Chapter 56


    A knock at the door.


    Mr Bet sighs, folds up his newspaper and ces it beside his ss on the side table. He was


    enjoying the peace and quiet and a finger of malt. It’s a little early for whiskey, but at least he’s putting


    off mowing thewn for a little longer.


    Visitors….


    Who needs them?


    He opens the door, then rocks a little. He didn’t expect to find the police on his doorstep. A uniformed


    officer with dark sses and an official manner stands there, casually flicking through a notebook.


    “Hello? Um….”


    “Good morning. Would you be Mr Bet?”


    “Yes, that’s right. What can I do for you, officer?”


    “I was given your name in connection with a young woman we’re looking for, one Jennifer Conners. I


    understand she recently married your son?”


    “Jennifer?”


    Of course….


    Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    What else would it be?


    “What’s she done now? I’m not remotely surprised she’s in trouble with the police.”


    “Who is it, dear?” Mrs Bet’s voice echoes from the next room.


    “It’s the police,” he shouts back. “They’re looking for Jennifer. She’s in some sort of trouble.”


    Mrs Bet appears behind him in a skirt and sweater topped with a string of pearls, all immactely


    presented. Her slightly waved hair is set and perfectly groomed. “Oh dear,” she fusses. “Now what has


    she done?” Then she examines her husband. “Button, dear.”


    He frowns, then fastens the top button of his shirt.


    “May Ie in?” asks the policeman.


    “Of course, officer. Coffee? Tea?”


    “Coffee, please. ck.”


    Mr Bet leads him to the lounge. “Please, sit down. What can we do for you?”


    “I understand Jennifer was married to your son before she disappeared?”


    “That’s correct. If you can call it a marriage. And for as long as itsted.”


    “And what does that mean exactly?”


    Mr Bet examines the ceiling, where a small cobweb intrudes on otherwise stered perfection. His


    chin juts. “We discovered after some months that the two were not….” He chews his words….


    Mrs Bet enters, carrying a tray bearing delicate white cups and saucers and a matching coffee pot.


    She offers a te of cookies, artfully arranged.


    The police officer takes one. “Thank you, I will.” He takes off his sunsses, smiling disarmingly. “The


    wife says I’m not supposed to but, you know, it’s been a long time since breakfast and….”


    “All good ingredients officer. Homemade. You can tell your wife that you’lle to no harm with these.”


    “That’s good to know.” He bites in, cocks his head in appreciation. “Delicious,” he mumbles, wiping


    crumbs from his lip as he smiles at Mrs Bet.


    “Do help yourself. There’s plenty more where those came from.”


    “I will, yes. Now, about Jennifer? And her marriage to your son?”


    Mr and Mrs Bet meet eyes. “It’s a little delicate, you see….” begins the woman.


    Her husband cuts her off. “She wouldn’t sleep with him,” he says bluntly. “The whole marriage was a


    fake. I don’t know why she did it, but there you go. And to make it worse, Chad still, for some reason,


    defends her. Says it wasn’t her fault.”


    The officer smiles sympathetically. “I can see that would be distressing for you. Does he say why it


    wasn’t her fault?”


    “No. We can’t get anything out of him. Personally, I think he just feels a fool for being taken in by her.”


    “I see,” says the police officer, his tone nd. “And this charade of a marriagested how long?”


    “Not long. A few months. Chad didn’t say anything, but Dora here went to their home early one day.


    Caught them by surprise. He was sleeping on the settee. We thought they’d had an argument at first,


    but it turned out he’d always slept there. They’d never…. She’d never…. The whole thing was a fake. I


    don’t know what she thought she was going to gain out of it….”


    His wife interrupts, her voice angry. “It’s obvious. Money. She came with nothing. She thought she


    could marry into a good family and milk us for what she wanted.” She splutters to a halt. “What’s she


    done now?”


    The officer scribbles away, then puts down the notebook, removes his sunsses. “I shouldn’t be


    telling you this, but under the circumstances, I think I should. I’m looking for Jennifer in connection with


    a series of reported incidents. Attempts to con various parties out of money. Pretending to befriend


    them then stealing their wallets, that kind of thing.


    “What you tell me about her attempted swindle on your family soundspletely in character. It’s all


    petty-ante at the moment, but significant. The pattern with such crimes is that the perpetrators start


    small but work their way up as their confidence increases. We would like to bring her in while it remains


    small-scale….”


    He watches the shocked expressions on their faces. “I realise that you are probably fond of the girl.


    She was after all part of your family for a while, however briefly, but it really would be for the best if we


    can find her. Bring this to a halt before this gets out of hand and she ruins her life.”


    “Of course. How can we help?”


    “If you do hear from Jennifer, contact me immediately.” He passes over a card. “This is my personal


    number, Officer Corby. Don’t call the station. It’s a big city and a case like this gets lost in the works.


    You’d just be passed from pir to post and end up with some social worker somewhere who didn’t


    know anything about it. Call me personally on that number and I’ll get right back to you.”


    “Thank you, yes, we’ll do that.”


    *****


    Bech leans against the car, arms folded, pondering what best to do next.


    Klempner’ll fuckin’ fry me if I tell him I don’t have the bitch….


    He looks up at the sound of footsteps. A young man, tall, blond, blue-eyed and unusually handsome


    approaches, then turns in to the Bet house.


    “Excuse me, would you be Chad Bet?”


    He halts and turns. “Yes, that’s right.” He draws closer, looking surprised at first. “Why would a police


    officer be asking for me?”


    “I’m asking in connection with Jennifer Conners. She’s your wife I understand?”


    The man’s eyes narrow. “Was my wife. What do you want with Jenny?”


    “Was your wife? You’re divorced?”


    “If the papers haven’t gone through yet, it’ll happen any day. Now, why are you asking about Jenny?


    Has something happened to her?”


    “We’re trying to find her in connection with a series of recent petty thefts and scams.”


    Chad snorts. “I don’t believe that for a minute. You’ve got the wrong woman.” Then he measures up the


    man in front of him.


    Jenny was always afraid of the police….


    …. always afraid of something….


    But what?


    “No, I have the right woman. Can you tell me where she is please?”


    “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “She didn’t leave an address.”


    “You must know who herwyer is…. If you’re going through divorce proceedings,” drawls the cop.


    Chad falters. “No, I don’t. I just signed the papers I was sent and posted them back. I didn’t keep a


    record.”


    “Well, at some point, you’ll get the documentation through for the rest of it, won’t you. You can let me


    have the contact then…. Can’t you….”


    Chad, his face set, shrugs again. “I suppose.”


    “Tell me, what was the reason it didn’t work out between you?”


    Chad scuffs the ground. “We weren’tpatible. It was a mistake.”


    Corby looks him up and down, notes his stance, the fine lines of his face, the beauty of his eyes and


    mouth. “Is that right?”


    Chad turns. As he walks to the door, Corby watches him, his grace, his delicacy of movement, then


    grins. The expression is unpleasant. “Ipatible, eh?”


    *****