‘So you think,’ Troy asked Inspector Meredith, ‘that Hadleigh attempted blackmail and Jennings, rather than risk exposure, killed him?’
‘I think it’s possible, sergeant, yes.’
‘Then why,’ continued Troy, wary of triumphalism yet not quite able totally to conceal a victorious lilt to his voice, ‘did he ask St John on no account to leave them alone together?’
‘To deliberately mislead.’ Again the unspoken ‘of course’. ‘It was a red herring.’
‘A what?’ Barnaby’s face showed mirth and incredulity. The room, given permission from the top, fell modestly about. ‘You seem to have come down with a touch of the Agatha’s, Ian. Been watching Poirot, have you? On the telly?
‘Right,’ he continued, ‘if there are no more fanciful or entertaining insights I think we’ll call it a day. Briefing tomorrow nine a.m. unless something unforeseen arises. Before you go, Meredith - a word.’
The room emptied and the night-duty shift moved in. Troy took himself off to the chief’s office to collect his coat, where a few minutes later Barnaby, teeth still bared with satisfaction, joined him. They buttoned up against the weather and set off for the car park. Troy said, ‘I dunno what he’s on about half the time. I thought peregrinations were birds.’
‘Means “walking about”.’
‘Why can’t he say so then?’
‘Ah - that’s the beauty of higher education, sergeant. Never use two simple words when one really complicated one will do.’
‘What’s he got a degree for, anyway?’
‘Earth sciences, I believe.’
‘Oh well,’ said Troy, obscurely comforted, ‘earth sciences.’ He held open the main door and Barnaby passed through. ‘Tell you what, chief.’
‘What?’
‘He’s got a terrible boil at the back of his neck.’
‘Has he?’ Barnaby and his bag carrier exchanged smiles of complicitous pleasure.
‘Goodnight, sir.’
‘Gavin.’
Barnaby paused for a moment at the door of the Orion and gazed up at a sky full of cold, savage stars. The sort of stars you could tell at a glance had got it in for you. By the time he got home to Arbury Crescent it had begun to snow.
Between the Lines
Joyce Barnaby stood over the gas stove, warmly wrapped in a candlewick dressing gown, splashing fat over an egg in the frying pan, netting the bright orange yolk with threads of white. All wrong of course - it should have been boiled, then shelled, but he had been too tired for dinner last night so she felt he was entitled to a little treat. The grilled bacon was very lean and he had already had his porridge - oats and bran mixed to lower the cholesterol and shoot him full of B vitamins.
‘Oh, cat!’ Attracted by the smell, Kilmowski, having already breakfasted exceedingly well, had rolled across the kitchen floor, dug his claws into Joyce’s robe and started to climb towards the source.
‘Get down . . . Ow! That hurt.’ She unhooked the kitten, assembled the food on a warm plate and took it over to her husband.
‘We’re off the front page, thank goodness,’ he said, refolding the Independent. ‘If it hadn’t been for Jennings we’d never have been on it in the first place.’
‘He must have seen a paper by now. Perhaps he’ll get in touch today.’
Barnaby did not reply. He sat, regarding his breakfast, with deep dismay. ‘Isn’t it sausage this morning?’
‘Sausage Sunday.’ Joyce tapped her list of menus on the peg top notice board. ‘And you shouldn’t really have one then.’
‘One!’
‘If you’re lucky.’
He regarded her sternly. ‘Nobody’s indispensable, Joyce.’
‘Is that right?’ His wife picked up the coffee pot.
‘In Ancient Greece you could get a female slave for two spears.’
‘In Arbury Crescent wives who aren’t appreciated join the Open University And run off with their tutors.’
‘I hate this stuff.’ He scratched some mealy, wheyish paste across his toast. ‘No wonder they call it “virtually fat free”. You feel like a saint if you manage to keep it down.’
‘Stop moaning.’
‘Cough mixture, bicycle oil and fish paste.’
‘Kiki?’ Joyce clicked her tongue as she sat down and jiggled the pingpong ball tied with string to the back of her chair. ‘Ki-ki-ki . . .’
‘Five minutes ago you were telling it off.’
‘Oh look, Tom.’ Joyce clapped her hands with pleasure. ‘Look at him play.’
‘Just keep it away from my bacon.’