CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Spence jumped to his feet as soon as Anne returned to the public area but she barely appeared to notice him and dashed past him into the street, her normally placid expression transformed into one of abject despair and…fear? What on earth can Owen Shepherd have said to the poor woman to frighten her so? He caught the eye of an officer closing the security door who merely shrugged.
Spence wasted no further time speculating but rushed after Anne’s retreating figure and quickly caught up with her. She had been forced to rest, panting, against the high wall of a characterless, unassuming building that could have been a warehouse…or just about anything.
“Anne, whatever’s the matter? What happened in there? You’re as white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf.” What on earth did Shepherd say to put you in this state? Impulsively, he gave her a hug.
Anne, more grateful than she could say, made no reply. Instead, she flung her arms around Kirk Spencer’s neck and clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably, for several minutes. Eventually, she broke away and made a determined effort to compose herself.
“Here, it’s clean.” He offered a folded handkerchief.
“Thank you,” she muttered, wiping her eyes before blowing her nose. “Tissues are so useless in an emergency,” she added with weak smile.
Spence began to relax. He hadn’t quite known what to say or do. Anne Gates had always struck him as a woman who kept her feelings well under wraps. Not that she was a cold person, she wasn’t, nor unemotional…simply…well, in control. “Keep it. Your need is greater than mine.” He tried to make a joke of it, and then felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“I know and I appreciate it,” she said warmly and gave his hand an affectionate squeeze.
They walked to the car without speaking. Once inside, Spence felt bound to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Could she trust Spence with Owen’s terrible secret, Anne wondered? She so badly needed to get it off her chest. At the same time, she realized it was not as simple of that. True, Owen had trusted her. But that only meant she could never tell a living soul, leastwise not without opening Pandora’s Box. “But someone else already did,” she murmured inaudibly.
“Don’t let the boyish good looks fool you. I’m really a very mature person. I’m also a good listener.” Spence tried to reassure her.
In spite of herself, Anne laughed. “You’re a dear, incorrigible man.”
“That’s not what Charley says. She’s always telling me I’m an impossible bastard. But I think she loves me anyway,” he added with a grin.
“She’d be a fool if she didn’t.” Anne told him, “And she may be exasperating, outrageous and interfering. but she’s certainly no fool.”
“That’s true.” He hesitated. “So…do you want to tell me what happened in there?”
“If I do, you must promise not to tell anyone, especially Charley. If anyone is ever going to tell anyone else, that person has to be Owen.”
“I promise.” She told him. “He did…what?”
“He killed his own mother, suffocated her with a pillow. It doesn’t say much for my theory that Owen wouldn’t hurt a fly, does it?”
Spence winced. The little woman beside him looked bitter, angry and hurt yet was amazingly calm. “All the same, a mercy killing…”
“Mercy?” she rounded on him, eyes blazing, “Imagine that poor woman’s last seconds, fighting for breath and knowing her own son wants her dead!”
“Maybe it’s what she wanted. Maybe she understood. Whatever, I’m sure she forgave him. So who are we to judge?”
“Of course she forgave him. By all accounts she’d have forgiven him anything. It makes you wonder just what else there might have been to forgive doesn’t it?”
“Now you’re scaring me,” he protested, but with a mischievous grin. However, his feeble attempt to lighten the tension failed miserably this time.
Anne continued in the same unnervingly matter-of-fact tone, “I imagine a man capable of killing his own mother, for whatever reason, is capable of just about anything.” She had been staring straight ahead at the wet, busy street. Now she turned to Spencer and said simply, without any trace of agitation, “I thought I knew him so well, and now I discover I didn’t know him at all. I was so sure he had nothing to do with Patricia’s disappearance. Now…I don’t think I’ll ever be sure about anything or anyone ever again.”
“You’ve had a nasty shock.”
“So what’s one more?” She asked the question aloud. It seemed to come back at her from all directions, like a haunting echo, mocking her, attacking her.
