CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jessie Cartwright was furious at being disturbed while watching a movie on TV. As soon as she opened the door to Charley and Spence, it was clear to both they had arrived at a bad time.
“Oh, it’s you again?” Jessie scowled at Charley, “and who’s this, your son?”
Charley pursed her lips ominously, but Spence burst out laughing. “Actually,” he told the dour faced matriarch, “we’re lovers.”
“Huh!” Jessie Cartwright made no attempt to disguise her disapproval.
“If I’m old enough to be his mother it’s only just, and none of your business,” a rattled Charley declared.
“You’re right. So, if you don’t mind, I’m busy.”
Jessie would have left them standing on the doorstep if Spence hadn’t resorted to a charm offensive. “Could we come in, just for a few minutes?” he treated the woman to a dazzling smile. “We’d be awfully grateful. We’re really sorry to disturb you. Only, I suppose you could say it’s a matter of life or death.”
In spite of herself, Jessie warmed to the polite young man, but continued to regard Charley darkly as she stepped aside to let them enter. Once in the sitting room, she went to the TV and turned the sound down while keeping half an eye on the screen. “So, what can I do for you?”
It was Charley who answered. “My friend Anne, who was with me last time I saw you, tells me she bumped into your son, Bob, the other day. In Lewes, I think it was. Yes, it was definitely Lewes. He was with Fern McAllister. Anne thought they made a nice couple.”
“They did once. There was a time I used to think my Robert and Fern were made for each other. But what’s it to you anyway?”
“He’s been doing some work at the hotel too. Mel Harvey thinks he’s wonderful.”
“Robert’s been up at the Orion?”
It struck Charley that Jesse was not only surprised but also a trifle agitated. “So handy, aren’t they, plumbers? Even so, it must have come as a big disappointment, what with his having had a Cambridge education and all that.” It was not a question nor did Jessie Cartwright choose to take it as such. Instead, she fixed them both with ferocious glare that reminded Spence of a pit bull terrier that had gone for him when, as a boy of twelve, he had ventured into the neighbour’s garden to retrieve a football.
“What do you want?” Jessie demanded impatiently, glancing from the TV screen to Charley and back again. “Spit it out or leave, take your pick.”
“A child has gone missing,” Charley blurted.
Jesse Cartwright froze for an instant, but seemed to recover quickly enough. “So? What’s that got to do with me or my Robert? If you’re suggesting…”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Charley lied hastily, “but since he was helping out at the Orion when little Patricia Gates disappeared, too, all those years ago, it strikes me as too much of a coincidence that your Robert and Owen Shepherd should have been in the same place at the same time on both occasions. That is...” she started to say by way of sounding less accusing as the look on the other woman’s face told her she had gone too far.
Jessie Cartwright cut her dead in mid-flow and leapt to her feet. “How dare you come into my house and say such a thing? Get out, before I call the police and have you arrested for…” She visibly struggled to find the appropriate word without success.
“It’s called harassment,” said Spence and ignored Charley’s warning look. “I don’t blame you. I’d probably feel the same in your shoes. But we know the child who has disappeared personally. You can see for yourself how her disappearance has hit Charley really hard. I’m worried sick too, but especially Charley. She’s got this idea in her head that possibly, just possibly, your Robert might know something. He and Owen Shepherd were close once, I believe? Maybe, just maybe, Shepherd might have let something slip to him. However unlikely that might be, Charley won’t rest until she’s spoken to him. Nor will I get any peace until she does. So please, please, will you help us.”
“He’s not here,” said Jessie bluntly, only slightly mollified. Her breathing was erratic, and she hadn’t taken her eyes off the TV screen all the while Spence was talking. Now she turned to Charley, expression and tone marginally less venomous. “Is it true what they’re saying, that Owen Shepherd has been arrested and a child’s body had been dug up in his garden?” Charley nodded. “It must be a terrible thing, to lose a child.” Jessie kept shaking her head. “Is it your friend Anne’s little girl?”
“We’re still waiting for a positive identification,” Charley told her.
“I hope so, for your friend’s sake. At least she’ll be able to put the poor little mite to rest at last.”
Charley nodded then, “Why did Robert become a plumber?”
