Dead Heat Part 23

After my shower, and dressed in Carl's tracksuit, I sat at his kitchen table and took stock. I did, in fact, have some personal possessions left to my name as my overnight bag had been sitting safely all night under my desk at the Hay Net. Carl had fetched it while I showered and I was able to shave and clean my teeth with my own tools.

Carl lived in a modern three-bedroomed semi on a development in Kentford, just down the road from where my mangled wreck of a car still waited for the insurance a.s.sessor to inspect it.

Carl and I had worked side by side in the same kitchen for five years and, I realized with surprise, this was the first time I had ever been in his house. We were not actually friends and, while we might often share a beer at the Hay Net bar, we had never socialized together elsewhere. I had felt uneasy about calling to ask for his help, but who else could I ask? My mother would have been useless and would have left me with the lady in the pink slippers for most of the day as she went through her normal morning rituals of bathing at leisure, applying her copious makeup and then dressing, a task that in itself could take a couple of hours as she continuously changed her mind over what went with what. Carl had been my only realistic choice. But I hadn't really liked it.

'So what are you going to do now?' he asked.

'Firstly, I need to hire a car,' I said. 'Then I'm going to book myself into a hotel.'

'You can stay here if you like,' he said. 'I've plenty of room.'

'What about Jenny and the kids?' I said, noticing for the first time how quiet it was.

'Jenny went back to her mother nearly a year ago now,' he said. 'Took the girls with her.'

'Carl,' I said, 'I'm so sorry. Why didn't you say something to me?'

'Didn't seem to matter,' he said. 'To tell you the truth, I was relieved when she went. I couldn't stand the rows. I'm much happier on my own. We're not divorced or anything and she and the girls come over for the weekends and it's sometimes pretty good.'

What could I say? Restaurant work, with its odd hours, never was highly recommended for happy marriages.

'Could I stay for a couple of nights, then?' I asked. 'I will he gone by the weekend.'

'Stay as long as you like,' he said. 'I'll tell Jenny that she and the girls can't stay over this weekend.'

'No,' I said quickly. 'Don't do that. I'll find myself a more permanent place by then. Much better all round.'

'You might be right,' he said. 'Are you coming into work today?'

'Oh yes,' I said. 'I think so. But maybe not until later. I want to hire the car first.'

Carl dropped me at the car-hire offices on his way into work.

'Certainly, sir,' they said. 'What sort of car would you like?'

'What have you got?' I asked.

I decided on a Ford Mondeo. I wanted a fairly nondescript vehicle that wouldn't attract attention if, for example, I went again to the members' car park at Smith's Lawn and the Guards Polo Club.

One of the car-hire-company staff insisted in coming with me to my bank to make the payment arrangements before he would give me the keys of the Mondeo. It often seemed to me that the restaurant business was one of the few that allowed its customers to consume the goods before asking for any payment or even a guarantee of payment. The old joke about doing the was.h.i.+ng up had worn a bit thin over the years and I had never known anyone actually do it, although I had come across many a customer who didn't have the wherewithal to pay for his dinner after he had eaten it. What could I do? Reach down his throat and pull it out again? In truth, there wasn't anything one could do except send him on his way, accepting his promise to return with the readies in the morning. In most cases a cheque quickly appeared with profuse apologies. Only twice, in the six years that I had been open, had I simply not heard anything afterwards, and one of those was because the person in question had died the day after, but, thankfully, not from eating my food. On the other occasion two couples whom I didn't know and who had enjoyed the full dining experience we offered including three courses with coffee and two bottles of my best wine, had both then claimed that they thought the other couple was paying. They had given me their a.s.surances and their addresses, both of which turned out to be false, and I had carelessly failed to record the registration number of their car. I bet they had thought it was funny. I hadn't. I would recognize any one of them instantly if they ever tried it again.

While I was in the bank I drew out a large wad of cash and also arranged for a replacement credit card to be sent to me at the Hay Net at the earliest opportunity. Tomorrow, they said. How about this afternoon? I asked. We will try, they said, but I would have to pay for the courier. Fine, I said, get on with it. Without my credit card I felt as naked as I had been in the road last night.

I sat in my new wheels and took stock of my situation. I was alive, I had a change of clothes in my overnight bag, my pa.s.sport in my pocket, somewhere to sleep for the next two nights and I could always put up a bed in the office of the restaurant if I had to. But I had no watch and my mobile telephone was, I was sure, totally beyond repair, having been alongside my wallet in the pocket of my blazer, which had been hanging over the back of the sofa in my cottage when I went to bed last night.

