it at last.
She was in the front room – the drawing room as her mother called it – looking down on Upper St Martin’s Lane, when the telephone rang and she lunged for it, almost tripping over. But it was James asking if she’d do him a favour. ‘Not today, Suze, but sometime next week.’
She told him to hurry up because she was expecting Tommy to ring.
‘Thing is Suze, that Maren. Emily. One that drove me up.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Well done, Jim. Hormones raging, I’ll bet.
‘Well, we’ve got a kind of tentative date. Been talking to her on the blower.’
‘She’s an OR.’ Meaning other rank, meaning officers keep your hands off.
‘Commandos don’t bother about things like that.’ A bit lofty and full of himself. ‘I want you to cover for me if necessary: back me up with the ma if I say I’m in London for a medical appointment or something. Actually I do have to go back to the hospital soon so it might not be needed.’
She told him of course she would back him up, tickled that her little brother was showing interest in young women. In truth she found it amusing: ‘Old Jim,’ she thought. ‘You can’t get into much trouble, seeing as how you’re a cripple.’ Then she asked how their mother was.
‘Picking fruit. Bottling it. Jams and pickles. All that.’
‘Enjoying having you home?’
‘Think I’m a buffer between her and the GM.’ GM for Galloping Major.
‘And the children?’ Her sister’s kids, Charlotte’s children, Lucy and Ben. Ben, who could not speak and could not hear, locked into his own world, in his head.
‘They’re great. Ben can do a lot of signing now. Seems to know who I am.’
As they said goodbye, Suzie told him, ‘Watch your back, Jim.’ One of Tommy’s favourite warnings.
‘Not my back I’m worried about. Not with Maren Emily Styles,’ Jim closed the connection, Suzie put down the receiver and the phone rang immediately, Tommy breathing in her ear. ‘Who you been talking to, heart?’ Smile in his voice.
‘My brother. Getting the hots for that Maren who drove him over on Sunday.’ She started to tell him about the goings on at Churchbridge, Winifred Lees-Duncan not being the body.
‘You’re absolutely certain, heart?’
‘That Winnie Lees-Duncan’s alive? One hundred and fifty per cent. Absolutely pukka gen. There’s no doubt.’
‘Then who’s the nun, heart?’
‘Someone who knows the Lees-Duncan family that’s for sure, though I don’t trust the father: John Lees-Duncan, gentleman farmer.’
‘OK. Sum him up, heart.’
‘Cold, uncompromising, arrogant. You’re made for one
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