There was a telephone in the kitchen, hooked to an answering machine. He played the tape but there were no messages. Several choices presented themselves. He could phone for the police, then wait for them. He could phone them anonymously and then get out. He could get the hell out without telling anyone. Or he could hang around and see if either the killers or the D-Man came back. It stood to reason that the daughter would return some time. Maybe the body would have been found by then. There had to be a mail service, even to this outpost of civilisation. The body was still fairly fresh. Hoffer didn’t like to think about Bel Harrison stumbling upon it a few days or even weeks hence.
Then again, did he really want another police force involved? What if they scared off the D-Man?
Hoffer didn’t know what to do, so he let another drink decide for him.
Then he drove back towards Ripon, seeking a bed for the night.
16
The first thing I saw after breakfast was Leo Hoffer.
That may sound crazy, but it’s true. When I got back to my room to do some final packing, I must have left the TV on. I’d been watching the early-morning news. Now there was a chat show on, and one of the guests was Hoffer. Not that he stole much airtime, a few minutes, but he was omnipresent, coughing offscreen, twitching and interrupting when other guests were speaking. I told Bel to come and see. They’d got round to the question-and-answer segment. The host was moving around the audience, his mike at the ready.
‘That’s Jimmy Bridger,’ said Bel. ‘I watch this sometimes.’
A middle-aged lady was standing up to ask her question. ‘Is Mr Hoffer married?’ The camera cut to Hoffer, who was wearing an expensive suit but wearing it cheaply. The cloth shone but he didn’t.
‘No, ma’am,’ he said. Then, creasing his face: ‛Was that an offer?’ Everyone thought this very funny. Someone else asked him if he found his weight a problem. He agreed that it was.
‘I’ve got to put on a few more pounds before I can Sumo wrestle, and you know those last few pounds are the toughest.’
This had them practically rolling in the aisles.
‘A question for another of our guests,’ said the host, making it plain that he wasn’t going to let Hoffer hog proceedings. It looked to me like they must have had a disagreement along the way.
‘And this is the man who’s chasing you?’ Bel commented.
‘That’s him. My shadow. I sometimes think the only reason he hunts me is so he can appear on shows like this.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘His ego for one thing. But also, he’s in business, and I’m a good advert for him. As far as I can see, I’m the only advert he’s got.’
‘He doesn’t look like he could catch a cold.’
‘That,’ I said quietly, ‘is why he’s so good.’
I sent Bel off to do her packing, and then finished my own. We’d take the car back to Glasgow, I’d buy us train tickets south and let Bel make the connections to take her home. As for me, I’d go back to London. What else could I do? I’d wait it out till Shattuck crept out of the woodwork. I’d waited for victims before.
Bel wasn’t happy.
‘Does this mean the engagement’s off?’
‘It’s the way it was always going to be.’
She couldn’t help but notice a change of tone. ‘What’s up, Michael?’
‘Nothing. Just phone Max and tell him with any luck you’ll be back tonight. Tell him you’ll call from Glasgow with train times.’
So she made the call. It took Max a few moments to answer. Listening, Bel rolled her eyes, meaning it was the answering machine.
‘Hi, Dad, it’s me. Stick by the phone when you get in. I’m headed home, probably tonight. I’ll call again when I know my arrival time. ’Bye.’
We checked out of the hotel, but Bel wanted to go back into town.
‘What for?’
‘A few souvenirs. Come on, Michael, this is the last day of my holiday.’
I shook my head, but we went anyway. While she was shopping, I walked by the harbour. A ferry was leaving for Mull. The island was about six miles away, beyond the smaller isle of Kerrera. The sun was out, and a few boatmen were going about their business, which mostly comprised posing for the tourists’ video cameras. There was a hotel near the harbour we’d tried to get into, with a low wall alongside it. I lifted myself on to the wall and just enjoyed the sunshine. Then Bel was in front of me, thrusting a large paper bag into my hands.
‘Here,’ she said.
‘What’s this?’
‘It’s your souvenir.’
Inside the bag was a thick Fair Isle sweater.
‘Try it on,’ she said. ‘I can always take it back if it doesn’t fit.’
‘It looks fine.’
‘But try it on!’
I was wearing a jacket and a shirt, so took the jacket off and laid it on the wall, then pulled the sweater over my head and arms. It was a good fit. She ruffled my hair and pecked my cheek.
‘Perfect,’ I said. ‘But you shouldn’t have. It must’ve cost—’
But she was heading off again. ‘I just wanted to make sure it was okay. I’ve got to get something for Dad now.’ She gave me a wave and was gone.
I didn’t dare take the jumper off again. She’d expect me to wear it for a little while at least. Well, it kept out the breeze, but I had the feeling it made me look less like a local and more like a tourist. I took my sunglasses from my jacket pocket and slipped them on.
A car had drawn up nearby. It rose perceptibly on its axles when its driver got out. I nearly tipped backwards off the wall.
It was Hoffer.
He stretched, showing an expanse of shirt and a belt on its last notch. He also showed me something more: that he didn’t have a holster beneath his jacket. He did some neck stretches, saw me, and came walking over.
‘It’s been a long drive,’ he said with a groan.
‘Oh, aye?’ If he’d just come north, maybe he wouldn’t know mock-Scots from the real thing.
He wasn’t looking at me anyway. He was taking in the harbour, and talking more to himself than to anyone else. I thought he’d been taking drugs. ‘This is some beautiful place,’ he said.
‘No’ bad.’
He looked up at the hotel. ‘What about this place, is it no’ bad too?’I shrugged and he smiled. ‛A canny Scot, huh?’ Then he turned away and made to enter the hotel. ‛See you around, bud.’
The moment he’d gone, I slid from the wall, grabbed my jacket, and walked away. I didn’t know which shop Bel would be in, and had half a mind to go to the car instead and get the MP5. But she was coming out of a fancy goods emporium, so I took her arm and steered her with me.
‘Hey, what’s up?’
‘The TV tec is in town.’
‘The fat man?’ Her eyes widened.
‘Don’t look back, just keep walking. We’re going to the car and we are getting out of here.’
‘He can’t be here,’ she hissed. ‘He was in a TV studio only an hour ago.’
‘Have you ever heard of videotape? They record these shows, Bel. You think anyone would have the balls to put Hoffer on live?’
‘What are you going to do?’
I looked at her. ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘Maybe...’ she began. Then she shook her head.
‘What were you going to say?’
‘I was going to say...’ her cheeks reddened. ‘I was going to say, maybe you should take him out.’
I looked at her again. We were at the car now. ‘I take it you don’t mean I should date him?’