CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Pip Sparrow chuckled as
she turned the corner of Waterfield Road, Whitstable. Whatever it is you’re up to Nina, you’ll get more than you bargained
for this time, that’s for sure. She had spotted Nina’s Peugeot right away
but made no sign. Once she arrived at the station, she found a seat on the
concourse and waited. How would Nina react, she wondered, to the scene inside
number 22? It amused her, imagining the shock, the terror. It crossed her mind
that this would appeal to Nina’s predilection for histrionics.
At the same time, she
couldn’t help wondering why she, Pip Sparrow, could feel nothing at
all for those two people
lying injured, possibly fatally. Serve
Max right, she thought, Serve the pair of them right. Who cares, anyway? Max
might be handsome and brilliant in bed but that doesn’t make him any less of a
good-for-nothing scumbag. Nor did the woman called ‘Gypsy’ have a better
pedigree by all accounts. Even so, it disturbed her, fleetingly, that any fault
should lie with her, Pip. How come I feel
so bloody detached from it all? The
same thought had occurred to her as she’d watched the old house go up in flames
and again when, leaning on the handlebars of her bicycle, she’d taken
immeasurable pleasure in seeing Pat Fox crash into that van…
Pip had already let two
London-bound trains go by before Nina arrived, looking around wildly. Spotting
Pip, she walked briskly before breaking into a run and almost falling into the
seat next to her. “I didn’t think I’d catch you,” she murmured breathlessly.
“I took a wrong turning
and missed my train,” Pip lied easily.
“You don’t seem
surprised to see me,” it slowly dawned on Nina.
“You didn’t really
think I hadn’t spotted you, did you? Honestly, Nina, what do you take me for?”
“I wish I knew!” Nina
retorted angrily. “You saw what has happened at number 22. How could you just
walk away from it like that?”
“Why not…? You did, or
you wouldn’t be here now. Or did you ease your conscience by calling the police
on the way?”
“I have nothing to ease
my conscience about, and that’s more than can be said for you, young lady,”
Nina snapped, and then added, “I did think about calling 999, of course I
did…for an ambulance.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t. I don’t
know why, I just couldn’t. Whether or not it’s too late for that awful woman,
your guess is as good as mine. But I think Max is dead, I couldn’t feel a
pulse.”
“He was alive when I
left.”
“So she must have killed him. Oh, poor
Max! What are we going to do?”
Pip gave her a queer
look. “You think that woman killed him?”
“Who else…? Poor Max,”
she repeated.
“Poor Max, my foot,
he’s a scumbag and we both know it. As for what we’re going to do…You can do
what you like, but I’m staying well out of it, and if you’ll take my advice
you’ll do the same.”
“How can you be so
heartless?”
“How can you be so
stupid even to think about getting involved? Oh, the police will probably
question you about Max. I dare say they’ll ask me about him too. But as far as
we’re concerned he’s gone missing, remember? Why should they connect either of
us with what’s happened at number 22? All we need to do is give each other an
alibi and no one can touch us.”
“Lie, you mean?” Nina
was appalled.
“Yes, lie, damn it, and
why not? Why complicate things? I imagine I walked into much the same bloody
mess as you did. I’m just as shocked and disgusted as you are that Max had
someone else on the side. But whether he or she is dead or alive, it has
nothing to do with us. You know it and I know it so why give other people any
cause to think differently?”
“It makes sense, I
suppose.”
“Of course it does.
I’ve got A-levels coming up soon, remember? And do you really want the press
hounding you for a murder suspect? Somehow I don’t think so.”
“Murder…?” Nina gasped.
“If, as you say, Max is
dead, what else would you call it? You don’t think that woman ‘Gypsy’ is going
to hang around, do you?”
“You know her?”
“Not personally, no,
only by reputation. She’s Max’s supplier. Yours too, I suppose, assuming you
get the stuff from Max?”
“Supplier…?” Nina’s
head was swimming.
“Cocaine doesn’t grow
on trees, Nina,” Pip retorted, “Another reason for keeping a low profile if you
ask me,” she added tight-lipped.
Nina hesitated then,
“We have to go back to number 22.”
