April's Tears

James

James

Mitch, humming, works her way through a box containing tiny socks, sweaters and mitts. Bibs and hats rub shoulders with mini-bootees. Some of them were Cara’s, some Adam’s. And Vicky, growing fast in the way of very small infants, has also worn many of them.

“Looking forward to being a grandmother again?” I ask.

She turns a headlamp smile on me. “Jenny and Michael both wanted it so much. It’s good to see that their plans are bearing fruit.”

I chuckle… “In the most literal sense…” …then nod down to her collection of micro-woollies. “Don’t we have enough of those?”

Mitch wrinkles her nose. “I’m sorting them into sizes, looking for the ones for a newborn.”

“It’s going to be a while before you’ll need them. ”

She shrugs and, resuming her humming, continues sorting. Picking out a set of pale blue mittens, she plucks at the wool, sniffs, then tosses the pair into the bin.

“Where’s Larry today?” I ask. “I’ve not seen him around.”

She keeps her attention on the box. “I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”

There’s subtext there, but I’ve no idea what it might be.

He’d be pleased about Charlotte’s pregnancy, wouldn’t he?

Why would he not be here?

Richard's phone rings. He checks the screen, then answers. "Good afternoon, Will. What can I...?" His voice trails away and he darts a glance at Mitch, then at me. Mitch jolts to attention, her smile fading…

The faintest of creases lines Richard’s forehead. "Really? Will, just give me a moment, would you. It's rather noisy in here." He steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. From outside, the sense of his voice carries through without the words, puzzlement, then dismay. Mitch sits in silence, screwing a tiny mitt around and around.

Richard, flicking me a warning glance, re-enters. "Mitch, I'm going down to the City.” He perches on the chair-arm beside her. “Listen, I don't want you to panic. I'm pretty sure everything's alright."

The mitt drops from Mitch’s hand. White-faced, tension rippling through her voice, "What's happened? Is it Larry? Has he been hurt?"

“No. No. Nothing like that. Larry’s perfectly well. However...” He lays his hand on hers... “…he's being held by the police."

Mitch whimpers. “He's been arrested?" Her face stricken, “What has he done?"

The normally unflappable Richard is as close to flustered as I’ve ever seen him, trying to calm the panicking woman. "Mitch, I'm not sure he's actually done anything. I don’t believe he is under arrest, but I don't have all the facts yet. "

Her eyes flood. "He’s not under arrest? But the police are holding him?"

"That's what Will’s telling me. I understand he’s being interviewed. Mitch…” He squeezes her hand. “…Please don't worry. I'm going to the station right now. I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s happened. And if Larry needs to be bailed out, I'll see to it."

"But you said he wasn’t under arrest.” Mitch’s voice rises in pitch… “Why would he need bail?” She rises from her seat. “I’m coming with you."

"I don't think you should. Stay here with James. Try to relax. I promise I'll ring as soon as I know something solid."

He heads out to the hall. I follow. "What the hell's going on?"

“James, I'm truly not sure.” Richard snags his overcoat from a hook, lowers his voice. “That murder in the City yesterday… Klempner was caught inside the police compound with a fake press pass."

My brain turns a somersault. "Well, he's not responsible for the murder. He was with us all morning. And the day before that."

"Of course he was, and that's what I told Will. But you can’t avoid the question of what the hell he was doing in there. Apparently, he's being close-mouthed about it."

He looks back. "Keep Mitch company. Get Charlotte too, to help calm her. I'll call Elizabeth and ask her to join you. See if you can steer the conversation to pregnancy and babies. That always seems to settle Mitch." Car keys jingling… “I’ll be in touch.” He exits.

In the lounge, Mitch is on me. "What did he tell you that he wouldn't say to me?"

My mouth opens and closes. "Nothing very much."

"But?" She slits eyes green as acid.

Ah, Christ…

"Richard tells me Larry was found on the site of that murder near the square yesterday."

"What?" The eyes widen again to great wide ovals. "Why would he be there?" She spins, a palm pressed to her forehead. "The police don't think...?"

"No. Richard has already confirmed…” I lay palms on her shoulders, steer her to face me… “…What. We. All. Already. Know. Larry was here, with one or other of us both yesterday and the day before. Whatever has happened, he’s not implicated in the murder. Mitch, when he left this morning, where was he going? What were his plans?”

She shrinks in on herself. “I… I don't know.” The eyes raise to mine, tear-sheened emeralds. “I told him to take some time for himself. To go enjoy himself. To relax. He's been feeling...” She stalls.

“We know how he's been, Mitch. We’ve all been seeing it. He needed some time out.”

“There was nothing wrong. If there were, even if he’d not said something, I’m sure I’d have sensed it.”

“I’m sure so, too. Now, listen to me. Richard is by far the best person to talk to Will Stanton. The two of them go way back. Why don’t you carry on with what you were doing. Charlotte and Michael will be relying on you when the baby comes. As soon as Richard knows anything at all, I’m sure he’ll be in touch.”

She nods, sits again, picking through the box of clothes. But as she inspects a tiny stretch suit, her hands are shaking. After only moments, she stands again… “f**k this.” …and dashes out.

Moments later I hear her calling… “Richard. Wait!” …and the closing bang of the front door.

*****