Catching Up With Murder - Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Do we need to worry about Carol Brady?” Cotter wanted to know.

“I don’t think so.” Daz shook his head.

Cotter, however, was not convinced. But it won’t do any harm to make sure. I think I’ll pay the lady a visit, he thought, but did voice his decision aloud. His lover hated to be contradicted.

For the first time in ages, Cotter took himself off to the cottage in Monk’s Porter and assumed his Marc Philips persona.  It was strange but curiously exciting to become a man again. It always amazed him how the wig, a shock of wavy, sandy coloured hair, altered his appearance so dramatically.

He was about to pull up outside the house in Camden Town when a tall thickset man with a shock of grey hair emerged from a side road, walked briskly up the path and rang .the doorbell. There was something oddly familiar about the man. Cotter parked, waited and watched.  He could just make out the figure of Carol Brady (it has to be her in those garish clothes, surely?) as she opened the door and let her burly visitor inside.  “I know you,” he muttered pensively and racked his memory for a name.  It came to him, as names often do, while his thoughts were heading along an altogether different track. Bloody hell, it’s Fred Winter.

It was a sobering discovery. What the devil did that old buzzard want with Carol Brady?  Hadn’t he read somewhere that Winter had retired, something about wanting to spend more time with his wife...didn’t she have cancer or something?  Retired or no, a cop was a cop and Winter had never been one to risk underestimating...or you paid the price, too right you did! “Shit!” Cotter groaned and kept his eyes on the faded blue front door.

It seemed an eternity to Cotter before Winter returned to his car and drove away. He followed at a discreet distance. Carol Brady could wait, too right she could. He needed to know what Fred Winter was up to. Finding out where the former detective lived would be as good a start as any. Nor did Winter disappoint him but drove directly to Watford, too preoccupied with unsettling thoughts about Carol Brady to even notice he was being followed.

After a while, Cotter headed back to Monk’s Tallow but took care to arrive as Sarah Manners. It would not do for Marc Phillips to be seen calling, especially given the monstrous idea that was not yet fully formed in his head. He needed to but time, chew a few things over with Daz.  Although…maybe not.  He sighed. Daz would only accuse him of getting into a state as usual. But they were in this caper together, weren’t they? They would see it through together, every step of the way. Besides, he didn’t need to remind himself that his long-time lover had a peculiar fetish for the unexpected.  Hadn’t he demonstrated it often enough? He grimaced. At such times, he, Ralph, would invariably panic and get worked up enough to all but wet himself for sheer excitement. “I’ll show you…” he muttered, although he wasn’t sure what he meant or whom he was addressing.

Cotter grinned inwardly, well aware of the severity of any punishment his lover would mete out for soiling his briefs.  Even so, perhaps it would be better to bide his time for now? After all, a pleasure deferred…

The next day Cotter, as Marc Phillips, drove back to Camden Town and rang Carol Brady’s the doorbell. There was no response and he was about to leave when a small, rotund woman with thin, untidy hair opened the door. “Who are you?”

“I’m looking for Carol.”

“She’s probably at work but you can try knocking.”  She pushed past him and scurried, crab-like, along path and street. Cotter entered the gloomy hallway and banged on the flat door. Again, he got no response. He looked around, felt along the ledge over the door then tried the stairs.  A key presented itself, tucked under the stair carpet, after only a cursory search.  Unable to suppress a smug grunt, he took a pair of gloves from a pocket, slipped them on and let himself in.

The flat was unimpressive, poorly decorated and the furnishings looked both ill matched and second-hand. Moving with the agility of a cat, Cotter searched the flat, taking care to leave everything seemingly undisturbed. He had no idea what he was looking for but would know what it was if and when he found it. In one drawer of a bedside table, he found some personal documents, scoured pages of a diary and flicked through an address book but neither yielded much of any interest. He frowned. While several comments about appointments and some general reminders written in bold capital letters caught his eye, there was nothing here to suggest the woman might present a threat of any kind.  

He was about to leave when he noticed the teddy bear. (How could I have missed it?)

Cotter’s heart missed a beat. A rush of memories sent him reeling. Hadn’t he told Horton about the two teddy bears more times than he cared to recall.  In turn, Horton hadn’t minced his words in warning Ralph that his obsession with the bear he’d unintentionally carried away from the Brady house years ago bordered on lunacy.

“Mark my words, that damn bear will see the pair of us swing yet,” Horton had scolded more than once. “Chuck it, or I’ll chuck you.”

Cotter had been mortified. “It’s a piece of history, that teddy. You can’t chuck history.”

