Bobby McGee

Chapter Fifty-six. More Evidence.

Chapter Fifty-six

More Evidence

"So, Dad, any luck with Mrs. Kane?"

For a second McGee thought his daughter suspected something, but soon realised she was referring to any information he might have garnered.

"She told me that Copland is a happily married man, and in her opinion highly unlikely to have a fling with a tramp such as Mo."

"She's no tramp, Dad."

"That's what Mrs. Kane called her."

"Talk about the pan calling the kettle black."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Let's just say she's been around, Dad, and leave it there."

McGee could well believe this was true, but didn't wish to pursue the matter. He changed the subject. "She didn't deny there was the possibility of an affair between them. Apparently she had little knowledge of what goes on in the club room."

"I don't believe that for a minute," said Meg, pursing her lips in disbelief.

"That's what she claims. If only we knew someone who actually worked the club room."

"We do," exclaimed Meg.

"Who?"

"Charmaine. Charmaine Williams."

"I know her." Fletch who had been listening intently to the conversation suddenly interrupted. "I've known her since she was knee high. She still lives up the Duck, at number twelve Brick Row. She was a gorgeous young thing, but got herself in to trouble with the lads when she was a teenager. A baby was involved - a girl who has been brought up as Charmaine's sister. She must be school age by now."

"How do you know all this, Fletch?" McGee asked.

"It's hard to keep secrets in a spot like this."

"Do you think she'd be willing to answer a few questions?"

Fletch shrugged. "I don't really know, but do you think it's up to you to do the questioning? Shouldn't you let Wolfe and his boys handle it?"

"They think there's nothing more to investigate. They have their confession, and all their efforts seem to be concentrated on building up the case against Scarsgill. I know they are desperate to find Mo. It would be a great boost for me if I could find her first. Maybe Charmaine knows where she's gone."

"If you say so ,Bob, but it looks a lot like meddling to me."

"I'll take my chances."

"Do you want me to come with you, Dad?"

"Why would you want to do that?"

"I think she might be a bit of a man-eater," said Meg.

Fletch roared with laughter.

*****

The next day was Sunday. The clock chimed eight. It was "the same time next week". McGee, despite himself, found himself thinking of that last fleeting glimpse; the porcelain white body, the beauty spot to the right of the navel, the rust coloured bush and those magnificent breasts. He was sorely tempted. The invitation was there, but he had a sense of unease. Why would such an attractive woman flaunt herself at him in such an obvious fashion? She could have any man she wanted, why then would she pick on an aging overweight policeman. There had to be an ulterior motive. What could she possibly want? So McGee talked himself out of "cocoa before bed" and settled on the umpteenth rerun of Stagecoach.