Jessie’s fierce gaze returned to the TV screen. “He was meant for better things,” she said at last without looking away from the black and white figures acting out an old movie. “He didn’t do well at Cambridge if the truth be told. But he made a lot of friends, a lot of connections. Good connections, they were too. All set for a career in politics, he was. Then…it all went pear shaped.”
Her unwelcome guests listened with bated breath.
“He got friendly with a pair of high fliers and used to baby-sit for them now and then. By all accounts, one of the children accused him of …Well, all sorts, apparently. Robert denied it, of course.” She looked away from the screen at glared directly Charley. “My Robert is a good boy. I brought him up to be respectful, considerate and kind. He would never harm a child.” She looked away again. “Anyway, the parents really had it in for him after that. It was all hushed up of course. People who say there’s no such thing as bad publicity are fools. They told Robert they would make damn sure he never got anywhere or became anyone in politics, business, whatever…” The brittle voice cracked and trailed off.
Charley and Spence waited.
Jessie turned, looked first at one and then the other, the heavily lined face a picture of misery. “Robert is a good boy,” she repeated dully.
“Where is he?” Spence asked gently.
“He said he was going to see some friends over Portslade way and maybe stay over,” she replied hoarsely “Their names are Janet and Paul Evans. Robert and Paul were at school together. I’ll give you the address. ” She rose, went to a sideboard drawer rummaged until she found a scrap of paper and a biro then returned to her chair and proceeded to write.
“Couldn’t we just wait here?” Charley suggested. “He might not be there or have left. He could be on his way back here even as we speak.”
“Possibly,” Jessie agreed, “but he seemed to think they would have lots to talk about. I’m sure they would have too. Only, they’re on holiday in Spain. I had a postcard from them only other day.”
It was to Spence that Jessie Cartwright handed the scrap of paper.
Jessie got up, went to the television and turned up the volume. As she settled back in her armchair to watch, Spence could see that she was crying. “Let’s go,” he said to Charley, taking her arm before she could protest then firmly steered her to the front door and out into the street.
“So what do you suggest we do now, Sherlock?” Spence enquired caustically, “Dare I suggest we go straight to the police?”
“And tell them what, exactly?” Charley demanded, “That they might have the wrong man and the right man might be a plumber called Bob Cartwright who just might be in Portslade and might even have Lynette with him? I don’t think so. We’ll be kept hanging around again, wasting precious time. If Cartwright does have Lynette with him, every second counts. You can see that, surely? Besides who’s to say the police will believe us anyway?”
“Half the Sussex police force and probably half the Home Counties forces are out looking for Lynette,” Spence put to her with mounting exasperation. “They are hardly likely to ignore a possible lead, however bizarre.”
“Bizarre? How can you say that? You saw Jessie’s face. It’s the face of a woman who knows her son is as guilty as hell.”
“So why doesn’t she call the police herself?”
“I’d have though that was obvious. Because she’s his mother, you idiot, that’s why. No mother wants to admit her son is less than perfect let alone a …paedophile.”
“I still say we should go to the police or at least call them and tell them what we’re up to. Suppose we’re right? If Cartwright thinks we’re on to him, he‘s likely to turn very nasty. Can’t you see, woman, this isn’t a game? We’re treading on very thin ice here. How is placing ourselves in danger going to help Lynette?”
“Oh, suit yourself,” Charley began to walk towards the waiting cab. “I’ll go to Portslade on my own.”
“Like hell you will!” Spence swore and hurried after her. Charley eased herself into the back seat of the cab, glad of sufficient shadow to hide a smile of smug satisfaction.
“Portslade,” Spence told the driver as he slid into the passenger seat and read out the address on the scrap of paper Jessie Cartwright had given him. On arrival, he asked the driver if he wouldn’t mind waiting for them a second time. “We won’t be long, ten or fifteen minutes at the most, hopefully not even that.”
“No problem, mate. It’s your money and up to you how you spend it,” agreed the man.
Spence took the lead as he and Charley entered a block of flats. There was a lift but it was out of order, leaving Charley no choice but to huff, puff and wheeze her way up three flights stairs. Outside number twenty-four, they paused while she caught her breath. At last, Charley nodded.
Spence knocked.
After a short delay, a pleasant-looking man whom Spence took to be in his early to mid-forties opened the door. In spite of the age difference, Charley had no difficulty recognizing the smiling graduate in the photograph on Jessie Cartwright’s sideboard. “Bob Cartwright?” she asked, determined not to let Spence take the initiative.
