Free The Shepherd File by Conrad Voss Bark Page B

them.’
    ‘The result of her early experience?’
    ‘Probably. She seems to have fallen hard for Shepherd, though. It was, I should think, the first time she was really in love. He was good looking — she liked Englishmen — and within a matter of days they were going out together. They got married within a month.’
    ‘Happily?’
    ‘He was devoted to her.’
    ‘She wanted him to give up his job.’
    ‘That’s not surprising.’ Lamb stroked his moustache. ‘They all do. We try to give the married men a fair deal but they’re out all hours.’
    A light glowed on Lamb’s telephone. ‘Excuse me,’ he said and listened. ‘All right,’ he said and put the receiver down. ‘They’ve finished the pension business. They’re bringing her up. Apparently — ’ said Lamb, and frowned, ‘she doesn’t want the job.’
    ‘Did you think she would?’
    ‘Look here,’ said Lamb, ‘let’s get this clear. The department is not inhuman. She’s the widow of one of my best men and her pension won’t be very large She’s bilingual, she’s not unintelligent, she’s got a small child to look after. I thought she might do some translating, part-time, travelling up to the office for an hour or so a day to deal with monitoring reports — that sort of thing — nothing top security, just the routine stuff.’
    ‘And she doesn’t want to?’
    Lamb got up and walked round the room. He was genuinely puzzled. There was no understanding women. They behaved illogically. Lamb looked out of the window. It was very hot outside and he liked heat. ‘Wish I could get away for a bit,’ said Lamb. ‘Lovely weather,’ he said. ‘Perfect weather. Perfect English summer. Nothing like England for a holiday. Thought of going down to Cornwall as soon as I can get away. Where would you think would be a good place to go?’
    ‘Penzance,’ said Holmes, who was looking at the ceiling with a blank expression.
    ‘Penzance, eh?’ Lamb was not sure to what extent Holmes was serious. ‘Well, I suppose so,’ said Lamb. ‘Nice little place, Penzance.’
    In the wall behind Holmes three small convex glass lenses were fitted into a flush panel under a Sharland etching. The three lenses were of different colours. A light flicked on behind the centre lens. It glowed steadily: a pale creamy-green, thick, like coloured milk.
    ‘Mrs Shepherd,’ said Lamb. He led the way into the adjoining room.
    Her eyes were dark and yet not dark. When the light caught them it seemed to shine inside. Holmes looked at the small flared nostrils, the long nose, the firm profile, the dark curling hair. She was beautiful.
    He was aware at once of her antagonism towards Lamb and of her state of nerves. She lit and drew greedily on a cigarette, drinking smoke with an open mouth.
    ‘All right?’ said Lamb, cheerfully. ‘Miserable business,’ he said. ‘Miserable. Got to get it fixed up, though; got to get it fixed up.’
    ‘I am grateful for the pension.’
    ‘Not as much as you ought to have,’ said Lamb. ‘Not as much. Thought you’d like to do some part-time work. Part-time work would be a help. Keep your mind occupied. Work the anodyne for pain. Work. Time.’
    ‘I may do some part-time work locally.’
    ‘Not good enough,’ said Lamb. ‘They won’t pay.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she said, quietly. ‘I shall be all right.’
    Lamb did not know what to say. ‘Think it over,’ he said. ‘Think it over.’
    She turned her eyes on Holmes. The look asked why he was there, but it was not entirely unfriendly, not as it had been with Lamb. Holmes said:
    ‘May I take you home?’
    There was an obvious hesitation. ‘I want,’ she said, ‘to do some shopping.’
    He said he could take her wherever she wished. She said she had a return ticket. He continued to press and she gave way suddenly as though it was not worth the effort.
    ‘Very well.’
    She was not, therefore, quite hostile as yet and there were several assumptions from that.
    They said goodbye