CHAPTER FOUR
“I must see you. It is most urgent, a matter of life and death you
could say.”
Winter stared at the answering machine and played the message again.
There could be no doubting that Audrey Ellis was in a state of near panic. He picked
up the receiver, dialled 1471 and hit the required 3. It struck him, as it always did, how strange
it felt not to be clutching the mobile although he’d never understand why since
land line phones had been around a good deal longer.
Less than a two hours drive later, found Winter
comfortably ensconced in Audrey Ellis’ sitting room sipping tea poured straight
from the pot. The little woman was as
repetitive as she was profuse with her apologies. “I feel such a fool,” she
kept saying, “What must you be thinking?”
“You say you were watching a programme about
Canterbury?”
“That’s right, yes. My late husband, Peter
and I both grew up there. So, you see, I was especially interested. He and I used to love watching the cricket
every summer. I still love the game,” she sighed, “but I can’t get out and
about to matches like I used to. Besides...” hesitating before she added, “…it’s
not half as much fun going on your own is it?”
Tears filled her eyes then, suddenly, the lined face brightened. “Oh,
but I do so love cricket, don’t you?
It’s such a clean, gentlemanly game.
No hooligans, on or off the pitch. The occasional high spirits perhaps,
but nothing like the disgraceful behaviour you can expect to find at a football
match these days.” She sighed again, “Dear Peter. He’s been dead a few years
now, of course...”
Winter let her ramble on until he judged that
she was ready to return to the matter in hand. “You say the camera homed in on
a crowd scene and that’s when you thought you saw Liam Brady?”
“Well, yes.” She started in her seat,
blushed and raised her eyes to heaven. “So I telephoned you at once, didn’t
I? How silly of me! I suppose it’s
because we’d been talking about him only the other day. It must have been playing
on my mind more than I realised. The
camera stayed with the young man a good second or two. He was with a very
pretty girl, you see. I have to say, he
was the spitting image of young Liam. But I realize now, of course, that’s all
it was, an uncanny likeness. What can I
have been thinking of? I can’t apologize enough, Mr Winter.”
“So why didn’t you call me again and say you were
mistaken?” She became flustered. “Could
it be because you’re not convinced you were mistaken?” he put it to her
bluntly. She became even more flustered. “I have a friend at the BBC. I dare
say I could obtain a copy of the programme...” he began.
“Oh, there’s no need for that, none at all.
I videoed it, you see. As I said, Canterbury is my home town so I was
especially interested.”
“Excellent. So let’s see it again shall we? Just stop when we get to
the young man who resembles Liam Brady.”
“Well, if you’re sure? I don’t want to waste
any more of your time than I already have.”
“I might as well take a look while I’m here,” he pointed out,
“Besides I’m very fond of Canterbury myself. My late wife’s parents lived there
for some years.”
“Oh! My, what a small world it is!” She
clapped her hands like an excited schoolgirl, crossed the room and ran a video
that was already in the machine. Winter
smiled inwardly, certain that she’d had no intention of letting him leave
without seeing it. “There!” She knew exactly where and when to hit the pause
button and he guessed she must have done it umpteen times already.
The young man had dark hair, roguish good
looks and what might have been designer stubble or the start of a beard. An
earring, in the shape of a cross, dangled from his right ear. Winter spotted it
at once. “Did Liam Brady wear an earring like that?”
Not that I recall,” Audrey Ellis admitted
and launched into further apologies. Winter was only half-listening. He stared
hard at the screen, looking for some resemblance to Carol and saw none. He had
no recollection of Sean Brady whatever but recalled seeing a wedding photograph
on the sideboard in her sitting room and made a mental note to take a closer
look next time. There would have to be a
next time, he’d already decided, without caring to examine either his motives
or his conscience.
“How about the woman with him, have you ever
seen her before?”
“Never,” she was sure of that at least.
“But he could be Liam Brady?”
“Certainly, although...well, he can’t be, can he?
Liam Brady is dead. But I was so sure at first. When the camera closed in, I
got into such a state. I thought I was having a heart attack, I really did. I
just had to tell someone. As soon as I felt able, I telephoned you. Now I’ve
had more time to think, I realize...well...it can’t be him, can it?” she
repeated agitatedly.
Winter hit the rewind button on the remote.
“May I borrow the video for a while? I’d
like to show it to Carol Brady.”
