Brian Anderton disappeared,returning with a couple of cans of Stella and pint glasses. He handed one of each to Daniel and they settled comfortably into the sitting room armchairs.
Daniel looked around approvingly.
A woman’s touch
, he thought, noting the simple clean lines of the furniture, the vase of purple tulips on a low coffee table.
‘How did you meet your wife?’ he asked, purely as a conversation opener, but quickly realising he’d made a bad choice talking about Claudine.
Anderton was eying him suspiciously. ‘Holiday, mate,’ he said. ‘I was with a few buddies of mine, camping in the south of France. She was there on holiday too.’
‘There’s something about French women, isn’t there?’ Daniel winced.
It was an even bigger faux pas
.
‘I thought so,’ the policeman said testily. ‘That’s why I married her.’
Right on cue Claudine put her head round the door. ‘It’s all settled,’ she said. ‘The girls are going to help me to cook and lay the table. You two men just talk.’ She aimed a brilliant smile into the room and closed the door behind her.
At first the two men drank in silence. Everything Daniel thought he could say seemed to have a double entendre.
Avoid comments about his wife, his home, his daughter even. Daniel was stuck for conversation so merely fixed a pleasant, consultation-room, neutral smile on his face and said nothing. Then Anderton set his glass down heavily on the table and cleared his throat. ‘I wanted to ask you something,’ he said gruffly.
‘Go on.’ With a sinking heart Daniel knew it would be something medical.
Chest pain, bowel trouble…impotence?
He waited.
Anderton didn’t get straight to the point but meandered thoughtfully. ‘I’m well used to crime,’ he began slowly. ‘You know – plain theft, drunken assaults, burglary, that sort of thing, but some crimes, to me, are…’ he was frowning, ‘inexplicable.’ He took a deep swig of lager, frowned into the can. ‘I just can’t follow them. I can’t understand the motive. I mean…’ He leant forward, his elbows resting on his knees. ‘Why would someone steal a woman’s knickers off a washing line?’
‘Claudine’s?’ It was out before he’d thought.
Anderton nodded grimly, took another angry swig out of his lager can and waited for an answer.
‘It could be…’ he couldn’t think of a way to say this without sounding voyeuristic. ‘Perhaps her underwear is expensive? Tasteful and someone’s simply stolen them.’
Anderton looked almost bored by this explanation,
‘But usually,’ Daniel continued warily, ‘it’s stolen by someone inadequate. The act is done for sexual gratification because they can’t get it normally. But surely,’ he couldn’t help himself, ‘not here? Not in Eccleston. It’s not that sort of place. We don’t exactly breed people with sexual fantasies.’
It was a stupidly naïve statement and he knew it.
‘We do now,’ Anderton said grumpily, ‘right in my back yard. Someone’s been stealing my wife’s underwear from the washing line. And then this afternoon.’ He got up, agitated, gripping his can so hard Daniel thought it must crumple and spill lager over the pale carpet. ‘This afternoon,’ Anderton repeated, ‘a condom was pinned to it. Someone – I assume it’s a he – had not only pulled the washing line out – it’s a retractable one,’ he explained, ‘but they’d pinned a ruddy…’Upset he couldn’t continue. ‘For goodness’ sake, Daniel, what sort of a man would do such a thing? A perv? And how far will he go? Claudine was asking me for answers. “Is it personal? Is it because she’s French?” Is this rotten weirdo trying to get close to my wife – because if he is I swear I’ll…’ His face was contorted with anger. ‘Is this the start of serious stalking?’
‘It could be but—’
The policeman butted in. ‘I was involved in a case that began like this a few years back in Birmingham,’
Daniel looked around approvingly.
A woman’s touch
, he thought, noting the simple clean lines of the furniture, the vase of purple tulips on a low coffee table.
‘How did you meet your wife?’ he asked, purely as a conversation opener, but quickly realising he’d made a bad choice talking about Claudine.
Anderton was eying him suspiciously. ‘Holiday, mate,’ he said. ‘I was with a few buddies of mine, camping in the south of France. She was there on holiday too.’
‘There’s something about French women, isn’t there?’ Daniel winced.
It was an even bigger faux pas
.
‘I thought so,’ the policeman said testily. ‘That’s why I married her.’
Right on cue Claudine put her head round the door. ‘It’s all settled,’ she said. ‘The girls are going to help me to cook and lay the table. You two men just talk.’ She aimed a brilliant smile into the room and closed the door behind her.
At first the two men drank in silence. Everything Daniel thought he could say seemed to have a double entendre.
Avoid comments about his wife, his home, his daughter even. Daniel was stuck for conversation so merely fixed a pleasant, consultation-room, neutral smile on his face and said nothing. Then Anderton set his glass down heavily on the table and cleared his throat. ‘I wanted to ask you something,’ he said gruffly.
‘Go on.’ With a sinking heart Daniel knew it would be something medical.
Chest pain, bowel trouble…impotence?
He waited.
Anderton didn’t get straight to the point but meandered thoughtfully. ‘I’m well used to crime,’ he began slowly. ‘You know – plain theft, drunken assaults, burglary, that sort of thing, but some crimes, to me, are…’ he was frowning, ‘inexplicable.’ He took a deep swig of lager, frowned into the can. ‘I just can’t follow them. I can’t understand the motive. I mean…’ He leant forward, his elbows resting on his knees. ‘Why would someone steal a woman’s knickers off a washing line?’
‘Claudine’s?’ It was out before he’d thought.
Anderton nodded grimly, took another angry swig out of his lager can and waited for an answer.
‘It could be…’ he couldn’t think of a way to say this without sounding voyeuristic. ‘Perhaps her underwear is expensive? Tasteful and someone’s simply stolen them.’
Anderton looked almost bored by this explanation,
‘But usually,’ Daniel continued warily, ‘it’s stolen by someone inadequate. The act is done for sexual gratification because they can’t get it normally. But surely,’ he couldn’t help himself, ‘not here? Not in Eccleston. It’s not that sort of place. We don’t exactly breed people with sexual fantasies.’
It was a stupidly naïve statement and he knew it.
‘We do now,’ Anderton said grumpily, ‘right in my back yard. Someone’s been stealing my wife’s underwear from the washing line. And then this afternoon.’ He got up, agitated, gripping his can so hard Daniel thought it must crumple and spill lager over the pale carpet. ‘This afternoon,’ Anderton repeated, ‘a condom was pinned to it. Someone – I assume it’s a he – had not only pulled the washing line out – it’s a retractable one,’ he explained, ‘but they’d pinned a ruddy…’Upset he couldn’t continue. ‘For goodness’ sake, Daniel, what sort of a man would do such a thing? A perv? And how far will he go? Claudine was asking me for answers. “Is it personal? Is it because she’s French?” Is this rotten weirdo trying to get close to my wife – because if he is I swear I’ll…’ His face was contorted with anger. ‘Is this the start of serious stalking?’
‘It could be but—’
The policeman butted in. ‘I was involved in a case that began like this a few years back in Birmingham,’
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