CHAPTER EIGHT
“Where’s my sister, Winter? What’s happened to her? Why isn’t she here?
There’s no sign of the Sparrow girl either. I’m worried sick.”
“One
question at a time please, Mr Fox, if you don’t mind,” said Winter equably,
“I’m sure there’s no cause for alarm.
There’s probably a perfectly good explanation as to why your sister and
Miss Sparrow have…”
“Gone
missing?”
“I wouldn’t
say that, exactly. It’s early days yet.”
“So what would you say, exactly? I’ve had the TV
people on my back all morning wanting to know when they can expect her back on
the set.” He glanced at a handsome Rolex watch on his wrist. “She was supposed
to be there by six, that’s five bloody hours ago. Nina’s career is important to
her, Winter. She wouldn’t just take off without telling anyone, not without a
damn good reason or if she was in some kind of trouble.”
“So when
did you arrive back in the UK?” asked Carol conversationally. In her arms and
enjoying a cuddle, Stanley whimpered softly.
“Last
night. Nina was supposed to meet me at the airport. When she didn’t show up, I
called her mobile number, but there was no reply. Then I called the apartment,
but no one was answering so I grabbed a cab and came straight here.”
“And how
did you get in?” Winter wanted to know.
Colin Fox
looked away, plainly embarrassed. “I was dog tired. I certainly didn’t want to
stay the night in a hotel or travel to my own house in Chelmsford. So I … okay,
so I broke a window, so what? There’s no
real damage done. I’ve already called a glazier. He’ll be here around noon or
so he said. I was exhausted,” he added, trying to avoid Winter’s disapproving
frown and looking to Carol for signs of moral support.
Carol
nodded, smiled encouragingly. but said nothing, not least because Stanley was
starting to fidget and it was all she could do to keep a tight hold. “You can
put the dog down if you want,” said Fox, “I’m sure Nina won’t mind…so long as
he doesn’t pee on the carpet of course.”
Winter
glanced nervously around for any bonsai trees as Carol deposited the little dog
on the carpet. Stanley surprised everyone by not scampering here, there and
everywhere. Instead, he made a bee-line for Winter only to lie quiet and
docile, at his feet, brown eyes fixed firmly on Colin Fox.
“There’s a
good boy,” said Fox and even knelt down, stretched out a hand. But Stanley made
neither move nor sound, merely cocked his head on one side as if not sure what
to make of this young man with floppy, untidy hair. “Can I offer you folks a
cup of tea or coffee or something?
“Tell me,
Mr Fox,” said Winter, choosing to ignore both the invitation and an eager nod
from Carol, “are you in England on business or just taking a holiday?”
“Oh, the
usual thing, a bit of both, although, to be honest…” He hesitated.
“That
always helps.” Winter nodded encouragement and did his best to sound
reassuring. At the same time, he was careful not to meet Carol’s eye. She was
always telling him off for being facetious, not to mention cynical. But he’d
been a copper all his life, for heaven’s sake. Was it his fault, he’d
invariably found honesty to be in short supply?
“I’ve been
worried about Nina for a while now,” Colin Fox confided in a low voice. “A few
weeks ago, our father contacted her. He walked out on our mother when Nina and
I were just kids. We haven’t heard from him for years. Apparently, he called
Nina to congratulate her on her TV show.”
“April
Showers,” put in Carol.
“That’s the
one. He spun her some line about how much he’d missed watching us grow up and
how he so much wanted to get back in touch, try and make up some for past
mistakes and all that crap.”
“But you’re
not convinced?” Winter murmured.
“Are you
kidding? He’s no more interested in
Carol than the Man in the Moon. He can smell money and wants some of it for
himself, as much as he can get his grubby little hands on.”
“And Nina,
how does she feel about her father?”
“My sister
can be very naïve sometimes. She takes the view that everyone deserves a second
chance. Besides, she misses our mother a lot. She’s vulnerable.”
“And you think
your father might…what, exactly?”
“I don’t
know. I only know I wouldn’t put anything past that man. He treated my mother
like shit. Why hasn’t he been in touch with me? I’ll tell you why, because he
knows damn well that, given half a chance, I’d wring his neck.”
“Sounds
like a good reason for not getting in touch,” Winter commented dryly and
wondered why Nina Fox hadn’t seen fit to mention her father to him…or her
brother, for that matter? “If you have any reason for believing your father is
somehow mixed up with your sister’s…err, disappearance, I need to know.”
“It’s
obvious, isn’t it? The man’s a monster, always has been and always will be. He
says what he likes, does what he likes, and to hell with who gets hurt.”
