Enigma

  Chapter Twenty

  11:00 hours

  ‘It’s called the Nicéphore test.’

  Love and Stuart had left the Branch and driven straight to St Katherine’s. In good time. The traffic had been kind. No hold-ups. No traffic works. No motorcycle messengers or ones on bicycles trying to cause a pile-up. The journey had been smooth and swift and now, eight minutes later, the two detectives were sitting side by side facing Doctor Julie Cooper.

  ‘Is this going to take long because…’ she said glancing at the clock on the wall.

  ‘No, not long,’ Love said. ‘And we thank you for your time, Doctor Cooper.’

  She smiled as she looked at Love. ‘It’s Julie, remember?’

  ‘Yes,’ Love murmured. ‘Julie.’ He could hardly forget but determined if he put things back on to a more formal basis it might ease the situation. What situation? Damned if he knew except the woman was getting under his skin in a big way.

  ‘You were lucky to catch me in between patients but I can spare only five minutes.’

  ‘We thought we’d take a chance on that,’ Love replied.

  Stuart smiled. He glanced round at his immediate surroundings. It was a small office full of medical books, dictionaries, a few personal objects and plants of all description green and thriving unlike the one back in their office. Stuart glanced at Love. It was the office of a busy professional. Slightly messy, a little chaotic. Lived-in. Calming, cheerful, inviting, decorated in yellows and blues.

  And those healthy green plants.

  ‘Can I get you something?’ Doctor Cooper asked. She looked from Love to Stuart and back to Love. Her white coat was slightly open revealing a tight-fitting pale pink silk blouse. It moulded her slim figure and narrow waist. It was attractive. Doctor Cooper was attractive. Love found himself looking at her face intently, glanced at Stuart, and cleared his throat.

  ‘No, I’m fine, nothing at all, Stuart?’ Stuart shook his head and held his hand up in a gesture of decline. ‘But please,’ Love added. ‘Do share with me your secret in how you keep your plants looking so good.’

  Stuart chuckled quietly. He glanced down and crossed his legs, picked a piece of fluff from his knee and waited.

  Doctor Cooper smiled. She continued to look at Love, and said, ‘It’s quite simple, Love, I water them. You were explaining about a - Nicéphore test, was it?’

  ‘Over to Stuart, if it’s not a camera with an old-fashioned film I don’t want to know.’

  ‘Doesn’t that attitude hinder your investigations?’ Doctor Cooper spoke quietly. She picked up a pen from her desk and scribbled something down. She folded the paper and fixed her stare on Love. Her face giving nothing away.

  ‘We are a team, Julie, the best of the best in our field and each one of us brings something to it.’ Love smiled. ‘We all have our idiosyncrasies and preferences.’

  ‘And what do you bring to your team, Love? What’s your speciality?’

  Love sat back in his chair and grinned. ‘I always get my man… or woman.’

  ‘Surely that can be applied to all your individual team members.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I’m usually one step ahead.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘I get into their heads.’ Love leant forward. ‘I anticipate their next move or I tune into their previous line of thought.’

  ‘So, it’s like a case of two becoming one?’ Doctor Cooper said.

  Stuart glanced from his partner to the doctor. ‘And didn’t the Spice Girls sing about that very thing?’

  ‘You could be right, Detective Le Fanu, I’m not exactly a fan.’ Doctor Cooper laughed. ‘I haven’t followed the charts not for many years now.’

  ‘Well, surely with the average age of your patients isn’t that considered to be a hindrance?’ Love said. His eyes crinkled at the corners. He was almost laughing. At her?

  She couldn’t tell.

  ‘I think we can get things moving along here. You were asking about the Nicéphore test, Doctor Cooper?’

  Doctor Cooper turned her gaze on to Stuart. She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. ‘Yes, Detective Le Fanu, I’m sorry, please go on.’

  ‘Highly intricate. Almost science fiction. Available only to the few. It works on the same premise as verifying old masterpieces. Where fine art is concerned an X-ray is taken of the painting which in turn shows up any previous work on the canvas not visible to the naked eye. The Nicéphore test works on the same premise but with photographs. It scrambles up the molecules and particles of the photograph to act like a 3-D window.’

  ‘It’s like you’re looking inside the photo. It gives you access which even the naked eye denies you,’ Love added.

