Episode 6 - Mrs Courtney

It was a pleasant walk downhill towards Middlethumpton, but since Thumpton Hill was steep, the walk back would have been strenuous, so Cleo got into her car and drove there, telling herself that she needed it to do the shopping on the way back. 

Thumpton Close was a long cul-de-sac lined with white-painted houses and tidy front gardens. Cleo left her car in the parking area made for people wanting to take a stroll in Thumpton Wood and walked the rest of the way. Almost as soon as she had rung the doorbell belonging to house number 10, the door was flung open by a woman who proved to be Mrs Courtney.

“Have you found her?” the woman asked. She seemed to recognize Cleo. But then, nearly everyone did.

“Who?”

“The little girl, of course. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mrs Courtney. She’s been found. That’s what I came to tell you,” said Cleo, jumping ahead with what was her best justification for visiting. Cleo wondered how much the woman knew about her collaboration with Police Headquarters.

“Was the child….alive?”

“Yes. Why do you ask that?”

“I don’t know,” Mrs Courtney stuttered.

“But the police have already notified you, haven’t they, Mrs Courtney?”

 “I didn’t quite know what to believe. They didn’t say she was alive.”

“They probably thought you’d realise that, if they didn’t say she was dead. But I’m not sure what I should believe in the circumstances surrounding her disappearance,” said Cleo.

“Oh, I suppose you mean what my cousin did.”

“What did she do?”

“She brought the child here without clarifying the situation first, Miss Hartley.”

“Does she usually do that?”

“If she brings a child to us, it’s because the child has to sleep somewhere.”

Mrs Courtney did not seem to be very clear on the role she was playing.

“You let your cousin take the child away again, though.”

“I thought Mary knew what she was doing and had instructions to do it.”

Cleo decided to approach the woman from a different angle. Either Mrs Courtney was being deliberately vague, or she was naive enough to take whatever Devonport said and did at face value. Or - and this possibility could not be ruled out - someone was making it worth her while.

“You didn’t actually ask the police about the child’s condition, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Can we go inside? I feel a bit foolish standing here on the doorstep.”

“You run that investigation agency in Upper Grumpsfield, don’t you, Miss Hartley?”

“Yes, Mrs Courtney.”

Cleo explained that she had found the body of the woman the little girl claimed was her mother and how that made it important to her to follow up the fate of the child.

“Was your cousin afraid of something, Mrs Courtney?”

The woman went on the defensive.

“Has my cousin done something illegal?”

“I’ve no idea. Has she, Mrs Courtney?”

The woman pursed her lips. Was there a bone of contention between her and her cousin? Had Mrs Courtney phoned Devonport and demanded that Anna be taken away? How likely was it that either woman would tell the truth, even to one another?

“What my cousin does is her own business,” said Mrs Courtney crossly.

“But she brought the child here, so you are involved whether you like it or not.”

“Mary always came here first.”

“First before what, Mrs Courtney?”

“I don’t know. That’s what she always says.”

Cleo thought that confirmed what she had suspected. It was plainly one hand washing the other and Mrs Courtney was unlikely to admit that.

“But she came to collect Anna. What did she tell you about the circumstances leading to her bringing the child here in the first place?”

“Not much. She seemed to be in a hurry when she brought her. She was in a flap and snapped at me. Funny that.”

“Was she often snappy?”

“No. A quiet soul, really. I asked her if something was bothering her, and she said there wasn’t.”

It was clear that Margot Smith had not been to the Courtneys, but had simply handed Anna over to Devonport as usual and had no connection with the Courtneys.

“I’ll tell you this much,” said Mrs Courtney. “Mary was definitely under pressure when she came back and made the child get into the back of her car.”

“Couldn’t you have prevented that happening, Mrs Courtney?”

“I would have stopped her, but you can’t stop Mary once she’s made up her mind to do something.”

Cleo’s theory about Mrs Courtney making a phone call to her cousin crumbled.

“So you didn’t ask your cousin to collect the child?”

“No. Why do you ask that?”

“I find it odd that she took time to come back to the house if you had not asked her to take the child away again, Mrs Courtney.”

“She came back to tell me not to tell anyone about bringing Anna and then collecting her.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She said something about having jumped the guns.”

“By bringing the child here?”

“Something like that.”