“But would
he physically harm her?” Winter insisted.
Fox
hesitated. “Physically, I’m not sure. But mentally…that’s how he gets his
kicks. How my mother stood it for so long, I’ll never know. Even after he
left…” He shrugged. “Scars of that kind never heal.”
“Have you
tried contacting Nina on her mobile again?” asked Carol.
“You bet I
have. I’ve been calling all night and all morning, but…nothing. Yet she’s
expecting me, for chrissake. There’s no way she’d put me though this unless…”
Fox visibly seemed to crumble, and then pull himself together, “...unless
something…or someone…is preventing her from calling me.”
“In which
case, I suggest you call the police,” Winter declared flatly.
Fox looked
momentarily taken-aback. “But I thought you were…”
“I’m sorry
to disappoint you, Mr Fox. I’m just a retired detective whom your sister asked
to…err…keep an eye on things.”
“Such as…?”
Colin Fox enquired brusquely.
Winter
chose his words with care. “People in your sister’s line of work, especially
women are, as so you rightly said, vulnerable.
They sometimes feel threatened.”
“Someone
has been threatening Nina?” Fox was plainly shocked.
“I didn’t
say that,” said Winter, continuing to tread carefully, “but you’re right about
one thing. Certainly, your sister feels very vulnerable at the moment. She
asked me to keep an unofficial eye on things, so to speak.”
“And what
have you come up with?”
“Not a
lot,” Winter was forced to admit.
“Do you
know Max Cutler, Mr Fox?” It was left to Carol to break the uneasy silence that
followed
“Call me
Colin, please,” he muttered absently, “I’ve never met the man, no. I’ve heard
all about him from Nina, of course. I can’t say I like the sound of him one
bit. But she’s potty about the guy as
far as I can make out. I gather she’s even trying to get him a part in her
show. If she succeeds, that will be that of course…mission accomplished as far
as he’s concerned. . Oh, I dare say he’ll find a use for her from time to time.
But that’s as far as it goes. That’s as far as it ever goes with Cutler’s sort.
Why do you ask?” he looked from Carol to Winter, “Do you think he’s mixed up in
all this somehow?”
“Mixed up
in all what, exactly?” Winter’s ear’s pricked up at a choice of phrase that
struck him as rather odd.
“You tell
me,” Colin Fox countered, “Isn’t that what you’re being paid for?”
“No one is
paying me for anything yet,” was
Winter’s mild response, “I’m merely an impartial observer, someone on the
outside looking in, and trying to make some sense of what I see.”
“And do you
make any sense of what you see?”
“Ah!”
Winter spread his hands by way of expressing his frustration. “We see what we
see, and make sense of what we can,” he murmured cryptically.
“In other
words, you haven’t a bloody clue,” Fox retorted.
“I couldn’t
have put it better myself,” Winter felt bound to agree, sprung to his feet and
held out his hand, Stanley, sniffing anxiously at his trousers. “As soon as I
do have a bloody clue, I promise you’ll be among the first to know. Meanwhile,
I can only suggest you continue calling your sister’s mobile number. And be sure
to leave the landline answering machine on should you go out at any time. Oh,
and I really would call the police if I were you.”
“And that’s
it?” Fox was incredulous, but automatically accepted the outstretched hand.
“That’s it…
for now. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Fox.”
“I wish I
could say the same,” muttered Fox, but a broad smile seemed genuine enough as
he turned to Carol. “Nina has told me a lot about you Mrs Brady. I understand
you’ve been very kind to her since our mother died. I appreciate it, I really
do.”
“I’ve not
done much,” protested Carol, “just been there for her at the end of a phone and
given a spot of moral support here and there.”
“It has
meant a lot to her, I can assure you. I hope we meet again soon.” He took her
hand, bowed his head and kissed it. Carol found herself blushing. At the same
time, she glimpsed out of the corner of an eye that Winter was scowling, and
promptly treated Colin Fox to a dazzling smile. Nor was he, for his part, the
first to be all but mesmerized by the lovely violet eyes. Neither is he likely to be the last, Winter reflected peevishly.
…………………………………
“I have to
tell you Freddy,” Carol wasted no time expressing an opinion, “I don’t quite
trust our Mr Fox. Oh, he has a certain charm. But…that awful accent! I mean…why
can’t the English leave well alone? But, oh, no, we only have to spend ten
minutes in another country and we’re talking an absurd English-ese. He may have spent some time in the United
States but…well, really! As if the damage inflicted on the English language by
the yanks isn’t bad enough without the likes of Colin Fox adding insult to
injury.”