  ‘Or behind it,’ Doctor Cooper said.

  ‘Exactly. You almost get a full 360 degree view of what’s going on. The Nicéphore test practically gives you X-ray eyes.’ Stuart smiled his charming smile at Doctor Cooper.

  She smiled in return. ‘Remind me then always to wear my most flattering underwear if ever I’m in your vicinity.’

  Stuart laughed and Love grinned looked away and then back at Dr Cooper. ‘Or at least a clean pair, right?’

  ‘In case you get run over by a bus!’ the doctor said, and laughed. ‘I was privy to the same philosophy when I was growing up.’

  ‘Well now,’ Love said. ‘Isn’t it a small world.’

  The remainder of the interview centred on Timmy. Love was eager to know how the boy was doing. He was holding his own. Doing fairly well. He was due to be discharged at the end of the week. Physically, nothing wrong with the boy. Mentally he was holding up, but Doctor Cooper wanted to keep him under observation for a while longer. His memory still hadn’t returned. Ashley was visiting him every day. Bringing him fruit. Small toys. Books. Herself. They were getting to know each other. The boy had no idea Ashley was his biological mother.

  Ashley had told Doctor Cooper that she’d decided she would tell Timmy at a later date.

  When things had calmed down.

  Stabilised.

  And how long that would be was anyone’s guess.

  ‘Shall we stop by to see how Timmy’s doing?’ Stuart asked Love.

  They were striding along the wide corridors and on their way back down to the ground floor. The interview with Julie Cooper had gone all right. Love had got through it. He’d kept his mind on the job. Damned if he’d let that woman get to him.

  What was it about her anyway?

  ‘Yeah, good idea,’ Love said. ‘Let’s do that.’

  Less than a minute later, they were standing outside Timmy’s door situated one floor below. Love knocked. A voice from inside told him to come in. He opened the door to find Ashley sitting on the edge of the bed. Timmy was sitting up looking a lot brighter since the last time he’d seen him.

  ‘Hello, Ashley, how are you?’ he said looking at Timmy.

  Ashley rose from the bed and turned to face the two men. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘We’re both doing pretty well, thank you.’

  ‘Hello, son,’ Love said. ‘What’s that you have there?’ He pointed to a small toy aeroplane in the boy’s hands.

  ‘Auntie Ashley gave it to me,’ he said. ‘It’s a Spitfire.’

  ‘Is it now?’ Love said.

  ‘That’s neat, Timmy,’ said Stuart. He walked over to stand by the boy. ‘Can I see it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Timmy said, and handed it to Stuart.

  Stuart looked the little model aeroplane over. It was plastic and probably cheap but lots of fun and by the look on Timmy’s face a huge hit. ‘It’s great,’ he said handing it back to Timmy. ‘Thanks, son.’

  ‘They sell them in the hospital shop just inside the main doors,’ Ashley said.

  ‘I know the one,’ Love said. ‘Looks like they sell a little of just about everything in there.’

  ‘Yes.’ Ashley grinned. ‘It’s a real treasure trove.’

  Love nodded. Stuart pulled out his gloves and started to put them o
n. ‘Well, we’ll leave you in peace we just wanted to stop by and say hello.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ashley said.

  She looked composed and attractive. Her hair was hanging loose. It was straight and reached just past her shoulders. She was wearing a black cashmere polo neck jumper offset by a pair of bright turquoise jeggings under which she wore silky black tights. A pair of black leather pumps completed her outfit.

  ‘We didn’t want to intrude but please know that we’re doing all we can,’ Love said.

  ‘I know you are and thank you.’ Ashley smiled, turned round and sat back down on the bed.

  Love and Stuart walked from the room closing the door quietly behind them.

  A large man dressed in filthy jeans and a sweatshirt advertising a popular brand of beer walked by. He glanced back at Stuart, stopped, and said, ‘Oy, Prince Charles, where’s main reception?’

  Stuart gazed at the man. ‘On the way out.’

  ‘Sorry, mate, I get lost in hospitals which way is that?’

  ‘Take the lift down to the ground floor keep walking in this direction turn left at the end just follow the corridor and you’re there.’

  ‘Cheers, Charles, you’re a diamond.’ The man grinned gave a thumbs up sign and ambled on his way.

