The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 9 Part 46

Jonathan Aloysius's flat was closer than Polly's so they went there first. After a perfunctory ring on the bell Salvatore used the keys and he and Angelo went inside.

Things appeared to be just as they were the day before. There was certainly n.o.body home.

So they headed for Polly's. But as they got out, Salvatore said, "I don't think they're here. At least he's not here. I don't see his car."

Even so they tried the bell. Nothing perfunctory this time. They rang several times without response. They tried the other flats' doorbells, hoping to be let in to try Polly's own door. But without response. Short of finding a ladder and looking through her windows there was nothing more to do.

"And now?" Angelo asked. "Someone where she works might know details of her family if she's gone to stay with them."

They might even track down Polly's family through the phonebook. How many Mainwarings could there be? But something else occurred to Salvatore. "Come on," he said.

He drove them to the registrar's office. Jack Appleby's red BMW convertible was in the parking lot.

With the waiting room unlocked, they went in. A sign asked visitors to take a seat but they heard voices in the registrar's office. A glance from Angelo asked if Salvatore recognized Polly's.

Salvatore nodded. He knocked on the door but opened it immediately and went in. Polly sat beside the registrar's desk, eyes puffy and hair every which way. Facing her was a man in his thirties presumably Jonathan Aloysius Appleby.

From behind the desk a handsome older woman said, "Please, wait outside until you are called." Her tone was firm. Beverley Norbury.

"Polly," Salvatore said, "are you all right?"

Polly blinked a couple of times. Then she rose and rushed into Salvatore's arms. "No," she wailed. "I'm not all right."

"So where is Sally now?" Gina asked as Angelo told his wife and sister about his afternoon.

"Last I saw, he was leading Polly to the registrar's car park. But who knows where they are now."

"He fancied that one from the moment he met her," Rosetta said.

"He just left you there with Jonathan Aloysius and the registrar?" Gina said.

Angelo nodded.

"What did you do? Call the police?"

"As it happened, there was no need."

Once Polly was in the car Salvatore had suggested that they go to her flat. Her snuffling noises didn't sound like disagreement so that's where they went. When they arrived, she had her key out.

"Shall I come in, make you a cuppa?" Salvatore asked.

More snuffling. She left the door open for him.

"Sit yourself down," he said.

Polly sat on the couch that Salvatore had occupied alone the previous night.

"Tea?"

"Mmm." The sound was nearly a word.

In her kitchen Salvatore found the kettle and a canister with the word "tea". He managed to find the fridge even though it wasn't labelled. There was an open container of skimmed milk inside.

Remembering her order in the a.s.sembly Rooms, he said, "You take milk, but do you want sugar today?"

"No."

An actual word. "Won't be long."

"I hate him," Polly said.

"What?"

"I hate him. I hate him."

Angelo said, "Let's invite Papa and Mama down to eat tonight."

"Will Sally be back by dinner time?" Gina asked.

Angelo shrugged.

Rosetta said, "Maybe he'll get lucky." When they're on the rebound, and someone like Salvatore is at hand, it could be days before he gets back. She didn't aspire to having whatever it was Salvatore had, but ten per cent would be nice. She shook her head.

"He won't be coming back, Rose?" Gina said.

"Dunno. Sorry." Then, "Do you want me to cook?"

"There are plenty of leftovers."

"Papa will want to hear how about the certificates," Angelo said. "He'll want to know if his murder is still the only one. He's probably going on to Mama about it right now."

Gina and Rosetta smiled. They could imagine.

Salvatore put two mugs of tea on coasters on the table in front of Polly's couch. "You're very kind," she said.

"Not at all."

"No, I mean it. Very kind."

She was more beautiful than ever. For a moment it took his breath away. He sat on the couch but kept to the other end. That said, the couch wasn't a big one.

"So," the Old Man said, "no murders?" He turned to Mama. "More chutney. I feel like chutney." The improvised meal offered more food than most of the family's specially prepared dinners.

"No murders, Papa," Angelo said. "Not even a little one."

"But all those dead wives," David said. "What killed them?"

"Cancer."

"All of them? But isn't that suspicious? What are the odds?"

Angelo turned to the table and spread his hands in invitation.

"Oncology," the Old Man said.

"Give the man his chutney."

"Oncology?" David asked.

"Jack Appleby worked in places where the patients had cancer. Having cancer's nothing like it used to be, but a lot of people still don't survive it, though they may not die quickly."

"So all the women he married had cancer already?" Rosetta said.

"Correct," Angelo said with a smile.

"He has a thing for dying women?" She scratched her head. "But Polly's healthy, isn't she?"

"Cancer was not the only thing his wives had in common." When n.o.body offered a speculation Angelo continued, "Each was relatively young forties and fifties. And single obviously. Each had one or more children. And each had a career with a good pension plan, one she'd paid a lot of money into."

He looked around the table, but they were all waiting for him.

"In every case, if the woman was single when she died, her pension would die with her. All the money she'd paid in would be lost. However, in each case the terms stipulated that if the woman was married, her pension would continue to be payable to her husband."

"He married them for their pensions?" Marie asked. "Cool."

"So," Rosetta said, "the six regular payments to Jack's bank are from the dead wives' pensions?"

"Exactly," Angelo said. "Pension payments that would have been lost if the women had died unmarried."

Gina said, "I see what was in it for Jonathan Aloysius but why did those poor women marry him?"

"Because Jack agreed with each of them to pay half the pension money to their children."

"Ah," Rosetta said, "the payments going out of his account."

"So there are eleven children currently getting money that would otherwise have been lost to them."

"So he didn't love his wives?" Marie said.

"No. It was entirely a pragmatic arrangement."

"Cool."

"And where does Beverley Norbury fit in all this?" Gina asked.

"She conducted the ceremony for the first wedding. When Jack went in to register Belinda Rogers' death and Ms Norbury sympathized, Jack explained why he wasn't grieving in the usual way. Then, when it was time for the second wedding, he went back to Ms Norbury because she already understood the kind of marriage it would be. Ms Norbury says she's certain n.o.body was taking advantage of anybody else. It was win-win."

"And so she became his personal registrar?" Rosetta said.

"In a way."

"But where does Polly fit in all this?" Gina asked.

"Jack met her when she came to the RUH to visit an aunt an aunt who eventually recovered. And she and Jack fell in love. When that happened he transferred out of oncology."

"He didn't think to tell Polly about his marital history?"

"How do you tell a new woman that you've been married six times, always to women you didn't love who then died? It's not a chat-up line that's going to get you a phone number."

"But why didn't he tell her later?"

"He said it just never seemed the right time. And then he thought that if Beverley Norbury performed the ceremony, he might not have to tell Polly at all."

"But Beverley Norbury didn't act her part well enough," Marie said. "Acting is a special talent. So few people have it." She tossed her hair.

"Or Polly is unusually intuitive about people," Angelo said.

"Or," Mama said, "this registrar was really happy for this marrying young man who found love at last. Did you think of that?" She glared at Angelo.

"But," Rosetta said, "despite the innocence of it, despite the good that he did, Polly wasn't happy with the explanation?"

"He lied to her, at least by omission," Angelo said. "No, she was not happy."

When the meal was finished, everyone but Marie repaired to the living room to wait for Salvatore. Marie's mind was on other things.

"Would you like me to help you with your lines?" Gina asked her.

"No need. You carry on with your weddings and funerals."

But once in her bedroom she called a boy at school named Sam.

"Ullo," Sam said.

"Hi. It's Marie."

"Yeah, hi."