In the Light of Madness (12 page)

They returned inside with a fine covering of rain drops glistening on their clothes and hair, and found Maria Jones waiting for them.

“Reverend Olong is here to see you,” she said, cocking her head in the direction of the seated man, who was staring intently at his clasped hands. He stood up as they approached.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I wondered if I could hold a memorial service on Sunday, with respect to the recent atrocities. I want to pull the community together and support the suffering families.”

“I don’t see a problem with that,” replied Wednesday.

The reverend gave them both a solemn nod before moving on.

“I imagine we’ve got a date in a church this Sunday then,” sighed Lennox.

Wednesday blushed as she strode off to the toilet to apply some lipstick, and spray on more scent, before heading off to the pub with him.

Chapter Nine

Wednesday and Lennox drove separately to The Crow. She followed behind smoking a cigarette and listening to Bach. After parking she gave a cursory check of her face and hair in the rear-view mirror before climbing out to join him.

There were only a handful of cars and motorbikes in the car park. The hanging baskets harboured tired looking plants, which aesthetically offered very little. The outside walls were painted a polluted shade of white, with charred black beams crisscrossing along the roof line.

Stepping inside, Wednesday still found it odd not to be greeted by the stale smell of tobacco smoke. It had instead been replaced by the odour of feet which rose up from the garishly patterned carpet.

It was an old fashioned pub with brass horseshoes nailed to the original beams. A welcoming log fire roared in the grand fireplace, over which hung a stuffed crow housed inside a glass showcase.

The other patrons compiled of four leather-clad aging bikers, an elderly couple, and a few suited men with slicked down hair. The female element was short in supply, except for Wednesday, the elderly woman, and the barmaid with the bleached blond crop. The latter wore a tight-fitting red t-shirt that clung to her diminutive torso, skinny black jeans, and battered cowboy boots. Her look was completed by a slash of deep red lipstick across her mouth.

Wednesday sensed a pinch of envy in her stomach as she observed Lennox studying the barmaid as he ordered the drinks.

“Is the landlord in?” he asked.

“Dick, you’re wanted,” she called out behind her.

From a room behind the solid oak bar, emerged a gargantuan man dressed all in black with an ostentatious pair of cowboy boots.

“Who wants me?”

“Dick Pennymore? DI Wednesday and DS Lennox. I wonder if we could ask you a few questions.”

He looked to see if they had bought a drink before agreeing to Lennox’s request.

“Do you know Stewart Cleveland?”

“I do as it happens. Why?”

“Is he a regular patron?”

“He’s normally here every Friday and sometimes on a Wednesday.”

“Was he here last night?”

“As it happens he was. What’s all this about?” he said as he leant over the bar so Wednesday could feel his hot beery breath skimming across her face.

“We’re just making enquiries. I assume you’re aware of recent events.”

“Too right I am. It’s a bloody outrage. If you lot don’t catch the guy soon, and we find the bastard, you won’t find him alive.”

Lennox decided it was pointless continuing the line of enquiry, or even setting the man straight about the law. Instead, he thanked Pennymore and then guided Wednesday towards the table for two in the bay window. He pulled out the chair for her to sit down.

“Quite the gentleman in private, aren’t you.”

“I’d like to think I’m the same at work, too.”

Wednesday smiled and sipped her Diet Coke. “Seeing as we’re working together, it would be nice to know a little more about you.”

“What, on top of the office tittle tattle that you already know.”

“You should know I never pay heed to that. Although I have noticed that quite a few female staff seem drawn to you.”

“Is that so? Well, I have a news flash for them all; I don’t do relationships in the workplace. In fact, I’m still a tad raw after the divorce.”

“It’s supposed to get easier as time passes.”

“So I understand. However, every memory leaves a trace that’s never extinguished.”

“So, if anyone asks me, I’m to tell them it’s a waste of time pursuing you.”

“Pretty much.”

“I noticed the barmaid bleeped on your radar.”

“I said I was raw, not blind.”

Wednesday prodded the ice cubes that were floating in her glass.

“There’s not much to say about my life, so tell me about you,” he asked.

“I’m not sure mine’s any more interesting. I’ve never been married, I’ve no kids, my career is my boyfriend and I live with my half-sister; but you know that last one.”

Lennox brushed his hand over his bristly hair. “Yes, the journalist. Do you share the same mother or father?”

“Mother. She divorced my dad when I was young and married Oliver. They had Scarlett. Things are a bit rocky at the moment.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“I’m probably just being overdramatic. I love Mum to pieces, and Oliver is good for her, but there’s only so much giving a person can do. Marriage needs to be a mutually supportive union in my eyes.”

She began twirling a strand of hair around her finger and gazed out the window, looking at the distorted view through the bull’s eye in the pane. She wanted to keep talking, to open up her heart and let the emotions flood out over the table for him to mop up, thus relieving the pressure in her head. But she feared he would view her in a different light if he knew.