“Do you think that’s wise? I mean, that would be awfully upsetting for
her surely?”
Winter shrugged. “It has to be worth a try.”
“But why…?
Or do you think there might be something in it?” Audrey Ellis whispered.
“There can’t be, of course but...well...they never found a body did they?”
“It’s highly unlikely anyone could survive a
crash like that. I’ve made a few enquiries and it appears Brady wasn’t wearing a
seat belt. The car probably snagged on a ledge or something and flung him
through the windscreen. The water’s very
choppy around there at the best of times. He wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
“You know the area?” She made no attempt to
conceal either surprise or curiosity.
Winter pretended not to hear. He did not
want to talk about Helen. “It’s a nasty bend. People have been crashing there
for years.”
“But there must be warning signs, safety
barriers and such like, surely?”
“Yes, of course. But there’s no telling some
people. They think they’re invincible, that driving with due care and attention
is for wimps.”
Audrey Ellis continued to fret long after
the video recorder had ceased its whirring noise, emitted a loud click and let
her retrieve the tape. “Even so,” she began, “No body means...”
“It means just that, no body. So don’t let’s
get carried away, alright?” He almost snapped and could almost hear Miss Parker
telling him to mind his manners. .
Audrey Ellis merely nodded. “I’ve read far
too many crime novels, isn’t that what you’re saying?”
He grinned. “Well, if the cap fits...” He
took the video from her and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to show Mrs
Brady?”
“No more than you’re sure that this young
man isn’t Liam Brady. Now, how about we have another cup of tea?”
“Touché, Mr Winter.” A tremulous smile
playing on the thin cracked lips broadened considerably as she hastened to
oblige.
Winter watched the blue-veined hands at work
and wondered what an earth he thought he was playing at. Since he was in no doubt that the young man
in the video was not Liam Brady, why, indeed, show Carol? Grudgingly conceding that his interest in
this whole business may be less than professional, there had to be more to it
than curiosity, surely? He turned his attention to a standard lamp. “Forgive me
for asking, Miss Ellis, but why do you keep the lamp on in broad daylight?”
“Oh, that! Another of my
little fantasies, I’m afraid. My late husband had poor eyesight and it helped
him to see better when he was reading. I like to leave it on. It makes me feel
he’s in the room with me. Silly, I know. But it’s a comfort...if you can
understand that. It makes no sense, of course, none at all.”
Winter understood perfectly.
...........................
“You can’t be serious?” Carol Brady was
angry and upset. “It’s bloody obvious you haven’t any children. If you had,
you’d know better than to ask such a thing.”
“All I’m asking is that you take a look at
it,” he repeated smoothly. “The old lady is very anxious that you should. It
would put her mind at rest.”
“Oh, yes, and what about mine? Do you
honestly expect me to put myself through the wringer just because some old
biddy has a bee in her bonnet? You have
no idea what you’re asking, none at all.
You always were an unfeeling bastard.”
“There was a time you thought I was Mr
Wonderful,” he reminded her gruffly.
“There was a time when dinosaurs walked the
earth but that doesn’t mean we want them back,” she retorted. “Clear off,
Freddy, just GO.”
“Can I at least borrow a recent photograph
so I can compare for myself?”
“Damn you, Freddy, but if that what it takes to get rid
of you...” She left the room. Winter crossed to the sideboard and examined the
wedding picture in its cheap frame. Try as he might, he couldn’t make out the
faintest resemblance between the groom and the young man in the video.
“Here you are,” Carol re-entered the room
holding out a small photograph. “And make sure you give it back. If you don’t, I’ll
make your life such a misery, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”
He didn’t doubt her for a moment. She flung
him another scathing look. A lesser man may well have bolted there and then.
Winter, however, was not finished with her yet. “Where was this taken?” he asked without
thinking.
“Look
again.”
He studied the
photograph and recognized the pub even before squinting to read the sign that
read The Fox and Hounds. “Monk’s Tallow,” he murmured and it was a while
before he could shake off a tingling sensation. It was the weirdest feeling, as
if someone had just walked over his grave. He’d often wondered what the old
saying meant. Now he thought he knew.
Liam Brady, Winter had to admit, bore more than a passing
resemblance to the young man with the earring. He could well see why Audrey
Ellis had thrown a wobbly.
“Well?”