They were
sitting in Winter’s car, parked in a nearby side street, only a short time
after leaving Colin Fox. In spite of
Carol’s remarks, Nina’s brother was far from being the main focus of their
thoughts. At the same time, neither would have been prepared to admit, to each other at least, that they were still pondering the
implications of that rude awakening under the duvet hours earlier. “Can you
take some time off work?” Winter suddenly asked.
“I expect
so. What did you have in mind, a romantic weekend in Paris?” Her sarcasm was not lost on him, but he chose
to ignore it. “I just thought we might drive down to Kent. You can call Liam
and Sadie, warn them we’re on our way and…well, it would be nice to share in
the celebrations and all that...”
“Not to
mention having a nose around Nathan Sparrow’s cottage,” she added, “I wondered
when you were going to get around to that.”
“It has to
be the next port of call, surely?”
“I agree.
But Liam and Sadie have got enough on their plate running a pub and expecting a
baby, for heaven’s sake. The last thing they need right now is hassle.”
“Who said
anything about hassle?”
“Suppose we
find a body there?”
“We might
not,” he pointed out.
“And we
might find more than one,” she retorted, “Besides, we haven’t been invited. I
can’t just pick up the phone and announce we’re on our way.”
“Why can’t
you?” Winter demanded and was genuinely surprised. “He’s your son, for crying out loud. You
don’t need an invitation, woman. He’d love to see you, they both would, and you
know it.” He paused. “You’re not seriously bothered about this grandma thing
are you?”
“You’re a
man, Freddy. Men don’t understand how a woman feels about such things.
Besides…” Winter waited patiently. “Now he’s with Sadie I’m a poor second in
Liam’s life. Oh, that’s how it should be, I know, and I wouldn’t have it any
other way. He’s happy, and that’s what counts, especially after all he’s been
through. But if second isn’t bad enough, soon I’ll be relegated to third place in his affections,” she
wailed.
Winter put
a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Liam adores you. Nothing and no one
will ever change that. As for third place, I wouldn’t count on it if I were
you. Did no one ever tell you that Grandma’s always the first in line when it
comes to babysitting?” He guffawed, and felt her relax, but only slightly.
“I suppose
so,” she conceded, “But…”
“But,
nothing... You know I’m right. You’re just too stubborn to admit it. You were
the same years ago, I remember. Once
you’d let some daft idea into that pretty head of yours, it would be easier to
move a mountain than try and shift it.”
Carol
pretended not to hear. “Suppose it doesn’t like me? The baby, suppose it
doesn’t like me or I don’t like it? You hear about such things. It would just
be my bad luck, and then what? I’d see less of my own son than I do already.”
“Now you’re
being ridiculous.”
“Spoken
like your average male,” she muttered, but loud enough for him to hear.
“That
settles it. We’re going,” Winter declared in a tone guaranteed to raise her
hackles. “You need to get this nonsense out of your head once and for all and…”
“You’d love
to find a body or two because you’re stuck for clues and that would be as good
a start as any,” was Carol’s parting shot as she flung open the door and
manoeuvred herself out of the car.
“What are
you doing?”
“I’ll find
my own way home.”
“Carol…” he
started to protest but she was already striding down the street, as fast as
high heels would permit. Winter sighed, well aware that her bad mood was as
much down to what had not happened between them earlier as the mystery
surrounding Nina Fox, Pip Sparrow and the dead-or-alive Max Cutler. Even so, he
might have a quiet word with Liam some time. If Carol only half believed what
she was saying, it didn’t bode well for a Happy Christmas.
He was
packed and ready to go when the telephone in the hall rang. “Carol?”
“I’m taking
annual leave so you can pick me up whenever you’re ready. But I’m warning you,
don’t you dare patronize me over this baby, Freddy Winter, or you and I are
finished. And if I find out you’ve breathed so much as a word to Liam, I’ll
strangle you with my own bare hands. Do I make myself clear?”
“Abundantly,”
he agreed while wondering, not for the first time, why she had stayed in her
job in the Human Resources department of a big supermarket chain. She used to hate it, he recalled
vividly. Memories of their affair many years earlier came flooding back. Winter
shook his head. It was all so long ago.
We’re different people now...aren’t we?
“Good. Well, I’m ready if you are.”
