He was quite sincere. The plants complemented the elevated home, and the longer landscape of the lake and the distant trees behind it set the place off perfectly.
âWe think so,â said Debbie. âThis is our permanent home, really, so we enjoy making the very best we can of it. We have to move out for a month of each year, of course, but we understand that. And weâre always delighted to move back in here. It really feels like home to us now.â
âYou must know more about what goes on at Twin Lakes than anyone else around here. More than even the owners, I expect.â
âOh, I donât know about that!â said Debbie automatically. But she preened herself a little at the thought, settling into her armchair like a bird resuming its nest after an exhilarating fluttering of its plumage. âI suppose we do know the whole site pretty well by now. And I know most of the people who use it. They like to chat, and you get to know a little of their lives, over the years.â
I bet you do, thought Bert. Whether they like to chat or not, you find out about them and their families and their opinions. He knew Debbie Keaneâs type pretty well by now. Sometimes they gathered information effortlessly; sometimes they worked much harder to do it and put peopleâs backs up. But the important fact about the Debbie Keanes of this world is that they can be very useful to the police. He took the plunge. âMy name is Bert Hook, Mrs Keane. Detective Sergeant Hook, when Iâm at work, rather than enjoying myself here.â
âMy word! I hope we havenât done anything wrong! Youâre not going to put the cuffs on us and take us in, are you?â Debbie giggled and gripped the arms of her chair.
Bert smiled patiently. It was a little tiresome, but you had to accept that the words were meant as friendly. People didnât realize how often heâd endured this or similar reactions, just as they didnât realize how his tall chief John Lambert had been asked whether it was cold up there by short people who seemed to think the tired joke was original. âNothing like that, Mrs Keane. I came here for pleasure and Iâve enjoyed my day on your delightful site. Something has come up, thatâs all. Something I felt should be investigated, just to put Mrs Ramsbottomâs mind at rest. And Jasonâs of course. He has a right to be disturbed by this, even though heâs a man!â Hook gave her a big smile to show that this was a joke and that there was no need for her to be alarmed.
Mrs Keane was plainly delighted and animated by this news. âGoodness! What on earth can have happened on our quiet little site to excite the attention of a detective inspector?â
âDetective sergeant, Mrs Keane. And an off-duty detective sergeant at that. This is almost certainly a false alarm. Many people are stupid, but only a much smaller number among them are vicious.â He was aware from her face that he was getting this wrong, that instead of making it low-key as he had intended he was adding to her excitement with every phrase. But he couldnât see what else he could have done; you had to issue the standard cautious reminders.
And now came the most important, and in this case probably the most futile reminder of all. âI must emphasize that what I say now must go no further. I am taking you into my confidence, Mrs Keane, and it is important that you keep this to yourself.â He spoke the words with all the solemnity he could muster, but even as he pronounced them he heard their futility. You couldnât talk to the village gossip and expect her to keep what you said to herself, however steely your warnings. Because after his day on the site, Bert realized that this is what this community was: a particular kind of village, which assembled every weekend, with a few permanent occupants like Debbie Keane who made it her business to acquire and disseminate
âWe think so,â said Debbie. âThis is our permanent home, really, so we enjoy making the very best we can of it. We have to move out for a month of each year, of course, but we understand that. And weâre always delighted to move back in here. It really feels like home to us now.â
âYou must know more about what goes on at Twin Lakes than anyone else around here. More than even the owners, I expect.â
âOh, I donât know about that!â said Debbie automatically. But she preened herself a little at the thought, settling into her armchair like a bird resuming its nest after an exhilarating fluttering of its plumage. âI suppose we do know the whole site pretty well by now. And I know most of the people who use it. They like to chat, and you get to know a little of their lives, over the years.â
I bet you do, thought Bert. Whether they like to chat or not, you find out about them and their families and their opinions. He knew Debbie Keaneâs type pretty well by now. Sometimes they gathered information effortlessly; sometimes they worked much harder to do it and put peopleâs backs up. But the important fact about the Debbie Keanes of this world is that they can be very useful to the police. He took the plunge. âMy name is Bert Hook, Mrs Keane. Detective Sergeant Hook, when Iâm at work, rather than enjoying myself here.â
âMy word! I hope we havenât done anything wrong! Youâre not going to put the cuffs on us and take us in, are you?â Debbie giggled and gripped the arms of her chair.
Bert smiled patiently. It was a little tiresome, but you had to accept that the words were meant as friendly. People didnât realize how often heâd endured this or similar reactions, just as they didnât realize how his tall chief John Lambert had been asked whether it was cold up there by short people who seemed to think the tired joke was original. âNothing like that, Mrs Keane. I came here for pleasure and Iâve enjoyed my day on your delightful site. Something has come up, thatâs all. Something I felt should be investigated, just to put Mrs Ramsbottomâs mind at rest. And Jasonâs of course. He has a right to be disturbed by this, even though heâs a man!â Hook gave her a big smile to show that this was a joke and that there was no need for her to be alarmed.
Mrs Keane was plainly delighted and animated by this news. âGoodness! What on earth can have happened on our quiet little site to excite the attention of a detective inspector?â
âDetective sergeant, Mrs Keane. And an off-duty detective sergeant at that. This is almost certainly a false alarm. Many people are stupid, but only a much smaller number among them are vicious.â He was aware from her face that he was getting this wrong, that instead of making it low-key as he had intended he was adding to her excitement with every phrase. But he couldnât see what else he could have done; you had to issue the standard cautious reminders.
And now came the most important, and in this case probably the most futile reminder of all. âI must emphasize that what I say now must go no further. I am taking you into my confidence, Mrs Keane, and it is important that you keep this to yourself.â He spoke the words with all the solemnity he could muster, but even as he pronounced them he heard their futility. You couldnât talk to the village gossip and expect her to keep what you said to herself, however steely your warnings. Because after his day on the site, Bert realized that this is what this community was: a particular kind of village, which assembled every weekend, with a few permanent occupants like Debbie Keane who made it her business to acquire and disseminate
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