“But didn’t you say that was what she always did?”

“Not quite always, but usually. I wondered about that later.”

“So where did she want to take the child, Mrs Courtney?”

“She said she was going to take her to an orphanage until she had been identified.”

“Did she mention that the woman Anna called ‘Mama’ is dead?”

“No. She only said the child had been found wandering about.”

“So you didn’t know the full story, did you? Have you any idea why your cousin didn’t tell you everything?”

“No.”

***

Mrs Courtney was getting uneasy. Cleo pressed on knowing that the fake Devonport alias Margot Smith who had collected the child from the Bell Tower did not tell her colleague the whole story.

“Do you know where Mary Devonport could be now?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“She tried to find Anna, didn’t she? Then she drove off in her car,” said Cleo. “So she left the child frightened and wandering around in the dark, Mrs Courtney.”

“I expect she thought the child would come back here.”

“But she didn’t come back, did she?”

“No.”

“And she didn’t even phone you, did she?”

“No.”

“One more question, Mrs Courtney. Do you know a social worker named Margot Smith?”

“No,” said Mrs Courtney.

“Didn’t your cousin ever talk about her colleagues?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I can’t explain now, but thank you for talking to me,” Cleo said, raising herself out of an exceedingly uncomfortable armchair.

Mrs Courtney was clearly not going to say if she knew more. Mrs Courtney’s attitude had incidentally strengthened her own case for keeping out of the limelight. She had again been recognized and addressed by name.

But the important question now was whether Mrs Courtney hiding something. What was her role in this case? Was she being manipulated or was she simply a child-carer?

Cleo walked to the door and then turned to face Mrs Courtney.

“I’ve just thought of something,”   she said.

“I’ve told you everything,” the woman said.

“Not quite. Did your cousin pay you cash for taking the child in?”

“What if she did?”

Satisfied that the answer spoke for itself, since no social worker would offer a foster parent cash for taking on a child, Cleo drove home via Verdi’s grocery emporium, where she stocked up on everything Robert did not sell in his shop. Shopping gave her time to think.

***

“I should not have gone there myself,” she told Gary when she phoned him to report on her meeting. “The woman knew who I was.”

“That was bound to happen. You’ll have to get a female assistant, Cleo. Someone who will inspire confidence and get people to talk. Someone no one knows locally.”

“That would hurt Dorothy’s feelings.”

“We’re not talking about feelings. We’re talking about reality. Dorothy Price is also well known in the district and will understand the necessity. Ask Julie if she knows of someone suitable, or do you want me to?”

That seemed quite a good idea.

“Come to dinner tonight. Bring Julie and we can discuss it,” said Cleo, knowing that Robert would be delighted to see his daughter, who was usually too busy for family gatherings, and delighted that Gary turned up with another woman, even if it was his daughter. Robert’s logic was simple and naïve. Even Gary would not trespass on what Robert thought was his territory if he had a girlfriend of his own. Gary and Julie made a nice pair, he thought.

Cleo reflected that Julie was certainly not Gary’s type, even if he did pay her excessive attention in front of Robert. In between what Cleo called her private meetings her conduct with Gary was strictly business-like with just a little friendship thrown in, and a little more than that when no one was looking.

“I’ll phone Julie and let you know,” said Gary. “She’s out photographing a boutique someone broke into. It might be your kind of case, Cleo.”

“So she isn’t at home, Gary? Are you still staying there?” said Cleo.

“I’m torn between Julie and Dorothy since the third witch won’t have me,” said Gary.

“Thanks a bunch, Gary. Let me have the details of that break-in. I’d prefer a case about stolen clothes to one about stolen children.”

“So would I and I sleep in the guest room at Julie’s, in case you wanted to know.”

“You surprise me.”

“I’m surprising myself, Cleo.”

“Before I forget, you should know that Mrs Courtney is quite alarmed about her cousin’s actions. She got very nervous after a while. And she reluctantly admitted that she took cash from her cousin. Was it payment for her discretion? I did not ask her when or why she was paid. On reflection, I should have.”

“I should think she was paid when Devonport took Anna there the first time. I don’t think Devonport would have given her cousin money when came to take the child away again,” said Gary.

“Unless it was another sum to pay for Mrs Courtney keeping her mouth shut, Gary.”

