I had to find Kazek and get rid of him before they came round to interview Gizzy or one of the proper caravan people saw him and freaked. And now I had to tell him that, as well as Ros taking off, his other friend had drowned. Unless he knew? Was that why he had come to Becky’s house looking for Ros that Tuesday evening? Was that why he was so scared?
But if I sent Kazek away, I’d never find him again, and he was the link to Ros, and Ros was the link to Becky, and Becky was the thing I couldn’t let go. Who she really was, why she really died.
And then I thought of the answer and couldn’t believe it had taken so long. Stupid me.
The day couldn’t go quick enough after that. Dot listened to the local news at noon and came back to the office with her eyes out on stops.
“He didn’t drown,” she said. “I’ve just heard it on the radio. Oh Jessie, his throat was cut. He was dead before he ever went in.”
I sat back and stared at her.
“They’ve just released the information,” she said.
She looked down and when she looked up again there were pink spots in the middle of her cheeks. “Jessie,” she said. “Why didn’t you say he had drowned?”
“You’re kidding?” I said. “You think I knew him?”
“You don’t know Polish,” she said.
“I said died because-you’d know this if you ever listened to Steve-it’s more respectful. Death is equal, whether you slip away in your own bed or misjudge your auto-erotic asphyxiation.”
“Jessie!”
“You asked.”
We glared at each other for a bit.
“How would it be with you if I left early?” I said. “The cops were right about one thing, Dot. My friend’s wife really did die last week and he really does need me.”
She turned and left again and I just barely heard the words as she was leaving. “The end of days.”
Gus was in the cottage when I got there. Only three o’clock but the fire was lit and there was a beer on the arm of his chair and a Daily Record open on the coffee table. Dillon was asleep on the couch and Ruby was colouring in at the table.
He had met me at the door. He’d almost seemed to block my way for a minute, but it was probably my imagination.
“I thought you’d still be at the workshop,” I said. He rubbed a finger along his jaw and then I got it. He was embarrassed at me catching him. “Good to see you taking it easy,” I said and I gave him a quick squeeze. “And what are you making pictures of, sweetie?” I asked Ruby, leaning over her.
“Mummy in heaven,” said Ruby. Becky had wings and a long white dress; only her dark hair-two strips of black crayon down each side of her head-stopped her looking like a standard-issue angel. “Only but how do you draw a white cloud on white paper, Jessie?” Becky in the picture was suspended in the middle of empty space like those daft pictures of the ascension. I turned to Gus.
“Daddy’s the artist,” I said. He looked back at me, unsmiling. Was that another insult, thinking he could paint angel pictures? Or was it just thoughtless to imagine him drawing his dead wife? I turned back to Ruby. “Here’s how,” I said. “I’ll do a cloud shape and you colour outside it with blue to make the sky.”
She frowned at the picture and then at me. So I showed her. Drawing the puffy cushion for Becky to balance on, then filling in round it. I made another cloud in the background.
“Who’s that for?” said Ruby.
“Granddad?” I said.
“Mummy doesn’t like Granddad,” Ruby told me. “Ros could live there.” It was only a picture. So I said nothing, but I didn’t dare catch Gus’s eye. I went into the kitchen and called to him from there.
“I need to check in with Gizzy,” I said. “Then I might need to run into town for her. Is it okay if I use the car? Oh!” He was right there beside me.
“I can’t face the workshop,” he said. “It feels like it’s all gone… it just doesn’t feel right anymore.” I nodded, but I couldn’t stop the thought: Good, you thought of a way to account for just lolling about in the middle of the day. He sat down at the table. He had this way of sitting that was a sort of a collapse but with a real force behind it so the chair legs grated over the lino. I could see from the marks on the floor that he must do it all the time.
“Can I talk to you?” he said. I looked at my watch and out of the window at the failing light. Even if the police decided to follow up on Ros and they got onto to Gizzy tonight, why would they go searching round caravans in the dark? If one of the holiday people was going to see Kazek, it would be in the daytime when they were out and about, not at night once they were huddled round their eight-inch tellies or their Scrabble boards.
“Of course,” I said.
“I can’t face working on the piece,” he said. “But I can’t face the thought of all the work that’s wasted if I don’t finish it either.”
“Just take a break,” I told him. “Of course you don’t feel like working just now. You’ve not even had the funeral.”
“But I’ll go mad if I sit and do nothing.”
“Okay, well how about this?” I said. “That woman copper didn’t agree, but I think you need to track down Ros. You need to ask her if she knows why Becky did what she did. If she wasn’t pregnant, why did she tell you she was? And here’s another thing-maybe Ros would want to come to her funeral.”
He didn’t speak.
“I’m pretty sure the cops aren’t going to lift a finger even though I’ve given them her name twice now. But maybe there’s something here in the house-something with some information about her. She was Becky’s best friend.” And then I had a brainwave. “Or maybe she left something behind in her digs. I’ll ask Gizzy.”
“You gave the cops her full name?” said Gus.
“Not that they were bothered.”
“How did you know her full name?”
I must have looked like a goldfish, mouth opening and shutting, nothing coming out. “I don’t know,” I said, slowly. “How did I find out her second name? You know how that can happen? You know something but you can’t remember how you learned it?”
He stood up suddenly, came over, and put his arms around me. “It’s doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’re right. I need to forget work for a while, and maybe finding Ros would be a good idea. She’s bound to know something.”
“Ruby told me,” I said, too late to be any good. “She knows her name. She knows quite a lot of Polish, as it happens.”
Gus swung me back and forward, still smiling down at me. “God, you’ve really fallen for Ruby’s routine? What makes you think it’s Polish she’s talking and not just mince?”
I knew it was really Polish, I thought, because Kazek understood it, but I didn’t tell that to Gus. I just repeated my story about running into town and went on my way.
How the hell was I going to tell Kazek the news about the Bible guy? The drowned guy, I would have to remember to stop calling him, now I knew. I still hadn’t come up with an opener by the time I got to Foxleap, but I knocked anyway. Kazek opened the door a crack.
“Jaroslawa?” he said.
“I’m bloody sick of being a stand-in for Becky with Gus and a stand-in for Ros with you,” I said.
“Jessie-Pleasie,” he answered, opening wide enough to let me in.
“Okay, Kazek?” I said, taking his hands in mine. He sobered and his eyes were alive with worry. “Your friend.” I pointed to the Bible that was lying on the coffee table.
“Wojtek?”
“He’s dead.”
He shut his eyes and let his breath go very slowly, then he shook his head once and opened his eyes again to look at me. There were tears there, but he wasn’t reeling. He could take more.
“Murdered,” I said. I drew a finger across my neck and made the sound. “And then,” I had to let go of his hands completely to mime heaving a body into a water-“Splash!”-and I showed him the paper I had brought with me. The picture of the frogmen hunting in the river said it all.