Skin

19

He watched the Clio spin its wheels. It churned up mud as it climbed out along the coned-off lane and disappeared. When it had gone he walked back up the slope.

The traffic cop was standing a few yards away, hands open, a bewildered expression on his face. ‘Maybe she didn’t like us watching.’ He looked at the assembled cars and vans and shrugged, as if he was thinking that every other bugger in the force had pulled in for a gawp, and why did he get singled out? ‘I’m sorry – I heard the call come in and I was just passing. I didn’t realize she…’ He trailed off, dropping his hands, the air gone out of him. ‘I thought we were OK. In all honesty I didn’t think there was any resentment there.’

‘Resentment?’

‘No. No – not that kind. We don’t know each other. Not really.’

‘Then what?’

‘It was stupid. I nicked her. The other night – Monday.’

‘For?’

‘Speeding.’

Caffery almost whistled. He liked this, the idea of Sergeant Marley breaking the law. Suited her somehow.

‘It was midnight. I was on duty over near Frome – not usually my patch, but I’ve had this call to a drunk and when I get there someone else’s taken it. So I’m on my way back to Almondsbury when this car goes past – not that one, a Ford.’

‘A Focus.’

‘Yeah.’ He gave Caffery a slow look. ‘Yeah. Silver. It’s swerving all over the place, trying to take half the tarmac with it. So off I go, blues ’n’ twos, tonking down the road, and anyway the car just takes off with me hanging on its tail. You can imagine, can’t you, me calling in its plate, thinking I’m on a TWOC chase and giving it that round these corners? And by the time I’ve got the name back and recognized it’s her, she’s pulled off the road and is in her house. I knock and she comes to the door with some lame excuse about how she wanted a piss or something.’

‘The old bladder defence.’

‘The bladder defence. Course, that’s where I went wrong. Should’ve left it, shouldn’t I? But she’d got me. Wound me up big-time. So I nailed her all the way I could. Breathalysed her.’

‘You didn’t?’

‘Did. And, fair enough, she was stone cold. So I closed the record after that. But, y’know…’ The cop paused, scratched his head ‘… obviously she doesn’t want an apology off me.’

Caffery looked back at the place where the Clio had disappeared. ‘Which day did you say it was?’

‘This Monday just gone.’

Monday, Caffery thought. That happened to be the night Misty Kitson had gone walkabout from the clinic. It also happened to be the night before he and Flea had arrested the little Tanzanian and his sick-minded boss. She’d been fine that day considering the circumstances. Still, he thought, as he went to his car and swung inside, she was as guarded as hell most of the time. Christ only knew what Flea Marley got up to in her private world.

He put the key into the ignition and sat there for a moment or two, thinking about what he was going to do when he turned it. He had known just from looking at Flea that pursuing her, or even trying to call her, was a waste of time. He waited a few more moments for his thoughts to settle. Then he turned the key.

He wasn’t going to chase her. He was going to chase the CSI guys. He wanted to know more about that dog.