“Sometimes I wonder who doesn’t have at least one skeleton in the cupboard.”

“Have fun rattling them!”

Gary confirmed the dinner date and would bring two women. Robert would oblige with a round of grilled rump steaks, root vegetable mash and green asparagus spears. At seven, Gary turned up with Julie and a friend she introduced as Jenny Smith, who was interested in detective work. Robert wondered if she was another candidate for Gary’s bed. Cleo knew she wasn’t, and Julie’s affair was strictly platonic, she had told her father, to his dissatisfaction. I think he loves someone else, she had said truthfully.

“Wow, that was quick, Julie,” said Cleo. “Do you know what you are letting yourself in for, Jenny?”

“I’m just doing my finals in chemistry, Cleo, and I’ve been looking at forensic test methods, so being in on some real crime would be a godsend after those anonymous samples. Chris Marlow does some of the lectures and said it would be great to have me on his team. He wants me to replace a woman he calls ‘the hatchet’.”

“Chris is not quite as friendly as he seems,” said Gary. “Just watch out.”

“That sounds ominous,” said Jenny.

“Chris was talking about a woman called Grace, Jenny. Sometimes I thought she and Chris Marlow were a perfect murder team.”

“I’d be glad of the chance to work with you, Cleo.”

“That would be a good reason for giving Chris Marlow a wide berth,” said Gary.

“That’s settled then,” said Cleo. “I’ll explain to Dorothy that your interest is mainly scientific.”

“Who’s Dorothy? I don’t want to tread on anyone’s toes.”

“Don’t worry about that. There’s room for both of you. Her main interest is in motives. You will be investigating the methods of committing the crimes you help to solve. My only other question is whether you’ll have time.”

“I’ll make time, Cleo.”

Robert emerged from the kitchen. As chief cook and bottle-washer, he had been concocting their dinner while listening with one ear to what was being said.

“We’d better get that little shop sorted out then,” he said. “How about a weekend onslaught?”

“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll help,” Gary offered. “This Sunday?”

“So much for our day in the country,” said Julie.

“Well, we’ll just make a list of materials,” said Robert. “So you can still have a rural afternoon.”

“I doubt it,” said Gary.

“You can start work right away, Jenny,” Cleo said. “I’ll sort out a contract for you so that you are properly employed. I need someone to find out more about the woman I visited this morning; who her friends are, the staff at her kiddies’ care home, how it’s run, and so on. We’ll have a brain-storming before you go there.”

“It’s the sort of stuff we coppers can’t deal with unless we go undercover, Jenny,” Gary explained. “It’s very convenient having a tame private eye at my disposal.”

Cleo hoped that no one would detect a double meaning. To make sure she said

“I’m not sure if Dorothy would like that comment.”

“If the cap fits …” replied Gary. One innuendo is as good as another.

“I could go with you first time out, Jenny. Spying on people is odd until you get used to it. Story-telling is part of the game. For instance, Julie could be your friend and you want to look around the home because your neighbour is in trouble with the police and she has two children.”

“Stuff for a novel,” said Gary.

“That won’t give us information about her friends, though,” said Jenny.

“But we’ll know what she looks like when we trail her,” said Julie.

“So now all that’s settled, we can have some food,” said Robert. “Can you help me serve, Julie?”

“Of course, Dad. I’m starving.”

“Doesn’t that boyfriend of yours feed you?”

“Colin, I mean Gary can’t even boil an egg.”

“I don’t particularly want to either,” said Gary.

Father and daughter toddled off into the kitchen laughing and soon the proof of Robert’s expert cooking skills was being enjoyed by all.

***

“It’s true,” said Gary. “I can’t cook for the life of me.”

“You could come for some lessons,” said Robert.

Cleo thought that was an extraordinary offer. She realized just how unlikely Robert must think her having an affair with Gary was.

“I will. I’d hate my harem to starve.”

Gary thought he was testing the situation, but Robert’s offering cookery lessons was hardly the usual way to blank out a rival. What was the guy playing at? Did he feel so secure with Cleo? Gary’s mobile rang and he went into the porch to talk.

“Never a dull moment,” said Robert.

After the phone call Gary returned to the dinner table and announced that for him the party was over.

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” said Cleo.