Outside the rain crashed down in sheets, so when the pub door opened a shower of rain followed the customers in. The first to enter was a group of scantily clad young women brandishing umbrellas, followed by a pair of workmen in fluorescent jackets. The last person to bluster in was Stewart Cleveland, who’s normally slick appearance had been wrecked by the elements.

He marched straight up to Pennymore and began talking rapidly and gesticulating frantically. Pennymore pointed towards the detectives and Cleveland turned around to see them staring right at him.

Wednesday raised her glass in his direction, and his response was to storm out into the squally rain. They watched through the window as he turned his collar up before heading to his car.

“He appeared upset at seeing us here,” Lennox said with amusement.

“I wonder what he was saying to Pennymore,” Wednesday mused as she swirled the diminishing ice cubes in her glass.

“He won’t tell us the truth, especially as he pointed us out to Cleveland. They’re clearly more than mere acquaintances.”

“Something to keep an eye on,” she replied. “Would you like another drink?”

“If you’re offering.”

He watched her walk to the bar and he found himself wondering what she would look like with her hair down. He then let his eyes drift towards the dancing, hypnotic flames in the fireplace.

“May I ask why you are so raw after your divorce? I mean, if I’m being too nosey you can tell me to butt out,” she said, placing a Coke in front of him.

“It’s never easy when a divorce involves kids. My two boys seem to be getting along nicely with my ex’s new boyfriend, and I can see myself falling through the cracks of a reconstituted family.”

“So it’s the relationship issues with your kids that’s causing you pain.”

“Truthfully, it’s not just that. She left me because she said she couldn’t compete with my job. I told her she didn’t have to, but . . .” His voice trailed off and his eyes wandered back to the fire. His attention was drawn to the sparks spitting from the logs.

“Did you ever consider changing your career path?”

“I didn’t want to. I like the buzz and adrenalin rush this job brings. I feel a compulsion to solve puzzles and to assign blame in the world of criminals.”

“I hear what you’re saying. However, you could end up a lonely old man if you live only for your career.”

“And what about you then? When does work stop and your personal life begin?”

“I’m working on it,” she replied quietly as her eyes were also drawn to the fire. “Why don’t you come back to my place, we could both do with a wholesome meal. I could cook up a curry in no time.”

Lennox raised his eyebrows and tapped the side of his glass with his fingertips. He answered “yes” quicker than he intended.

They noticed Dick Pennymore watch them leave before he disappeared into the back room. Wednesday did not notice Lennox giving a sly glance towards the barmaid.

Lennox sat at the kitchen table as Wednesday deftly chopped the vegetables and leftover roast chicken to put into the curry. Smooth classical music played softly in the background as the aroma of spices began melting into the air.

“How long do you think Scarlett will stay living with you?”

“Until she marries, I imagine.”

“She’s getting married?”

“Not yet,” she replied, gripping the knife handle tightly. “She’s currently single, but she attracts men easily so I imagine it will happen one day.”

She poured them both a glass of wine and seated herself opposite him. In the centre of the table sat a cluster of large church-pillar candles, which gave a flattering glow over both their faces. It was not long before the pungent curry was ready to be served.

“What dark secrets do you conceal behind your placid facade?” he asked between mouthfuls of curry and basmati rice.

“What makes you think I have secrets?”

“Because everybody does to a greater or lesser extent.”

“Well if I did, I’m not sure I’d tell you.”

“Well you’d be wrong. We work closely together so we should trust and look out for one another.”

Wednesday raised her eyebrows then picked up her wine glass.

“I’ve told you about my residual feelings after my divorce,” he continued, looking at her with his sharp, hazel eyes.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I do have something that lurks in the fleapit of my mind.” She took another sip of wine to moisten her mouth. She was about to continue, when she heard the front door open.

“Something smells divine,” Scarlett called out.

Her footsteps echoed like horses hooves on the floor. “Oh sorry, I didn’t know we had company.”

“We don’t. I do. There’s some curry left if you want some. I thought you were working late tonight.”

Scarlett unravelled the multi-coloured knitted scarf from around her neck, and threw it over the counter. She helped herself to a bowl of curry and sat at the head of the table.

“So, Detective Sergeant Jacob Lennox, what’s new?”

“Are you referring to the cases or my personal life?”

“Cynicism so late in the evening will give you indigestion.”

“I’ll cope,” he replied as he scraped his fork across the plate. “I should be getting off home. We’ve an early start in the morning.”

“Please don’t go on my account, Jacob. I’m a good listener if you want to talk through pressing matters. A fresh pair of eyes and ears can do wonders.”

Wednesday shot her a heated glance before escorting Lennox to the front door.

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries. I’ll see you at the briefing.”

Wednesday watched him merge into the dark night and lingered there until his headlights vanished down the street.