Enigma

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Day Seven

  Sunday, 4 November 2012

  07:15 hours

  Love slept soundly that night.

  For five hours straight. He didn’t even dream, although, Love knew that wasn’t factually correct. Everyone dreams but not everyone remembers them on waking.

  He threw back the duvet and sat momentarily on the edge of the bed before standing up, shoved his feet into his Muppet slippers and shuffled over to the door where he grabbed his bathrobe and strolled through into the lounge. He flicked the light switch and a soft glow spread over the room. Not even a glimmer of a certain curly-haired doctor had drifted into his subconsciousness to play havoc with his emotions and for that he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not.

  He walked straight over to Julie’s bed. The puppies were feeding, noisily sucking like it was their last meal, funny little sounds emerging from their bodies as they pushed, wriggled and waggled against Julie’s warm body. The boxer greeted Love as he approached. He knelt down and stroked her ear.

  ‘Hello, old girl,’ he said. ‘Looks like you’re tied up for the minute.’ He smiled at her as she gazed up at him with her dark brown eyes before turning her attention back to her brood. ‘When you’re finished here it’ll be your turn.’

  Love straightened up and looked out the window. At quarter past seven in the morning the world was already waking up outside. The birds could be heard chirping away in amongst the sounds of cars coughing reluctantly into life - at least the older ones with their plumes of exhaust smoke belching from their backsides indicating it was a chilly start to the day.

  Love turned from the window and walked into the kitchen. He flicked the lights then the switch on the kettle and glanced down at Julie’s bowl. It was empty. Finally. Love was glad and relieved to see that. When he’d gone to bed earlier that morning Julie hadn’t touched her meal. He scooped up her two bowls put them in the stainless steel sink, squirted some Ecozone washing-up liquid into them, turned on the hot water tap. He grabbed her sponge from under the sink and gave them a good clean. He took her spoon from its container by the cupboard, opened the fridge, removed a can of lamb chunks in gravy and spooned some into her bowl.

  Not too much, little and often was the way to go. Love totally understood that right now Julie had to be tempted to eat and this was the best way to go. And he reckoned he’d better pass that on to Mrs Burton as he filled Julie’s water bowl with fresh water before placing it next to her food bowl.

  He’d rung his neighbour the night before. He deliberated when he’d seen the time. He apologised for the lateness of the hour to which she assured him it was no problem at all. Mrs Burton was ecstatic to hear the good news and immediately came rushing down to meet the puppies. One minute later, Love opened the door to his neighbour dressed in brushed cotton pyjamas, cashmere dressing gown, and a pair of fluffy slippers on her feet and standing somewhat bashfully on his doorstep.

  She stayed for half an hour declaring she’d never seen such beautiful puppies. The woman was biased. She adored Julie, but Love could appreciate that. Where Julie was concerned, he was biased himself.

  Love got to work by 08:45 hours.

  His morning had been spent performing the same procedure as the night before at least where Julie was concerned.

  Having to pick her up in his arms, physically pulling her away from her puppies, down the stairs and outside and back again in double time. He hadn’t had a cigarette. Although he was cutting down, smoking less than half when he did light up. He’d had a coffee, had performed his press-ups, got washed and dressed, dropped in on Mrs Burton who couldn’t wait to undertake her neighbourly duties, got in the car and driven to work.

  The building was fairly busy with operatives from MI6 and DSBD going about their business. It was about right for a Sunday morning. Love nodded and waved to Geoff who was on duty flashed his ID and ambled over to the lift. He pressed the button. The first thing he would do, no, make that the second, he determined, the first thing would be to light a cigarette, the second thing would be to make a cup of tea and the third would be to contact the hospital.

  He had a vested interest in a certain patient.

  He wondered what kind of night he’d had and if he was in much pain from the previous day’s operation on his pelvis and legs. Probably not, Love reckoned, he’d be doped up to his eyeballs, somewhat unfortunately.

  The lift came to a gentle stop, it pinged, the doors slid silently open and Love stepped out. He walked along, his shoes making no sounds on the dark beige coconut matting that lined the hall, arrived at his door, touched the keys on the pad, the door buzzed, clicked, it opened, he went inside.