  Stuart looked over at Love. ‘What!’

  ‘Prince Charles? That’s a new one.’

  ‘I take it as a compliment,’ Stuart said, smoothing down the collar of his overcoat. ‘But I’m curious as to why he didn’t make it William, or one of the others, seeing as I am slightly nearer to that age group.’

  ‘Yeah, but you’re far more mature,’ he said, and grinned. ‘And better dressed, just like his dad,’ he added.

  Love zipped up his Donegal as they made their way to the main entrance.

  ‘There’s the “Aladdin’s Cave”,’ Stuart said, nodding towards the shop.

  The open-plan shop was nestled in between the main entrance and reception. Handy for those who’d either forgotten or hadn’t had time on their way to the hospital to pick up a present. The ubiquitous card or flowers. Magazine. Made a change from the odd bunch of sad, dusty grapes. Whatever. The shop was crammed full of goodies, customers and staff alike.

  Business appeared to be good. There was no shortage of sick people. Like a funeral director you were safe in the knowledge you’d never have a problem with lack of business.

  People always got sick and they always died. You could count on it.

  Love and Stuart strolled over. Stuart pointed to a shelf. ‘Timmy’s Spitfire,’ he said.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  Love and Stuart turned to face a young man smiling at them.

  ‘No, we’re just looking, thanks,’ Love said. ‘Nice shop you have here,’ he added.

  ‘Thank you, but it belongs to my father, I just help out when I’m needed.’

  ‘When it gets busy?’ Stuart asked.

  ‘And that seems to be most days lately,’ the man said, and laughed. His attention focussed on the other side of the shop past the plastic toys, boxes of chocolates, stationery, books, magazines and newspapers. ‘Excuse me but I’m wanted over by the flower display.’

  Love and Stuart watched him go. ‘Never a dull moment,’ Stuart said.

  ‘No, not in a shop like this.’

  A woman brushed past them trailing a crying child behind her. His knees were bloodied. Nothing that a wash, a dab of disinfectant and a couple of plasters wouldn’t put right.

  Stuart turned to look at them. ‘You should see the scars already on Shannon’s knees. It’s all part of growing up.’

  ‘Exactly. A few cuts and bruises is all part of the process,’ Love said. He reckoned the woman was causing the kid more upset and grief than his wounds were giving him.

  The large sliding doors opened with a whooshing sound allowing a rush of cold into the building. The two men made their way to the car and moments later were heading back to the office. A spot hit the windscreen then another. Love turned on his wipers. It was only a soft drizzle and he turned them down to the slowest speed. Each lost in thought.

  Suddenly, Stuart started to hum.

  ‘You always do that,’ Love said as he negotiated a car in front changing its lane at the last second.

  ‘What?’

  He pulled up at the traffic lights and stopped. ‘Every time we pass the YMCA you start humming that song.’

  ‘Do I?’ Stuart chuckled. ‘Automatic reaction, mate, especially when I’m thinking.’

  ‘Any thoughts you’d care to share?’

  ‘Apart from wondering when in blazes you’re going to get the heating repaired in this thing?’ he said, and grinned. ‘And I was thinking about Sven Stonehead’s meeting on Tuesday,’ Stuart said after a few minutes had passed.

  Love drove on for a bit flicked his indicator to turn left into Parry Street and a moment later bore right. Stuart was already unfastening his seat belt.

  ‘Yeah, I’d really like to know what’s behind his recent trips to Primrose Hill.’ Love turned off Albert Embankment into the underground car park, a pause, ID verification, another pause and over to the spaces allocated for DSBD. He pulled into an empty space yanked the handbrake on and turned off the car. He had a feeling about that guy. Something wasn’t adding up.

  ‘It’ll be interesting to meet him.’

  Love looked at his partner. ‘Let’s get one step ahead and pull his records just to see what sort of shape the charity is in.’

  ‘All right,’ Stuart said.

  He and Love were walking towards the exit when behind them a car screeched out of the car park. They didn’t even bother looking behind them. Cars coming and going on two wheels or four was all in a day’s work.

  They climbed the few stairs, swiped their IDs, each entered their own personal code, Stuart stepped forward and pulled open the heavy door that would lead them into reception. ‘I’ll bring in Michael,’ he said, thinking of their fellow operative.

