Free Death of a God by S. T. Haymon Page A

understood that up to then he’d be much too busy with rehearsals, publicity appearances, and all the rest of it, to say nothing of the actual performance.’
    â€˜Was the arrangement about this morning made on the Tuesday evening then?’ Jurnet felt obliged to persist.
    The woman looked at the detective with a kind of mournful amusement. ‘Do I gather I’m to have the honour of being your first suspect? His own mother! How terrible it must be to have the imagination of a policeman! But I mustn’t play games with you –’ the lovely eyes filled with fresh tears – ‘the road manager came round with a message. He said Loy would be looking in tomorrow – today, that is – before the group left town. He also brought two tickets for the concert, which we accepted, but later gave away to a friend, for her and her young man to use. It seemed a pity to waste them when they could give other people pleasure. I wouldn’t have said no to them anyway, so as not to hurt Loy’s feelings, but the truth is that pop concerts aren’t, as they say, our scene, not even when our son is the lead singer.’
    â€˜â€˜â€˜Our son’’,’ Jurnet repeated stolidly. It seemed as good a time as any for getting that little matter behind him. ‘I understand Mr Felsenstein is not Loy’s natural father?’
    The woman looked at the detective, surprised, but in no way put out.
    â€˜How clever you are, you police, to find out all about us so fast!’ After a moment’s silence she added, her voice low, ‘And have you also been clever enough to find out who the natural father is, and what is his address and telephone number?’
    â€˜We’d hoped you could help us there.’ But Jurnet knew already, from the way Mrs Felsenstein had pronounced the two words ‘natural father’, as if they were words in a foreign language of whose meaning, without having a dictionary handy, she was uncertain, that the hope was groundless. ‘Naturally we feel under an obligation to get in touch, if only to let him know what has happened.’
    â€˜Naturally!’ This time the irony was unmistakable. ‘The best help I can give you in that quarter, Inspector, is to let you know that Loy’s natural father – assuming he is still alive, as to which I have no idea – has no knowledge that he ever fathered him. When we parted he did not even know I was pregnant – I didn’t know it myself – and I never enlightened him.’
    â€˜I see.’ Thankfully reverting to a former topic, Jurnet asked, ‘You mentioned the road manager. Dark chap with short legs, who would that be?’
    â€˜That’s the one, poor man. Mr Scarlett. He also said that Loy had told him to ask if there was anything, anything at all, I wanted, and he’d see I got it, even if it was the moon.’
    â€˜And what, if anything, did you ask for?’
    â€˜I told Mr Scarlett to tell him to get his hair cut.’ She cried a little at the recollection, whilst the two waited, wondering when the real floodgates would open, cravenly hoping it might be after their departure. ‘Not that I expected him to take any notice – the moon would have been likelier! – so I wasn’t disappointed when I saw his picture in the Argus and there he was, hair flopping over his face same as usual!’ The woman’s eyes had become brooding, fixed on the past. ‘Even as a little boy, it was the same. Reach for the scissors or the shampoo and he’d vanish, anything to get out of having it done –’
    Jurnet said, ‘I’m afraid that I have to ask either you or your husband to make a formal identification –’
    â€˜Not Leo!’ she returned immediately. Then, ‘Right away, do you mean?’
    â€˜If you feel up to it, and you’d rather get it over –’
    â€˜Is he – is his face