“I’m on my way,” Winter assured the crisp
voice at the other end of the phone, relieved to be distracted from any
pointless pursuit of the past. After bundling Stanley on the back seat, he
drove to Camden Town, whistling tunelessly all the way. The little dog rolled
over on its side, placed a paw over one ear and slept soundly, stirring only
briefly, tail wagging furiously, to greet Carol. She promptly tuned into Radio
One and turned up the volume as they headed for Herne Bay, whereupon Stanley
wriggled comfortably into the same position and only woke, on cue as always, at
journeys end.
“Where is
this holiday cottage anyway?” Carol asked, turning down the volume slightly.
“A place
called Whitstable. It’s not far from Herne Bay.”
“It’s
Whitstable first stop then, I presume.”
He didn’t
bother to confirm that she presumed correctly, there was no need. He knew
better, too, than to complain when she turned up the volume again, the current
pop sensation blasting in his ears. Anything, he decided, was preferable to
having Carol berate him for what she saw as a predilection for trouble with a
capital ‘T’. But even if that were true,
he put to his alter ego, what of it? What use is a copper without a nose for
trouble? Resting one hand on the
wheel, he gave his nose a good scratch.
They found
the cottage easily enough, overlooking the sea front. “Wait here,” Winter told
her, trying to sound authoritative.
“Not on
your life,” came the answer he’d expected, “I’m coming with you.”
“I need you
to stay here, Carol. Who knows what I might find in there? Anything could
happen. If it does, I need to know you’ll be on the blower to the police.
Besides …” he reminded her, “someone has to look after Stanley.” The little
dog, wide awake now, wagged its tail and started to clamber over the seat.
Carol scooped him up and kept a firm hand on the makeshift collar.”
“Just be
careful, Freddy. I don’t want to be left holding the damn dog, for heaven’s
sake.” But a worried expression belied the belligerent tone and she did not
turn away when he kissed her on the cheek.
At a front
door, once painted yellow and now looking much the worse for wear, Winter
pressed his finger on the doorbell and waited. No one came. He tried again;
still no response. He then produced a bunch of keys he’d carried for years and
tried several until one fitted the lock. An elderly, bearded man watching from
the drive of a nearby bungalow caught his eye. He waved. The man waved back and
resumed a spot of gardening, satisfied nothing was amiss.
Winter
entered, closed the door behind him and called out, “Hello! Is anyone there?
Much as he had expected, no one answered.”
Methodically,
he searched every room. But if he was half-expecting to find a body, he was
disappointed. There were, however, signs that someone had been there and not so
long ago either. Someone had recently vacuumed the carpet and washed the
kitchen floor. There were indications, too, that parts of the hall carpet had
been scrubbed. To remove what kind of stains, he wondered? Blood had to be a possibility, surely? Yet
why tidy up and leave the bed unmade?
Several
houseplants had been well looked after. Moreover, he’d have said by at least
two people. Mugs, plates, glasses and cutlery on the draining board in the
kitchen; semen stains on an unmade double bed; empty wine bottles and wrappers
bearing a recent use-by date…tell-tale signs no one could miss.
“So what am
I missing?” Winter muttered crossly. He was standing at the kitchen sink,
admiring a small but neat garden in full bloom. His eyes strayed from watching
a butterfly skim a hydrangea bush to a fat tabby ambling across the roof of a
shed. Although there was nothing remotely suspicious about the shed, Winter’s
blood ran cold.
He stroked
and tugged at his beard and continued to watch the cat until it jumped down
into the garden next door. A loud barking sent it scurrying out of sight
although no dog appeared.
Minutes
later he was peering in the shed’s only window. At first sight, it was a
typical garden shed. He could make out a small bench, some tools, piles of
sacks and a lawnmower in one corner. A whiff of disinfectant made him screw up
his nose. He looked again at the sacks. Something about the way they were
stacked struck him as curious. The shed’s other contents were laid out neat and
tidy, everything in its place. The sacks, on the other hand, looked as though
someone in a hurry to complete the task had flung them on top of each other. At
the same time, there was something oddly deliberate about the way they were
placed, almost as if they hadn’t been piled up for the sake of piling them up
but…to conceal something?
The
detective wasted no time forcing the lock and entering the shed. The smell of
disinfectant was even stronger inside. Just as well then, he did not need to
follow up his hunch by removing the layers of sacking. A keen eye soon spotted
something sticking out from the bottom of the pile. He knelt to take a closer look.
Now he
understood the reason for the disinfectant. It was part of a human hand.
Moreover, he could have sworn it leapt up at him and began clawing at his eyes,
eyes that had seen worse, far worse, in their time.
Winter ran
out of the shed and was violently sick on the grass.
To be continued on Friday