I parked the car and went into the mobile phone shop in the High Street. I explained to the young woman behind the counter that my house had burnt down with my phone in it and I needed a replacement, preferably with the same number as before. Now this didn't seem like an unreasonable request to me, but it took me more than an hour to achieve it and involved me having to raise my voice on several occasions, something I was not used to doing.

For a start, she kept asking if I had the SIM card from the phone and I tried to explain to her that my phone, along with the d.a.m.n SIM card, was no more. I told her that it had been melted away into a puddle of silicon, solder and plastic. 'You shouldn't have put the phone battery in a fire,' she said. 'It's not good for the environment.' Only a semblance of remaining decency prevented me from strangling her at this point. Finally we neared the end of this tortuous affair. I had the phone in my hand, as yet uncharged, and I had my stack of notes ready and available for payment. 'Do you have any form of identification?' she asked, somewhat belatedly to my mind. I proudly flourished my pa.s.sport. 'That won't do,' she said. 'I need something with your address on it. Do you have a utility bill?'

I stared at her. 'Have you listened to anything I have told you?'

'Yes,' she replied.

'Then how would I have a utility bill if my house has been completely burnt to a crisp?' I said. 'At the time, I hadn't exactly thought that a utility bill was something I needed to save from the inferno along with my life.' My voice rose in a crescendo. But I somehow managed not to boil over completely. 'Sorry,' I said more calmly. 'No, I don't have a utility bill.'

'Then I'm sorry, sir. I must have something to confirm your address.'

We were getting nowhere.

'Can you please produce a duplicate of my last month's phone bill?' I asked her, back to my usual calm tone.

'Certainly, sir,' she said. I gave her my mobile phone number and, unbelievably, she also wanted the first line of my address, for security reasons. I told her. A printer under the counter whirred and she handed over a copy of my bill, complete with my full address printed in the top right-hand corner.

'There,' I said, handing it back to her. 'One utility bill.'

She didn't bat a thickly mascaraed eyelid.

'Thank you, sir,' she said, and processed my order. Hallelujah!

'Can I leave the phone here to charge for an hour?' I asked her.

'Sorry,' she said. 'You will have to do that at home.'

I sighed. Never mind, I thought, I'll try elsewhere.

In the end, I bought an in-car charger from her, and again sat in the Mondeo now with my new phone connected to the cigarette-lighter socket. Progress had been slow. I looked at my wrist. No watch. It had been on my bedside table. The car clock told me it was half past eleven. Half past five in the morning in Chicago. Still too early to call Caroline, even if I knew the number. I was sure she would call me when she woke. I hoped my phone would be sufficiently charged by then.

I left it charging while I went for a coffee. I sat in the window of a cafe with the car parked right outside. I had needed to leave the car unlocked with the keys in the ignition in order for the charger to work so I kept a close eye on it. I didn't fancy the prospect of having to go back to the young woman to explain that my new phone had been stolen before I had even had a chance to use it.

I next went into a luggage shop and bought myself a suitcase, which, during the following hour and a half, I proceeded to fill with new pants and socks, five new s.h.i.+rts, three new pairs of chinos, a navy blue blazer, two tweed jackets and a tie. fortunately, my work clothes, the sets of specially designed Max Moreton embroidered tunics and the large check trousers, were safe at the restaurant. I never wore them home as they went every morning with the tablecloths to a commercial laundry. But, I thought, I would look a bit stupid wearing a chef's tunic to the Cadogan Hall next week.

Caroline called around two o'clock and was appropriately horrified to hear my news about the cottage.

'But are you all right?' she asked for the umpteenth time.

I a.s.sured her that I was fine. I told her that I was staying with Carl for a couple of days and I would find myself some temporary accommodation while I decided what to do long term.

'You can come and live with me,' she said.

'I would love to,' I said, smiling. 'But I need to be nearer to the restaurant, at least for a bit. I'll think of something. It's all a bit hectic in my mind at the moment.'

'You look after yourself,' she ordered.

I promised I would.

'I'll call you at seven your time, after rehearsal,' she said, and hung up.

I looked again at my empty wrist. It seemed a long time until seven my time.

Using the rest of my cash, I bought myself a new watch in one of the Newmarket High Street jewellers. That was better, I thought, as I checked to see if it was running properly. My existence was regaining some semblance of normality.

I returned to my bank and drew out another sheaf of banknotes and used some of them to buy a box of chocolates and a bouquet of spring flowers for my neighbour.

I parked the Mondeo on the road outside my cottage, the same road I had rolled across the previous night. I took a brief look at the sorry remains of my abode. It was not a pretty sight with its blackened walls standing pitifully alone and roofless, pointing upwards at the grey sky above. I turned away gloomily and went to knock on my neighbour's door. She answered not in her pink ensemble of last night but in a green tweed skirt with a long-sleeved cream jumper and sensible brown shoes. Her hair was as neat as before but, this time, without the hairnet.

