Randall lit up another cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke which diffused in the warm air. It drifted lazily in the lounge bar of “The Gamekeeper”. The pub was quieter than usual but, nevertheless, Ralph the landlord busied himself behind the bar, serving and chatting, dispensing booze and gossip in equal proportions. He was a big man, about four years older than Randall and he carried a bad limp (beneath his trousers he wore callipers). He’d been landlord of the pub for the past eight years, prior to which he’d been in the Scots Guards. The limp was a legacy from one of his spells in Northern Ireland.
Every so often he would look across and nod agreeably at the Inspector who was sitting on the other side of the room beside the blazing log fire which roared in the grate. The hiss and pop of burning wood seemed unnaturally loud in the relative calm of the lounge. From the public bar, the far off sound of a juke-box cut through the subdued nattering. The pub was old but the juke-box was its concession to a livelier, more hectic age, one which was lived out in the public bar, frequented mostly by youngsters. The older regulars were content to down their pints and to play dominoes in the snug. Cocooned within that cosy environment, they were oblivious to all around them.
“Penny for them,” said Maggie, studying Randall’s expression.
He looked up and smiled.
“Sorry, Maggie,” he said. “I was miles away.”
“I noticed. What’s wrong, Lou? You’ve been quiet ever since we got here.”
“Be thankful for small mercies,” he grinned.
“Is there something on your mind?” she persisted.
He reached for his pint and took a hefty swallow.
“I was thinking about Harvey,” he confessed. “I rang my superior, Frank Allen, to tell him we’d got Harvey. Do you know what he said? ‘About time’.” He paused. “Bastard.”
“What happens to him now?” Maggie wanted to know.
“They’ll stick him in Rampton or Broadmoor I suppose. He’ll be taken back to Cornford prison in the meantime. Though to be honest, I couldn’t give a toss where they put him as long as he’s out of the way. I just wish I could have got hold of him sooner than I did. Four people are dead now who might still be alive if I had.”
“Come on, Lou, you can’t carry the blame for those deaths too.” There was a note of irritation in her voice. “Stop shouldering the responsibilities for everything that goes wrong. You did your job. What more could you do?”
He raised his glass to her and smiled.
“Point taken.” He wiped some froth from his top lip. “What sort of day have you had?”
She considered telling him about Judith Myers but decided against it.
“Routine,” she lied. “You wouldn’t want to hear about it.” She sipped her drink, changing the subject swiftly. “It’s my day off tomorrow, can you get away a little earlier?”
Randall smiled.
“Well, with Harvey out of the way, there’s just the paperwork to be written up.” He reached out and touched her hand. “I should think I can sneak out around five.”
Maggie smiled.
“What do you usually do on your day off?” he asked.
“Lie in bed,” she began.
He cut her short.
“Now that sounds like a perfect way of spending a day.”
They both laughed.
“I clean the flat, watch TV, read. Go shopping.” She raised an eyebrow. “Really exciting isn’t it?”
He smiled thinly, gazing into the bottom of his glass for a moment.
“Maggie, I hope you don’t mind me asking but, well, these other men that you had relationships with –“
It was her turn to interrupt.
“I’d hardly call them relationships.”
“Well, you know what I mean. Haven’t you ever felt anything for any of them?”
“Why does it matter, Lou?” she wanted to know.
He shrugged.
“I’m a copper aren’t I? Asking questions is second nature. I’m curious that’s all.”
She took another sip of her drink.
“No, there hasn’t been anyone serious before. As I said to you the other night, I envy you your memories. All I’ve got is notches on the headboard.” She smiled, bitterly. “And I’m sure that to most of the men I’ve slept with that’s all I’ve been. Just another name in the little black book.” She paused. “There was one man who wanted to marry me.”
“What happened?” he asked.
She smiled.
“He worked for an oil company. They wanted him to move out to Bahrain for six months, he asked me to go with him. I said no. It was as simple as that. I’d just got the job at Fairvale and I didn’t intend letting it go. He said that I wouldn’t need to work, that we’d have plenty of money anyway but that wasn’t the point. He didn’t understand how important it was for me to feel needed. I enjoy the responsibilities I’ve got at the hospital. It makes me feel. . .” She struggled to find the word. “Accepted.” She looked at him. “Anyway, I didn’t love him.” She drained what was left in her glass and put it down.
Ralph appeared at the table, collecting empty glasses.
“Hello, Lou,” he said. “You’d better make sure one of your boys doesn’t catch you boozing, you might get breathalized.” The Scotsman laughed. He looked at Maggie and smiled.
“Mrs Randall,” he said. “How are you?”
Maggie swallowed hard and looked at the policeman, then at the landlord. She smiled thinly in response, colouring slightly as the Scotsman made his way back to the bar.
“I’m sorry, Lou,” she said, softly.
“For what?” he asked, smiling.
‘The barman . . . he thought I was your wife.”
“Nothing to worry about. It’s not your fault and Ralph doesn’t know about Fiona anyway.” He took a hefty swallow from his glass. “Perhaps we look married,” he said.
“Who does know about your wife?” asked Maggie. “About what happened to her?”
“I think most of the men on the Exham force know,” he said. “Word travels fast. Coppers like to rabbit as much as anyone else. But, other than them and you,” he glanced up at her, “no one here knows I was ever married or that I had a child.” He lit up a cigarette. “That was one of the reasons I came to Exham. After it happened, I put in for a transfer. I thought if I got away from London and the places that reminded me of the accident, then it might help me to forget it. So, they shunted me around for a couple of years until I ended up here.”
She touched his hand.
“You still miss them?” she asked.
“Naturally.” He touched her hand with his own. “But not as much as I used to.”
He squeezed her hand, as if afraid that she was going to somehow disappear and she felt the urgency in his touch.