“What? Are you mad?”
“We can pretend we’ve
just arrived. Don’t you want to know if poor Max is alive or dead? Don’t you
care?”
“Do you?” countered Pip
derisively, “He’s a gigolo, a womaniser. Men like that don’t have any feelings
for the women they seduce, only for what’s in it for them. If he’s dead, he’s
dead and there’s nothing we can do. If he’s alive, we’ll be hearing from him
again soon enough, mark my words.”
“I couldn’t feel a
pulse,” Nina wailed, “and it’s all my fault…”
“Whatever happens to
men like Max, they only have themselves to blame. But if it makes you feel any
better, you can fork out for the wake.”
“Sometimes, Pip, I
wonder if I know you at all.”
“Sometimes, Nina, I
wish that, just for once, you’d stop living in that woolly head of yours.”
“How dare you! Haven’t
I faced up to the fact that your father is in prison and won’t even see me?
Haven’t I got on with my life as best I can, given his daughter a home for
crying out loud? What’s woolly headed about that, I’d like to know?”
“You’ve gone with the
flow, Nina, that’s all. Daddy, me, Max, your precious career…you’re on a roll,
you don’t even stop to think about the mess you’re creating.”
“That’s not fair. Why
are you being so horrible to me? Just because people love me where no one in
their right mind could love you…” She regretted the words as soon as they were
spoken. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. It’s all been too much, too much…” She
burst into tears. Pip said nothing and gazed stonily at the ground. Nina began
to get angry again, especially as Pip offered neither words of forgiveness for
her outburst nor a comforting hug. “We have to go back,” she repeated.
“Go then. I have a
train to catch.”
“Shouldn’t we stay
together if we’re to give each other an alibi?” murmured Nina without thinking
then realised how clever she was being and brightened considerably.
Pip took her time
before replying sulkily, “Okay, let’s go. I’ll drive since you’re in no fit
state.” Nina did not argue but followed the girl out of the station. Sometimes,
she pondered grimly, it was hard to recollect that Pip was not yet eighteen.
Shortly afterwards, the
Peugeot pulled into Waterfield Road just as a tall, shadowy figure emerged from
the front door of number 22, walked steadily up the small drive, pushed open
the gate without bothering to shut it properly, and climbed into the back seat
of a Porsche with darkened windows. Seconds later, the vehicle sped off. Pip
did not hesitate, but slammed her foot on the accelerator and shot past number 22,
determined to follow at a safe distance.
“What are you doing?”
Nina demanded.
“Whoever that bloke is,
he’s no copper. Aren’t you curious?”
“How do you know…?”
“Since when did any
copper drive a Porsche? No, whatever mess Max has got himself mixed in, this
guy has more answers than we do. Or he wouldn’t be driving away from a potential
murder scene as cool as you please.”
“We should call an
ambulance. It’s the least we can do.” Nina reached for her mobile phone only to
have Pip snatch it from her and fling it on the back seat.
“If Max is dead, he
doesn’t need one, and if he isn’t he can damn well call for an ambulance
himself,” Pip declared between clenched teeth, “Believe me, Nina,” she added
gently, “It’s for the best we stay out of it.”
“I don’t know…” Nina
wailed.
“Trust me, I do.” She lost the Porsche briefly then caught up
with it again.
“Won’t he notice we’re
following? They always do in the movies.”
“Why should he? It’s
not as if he’s expecting to be followed, not by us anyway. We didn’t know
ourselves until a few minutes ago. If he notices, he notices, so what? He’ll
just pull ahead and we’ll probably lose him, so be it. Who cares?”
“So why are we
following him in the first place?” Nina wanted to know. But Pip merely
shrugged, kept her eyes on the road and made no reply.
Nina sat back and
attempted to digest this latest development. Pip was right about one thing.
She, too, was curious. And look what curiosity did, she couldn’t help
thinking? A shiver ran down her spine. Why me? I didn’t ask for any of this.
But she took her cue from Pip and made no attempt to answer. Instead, she
settled down to watch the hypnotic rise and fall, twists and turns of glowing
cats eyes, and for a while at least succeeded in deleting the scene at 22
Waterfield Road from her mind completely.
