The Fourth Bear полностью

“Yes. It seemed pointless to have given bears equal rights, only for them to be unable to defend themselves against illegal hunting and the bile tappers who still stalk their community. If a hunter takes a rifle to kill a bear, it seems entirely just and proper to me that a bear should be able to obtain an identical rifle in order to defend itself.”

“The hunters claim that it’s not antibear or ursism but tradition.”

“Prejudice is a product of ignorance that hides behind barriers of tradition, Inspector. We got to talking, and before I knew it, I had asked her out to dinner. We worked closely to draft the Ursine Self-Defense Bill. It was my fifth private member’s bill and met with general approval, although the final vote was disappointing—six hundred and eight against and one for.” He sighed. “A lone voice in the wilderness.”

“When did you last see her?” asked Mary.

“We had dinner at the Green Parrot last Friday. Do you know it?”

“I’ve heard of it,” returned Mary, knowing full well that it was one of the most expensive and exclusive restaurants on the Thames. It was so exclusive, in fact, that most nights the guests never attained the necessary high criteria, and it remained empty.

“What time did you part company?”

“About eleven. We spoke again a little after midnight. I wished her good luck, and… that was the last time we spoke. I called her at about ten on Saturday morning, but she didn’t answer.”

“At ten on Saturday morning?” queried Jack. “You’re sure it wasn’t before?”

“Definitely.”

“And you block your number on your cell phone?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, please continue.”

“I tried the rest of the day to call both her cell phone and her home but only got her answering machine. When I hadn’t heard anything by Sunday evening, I went around to her flat. It was locked and dark, so on Monday morning I called her brother to see if he knew where she was. He didn’t.”

“And he speaks to me four days later at the Déjà Vu,” observed Jack. “You’re the last human we know to have seen her alive. Did she seem normal Friday night?”

“Excitable, I would say. She said she was close to an important breakthrough in a story.”

“About unexplained explosions?”

“No,” replied Bartholomew, somewhat surprised, “it was about cucumbers.”

“Cucumbers?”

“Yes. Something big going down in the world of extreme cucumber growing, and that her story would have major consequences.”

“And she didn’t mention explosions?”

“Only in relation to that Stanley Cripps fellow’s death. Other than that it was cucumbers, cucumbers, cucumbers. She spoke about record-breaking examples, the international cucumber-fancying fraternity, the fact that a cucumber is a fruit and not a vegetable, a member of the pumpkin family—that sort of thing. Bit boring, really—but it makes a change from parliamentary procedure, and… I just like listening to her talk.” He paused for thought, and his eyes glistened.

“Did she mention anyone else in connection with this story?”

“Yes,” said Bartholomew, snapping his fingers. “She was going to have lunch with a contact on Saturday who she said would ‘reveal all.’ McGuffin was his name. Angus McGuffin. She said he was the key to the whole business.”

“Did she say why?”

Bartholomew shook his head. Jack and Mary looked at one another. Perhaps Goldilocks had been working on two stories.

“Can you tell us where you were on Saturday morning?” asked Mary.

“At my house here in Reading. Doug had taken the kids up to his mum’s for the weekend—I didn’t expect them back until Sunday. I was alone until Agent Danvers picked me up at eleven to take me to the Sacred Gonga Visitors’ Center for a lunch with the Mayor and the Splotvian Ambassador.”

“Did you call anyone, or did anyone call you?”

“Doug called me at about nine-thirty, and I must have fielded a dozen or so calls until Agent Danvers arrived.”

“So you can’t account for your whereabouts until nine-thirty in the morning?”

“No.”

They questioned him further but gained little else that was useful. He knew of no one who would want to hurt Goldilocks except a few disgruntled hunters and bear farmers. He regarded the notion that she might have committed suicide or ignored warning notices to wander over SommeWorld as “laughable” and described her as “fussy” and methodical but quite obsessive and single-minded.

“You’ve been very helpful,” said Jack finally. “I may ask you some more questions when we know more. I’ll let you get back to your constituents.”

Bartholomew rolled his eyes skyward. “More complaints about the roads and hospital waiting lists, I shouldn’t wonder. If you ever think you might want a career in politics, Inspector, think again. It’s merely a continuous and mostly vain attempt to keep several groups of people with opposing needs and agendas happy, and knowing in your heart of hearts that you cannot, and being lambasted for your hard work in the bargain.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“Please keep me informed, Inspector—she meant a great deal to me.”