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“Your mother told us you might be here. Could we have a word, do you think? It won’t take long.”
“What is it about?” The pleasant smile remained in place but Charley thought she detected certain edginess in his overall manner.
“A little girl has gone missing. Her name is Lynette, Lynette Taylor,” said Spence, watching for any change of expression and seeing none. “We think she might be with some children she met on the beach. Apparently, they live around here and the parents are probably unaware she’s been reported missing at all. Your mother says you know Portslade well and might help us look.”
“Isn’t that up to the police?”
“It’s a bit of a long shot,” Spence admitted.
“But it’s a case of all hands to the pumps in an emergency like this, don’t you agree?” put in Charley.
“Actually, no, I don’t. I think these matters are best left to the police. It’s what they’re trained for, after all, not to mention what they’re paid for. I hope you find the child, I really do, but I’m afraid I’m rather busy right now and can’t help you.” he began to close the door.
Cartwright’s easy smile hadn’t slipped a fraction, nor had the point blank refusal to help conveyed a hint of aggression. Even so, Spence could not shrug off a nagging feeling that the man’s sincerity did not quite ring true. He caught Charley’s eye and saw she felt the same. It didn’t even matter that any misgivings were, to all outward intents and purposes, groundless.
“Would you mind if I use your loo?” Charley cried suddenly, “I’ll be in and out before you know it, but I swear I’ll wet myself if I have to wait a second longer. I’m so grateful, I really am,” she gushed and promptly swept into the flat without waiting for a reply. Confronted with the full weight of her ample shoulders, neither door nor owner could offer but token resistance.
“Look here, you can’t just turn up and barge in like this. I’ll have a few choice words to say to my mother when I see her. The bathroom-toilet is through there. No, not that door, that’s the bedroom.”
Charley managed to catch Spencer’s eye again as she closed the door behind her. He, in turn, understood immediately what she had in mind. “I’m really sorry about this. I guess Charley just couldn’t wait,” he said, trying to placate a visibly agitated Cartwright. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a glass of water, could I?” He contrived a perfectly innocent expression.
“Oh, I suppose so. Yes, of course. I’m sorry if I sound rude, but I really am very busy. Computers, eh, they’ll take over your life if you let them,” gesturing towards a laptop on a table in the middle of the room. It was displaying some text in Word format but Spence could only make out a few characters. “Come on through.”
Spence followed his reluctant host into a small but adequate kitchen. The door was left open. He saw Charley creep out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Cartwright retrieved a glass from a wall cupboard and ran the tap. “Thanks,” Spence he accepted the glass and drank thirstily. “A nice flat,” he said conversationally.
“Yes, but not mine…as I’m sure my mother will have told you. My friends are out at the moment, which is why I need to finish what I’m doing on the laptop before they get back. That’s theirs too, you see.”
“Oh, right!” What the devil is keeping Charley? “I gather you’re a plumber.”
“I am, indeed, and what else did my mother tell you?”
“To be honest, I wasn’t exactly hanging on her every word. Mothers, eh? They think the sun shines out of our backsides!” Spence joked, “It’s only natural, I suppose, but…”
“Boring,” Cartwright groaned.
“You can say that again!” Over Cartwright’s shoulder, he saw Charley emerge from the bedroom and creep back into the bathroom. The unmistakeable sound of a toilet flushing reached their ears. Spence drained his glass. “You’ve been very kind. Charley and I will leave you in peace now.”
“My pleasure,” said Cartwright, taking the glass and placing it in an already cluttered sink.
Spence re-entered the room, watching intently for any sign from Charley that might suggest her little foray into the bedroom had paid off. At first, he thought he detected a hint of triumph, an I-told-you-so look in the eyes that he knew only too well.
Suddenly eyes and mouth flew open in visible panic.
Instinctively, Spence half turned but only caught a few syllables of Charley’s warning before the butt of a gun came crashing down against the side of his head and sent him flying. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.
Charley froze.
“You would do well to do as I say,” Cartwright told her, “I don’t know a lot about guns, you see, except that one really can’t be too careful with them.”
Charley found her voice. “You beast,” she hissed.
“Ah, you’ve been chatting to Lynette. A delightful child isn’t she?” adding, “I never realized how useful steel wall cupboards in a kitchen could be, especially when one’s back is turned...”