Spence understood it was a rhetorical question, at least he hoped so since he had no ready answer. “That’s all the more reason to find a way to hang in there and trust your instincts. You’re a good person, Anne. You’re also a strong person. If anyone can do that, you can. You’re not the type to give up easy, not on yourself or anyone else, including Owen Shepherd, whatever he may or may not have done.”
“Whatever he may or may not have done?” she repeated softly. “Even if he’s taken Lynette just like he took my Patricia? Oh, he denies it of course. But he would, wouldn’t he? Who would own up to being a monster?” She opened the car door.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to be by myself for a while. A walk will do me good. It might even help to clear my head. And there’s no need to look so worried, either. I’ll be fine, honestly. Look, the sun’s shining. It’s even stopped raining. God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world’” she muttered, quoting a line from Browning she had always detested. Her tired eyes welled up with tears.
Spence sat and watched her walking slowly down the street, both hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. How old was Anne Gates, he wondered…mid to late fifties? Yet the hunched figure disappearing round a corner looked so much older. Should I go after her? He decided against it. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts and who could blame her for that? God knows, she’s got enough to think about. Suddenly, an overwhelming need to see Charley washed over him.
Turning on the ignition struck Spence as the most positive thing he had done so far that day.
…………………………...
Charley arrived back at The Orion feeling ravenous after her emotional encounter with Steve Taylor. He had said he would make his way back to Hillcrest immediately, and she believed him even to the extent that she had resisted the temptation to insist on keeping him company.
Had she misjudged the man?
She didn’t doubt that Steve Taylor cared deeply for his daughter. But did he feel the same about his wife? She was inclined to suspect he did, but couldn’t entirely rule it out as wishful thinking. Why do relationships have to be so damn complicated? So preoccupied was she with this irksome inner debate as she crossed the lobby that she narrowly avoided bumping into Mel Harvey. “Sorry,” she apologized, “I was miles away….”
“My fault entirely, “the hotelier assured her, “I should look where I’m going instead of worrying about this awful business with Owen Shepherd. We’ve been friends for years, you know. I’m sure there must have been some terrible mistake. I hear he’s at the police station even as we speak. Not that it means anything, of course. They have to question everyone, and I gather poor Owen was one of the last people to see little Lynette before…Oh, but it’s just so awful! I never believed lightning could strike twice. Well, you don’t, do you? Thank heavens it didn’t happen at The Orion again. Not that it should happen anywhere,” she added hastily, “That poor child…”
“Is the shower fixed?” Charley asked, unable to bear the woman’s chatter a second longer.
“What? Oh, yes. We must count our blessings, I suppose. At least the plumber turned up this time.”
“So what happened yesterday?”
“I waited and waited, didn’t I? I called them. Joe called them. Not a sign. It was fortunate I happened to remember that Bob Cartwright is in town. I’ve known his mother for years, you know. He came as soon as he could. Unfortunately, he didn’t manage to sort the problem once and for all. Bob’s so good, too. Perhaps his mind wasn’t on the job. Who knows? Anyway, the man who came today assures me it won’t happen again…until the next time,” she added ruefully. “But you will excuse me, won’t you? I say, Mrs Kolinsky…” she called out in some agitation to a woman wearing a baseball cap that Charley could just make out emerging from the garden.
Thankful to make good her escape, Charley pressed the button to call the lift and was rewarded with the doors opening immediately. She was about to step inside when an incredible thought struck her and she let the doors close again. Shaking her head, she pushed the call button a second time. Again, the doors opened instantly. Again, she stood and watched them close.
Charley Briggs, you are being absurd. She wasted no time reprimanding herself, but with little conviction. A hunch had taken root in her head and adamantly refused to budge. There was only one thing to do, only one way to find out if she was on the right track or indulging in sheer fantasy.
Looking towards the rear of the lobby, she could see Mel Harvey was still engaged in earnest conversation with Baseball Cap who, even as she observed the two women, came striding towards her with a face like thunder. Mel herself remained at the French doors wringing her hands. Charley did not hesitate a third time. Abandoning her intention to take the lift, she made her way towards the garden, only narrowly avoiding a second collision, this time with the object of the hotelier’s concern.
