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17
The bar was empty except for Sir William Frederick Patterson who was sitting by himself playing patience in an alcove formed by the left hand of three bow windows. We walked across the heavy carpet, noticing the rich background music of Hans Zimmer filling the room.
“You must be Detective Inspector Paul Silver and John Handful, the consulting private detective,” he said as we came up.
“And you must be Sir William Frederick Patterson.” DI Silver responded, sharply.
“Please join me,” he said waving to two chairs that faced him. “Just let me finish this. Drink?”
“Yes, please.” I said and we sat down and waited.
He beckoned to the barman who came over
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COUNTER MEASURES 18
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COUNTER MEASURES 20
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COUNTER MEASURES 21
Professor Stephen Baker took almost another two hours to complete the autopsy after breaking for lunch. He ate a vegetarian curry consisting of organic mushrooms and potato’s, washed down with a slimline tonic at The Grinning Rat, before rejoining us at the Oxmarket Police Station to tell us what he’d had for lunch and of course his findings. “Not all the relevant tests have been completed yet.” He began, as we gathered in DI Silver’s small cramped office. “Time scale?” DI Silver asked abruptly. “A few more days, I’m afraid.” the pathologist replied. “I think you’ll find not only did he drink two bottles of red wine but he also snorted a line of cocaine as well.” &n
COUNTER MEASURES 22
Kimberley moved against me in the dark and put her mouth on the thin skin somewhere just south of my neck. I tightened my arms round her and buried her nose in her clean, sweet-scented hair. It was a shame, I thought hazily, that the act of sex had got so cluttered up with taboos and techniques and therapists and sin and voyeurs and the whole commercial ballyhoo. Two people fitting together in the old design should be a private matter and if you didn’t expect too much, you’d get on better. One was as one was. Even if a girl wanted it, I could never have put on a pretence of being a rough, aggressive bull of a lover, because, I thought sardonically, I would have laughed at myself in the middle and it had been all right, I thought, as it was. “Kimberley,” I said. No reply.
COUNTER MEASURES 27
Charlie barked and Kimberley took her time opening the door. I heard her struggling to make him get back into his basket, but eventually the door opened and she was standing there. She was wearing a bath robe, fresh out of the shower and the light behind her haloed her hair. The corridor of her apartment looked warm and inviting. “You’re early,” she said. “Sorry,” I said as I stepped inside. “What time is the film on?” “Not until a quarter-to-eight.” “Gives me enough time to get ready then,” she said. “Certainly does,” I said, cupping her face in my hands. I pushed my fingertips into her
COUNTER MEASURES 23
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COUNTER MEASURES 24
Standing at the window, I stretched and gazed at the view outside my apartment. Clear winter skies and snow covered Suffolk fields. I could see the grey buildings of Oxmarket expanding out before me, but the bright sunlight turned the tired old fishing community into a quaint picture postcard seaside village. The winter made living in Oxmarket worthwhile and tourists didn’t visit at this time of the year, so it felt like I had the place to myself, a private view of a bygone age. Yet, it had character. My mind flashed back to the London rush, the wrestle onto the underground and I smiled at the memory of the north-easterly sea breeze ruffling through my hair the night before when I had walked hand in hand with Kimberley and her dog Charlie, along the beach in the darkness. I heard a noise behind me, the shuffle of small feet in my slippers. I didn’t need to look round. I felt sleepy lips brush my neck as Kimberley wrapped her arms a
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