Gently with the Ladies (Inspector George Gently 13)

pretty damn certain she didn’t see me.’
    ‘Did she say where she saw you?’
    ‘Here, she said. She’ll have details ready, by now.’
    ‘When did she say this?’
    ‘What does it matter. When she was last out here before you came.’
    Gently was silent. Above the murmur of the crowd he could hear Reynolds’ voice giving instructions. The man on the ladder was climbing down again though with apparent reluctance. Out of the van they were lugging equipment which included booms and a big pulley. Another police car was approaching. Two constables were moving about in the crowd.
    ‘If they’re planning something,’ Brenda Merryn said, ‘you’d better shout down and tell them to lay off. Tell them I appreciate their attention, of course. But the first rope I see, I’ll be on my way.’
    ‘Miss Merryn,’ Gently said.
    ‘Brenda, George.’
    ‘Miss Merryn, I want you to listen carefully. I believe you have evidence of critical importance, and I need to have a statement from you.’
    Her lips went wry again. ‘Of critical importance to whom?’
    ‘To us. To the investigation of this case.’
    ‘But not to me.’
    ‘To you too.’
    Her head moved. ‘Too late,’ she said. ‘I cared once. I don’t now. If last night hadn’t happened and you were asking me the truth I’d give it to you. But not now.’
    ‘You don’t care any longer who killed your stepsister?’
    ‘I can ask her myself in twenty minutes. You’d better have a medium on tap. I’ll try to pass back a message.’
    ‘If it wasn’t you—’
    ‘I tell you I don’t care.’
    ‘Miss Merryn—’
    ‘Go away, George,’ she said. ‘You won’t call me Brenda, which is all that matters. I’m going to jump. Go away.’
    Someone touched his shoulder. It was Reynolds. He was holding his finger to his lips.
    ‘Shsh! They’re on their way up, Chief. Keep her at it. It’ll be O.K.’
    Gently shook his head. ‘She knows they’re up to something.’
    ‘The bloody bitch. We’ll have to try it.’
    ‘No. She’ll jump.’
    ‘What do we do then?’
    ‘Put a net out. Hope.’
     
    The fire-crew, augmented by a second brigade, assembled and manned a catching-net. Brenda Merryn didn’t seem to notice the stretched grey canvas that bloomed below her. Perhaps she guessed what the fire-chief was saying: ‘She’ll be damned lucky not to go clean through it!’ – or perhaps she imagined she could throw herself clear. From the veranda the net was not impressive.
    Reynolds’ two policewomen arrived. One was a plain-faced girl with huge hips. The other had a snub nose and freckles and a degree of brusque charm. Her name was Fairley. At her request she was left alone with Brenda Merryn. In the lounge one heard her voice, sympathetically homely, engaged in continuous monologue.
    ‘She’s pretty good,’ Reynolds said to Gently. ‘I’d as soon have Fairley there as anyone. What did Merryn talk about?’
    Gently grunted and looked at Reynolds without seeming to see him.
    Mrs Bannister had abandoned the lounge but Albertine sat sniffing in a corner. Every so often she jumped up and ran to poke her head through the french windows. Then she came back to sob afresh; and each time Reynolds frowned at her.
    ‘I suppose she’s no good to us?’ he murmured.
    ‘Albertine?’
    She heard her name. In a moment she was beside them and tearfully clutching Gently’s sleeve.
    ‘Oh Monsieur . . . let me help!’
    ‘What can you do, Albertine?’
    ‘I can talk to her, Monsieur, I can plead with her. Oh please, please let me do this.’
    Gently looked at Reynolds. ‘How is Fairley doing?’
    Reynolds shrugged. ‘She’s doing all right. But I can’t hear her getting any results, and she’s been at it now ten minutes.’
    ‘Monsieur, please – please!’ Albertine said.
    ‘No harm in trying her,’ Reynolds said.
    Gently stared at Albertine for a space. Then he nodded. ‘Right,’ he said.
    Policewoman Fairley was withdrawn and Albertine ran to take her place. Her first passionate appeals were so broken with sobbing that they were barely comprehensible. Policewoman Fairley had come in frowning, and for a while she listened carefully. Then she said to Reynolds:
    ‘I’m not certain, sir, that Merryn isn’t putting on an act.
    ‘Doing what?’ Reynolds gaped.
    ‘You know I’ve had some experience, sir. And the way Merryn is behaving suggests to me she isn’t serious.’
    She gave Gently a little look.
    ‘It’s this way, sir,’ she