“If you ever consider running a hotel, Mrs Briggs, my advice to you is don’t even think about it,” Mel Harvey told her irritably as Charley came within hearing distance, “If you do…be sure to ban people with nasty toilet habits.”
At any other time, Charley would have felt bound to enquire further into the nature of Mrs Kolinsky’s toilet habits. Instead, she asked the question that was on her lips. “You mentioned Bob Cartwright just now…”
“That’s right, Jessie Cartwright’s son. He’s a qualified plumber. But of course you went to see her so you’ll know that…”
“A coincidence, isn’t it?” Charley managed to keep her tone light, “That is, didn’t you tell me the other day that he helped out with a similar crisis last time I was here?
“Did I? I don’t remember that.”
“Someone made a terrible fuss. A Colonel Gibson, wasn’t it?”
“Colonel Gibson? Oh, yes, Colonel Gibson. Oh, but he was a real pain in the proverbial, always complaining about something.”
“And Bob Cartwright…?”
“Well, yes, now I come to think about it, he did come up trumps for us on that occasion. Bob’s such a nice man and so polite, well educated too. He went to Cambridge, you know. Between you and me, he’s a big disappointment to his poor mother, his becoming a plumber I mean. But it just shows you, doesn’t it, that even a Cambridge graduate can be blessed with some plain commonsense? Oh, look, there’s my husband. Do excuse me, won’t you? I simply must have a word. Joe!” she yelled authoritatively, and was halfway across the lobby before Charley had time to gather her thoughts.
Minutes later, Charley was still mulling things over. More anxious than usual to be safely ensconced in the privacy of her room, it irritated her no end that the swipe key took several minutes to properly activate. Finally, the green light flashed. Charley pushed the door. It opened. She went and sat on the bed, frowning.
It had to be a coincidence. Well, doesn’t it? At the same time she could hear Fern McAllister’s silky voice declaring that she did not believe in coincidences. “Nor do I,” Charley murmured, “Nor do I, dammit.” So what does it mean? Okay, Bob Cartwright can be placed at the scene of both children’s disappearance. So, too, can Owen Shepherd of course…
Charley gulped. Her instincts continued to insist that Shepherd was the guilty party. But suppose she was mistaken? Suppose she had dumped poor Owen in a nightmare he must have thought was over long since, and in which he had no place anyway? “Oh, God, what have I done?”
The door opened. It was Spence. “Hey, what’s this? Don’t tell me you’ve missed me so much you’ve started talking to yourself? They’ll be carrying you off to the funny farm next,” he joked, and then took in the anguished expression on her face. “What on earth’s the matter?” He sat down beside her, put both arms around her and could not believe it when she began to sob quietly against his chest. “What’s the matter?” he repeated. “Come on, tell old Spence. Besides,” he added wryly but kindly, “You know you’re dying to.”
“I must look a mess!” Charley groaned.
“Never mind all that. Besides you look as ravishing as ever. Now, what’s wrong?” He listened with growing disbelief as she related her latest theory. “You can’t be serious? He was on his feet now.
“I know it’s unlikely…”
“Unlikely? It’s bloody preposterous, woman. You can’t go around accusing every Tom, Dick and Harry of child abduction and worse, for heaven’s sake! Okay, so it looks as if you were right about Owen Shepherd. We did find a body in his garden and I have to admit that doesn’t look too good for him. But then to accuse someone else just because you’ve got a guilty conscience about it…People will think you’re stark, raving mad.”
“I do not have a guilty conscience about Owen Shepherd,” Charley flared, “I just need to be one hundred per cent sure, that’s all. If there’s the slightest chance that Bob Cartwright is involved, we owe it to Anne to get to the bottom of it.”
“Don’t give me that. You’re not thinking about Anne, you’re only thinking about yourself and how you can best put one over on the world and its mother, as usual.”
“That’s not true. Mind you, speaking of mothers, I’d say we owe it to Alice Shepherd too, wouldn’t you? It’s quite obvious now why she kept Owen on a tight leash all those years. The poor woman must have known or at least suspected the worst. If there is the remotest chance she can rest easy in her grave, we have to take it or be damned.”
“Oh, you are such a drama queen!”