'Oh h.e.l.lo, dear,' she said, smiling. She looked at the bouquet. 'Oh, are those for me? They're lovely. Come on in.'

I gave her the flowers and she headed back towards the kitchen. I closed her front door and followed, sitting again at the, now familiar, kitchen table.

'Would you like some tea, dear?' she said, as she placed the flowers in a vase by the sink.

'I'd love some,' I said.

She set the kettle to boil and fussed around with her flowers until she was happy with the arrangement.

'There,' she said at length. 'So beautiful. Thank you.'

'Thank you you,' I said. 'I'm not sure what I would have done without you last night.'

'Nonsense, dear,' she said. 'I was just glad to be able to help.'

We sat and drank tea, just as we had done some twelve hours ago.

'Do you know yet what caused it?' she asked.

'No,' I said. 'The fire brigade say they will send their investigation team to have a look. It's pretty well burnt everything. You can just about tell the difference between what was the fridge and what was the was.h.i.+ng machine but even those are badly melted by the heat. The oven is recognizable but the rest has seemingly gone completely.'

'I'm so sorry, dear,' said my kindly neighbour.

'Well, at least it didn't get me,' I said with a smile.

'No, dear,' she said, patting my arm. 'I'm glad about that.'

So was I.

'Do you know what you will do?' she asked.

'I'm staying with a work colleague for the next couple of days,' I said. 'Then I'll try to find somewhere more permanent.'

'I really meant with the house, dear,' she said. 'Are you going to rebuild?'

'Oh, I expect so,' I said. 'I'll have to wait and see what the insurance company says.'

I stayed with her for over an hour and, by that time, dear, she had showed me photos of all her many children and her very many grandchildren. Most of them lived in Australia and she was obviously quite lonely and thankful for having someone to talk to. We opened the chocolates, and I had a. second cup of tea.

I finally extricated myself from her life story and went back next door for a closer look at the remnants of my castle. I was not alone. A man in a dark blue jersey and royal blue trousers was picking his way through the ash.

'h.e.l.lo,' I said. 'Can I help you?'

'I'm fire brigade,' he said. 'From the investigation team.'

'Oh right,' I said. 'I own this heap of garbage.'

'Sorry,' he said.

'Ah well.' I smiled. 'At least my ashes aren't here for you to find.'

'Are anyone's?' he asked seriously.

'No,' I said. 'There was no one else in the house. Well, not unless they broke in after I had gone to bed, and then died in the fire.'

'It wouldn't be the first time,' he said, unamused.

He went on poking the ash with a stick. At one point he stopped and bent down, placing some of the ash into a plastic bag that he produced from his pocket.

'What have you found?' I asked him.

'Nothing special,' he said. 'It's just for an accelerant test.'

'What's that?' I asked.

'Test to see if an accelerant was present,' he said. 'An accelerant like petrol, paint thinners or paraffin, that sort of thing.'

'I thought it was electrical,' I said.

'Probably was,' he said. 'Most fires are electrical but we need to do the test anyway. I don't expect it to show much. This place is so badly burnt out that it will be d.a.m.n nearly impossible to determine how it started.'

He went back to his poking of the ash. After a while he lifted something up on his stick as if landing a salmon.

'Aha,' he said. 'What have we got here?'

It looked like a black molten lump to me. I didn't recognize it as anything I had once owned.

'What is it?' I asked.

'Your smoke detector,' he said.

I couldn't remember having heard its alarm go off.

'You should have had a battery in it,' he said. 'It's not much use without a battery. You might have got the brigade here sooner and saved something if your detector had had a battery.'

'But it did have a battery,' I said.

'No, sir,' he said with conviction. 'It did not. See how the Peat has caused it to seal up completely?' He showed the lump to me. I would have to take his word for it. 'If there had been a battery, then it would still be there, or at least the remains of it would. I can still see the clip but there are no battery terminals attached to it. It definitely did not have a battery in it.' He paused as if for effect. 'It's not the first time I've seen this. Loads of people forget to replace a flat battery or, like you, they take out the old one and then forget to put a new one back in.'

But I hadn't forgotten. There had to have been a battery in the detector. I had replaced it, as I always did, when the clocks went forward for summertime in March. It had gone off just last week when I had again burnt some toast. It definitely had a battery. I was sure of it, just as sure as my investigator friend was that it had been batteryless.

I went cold and clammy. Someone had obviously removed my smoke detector battery before setting my house alight with me in it. With or without an accelerant, an established fire at the bottom of the stairs would have given me little chance of escaping. I had simply been lucky to wake up when I had.