  Michael Kozlowski, sixty years old, amongst his skills he brought to the team was an infinite capacity for sniffing out fraud and backhanders.

  ‘If there’s anything dodgy going on, Love, he’ll find it.’

  11:30 hours

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ Love said, and nodded in reply to Stuart who was holding up a tea bag.

  He got up, grabbed his empty mug. Rinsed it under the hot tap and handed it to Stuart who dropped a tea bag in it. He strode over to the window and stared out at the river. Grey. Strong current. He touched the radiator underneath. It was lukewarm. He grabbed the dial and over his shoulder said to Stuart, ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Up or down?’

  ‘Up,’ Love said.

  ‘You’ll get no complaints from me.’ Stuart grinned as he poured boiling water into two mugs. He picked up the spoon added a teaspoon of sugar in Love’s mug, stirred it and squirted a drop of stevia into his own. He reached across to the mini fridge pulled out a carton of organic lactose-free milk. He added a drop to Love’s mug and a splash in his own and made a mental note to bring in some rice milk. He stirred the contents and placed the spoon to one side to be washed up later. He joined Love at the window and handed him his mug.

  ‘Looks harmless from up here, doesn’t it,’ he said taking a sip of his tea.

  ‘Cheers,’ Love said. He took his mug and nodded. ‘Sure does.’ He took a sip. Grateful for the hot liquid. It tasted good and it hit the spot.

  Love taking time out to drink tea like a proper Brit.

  No one back in New York would ever believe it.

  Love’s thoughts went back to their earlier meeting with Monica’s co-workers and boss. He liked them. He reckoned Monica fit in well there. They had a good team going and now one of them was gone. Forever. But replaceable. They’d no doubt find someone else who can dress well, be polite, competent and efficient. Be part of their family but happy to leave it behind at the office when the door closes at the end of the day.

&nb
sp; Suddenly, he remembered something. What with the results of the Nicéphore test and the subsequent visit with Julie Cooper, it had escaped his mind.

  Stuart’s telephone rang. He strode over to his desk, picked it up. He laughed. Ran off some figures. Listened for a moment then spoke some more.

  Love’s thoughts stayed with him. He loped over and placed his mug of tea on the desk. Reaching into his jacket pocket from the back of his chair he retrieved the bunch of cards and letters he’d lifted from Monica’s office.

  He pulled his chair out and sat down.

  He took the first envelope, opened it and closed it. It was a letter from a charity thanking Monica for her recent contribution and now thanks to her quite a number of cats would have a safe place to stay and food to eat for the next six months. Cats! She could have at least made it a dog home. Battersea for starters.

  They had cats and dogs.

  He opened another envelope. A company that sold office supplies was expanding and wanted to ensure Monica knew all about it. He took a sip of tea. He looked over at Stuart making notes on his computer. Phone balanced on his shoulder whilst typing away like his fingers were flying over the keyboard. Last time Love had tried that the phone had slipped from his shoulder and knocked over his tea where it ended up all over the floor. Julie, who was in the office at the time and being partial to tea, ambled over from her spot by the window to lick it up with gusto before it disappeared into the carpet.

  Love pulled another envelope. Handwritten. He checked the postmark. It read 20 October 2012. He pulled out the contents. It was a card. On the front of the card was a picture, a colourful sketch showing a room in an elegant-looking house in which sat a greyhound looking equally elegant and right at home. Love approved of this one. It featured a dog so one up for whomever sent this. He opened it.

  Inside was scribbled a message.

  I’d have died of boredom if it hadn’t been for you! Thanks for all your lovely gifts. Hope to be off these crutches very soon. Love S.

  Love looked up. Once again he thanked that gut feeling, that innate sense, call it what you will. He looked over at Stuart who was still busy typing.

  Stuart glanced up. Said something into the receiver and ended the call.

  ‘What is it?’ he said. ‘What have you found?’

  Love smiled. ‘Something that’s possibly leading us right back to the hospital.’

  ‘You’re joking. Something concrete?’ Stuart said. He got up and walked over to Love. Love handed him the card. Stuart glanced down and read the contents.

  ‘I don’t know, mate,’ Love said, staring past Stuart at the traffic in the distance. ‘But I reckon it could be at that.’