Last Voyage of the Valentina(13)

“I think you had better go now, Harry.”

“Who are you having dinner with tonight?” he asked, not bothering to hide his jealousy. “I hope it’s not a man.”

“My neighbor, Viv.”

“The writer?”

“The writer.”

“Well, that’s all right, then. Don’t want you to get into trouble. It’s my job to protect you.”

“And the rest of London—from floating limbs,” she said with a laugh, kissing him again and pushing him out of the door.

To Harry’s horror, while he had been enjoying an illicit glass of wine while still on duty, the tide had gone out leaving him marooned. He gazed in disbelief as his launch shuffled about like a beached whale, unable to break free, while a couple of ducks swam by, quacking in amusement.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, suddenly losing his sense of humor. “I’m garters.”

At that moment, Fitz walked down the pontoon. This time he had brought his own wine. Two bottles of good Italian red. He wore a jacket over a green and white patterned shirt and his sandy hair bounced about in the wind. The moment he saw Alba and the policeman standing on the deck of her boat, he felt his gut knot with jealousy. Her hand on his arm suggested their intimacy and Fitz wondered whether they had just climbed out of bed. Viv had said she had tons of lovers. As his mouth twisted into a grimace she turned and waved, flashing him the most charming smile. Did she remember him from the evening before? To his annoyance he found himself beaming back and raised the wine.

“Don’t be long,” he shouted, “or it’ll all be gone!”

“My friend’s got himself into a bit of bother,” she replied, beckoning him over. She explained that Harry was stuck in the mud. “He’s like a dear old walrus, heaving on the beach,” she said, throwing her chin up and laughing. Fitz recalled Viv’s having described her father in a similar fashion and dropped his shoulders with relief. Surely no woman would refer to a lover like that. Harry was not amused. He felt humiliated and irritated because Alba hadn’t said a man was also coming to dinner.

As the three of them discussed what to do, another patrol launch motored up containing a very severe-looking man scowling beneath his navy cap. Harry visibly shrank.

“Well, well, well, what’s going on here then?”

“I’m grounded,” Harry replied and was on the point of trying to explain why he’d been there in the first place, when Alba interrupted.

“Sergeant, how fortunate that you should arrive at this very moment.” The sergeant straightened up at the sight of Alba’s hotpants and boots and his face softened into an expression of concern. “My husband and I are so grateful to PC Reed.” She placed her arm around Fitz’s waist. Fitz suddenly felt very hot. “You see, I’m sure I saw a head, yes, a head, I swear it. Without a body. Bobbing about just there.” She pointed into the brown water. She raised her eyes to the sergeant and did her best to look frightened. “It was most distressing, as you can imagine. A head without a body.”

“I’ll have the team come and check it out, Mrs….” Alba realized she did not know Fitzroy’s surname.

“Davenport,” interjected Fitz, unprompted. “Mr. Davenport. I’ll be most grateful if you would. I don’t wish my wife to come across it again.”

“Of course, Mr. Davenport.” He cast his eyes to Harry’s pitiful launch. “I’ll take PC Reed with me in my launch and send him back when the tide’s in. Leave it to me.”

“I most certainly will, and with the greatest confidence. Now I wish to take my wife out for dinner. Very nice to meet you, Sergeant and PC…” He stammered on purpose.

“Reed,” said Harry grudgingly.

“Of course, and thank you.” With that he drew Alba away, leaving Reed of the River to the mercy of his sergeant.

As they motored off, the sergeant turned to Harry and said with a knowing nod, “Beautiful girl. Damn lucky she’s married to a strong man or she’d get into an awful lot of trouble.” Harry watched helplessly as she disappeared into her neighbor’s boat with Fitz.

Viv had donned a turban of old, Indian silk for the occasion. She sat wearing a sky blue caftan, smoking through an elegant ebony holder, her red nails so long it was a wonder they managed the keys of her typewriter. With her blond hair hidden from sight, her face looked much older, the makeup dry and caked into the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. However, her features came alive when Fitz and Alba walked through the door and her cheeks glowed a natural pink.