“Let’s just say the old biddy hasn’t entirely lost her marbles,
shall we?”
“There’s a resemblance then?”
“Striking, I’d say,” he muttered, “earring or no earring,” then “Are
you sure you won’t...?”
“Do you want some coffee?” she cut in abruptly.
“Tea would be nice.”
“Come through and I’ll put the kettle on.”
Winter followed her through to the kitchen.
It was small but bright and boasted more than its fair share of mod cons, very
different to the one in Dorking where he had rather enjoyed chatting with dear
old Audrey Ellis. Not that he wasn’t enjoying Carol’s company, he was. But a
tangible tension remained between them stretching across a gap of some twenty
years and widening. Small wonder then, he supposed, that he didn’t feel
anywhere near as relaxed as the last time he’d sat here enjoying spaghetti
Bolognese. He chuckled. If Julie Simpson
reminded him of Miss Parker, Audrey Ellis had to be everyone’s favourite
granny.
“What’s so funny?” He told her.
“She sounds like an interfering old bat me,”
was Carol’s verdict. “What’s her interest in Liam anyway?”
“Very little, as far as I could tell. She
only met him a couple of times but enough to give her a nasty shock when she
thought she saw him on TV.”
“Believe in ghosts, too, does she?”
Winter said nothing but watched her reach for some tea
bags. It crossed his mind that Audrey Ellis would not have approved as he
glanced again at the snapshot in his hand. “A fuller beard would have suited
him, even an earring,” he mused absently.
Carol Brady looked, saw what he was doing
and uttered a fruity little laugh. “Just about anything and everything suited
my Liam,” she said. A fierce pride in her voice cut him to the quick. “He was
that good looking and had his father’s charm too. Shove Sean in a dung heap and
he’d always get up smelling of roses. Liam was the same.
“He took after his mum then,” Winter
observed and meant it. They both laughed. It went a long way towards easing the
tension between them. “You’re still a good looking woman, Carol.”
“And you’re still a man who likes to get his
own way even if it means charming the birds from the trees. Well, this bird’s
not for charming, Freddy, so be warned.” She was smiling, her tone joking.
Winter, however, knew better than to ignore the warning and nodded, an
uncertain grin speaking volumes. She seemed on the verge of saying something
else but turned away. “It happened to me once.” She said suddenly, her back
still turned.
“What?”
“I thought I saw Liam on TV. It was about a
year ago and I was watching a programme about the Foot and Mouth outbreak. This
publican was being interviewed about its effect on trade. The camera started
panning this huge room that was two thirds empty. It lingered on this couple in
a corner and they both looked up. Only for a split second, you understand. But
I was so sure it was Liam I took the next train to York.” She turned and faced
him. “Yes, York, not bloody Canterbury.”
Winter hardly recognized her for an instant,
such was the raw pain etched on Carol Brady’s face. A lump came to his throat. Nor would it budge
as he watched that pain give way to a look of grim determination. “They had no
idea at the inn where the TV interview was shot. As far as they were concerned, Liam was just
another anonymous customer who hadn’t even been staying there. Even so, I spent two weeks, two bloody weeks,
trying bars, cafés, shops, you name it, shoving that snap you’ve got there
under people’s noses, asking - practically begging - if they had seen
him.” She gave an unfunny laugh. “They
must have thought I was the original madwoman escaped from the attic.”
Winter, felt much as he imagined a spider
might, suspended by a single thread, and could only observe as she caught her
breath, the violet eyes peering at him as if through a fog.
“One day, a young woman told me she’d seen
Liam working in a record store. I ran nearly all the way.” Carol shrugged. “It
wasn’t Liam of course, nothing like him.” She shrugged again. “That was it, I’d
had enough. It was like losing him a second time, worse even.” She turned her
back and continued making the tea.
Winter knew when to leave well alone and did
not mention the video again. He pocketed the photograph of Liam and they
chatted for a good hour, over endless mugs of tea, about everything and
nothing.
Carol saw him to the front door and closed
it after him without waiting to watch him drive away. He experienced an
inexplicable sense of disappointment as he approached the blue Volvo parked a
few yards away. Something made him pause and turn. Carol ran up to him and
grabbed his arm. “What were you saying about an earring?” she demanded.
“Earring…?”
Winter was momentarily perplexed. Seconds later, the penny dropped and
he realized she was referring to the video. “That was ages ago!” he protested
laughing, “Why the sudden interest?”