  A few minutes later, he grabbed his tea, strong and sweet, walked over to his desk and sat down. He took a mouthful of his drink, replaced the mug on a notepad, half turned in his chair, reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. He flicked one into his mouth straight from the pack. Instead of reaching into his other pocket for his brass lighter he opened his drawer extracted a bright blue plastic disposable lighter, flicked it once, held it in front of the tip and inhaled, deeply. He placed the cigarette in the glass ashtray, grabbed the receiver from his phone, flicked open a file, checked the number and dialled.

  A moment later, he was speaking to the doctor who’d operated on Heinrich. Love was told that Heinrich was doing well, still under sedation but would be able to answer questions by early afternoon. Love thanked him, disconnected the call, picked up his cigarette, took a long drag. He stubbed it out, took a swig of his tea, turned a couple of pages in the file found what he was looking for, leant forward, unconscious to the fact how it made his shirt outline perfectly his muscular torso, and dialled.

  It was answered after four rings.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Mrs Pfeiffer, Jill, it’s DCA Love here.’

  ‘Mr Love, yes, hello, I recognise your voice.’

  ‘I just called to see how… to see how you are, how you’re coping.’

  There was a moment before she spoke. ‘I’m in shock.’

  ‘That,’ he said, ‘I can understand and appreciate, ma’am.’

  ‘I seem to be running on adrenalin right now,’ she said, and laughed, quietly. ‘If I smoked, I would be doing so.’

  Love heard that. ‘I’m sorry, Jill.’

  ‘Nothing to be sorry about, Mr Love,’ she said. ‘You were only doing your job, you got a very sick person off the street, and that’s what’s important,’ she paused momentarily, ‘unfortunately, that person happens to be my son.’

  ‘How’s Mr Pfeiffer?’

  ‘Not saying much,’ she said. ‘I think he’ll probably wash his hands of the whole affair.’

  ‘And you, what are you going to do?’

  ‘My plans I spoke of are still going to go ahead,’ she said, referring to her proposed separation. ‘More so than ever now.’

  ‘And Heinrich?’

  ‘It’s too soon to assess his mental state but the doctor treating him intimated he could end up at Broadmoor,’ she said. ‘Do you know the place?’

  ‘Yes, I know the place,’ Love said, familiar with the high-security psychiatric hospital based in Crowthorne, Berkshire. He thought for a moment over what she’d said. ‘What’s the name of the doctor in charge of Heinrich’s assessment?’

  ‘Doctor Julie Cooper.’ He already knew the answer before it came. ‘She seems very nice, competent.’

  ‘Yes,’ Love said, and smiled. ‘We’ve met.’

  ‘It’s in their hands now they are the experts, not I. I’ll be there for him, Mr Love, but in the background, not actively.’

  Love recalled the hostility and rejection Jill had said Heinrich had shown towards her. ‘I understand completely,’ he said. ‘I’ll be dropping by later to interview him.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, and smiled. ‘Thank you for ringing.’

  ‘Goodbye, Jill, take care of yourself.’

&
nbsp; ‘I will, Mr Love,’ she said quietly but firmly. ‘I am.’

  Love reached forward, replaced the receiver and ended the call. Well, that was one tough cookie, he thought. And just as well, she was going to need all her strength to get through this.

  He picked up his mug, put it to his mouth, emptied the contents, replaced it on the desk. He closed the file, pulled another out from underneath the pile and made two more telephone calls. The first had been to Ashley Dixon. She was fine, all things considered, doing her best by Timmy, who, although his memory was still impaired would be going home later that day. She was quietly pleased to hear that the assailant had been caught although she didn’t say too much about it.

  And Love could understand that.

  The second telephone call had been to Derek Butterfield. He sounded resigned on hearing the news and he sounded less angry, less guilty than he had a week ago. He and Linda Moody were going to come clean about their relationship. She was going to leave her husband and move in with Derek and his two sons. Love wished the man luck with that, and also in finding a new job.

  He leant back in his old leather chair. It creaked slightly. He stared over at the window and the view beyond. The sky had turned grey. It looked like it wanted to rain but it could just as easily snow. He wondered how Julie and the puppies were doing. He’d been concerned about Mrs Burton having to carry the boxer in case the dog continued to refuse to budge when it came to taking her outside but Mrs Burton assured Love it would be no problem. She explained to Love how she and her husband could easily manage between them.

  Julie really could do no wrong in her eyes. It would be no guess as to where one of the puppies would probably be going.

  Love smiled. Not too far away.