The meanest Flood

But I’ve got to check it out, you can understand that?’
    ‘There’s the Data Protection Act,’ J. C. Nott said. ‘I’m not allowed to give out personal information. It’s against the law.’
    ‘I’ll have to go to the police, then.’ Marie got to her feet.
    ‘The police?’
    ‘Yes, we’re talking about a murder here.’
    The man stood, then he sat again and played with a ring on his middle finger. He thought about the police.
    ‘Give me a break,’ Marie said quietly. ‘Just a clue. He’ll never know the info came from you.’
    J. C. Nott closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Diamond Danny Mann,’ he said. ‘But he’s not a murderer, he’s a magician.’
     
    Back at Celia’s house on Lord Mayor’s Walk, Marie sat in the window of the spare room and watched the students from St John’s College spilling on to the pavement. The telephone was ringing downstairs but she didn’t answer it.
    Working a case was often like this, you gathered together small scraps of information, none of them seemingly important. Time moved slowly and it felt like you were wading about in treacle, getting nowhere. But once it started to crack all the pieces fell into place. One single pubic hair had changed the whole course of the investigation. And because of that seemingly insignificant item the veil which had hidden the culprit was now lifted.
    The braid on the man’s trousers, which Katherine Turner’s neighbour had seen, suddenly made sense. Full evening wear was a uniform to a professional magician. She made a note to check where Danny Mann had been working on the night of Katherine’s death.
    The telephone rang again. Marie tried to ignore it, wanting no interruption to her thoughts. But the caller was insistent, not willing to give up. She left the spare room and walked along the top landing. On the wall of the staircase was an antique picture of Jesus talking to some children. Marie went down the stairs and picked up the telephone.
    ‘Hello.’
    ‘Marie? It’s Janet, in Oslo.’
    ‘Hi, Janet. How are you? And how’s the patient?’
    ‘We’re fine. Me and Echo’re fine, and Geordie’s on the mend. We’re coming home tomorrow.’
    ‘So soon? Is Geordie OK to travel?’
    ‘They’re sending a nurse with us. He’ll be all right. But he wants to know about the boss, have you heard anything?’
    Marie shook her head. ‘Nothing. I don’t know where he is. But the case is beginning to crack. Tell Geordie not to worry.’
    When Marie put the phone down it rang again before she had a chance to let go of it.
    ‘Marie? Celia?’ It was Sam’s voice.
    ‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘Where are you?’
    ‘Market Weighton. I can’t get through because of the floods. No buses.’
    ‘I’ll pick you up,’ she said. ‘I’m on my way.’
    ‘What about Geordie? You heard anything?’
    ‘He’s doing fine. Coming home tomorrow.’
    ‘Good. And the case? You know who it is who’s setting me up?’
    ‘I’ve got a good lead,’ she told him. ‘You know anyone called Danny Mann? A magician?’
    Sam was silent for a moment. ‘Danny Mann?’ he said. ‘Rings a distant bell, but that’s all. It’s not a name I can put a face to.’
    ‘Keep thinking,’ Marie told him. ‘I’ll be with you in half an hour.’
     

37
     
    Marilyn was feeling good at the wheel of the magician’s car. There was the more or less constant thumping sound from the boot but she tried to filter that out as she headed for Whitby on the North Yorkshire coast.
    This was all she had wanted, to be involved with the man. To be a part of his life. The other men, the ones who had decided to live their lives without her, they were the losers. She wished her mother had been at home when Danny called, that Ellen could have been there when she met him, and now, while she was driving Danny’s car, Marilyn smiled. Ellen’s face would be a picture when she heard about this. There’d be no more talk of medication.
    There’d be no need for medication. Because what Marilyn’s medication was about, it was about the lack of love in her life. Her medication was a substitute for a real and proper partner, someone who wanted to share his life with her.
    ‘I need you,’ Danny had said on the phone.
    He needed her because she was his other half. He needed her because he couldn’t function as a single entity without the love of his natural partner. Perhaps he’d been a little slow in recognizing the fact, in coming around to the