3 A Reformed Character by Cecilia Peartree Page A

Or to be hustled into a dark car and driven off towards the police station. But that was what happened.
    A couple of hours later she was very bored with the whole thing.
    She sat back in her chair and absorbed her surroundings. The room had no natural light but they had tried their best by using glass bricks in one of the walls. It didn't help much as the corridor outside was painted in a trendy dark red colour - probably called Heritage Aubergine or something.
    'Nice room,' she observed. 'Nice new police station, in fact. How did you manage that, Mr Smith? Bribery? Blackmail?'
    Mr Smith banged the flat of his hand on the table. 'If you must know, the top brass felt it was justified because of the rising crime rate in Pitkirtly.'
    'Rising crime rate? In a sleepy little town like this?'
    'A sleepy little town that's seen more murders than Detroit since you came to live here.'
    'I hope you're not suggesting there's a connection between me and the increase in serious crime, Detective Chief Inspector.'
    He stared into her eyes for an uncomfortable moment and didn't reply. Was that meant to intimidate her? She smiled to show it hadn't worked.
    'So - what about Darren, then?' he said, resuming his previous line of questioning.
    'I haven't seen Darren!' she insisted for at least the tenth time. 'I have no idea where he is. I haven't been anywhere near him – or anyone else you might be interested in.'
    'Ah, yes,' said Chief Inspector Smith, an old adversary of hers. 'Anyone else. Who else were you thinking of?'
    'I don't know! Anyone else in the world! I haven't been out all day.'
    'So you weren't outside the sheriff court in Dunfermline at ten-thirty this morning waiting for Darren Laidlaw in a getaway car while your associate distracted the officers on duty?' he asked again, consulting his watch. Ha! She was the one who had been unlawfully detained and should be consulting her watch - not to mention a lawyer. This was all in a day's work to him.
    'What do you mean, my associate? No, I wasn't.'
    'So what were you doing at ten-thirty this morning, and can anyone corroborate your story?'
    'You wouldn't believe me if I told you,' she said.
    'Go on, give it a go,' he said.
    She sighed. 'It's a bit personal - and embarrassing.'
    'I think you'll find I'm not easily embarrassed.'
    'No - embarrassing for me, I mean. You'll laugh.'
    'You're not wasting police time, are you?' he said, only half joking. Wasting police time tended to be one of Amaryllis's favourite occupations.
    'Of course not!... Actually I was practising moss stitch.'
    'Moss stitch? Oh, my God, tell me you haven't joined Maisie Sue McPherson's patchwork club?' he said.
    'It's quilting, not patchwork, and moss stitch is something you knit anyway,' she said with satisfaction. 'Can I go now?'
    He sighed. Somehow she got the feeling he had kept her here for an unnecessarily long time - either because he saw himself as a cat playing with a mouse, or because he fancied her. Either way, she wasn't going to play along.
    'Well, we can't argue with moss stitch,' he said at last. 'But don't get mixed up in anything else, or we'll lock you up and throw away the key.'
    She felt like flinging him to the floor and stamping on his head, except that she was afraid he would enjoy it. Instead she shouted 'perverts' over her shoulder as she walked away from the police station, attracting unwelcome attention from a man in a raincoat who was patrolling the street outside the newsagent with a placard that said 'Ban This Sick Filth.' He eyed her as if hoping she might join his lonely protest. Instead she went straight to Christopher's house.
    As usual, Jemima Stevenson and Dave were there. Why didn't they just move in with Christopher?
    'Darren's out again,' she said without preamble.
    'Oh dear,' said Christopher.'
    'They've never given him bail?' said Dave.
    'No, he's on the run,' said Amaryllis.
    'How did that happen?' said Jemima, absent-mindedly pouring a cup of tea for Amaryllis, who hated