“Maybe, but you know I’m right. I’m not suggesting we go the police or anything so rash…Not yet, anyway.”
“I should hope not, since you haven’t got a shred of evidence.”
“But a visit to Jessie Cartwright can’t do any harm, can it? Don’t look so worried. I won’t make any wild accusations. But Sally Hunter did say Cartwright and Owen Shepherd were as thick as thieves when they were neighbours. Doesn’t that sound a likely combination to you? It certainly doesn’t to me. Maybe Cartwright saw Owen as a vulnerable type and took steps to put him in the frame on both occasions to take the heat off himself.” It’s possible, isn’t it? Besides, aren’t you in the least bit curious as to why a Cambridge graduate became a plumber?”
Spence lifted both hands and shook his fists in a gesture of despair. “It couldn’t possibly be because there’s a lot of money in it, I suppose? Dear me, no, that would be far too straightforward. As for putting Owen in the frame, it didn’t work, did it, and if he’s so clever, why not?”
“It sounds pretty clever to me. Oh, I dare say he didn’t mean for Owen to take the blame. At the same time, if the police got too close for comfort, better the heat should be on Shepherd than himself. Think about it, Spence. It makes sense. Call it a hunch, but…”
“Here we go! You and your damn hunches again. One of these days those hunches of yours will get you into a big, big hole and I won’t be around to dig you out!”
“So do I have to drive myself to see Jessie Cartwright?”
“Charley, get real!” he pleaded. “You’ve been obsessed with Owen Shepherd and Anne Gates ever since we arrived, and all because you saw the man return to the hotel in the early hours donkey’s years ago. Okay, you’ve made your point. We found a body. And now some other poor kid’s gone missing. I hope you’re satisfied.”
“You can’t blame me for Lynette’s disappearance,” Charley was genuinely appalled.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But your meddling hasn’t helped, you can bet on it.”
“I’ve solved a murder haven’t I?”
“We didn’t come her to solve a murder, you stupid woman. We came here on holiday. Some holiday! Let’s go to The Orion, you said. I was so happy there last time, you said. It will bring us luck, you said. Luck, my eye! It has been a fiasco from start to finish. Besides, how do you think I feel, being compared to your first husband all the time?”
“I have never compared you to Briggs!”
“So why are we here, in some crap B&B when we could have gone to a decent hotel?”
“I only thought…” Charley began then stopped, the wind taken out of her sails and the usually cheery face wearing such a forlorn expression that Spence was already regretting his outburst. Nevertheless, he vowed to stand his ground. “I’m sorry you feel like that,” she said at last, “but hunch, obsession, call it what you like, I have to see it through. If I make a complete fool of myself, there’s no harm done. Getting someone arrested for a crime they may not have committed, that’s something else altogether. I couldn’t live with myself if it turns out I’ve been wrong about Owen Shepherd all along. You can understand that, surely?” She took some consolation from Spencer’s oblique nod. “You can think and do what you damn well like, Kirk Spencer,” she told him straight, “but I intend to drive over and see Jessie Cartwright again right now. Well, just as soon after a shower and change of clothes as humanly possible. You can take it or leave it for all I give a damn.”
“On your head be it,” Spencer muttered.
“Too right, it is. It’s my hunch, my obsession and my decision. Consider yourself excused from all three.”
An oppressive silence followed. “You’re in no fit state to drive anywhere that’s for sure,” Spence declared at last. “Nor am I, for that matter. We’ll get a cab,” he told her emphatically.
“We…?” Charley’s cheeks glowed.
I can hardly let you go on your own, can I?” he demanded wearily.
“Not if you really love me, no,” she agreed with a radiant smile, “and I’m starting to believe you really do.”
“Not when you behave like this I don’t,” Spence mumbled, but knew he was beaten so might as well accept the inevitable with good grace. He sat down, opened his arms and she fell into them. “You promise not to go at this half baked hunch of yours like a bull in a china shop?” he murmured.
“I promise,” Charley assured him, returning his kisses. Jessie Cartwright, she decided, could wait a little longer.
They made love, and then took a shower together.
To be continued on Friday.
