Death Comes for the Fat Man

10

In fact, by the time Rod had finished, there wasn’t much cake left. One of the consequences of getting up so early had been he missed breakfast and Pascoe’s summons hadn’t left any space to fit it in.

“Sorry,” he said, looking at the sparse remains of a once bulky seedcake.

“That’s all right,” said the woman with a smile. “Young men need to keep their seed level high. And you did help me with rubbing down my son’s horse.”

He smiled back at her. He had rapidly sussed out two things that Pascoe on his admittedly briefer contact had missed.

One look at her eyes had told Rod she was undoubtedly related to Kewley-Hodge, a relationship she’d just confirmed. The second thing he assessed instantly was that she was a very sexy woman, and after a few minutes in her company he added bright, lively, with a sense of humor. And a great baker.

So he relaxed and prepared to enjoy himself. If information came, well and good. But instinct told him it would be useless to try to force the game. Also he knew from experience that when he relaxed, it was often infectious.

“I’m Rod, by the way,” he said.

“Edie. So how long have you been in the Service, Rod?”

“How do you know I’m not a copper?” he asked.

“You didn’t say, Hello, hello, and rock back on your heels.”

“Inside I did when I saw you,” he said boldly.

“Think I’m in the market for a toy-boy, do you?” she said, smiling. “I’ll need to know a lot more about you first. So how did you become a spook? And don’t tell me you answered an ad in the Church Times.”

He saw no reason not to tell her the story of the way he’d been recruited, though he was careful not to mention Komorowski’s name. She seemed genuinely interested and ten minutes later he realized he was still talking about himself in answer to her questions whereas it should have been the other way round.

“Time out,” he said. “Now you know everything interesting there is to know about me, it’s your turn. Fair’s fair.”

“You want everything interesting?” she said. “That could take a long, long time or a couple of seconds. Depends what interests you.”

“You do,” he said, meaning it.

“OK. I’ll give you the full history, shall I? Only slightly expurgated because you’re so young.”

She was as good as her word. Most of the early stuff he’d heard from Pascoe as they drove from Manchester, but hearing it from the woman’s own lips gave him a charge, which meant he didn’t have to feign interest. She told him about her father, Matthew Hodge, the construction king; about growing up as the swinging sixties merged into the sybaritic seventies; about going to boarding school; about marrying Alexander Kewley at an age when most of her friends were planning university careers. She didn’t say she was pregnant when she married but that was the implication.

Whatever her intention had been when she embarked on this voyage through her past, she seemed borne along on an irresistible current and needed only the gentlest of interlocutory zephyrs to keep her on course.

She told him of her joy and pride in her son, and her father’s pride in his grandchild who he hoped would grow up to take over the family business. But before he could do so, Hodge Construction UK, a victim of its own success, was taken over by a huge American conglomerate, which was perhaps just as well as the teenage Luke showed little sign of wanting to become anything but a soldier. So off he went to Sandhurst, and passed out with huge distinction.

Here a pause. Knowing the rocks and reefs ahead, Rod offered his gentle zephyr.

“Edie, this must be so painful to you, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that you should…”

“It’s OK,” she said. “You get used to pain. You’ve still got that to discover, Rod. My boy went into the army and his career continued as it had begun, a real ‘Boy’s Own’ story. Till the day the news came that he’d been hurt.”

And now the story changed from “Boy’s Own” to dark tragedy.

The news that Luke had been injured had been a huge shock. But so used had his friends and family become to the with-one-mighty-leap-he-was-free sequel to all his perils that hope remained high till they got confirmation that the effects of the injury were going to be permanent.

This news was even more devastating than the first report.

On hearing it, Edie’s father, Matthew Hodge, collapsed with a coronary thrombosis and was dead before the ambulance arrived.

Alexander Kewley-Hodge was himself just out of hospital, where he’d been receiving treatment for bowel cancer. How much his condition was affected by the news no one could say, but subsequent to hearing it, he deteriorated rapidly and within a fortnight he too was dead.

“That’s awful,” said Rod, genuinely moved.

“Yes, it was,” said the woman in a matter-of-fact voice. “And it would have continued to be awful if it hadn’t been for Luke. From the start he refused to be pitied. Help that sprang out of love he would accept, but let him get the slightest waft of pity and he’d throw it back in the helper’s face. That applied to me and others close to him as much as anyone. As you’ve seen, his aim is maximum control, of his own life that is, not other people’s. I’m here as his housekeeper, not his nurse.”

“And his mother too!” protested Rod.

“That goes without saying,” she said. “So there you are, young man. Now you know everything interesting there is to know about me. Do finish what remains of that cake. In your job, heaven knows when your next meal may turn up.”