They followed the
Porsche to Canterbury where it eventually swung past the police station,
cruised up the Old Dover Road and turned into the drive of a tall, detached
house. Illuminated signs in the spacious drive as well as in a downstairs
window indicated that Bed and Breakfast was available. Pip slowed down and was
able to see a tall, balding man with a moustache emerge from the passenger seat
and seemed about to enter the house even as the Porsche backed and was soon
heading off in the direction from which it had come.
“What now?” Nina
ventured to ask. She was wary, a little frightened by the tight expression on
Pip’s face. They had turned into a side road and parked.
“I won’t be long,” was
all Pip said. Minutes later, she was knocking at the front door of the B&B.
Nina could not stop
thinking about Max. She saw his bloodied face every time she closed her eyes,
and was already entertaining second
thoughts about not going to the police. There was, after all, a police station
just down the road. The more she agonized over the best course of action, the
less thought she gave to Pip. There was no denying that going to the police was
the responsible thing to do, but was it really in her best interests? Pip had
said Max was still alive when she left number 22? Had the big woman killed him?
Or had she, Nina, been mistaken and was Max still alive? In that case, mightn’t
she have left him to bleed to death? “Oh!” she wailed and shifted into the
driving seat. Without giving much clear thought to what she was doing, she
turned the key in the ignition. But as
she swung into the police station forecourt minutes later, she panicked and
without quite knowing why, drove straight out again by another exit. Tears
streaming down her face, she drove on, suddenly desperate to see Carol Brady.
Meanwhile, Pip had seen
the Peugeot shoot past and was swearing under her breath. What does Nina think she’s up
to for heaven’s sake? It will be such
a pain if she goes to the police. Her expression lightened. It was unlikely
Nina would voluntarily involve herself in what was, after all, a messy
business. It would be more in character for her to go running to Carol Brady.
But it was a nuisance that she, Pip, would have to catch a train back to London
after all. Caught up in thoughts about Nina, she was momentarily unaware that
someone had already answered her persistent ringing at the doorbell.
“Can I help you?” a
woman was asking.
Pip hesitated, “A man
came in here about five or ten minutes ago. I saw him as I was passing on the
bus. I’m pretty sure it was my uncle. Do you think I could possibly have a word
with him? Of course, if I’m wrong, I can’t apologize enough. But we’re very
close, you see, and I haven’t seen him in ages, not since my auntie died. All
the family are worried sick that he hasn’t been in touch. He won’t even answer
the phone…” The lies came so easily and plausibly that Pip almost began to
believe them herself It wasn’t difficult, therefore, to supply a few convincing
tears for good measure.
“I don’t know...” the
woman hedged.
A tall, balding man
with a moustache appeared in the doorway beside her. “I couldn’t help
overhearing. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Oh, well, it was worth
a try. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Pip studied the man carefully.
“Don’t you worry about
that, my dear, and good luck with finding your uncle,” the woman said kindly,
“He’s a lucky man to have a niece so concerned for his welfare.”
“I don’t suppose you
happen to have a room?” Pip asked on impulse.
The woman shook her
head. “I’m sorry, my dear, but this gentleman has just taken my last vacancy.
Do you have far to go then? And here’s me thinking you were local…”
Pip winced,
instinctively aware that she was practically being called a liar to her face.
“I’m tired, that’s all. And, yes, I won’t get home until very late. Never mind,
and thank you again.” It took some effort to remain composed, walk slowly down
the drive and head for the Canterbury East train station. “Damn Nina,” she
muttered but was at least relieved to see no sign of the Peugeot parked in the
police station forecourt.
At the B&B, the
same woman who had opened the door to Pip Sparrow was now showing the tall
balding man with a moustache into a spacious kitchen. “I dare say you’re
hungry?”
“Starving,” responded
her companion with cockney enthusiasm, “I could eat a horse.”
“Yes, well, you’ll have
to settle for cheese and pickle I’m afraid,” said the woman wearing a tweed
suit and sensible shoes who opened and reached inside a very large
refrigerator.
To be continued on Friday