“I’m not going to. HQ had a call from a Mrs Singleton about a corpse in her swimming pool. They passed the alarm on to Chris. He is there now and the dead woman is wearing an IT badge saying Davenport.”

“Singleton is a crooked midwife, Gary. I can’t decide if that news is good or bad,” said Cleo. “Which Devonport?”

“Whoever it was, she was found dead in a swimming-pool at a house on the edge of Thumpton Woods.”

“What was she doing there, for heaven’s sake?” said Cleo.

“Still chasing after Anna?” said Robert.

“She must have parked her car out of sight of the Courtney’s house and gone back to look for Anna after all. Mrs Courtney could not have known. She said she saw Devonport drive off in her car.

“Whatever whoever was doing obviously annoyed someone enough to knock her for six and drown her,” said Gary.

“How does Chris know the woman is Devonport, Gary?”

“She was wearing her name tag. Would she wear someone else’s?”

“What a question! Remember that they swapped name tags at that child welfare office, Gary.”

“I’ve lost track of the name tags,” said Gary. “Maybe they all had one for every colleague. But it’s likely that she was the genuine Devonport if she knew that Anna was somewhere near.”

“Mrs Courtney said it was her cousin and described Devonport as quiet. That certainly does not apply to the woman who collected Anna at the Bell Tower, so let’s assume Miss Smith bowed out in favour of Devonport since she had somewhere available to take the child. That day.

“Devonport must be the woman murdered then,” said Jenny.

“She won’t have knocked herself out,” said Gary.

“She might have,” said Jenny.

“Not if the hole was in the back of her skull, Jenny,” said Gary.

“Oh,” said Jenny. She felt uncomfortable in the presence of this high ranking policeman who was sarcastic with her.

Cleo decided that Gary did not like Jenny much.

“I suppose that whoever knocked her out pushed her into the pool to finish her off,” said Robert.

“Unless she fell in,” said Cleo.

“Whatever,” said Gary. “I’ll have to get to the scene of the crime as soon as possible. Julie, will you please come with me and take some official photos?”

“It’s a good job we came in my car,” she said. “At least I have my equipment handy.”

“Forensics will have floodlights,” Gary told her.

“Can I come along?” Jenny asked.

“You should,” said Gary.

“You’d better get moving then, folks,” said Cleo.

“Are you staying here?” said Gary.

“You have enough women around you without me,” said Cleo. “I’ll phone Dorothy and ask her about the neighbourhood. She might even know the people who own the pool.”

“Tell her house Number 9. One of the ‘Dunroamin’ bungalows in Oakwood Road.”

“What’s that, Gary?” Julie quizzed. “Do we have them in New Zealand?”

“I’m sure you do, but not Christened. Traditional Brits don’t just give their dogs and kids names. Dunroamin is a popular name for retirement properties. I expect the owners moved from some big city or other for the peace and quiet of the countryside.”

“That’s been shattered and no mistake,” said Robert as the party moved to the front door.”

“Devonport has ‘dunroamin’ in a big way,” Cleo could not resist adding “whichever Devonport we are talking about, of course”.

A few minutes later, Cleo was convincing Robert that it had been a mistake not to go with Gary and the others.

“I’m surprised you decided not to. What are you waiting for?” was Robert’s reaction.

“We’re getting married next week,” Cleo argued. “I don’t want to get mixed up in an elaborate murder case.”

“You ARE mixed up in it, Cleo,” said Robert, at the same time perusing the TV menu to find something worth watching. “Ninety-nine lots of rubbish to choose from,” he complained.

“Come with me, then. You’re curious, too,” Cleo invited.

“Not that curious. You can tell me all about it later, and I can have a snooze here while you sort everyone out.”

“That’s not fair, Robert!”

“All’s fair in love and detection,” quipped Robert.

Cleo couldn’t help smiling. Robert would not think that her sex with Gary was fair, either. She drove quickly to the scene of the crime, leaving Robert chuckling about her only faintly veiled determination to be part of whatever was going on. He would watch a recording of Mr Bean to bring a little sanity back into his life.

***

Cleo parked her car behind Julie’s and crossed the road to Number 9 Oakwood Road. The houses in the Thumpton district were elegant properties. They had flair and cost the earth, little palaces with manicured lawns, obedient flower beds and heated swimming-pools roofed with glass to spite the rain. She wondered what kind of people the owners of Number 9 were. Retired professionals, judging from the brass plaque nailed to the front door. “The Singletons” it announced, and Cleo wondered about the pomposity.

