Death of a Cave Dweller by Sally Spencer Page A

to get things right,” Woodend agreed. “So, now that we’ve finished dissectin’ the Seagulls, why don’t you tell me a little bit about Jack Towers?”
    Rutter had a finger in the ear which was not pressed against the telephone receiver, but with all the noise in the pub, hearing what his wife had to say was still not an easy business.
    â€œSo how are you feeling?” he asked.
    â€œI’m fine,” Maria replied. “Joan Woodend came to see me this afternoon, and we went for a walk in the park. It was lovely. When you can’t see, you notice sounds and smells so much more.”
    Her words would probably have fooled anyone else, but Rutter picked up a false note in them.
    â€œYou’re sure you’re OK,” he persisted.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWe had this agreement,” Rutter reminded her. “We said, right from the beginning, that if anything was bothering one of us, we wouldn’t keep it a secret from the other.”
    There was a pause, then Maria said, “I think I’ve had a touch of ’flu, but I’m over it now.”
    â€œâ€™Flu?” Rutter repeated. “What were the symptoms?”
    â€œThe usual ones. Giddiness. A nagging headache. But like I said, I’m over it now.”
    Rutter had suddenly developed a pounding headache himself. “I’ll catch the next train back to London,” he told his wife.
    â€œAnd what good would that do?” Maria asked, a hint of anger creeping into her voice.
    â€œI . . . I could look after you, until you feel better.”
    â€œDon’t you ever listen?” Maria demanded. “I’m already feeling better! Tell me the truth, Bob – would there have been any talk of catching the next train back if I wasn’t blind?”
    â€œI suppose not,” Rutter admitted guiltily.
    â€œWe had another agreement,” Maria said. “Before I accepted your proposal, I made you promise that we’d lead as close a life as we could to any other married couple. Do you remember that?”
    â€œI remember.”
    â€œKeep that promise,” Maria urged him. “Stop being so protective all the time. I can’t breathe because of it.”
    â€œI only want to—”
    â€œYou want to treat me like a helpless kitten,” Maria cut in. “Well, I’m too old to be a kitten, and I’m far from helpless.” She paused. “I love you, Bob. I always will. But unless things change, I can’t see this marriage of ours lasting.”
    â€œSo you want to know about Jack, do you?” Steve Walker asked Woodend. “Anythin’ in particular you’d like to hear?”
    The chief inspector shook his head. “Just say what comes naturally. The details aren’t important. I just want to build up a picture of the man.”
    â€œThe first time I noticed him was in the Cellar Club,” Walker said. “He was standin’ at the back of the room, near the coffee bar, watchin’ us. Understand what I’m sayin’? He wasn’t boppin’ to the music like everybody else in the place. He was just watchin’.”
    â€œI think I’m gettin’ the idea.”
    â€œHe’d gone by the time we finished our set, an’ I never expected to see him again. But he was waitin’ in the street when we slipped out to the pub, like he’d known that was just what we were goin’ to do – so maybe he already knew more about us than we realised. Anyroad, he asked us if he could buy us a drink.”
    â€œAn’ you, of course, said yes?”
    Walker’s grin was back in place. “We had enough money for four halves, an’ he looked like he was willin’ to shell out on pints. What would you have done in our place?”
    â€œI’d probably have said yes.”
    â€œOnce we were in the pub, he made small talk for a while, sayin’ how much he liked the music we played, an’