“You might as well let us go now, all three of us,” said Charley, attempting to exude a self-confidence she was far from feeling. “Let’s face it. Disposing of three bodies won’t be as easy as getting rid of one.”
Cartwright made no immediate reply but grabbed Charley’s bag from her hand before she realized his intention and emptied its contents on the floor. Without taking his eyes off Charley, he knelt and retrieved a mobile phone. “Has your friend got one?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Empty his pockets.”
“I don’t think…” Charley stated to protest.
“Don’t think, just do!” Cartwright yelled.
Frightened, Charley obeyed. Trembling, she knelt with some difficulty and soon recovered Spencer’s mobile from a jeans pocket. At the same time, she willed him to regain consciousness. But his eyes remained closed, his body perfectly still. Only the fact that she could see he was still breathing gave her some reassurance.
“You’re right about having to get rid of three bodies now instead of just the one,” Cartwright sneered, “Good point.”
The rasping voice made Charley’s hackles soar. At the same time, caused her stomach gave a sickening lurch. “You wouldn’t dare!” She forced herself to say, bravely looking Cartwright in the eye. “People know we’re here, not to mention the cab driver waiting outside. When we don’t come back…” Too late, she realized her mistake.
“Thanks for telling me,” Cartwright told her with a twisted smile, “and you’re right again. “I’ll have to give the matter some serious thought, won’t I? Now, grab your friend by the shoulders and drag him into the bedroom.”
“But he’s hurt!” Charley cried.
“Would you rather he was dead?” Cartwright pointed the gun at the motionless figure on the floor, blood still pouring from a head wound.
Charley did as she was told.
As they entered the bedroom a slight figure huddled in a foetal position on the bed gave a squeal of terror. “Don’t be afraid, Lynette,” Charley panted as she dragged Spencer clear of the doorway.
“Don’t be afraid, Lynette,” Cartwright mimicked, “just be very afraid.” He stood there, giggling humourlessly for a several seconds before slamming the door shut on his captives. Charley winced involuntarily as the sound of a key turning in the lock sounded ominously loud in her ears.
Spence opened his eyes. “What the hell happened?” he groaned.
“Lie still while I see to that thick head of yours,” Charley told him as she pulled her top over her head and then proceeded to tear it into strips. Conscious of the child’s presence and of the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra, she dismissed it as the least of her concerns.
Spence managed an appreciative grin.
Charley looked around, spotted a bottle of eau de cologne on a dressing table and called out in an urgent whisper, “Lynette, you see that bottle of cologne on the dressing table? Get it for me, will you dear?”
The trembling child merely stared, wide-eyed.
“Do as I say,” Charley raised her voice as much as she dared, “Please Lynette. We’ve come to help you but you have to help us too. Mummy and Daddy would want that, you know they would. Now, hurry up before poor Spence here bleeds to death.”
Lynette took a deep breath. Now she wasn’t left alone with that horrible man, she felt slightly less scared. At the same time, she wasn’t impressed with her would-be rescuers. It didn’t happen like this on television. These people should be taking her home now. Instead of which, they had made a complete mess of things. Even so, the situation had improved if only slightly. Besides, doing something had to be better than doing nothing. She jumped down from the bed, fetched the bottle of eau de cologne from the dressing table and handed it to Charley. “Will he be alright?”
“I’ll be fine,” Spence assured the child. “Ouch!” he yelped as Charley proceeded to mop up the blood oozing from a bloody gash at the back of his head.
“We’ll all be just fine,” Charley told them both, “The cab driver is sure to wonder where we’ve got to and raise the alarm, if only because he won’t want to lose a damn good fare.
Meanwhile, below, Cartwright thrust a thick wad of notes into a delighted cab driver’s hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting. My friends discovered they didn’t have enough money on them so it’s down to me to settle up. But that should more than cover it. Think of the rest as thanks for your trouble. Friends, eh, who’d have ’em?” He gave the cabbie a knowing wink.
“Too right mate,” the man agreed with a broad grin and drove away.
Cartwright regarded the block of flats, blankly at first, lights in its windows licking at the glass like tiny flames. An idea came to him, a sure way to kill three birds with one stone…or one careless match, as the case may be.
He began to giggle.
To be continued on Monday.