Cleo walked round the side of the house. The back garden was flooded with light and the water in the swimming-pool sparkled. If that water could talk, it could reveal all, she pondered. Then Cleo saw the woman’s corpse lying on the patio flagstones.

“Why, Cleo! What are you doing here?” said Gary, surprised and delighted that she had prised herself away from Robert.

“It just as well I came, seeing as Devonport has been magically transformed. I can’t believe that three women are involved, so she must be the genuine Devonport, Gary.”

“It’s certainly not the woman we knew as Devonport,” said Gary.

“We need to get her identified by Mrs Courtney.”

“You found out that Anna was not delivered to the Courtneys by the Devonport we thought we knew,” said Gary. ”That gives us a head start.”

 “You said it! I wonder if this business to get at children for other purposes than finding them a new home,” said Cleo. “Maybe that care home is a sort of sorting-office.”

“Surely not!”

“But you did not double-check Devonport, did you?”

“I thought she looked genuine.”

“I don’t know why you are a copper and not a street artist, Gary,” Cleo snapped. “You are so gullible!”

Gary moved close to Cleo so that he could whisper that he loved her even more when she got angry with him, however crazy that sounded. Cleo whispered back that he hadn’t seen the half of it yet and Gary told her he wanted to and could she stay away from that daft butcher long enough to show him.

“Have you looked at her, Gary?” Cleo said in a loud voice.

“Only a glance,” said Gary, who was not keen on the gruesome side of crime. “I was waiting for you.”

“You didn’t know I was coming, Gary.”

“Let’s put it this way: I knew you would not be able to say away.”

“Awesome!” said Cleo risking a quick kiss in the form of an ‘x’ drawn with a finger on Gary’s cheek.

“I gave Chris a description of the Devonport we knew,” Gary said in a loud voice. ”It certainly does not tally with how this woman looks. But she was wearing an ID badge, so Chris must assume this person is Devonport until he knows better, assuming we are on the right track, Cleo.”

“What track, Gary? Her cousin will identify her, so we’ll know if she really is Devonport,” said Cleo. “I’ll get Mrs Courtney to come now and bring a photo of her,” she said pressing the pad on her phone. Moments later Cleo nodded confirmation that Mrs Courtney was on her way.

“You didn’t show her a photo of ‘our’ Devonport alias Margot Smith, did you, Cleo?”

“No. We don’t think I have one. Stupid of me not to take a snap with my mobile when she took Anna away.”

“I could say the same, but we didn’t suspect anything.”

“My entire dialogue with Mrs Courtney did indicate that we were not talking about the same Devonport as the one we first knew,” said Cleo.

“In other words, you and Mrs Courtney were not talking about the same person.”

“I realized that when Mrs Courtney said her cousin was a quiet person and drew conclusions form that.”

“The logical explanation is that the Devonport we met was wearing an ID tag she was not entitled to,” Gary said. “Why would she do that if everything was above board?”

“We’ve been through all that, Gary. Those social service woman swapped identity cards or had one for each so that they could fiddle the records and hide where and when they were working. Suppose Mrs Courtney is in league with the woman we first got to know as Devonport,” said Cleo.

“Or in league with them all,” said Gary. At some point, Margot Smith alias Devonport must have handed Anna over to Mrs Courtney’s Devonport, Cleo. Mrs Courtney would have been suspicious if the wrong woman had turned up with the child. So it must have been the real Devonport there and  this Devonport could even be a third one

“Meaning that if two social workers were involved in whatever was going on, why not a third?” said Cleo.

“There are probably as many Devonport ID brooches around as there are social workers,” said Gary.

“So what name do I give this corpse, Gary?” Chris called.

“Devonport. It’s on the badge and we’ll have her cousin’s confirmation presently.”

As if on cue, Mrs Courtney turned up, took one look at the corpse, and declared that it was indeed her cousin lying there. She showed the photo she had brought with her. Gary instinctively deferred questioning. Any hint that they suspected her of being involved in anything would warn her if she had anything to hide. Cleo was observing Mrs Courtney from where she could not be seen.