“I was only half-listening but never mind
that now,” she said in a rush, “What did you mean?” He told her. “But
that’s...the weirdest thing.” She stuck
a thumb in her mouth and stared at him wide-eyed. Suddenly, her panic
evaporated and she was much calmer.
“What on earth’s the matter?”
“It’s probably nothing. You had better come
back inside.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
“Are we going to watch this bloody video or
not?” she flung at him and returned to the house without waiting for an answer.
Winter pocketed his car keys and followed, aware that the tingling sensation
had returned.
Carol put the video in the machine herself
and went to hand Winter the remote but her hand seemed to stick fast to it and
she would not, could not let go. “Liam and I were having lunch in Monk’s Tallow,”
she began. “It was the day Sarah Manners joined us and she passed some remark
about a young man who was sitting at one of the tables with his girlfriend and
wearing an earring. Sarah said she liked it but I made it clear I didn’t. Liam
sided with Sarah, even said he’d seen one in some jewellery store or other and
thought about treating himself. I
over-reacted, I’m afraid. I didn’t give a sod about the damn earring. It was
the way he took her side against me that got up my nose. I saw red, I guess.
Anyway, I lost it with both of them. Then the barman came over and told me to
shut up or get lost. Well, in so many words, he was more polite than that,
certainly more than I deserved.” She managed a rueful grin. “So I shut up and
stuffed myself with salted peanuts while they made cosy small talk as if I
wasn’t even there.”
“What kind of earring?”
“A cross...”
“It doesn’t mean a thing,” Winter was quick
to point out.
“I know,” she muttered, relinquishing her
hold on the remote.
Winter hit the play button. He misjudged the scene in question and had to
hit rewind and play several times either side of it. Finally, he froze the
screen at precisely the moment when the young man glanced up and, unknowingly,
looked into the camera. Carol gave a little squeak. Winter’s eyes did not leave
her face. “Well?” he asked after she had been staring at the screen, thumb in
mouth, for several interminable minutes. Suddenly, she grabbed the video remote
and hit the stop button. An old black and white movie leapt out at them,
snarling like an alley cat. Winter looked around for the TV remote, eventually
found it and turned the damn thing off. “Well?” he asked again.
“You were right about the old biddy. She
isn’t cuckoo, far from it.”
“It could be Liam?”
“Of course it can’t be Liam,” she snapped.
“Supposing Liam is alive?” he ventured.
“But he isn’t, is he? He’s dead.”
“But if he were alive?” Winter persisted,
despising himself for it. Her face was a wreck.
“If he were alive,” she said slowly, violet eyes
fixed on the blank screen, “I’d say that was my son.” She began to tremble violently and made no
attempt to push him away as he put an arm around her and pulled her close.
Neither spoke. Nor did they move away from
the sofa even after Carol had stopped trembling and disengaged herself. “It’s
like him, very like him, that’s all.” She said at last in a small voice that he
barely heard.
“So you’ll come to Canterbury with me?” he
pressed her gently.
Carol jumped to her feet and glared down at
him. “Not on your life, Freddy Winter, not on your bloody life!” she screamed and
slammed out of the room.
The door swung on its hinges. Winter heard
another door slam and guessed, correctly, that she had shut herself in the
bedroom. He gazed, quizzically, at a leaf pattern on the carpet for some
minutes before getting up and letting himself out. “What next, Fred?” he kept
asking himself over and over on the drive home, “What bloody next?”
Two boys dashed out from behind a line of
parked cars. Winter slammed on the brakes. Both lads stopped short. One poked
out his tongue and raised two fingers.
The second youth looked badly shaken and put up no resistance when his
friend grabbed an arm and all but dragged him to the kerb opposite. They
scampered into an alleyway without looking back.
Winter muttered “Shit!” and drove on but had
to pull up again barely a mile down the road. His hands on the wheel were
shaking and he was sweating heavily. In anyone else he’d have put it down to an
understandable reaction. But he was a copper, trained to deal with the
unexpected. “Ex-copper,” he reminded
himself ruefully and with a bitterness that surprised him. Did he really miss
the job so much that the prospect of a wild goose chase to Canterbury, let
alone Monk’s Tallow, was as good as it gets?
Winter grimaced, declined to answer, and
drove on.
To be continued on Friday