Mrs Courtney scribbled her signature on the form Chris handed to her. She gave Gary the snap of Devonport and herself together. It confirmed the identification and Gary photographed it on his mobile and would send copies to Chris and Cleo. Then Mrs Courtney went home, showing no signs of distress or sadness. Cleo thought that was a sign that something was amiss. Was the real Devonport a pawn in some criminal activity or other?

***

Cleo had already decided that anyone making such a negative impression as Margot Smith had something to hide. Mrs Courtney went out of the gate at the end of the back garden. Tramping through woods at dead of night did not seem to scare her. Was it a well-worn path? Would it be worth looking into the Singletons?

“Supposing this Devonport woman killed Smith to stop her talking?” Cleo theorised to Gary, who was well satisfied with the identification of the dead woman.

“Talking about what?”

Cleo’s subconscious spoke out.

“Trading in kids.”

“She’s a social worker and trading in kids is illegal.”

“Would that matter? She had access to stray kids. Would anyone even notice?”

“I hope you’re wrong, Cleo.”

“So do I. Supposing Margot Smith was on the level or wanted to be. Devonport wanted Anna, but Smith did not want to be in on any more corruption and Devonport killed her to get at the child?”

“Supposing cows can fly?”

“I hope they can. Such a massively public case of child abuse would be good for your career, Gary.”

“I don’t think I want that kind of publicity.”

“Wasn’t it you who told me that bad publicity is better than no publicity? This is would be awesomely good publicity. I’ll bet there are quite a few who would like to reveal the corruption in public offices.”

“I’d want to include your work and support, Cleo.”

“Leave me out of any publicity. I’m grey eminence, and it has to stay that way.”

Julie seemed to be attracted to Chris and the attraction looked mutual. Gary had never thought of Chris as anything but a guy in a white plastic overall at crime scenes, or in a pristine medical coat in the pathology lab. He had to admit that Jenny was a most attractive woman. Cleo read his thoughts.

“Hands off, Gary.”

“What?”

“Let Chris have his moment, too. He’s basically a nice guy. He’s lonely and he seems to get on well with Jenny, though I think he prefers men.”

Gary sighed.

“What makes you think that?”

“He acts strange with women. I don’t think he is really attracted to them except for now. So I may be wrong in thinking he’s gay.”

“That does not matter, anyway. People can be free to love who they want, these days. Anyway, you know damn well that I was only looking at Julie and she really only wants Colin,” Gary said. “I’m glad you are jealous, Cleo. It makes me hopeful.”

“You put on quite a good act with Julie, Gary.”

“Do I? Pristine charades, Cleo. You know who I want.”

Chris straightened up and announced that he had done all he could. Two colleagues had made a search of the garden as far as was possible in the dark. The bungalow had not been entered. The burglar alarm would have been set off.

“Should we get an alarm for the swimming-pool,” Mrs Singleton fussed.

“Better not. Foxes and other wild creatures run around these gardens when you’re not looking, Mrs Singleton. The alarm would be set off regularly by their antics.”

“Of course it would. Silly of me.”

Chris asked Jenny if he could give her a lift home and Jenny accepted. He would take the forensics van back to HQ and they could take his car.

“I can walk from there,” said Jenny.

“I’d rather drive you, Jenny,” said Chris.

A few answers to carefully chosen questions provided all the information about finding the corpse that Gary needed for the time being. Mrs Singleton had just had time to open the front door and turn off the security alarm before her husband had rushed round the house shouting “Come quick! There’s someone in the swimming pool.” They had rushed into the back garden and together pulled the woman out of the water. But it was too late for resuscitation. Mr Singleton had issued a garbled alarm to the police on his mobile and Mrs Singleton had fetched a blanket from the guestroom to cover the corpse. The Singletons said they did not know the woman.

A quick discussion between Gary and Cleo left them in agreement that something was wrong at the Singleton house, but now was not the time to investigate. Julie had taken photos and put her equipment back in the car. Cleo and Gary stayed long enough to supervise the paramedics. The Singletons were warned not to change anything. Forensics would be back at first light.

“Come to my office tomorrow morning if you have time, Gary,” Cleo said and Gary got into the passenger seat of Julie’s car, “but only in the morning. I have other plans for the afternoon.”

“Is nine-thirty too early?”

“I get to the office by nine.”

“I’ll be there,” said Gary.