“Maybe that’s why it has a nasty habit of repeating itself,” grunted Horton but hadn’t felt inclined to pursue the matter.

Now, Cotter picked up the bear and grimaced. It was ugly, shabby and its head was only hanging on to the rest of it thanks to a liberal application of masking tape.  There was a hole, badly darned, where its mouth should have been; its eyes put him in mind of a pet dog given as a Christmas present. After nearly fourteen years, it badly needed to be put down. No member of the family, including himself, had been able to face taking the poor mutt to the vet. By the next morning it was dead. It had been his first and only pet. “I’ve got a bad feeling about you,” Cotter told the bear and had to resist an impulse to pulverise its ghastly face before replacing it.

He left, careful to return the key to its hiding place under the stair carpet (Oh, shit! Now, was it the second or third stair?). It occurred to him that it mightn’t be a bad idea to drive over to Fred Winter’s house and have a good sniff around. But the traffic was bad so he headed home instead.

Horton was furious. “I’m coming with you next time,” he insisted. “It makes me nervous when you’re charging around getting into heaven knows what. You should have told me what you were up to!”

But Cotter had other ideas and drove off early the next day, leaving Horton still fast asleep. He hadn’t expected to enjoy playing the role of Marc Phillips so much that it titillated him no end.

He found Carol Brady exactly where and about the time he expected, just as her diary had so helpfully revealed. As soon as the chance came, he grabbed it, slammed his foot on the accelerator and drove straight at her. At the last split second, he swerved. He would never know why, he just did.  Even so, a figure appeared out of nowhere and sent her flying. A glimpse of the woman’s terrified expression, the screeching of tyres and the pounding of his own heartbeat...all these stayed in his head and frayed his nerve-endings throughout the journey home. 

As he pulled up outside the cottage in Monk’s Tallow, he had no clear recollection of how he had arrived there. He could already hear Horton yelling at him Hell’s bells, Ralph, are you a total nutcase or what?.He felt physically sick and needed to unwind, let of steam, re-assert his own identity. Hopefully, Daz would be inside because, for sure, he was in no mood to wait...

“Damn, it, I’m not letting you go on your own and, this time, there’ll be no sneaking out behind my back!” Horton complained much later. Cotter merely nodded, looking none the worse for a good beating; Daz hadn’t touched his face this time. Sex had been fantastic, as always. Yet, there had been a marked difference on this occasion, for Cotter at least. Eyes tight shut and fists clenched he had, as always, relished every excruciating second. Only, this time wasn’t Daz dominating his thoughts and every timbre of his being...but Mary Bishop. Nor had he, Cotter, been the victim portrayed by the movie showing in his head.  She had lain where he lay now, helpless, while he administered her just deserts for being such a desirable...slut!

“Slut, slut, slut…!” Horton was chanting and it was not only music to Cotter’s ears, it was sheer inspiration.

The next day, Cotter took off yet again. Daz could rant and rave as much as he liked, this one was down to him.  On this occasion, he had more luck and caught Carol Brady a nasty blow as she flung herself out of his path at the last second. Again, he sped away. He glanced in the rear view mirror. The face that looked back at him was effeminate, true, but wore a look of wide-eyed masculinity that sent his pulse racing. This was a side to himself he had never envisaged. The mirror clouded over and Carol Brady’s face, stained with fear, superimposed itself on his reflection but only fleetingly. It was replaced by another. The prevailing image was that of Mary Bishop’s beguiling looks transformed by sheer terror as the car filled with the scent of her perfume until he could scarcely breathe and had to wind down a window.

Cotter drove furiously to Monk’s Porter, changed, and was soon back at the cottage in Monk’s Tallow relating all, breathlessly, to a livid Horton of whose company he was genuinely glad when they returned to Watford the next day. Not that his lover had allowed him any choice in the matter. Cotter still ached all over as a result of Horton’s relentless disciplining the previous night. “And you needn’t think our friend Marc Phillips is getting the upper hand either,” Daz had snarled, “He’s a sometime convenience, no more or less. You, my turtledove, are Sarah bloody Manners and don’t you forget it!  As for this detective geezer, you had better show me before you dump us in the shit once and for all!” 

Consequently, it was Monk’s Tallow’s resident librarian who drove to Watford where both men had the shock of their lives when they saw Liam Brady turn up on Fred Winter’s doorstep. 

“Shit!” Horton growled.

“It can’t be. It just can’t be,” wailed Cotter.  The blood drained from his face until it turned a shade of off-white, not unlike the favourite Sarah Manners trouser suit he was wearing, reserved though it was for strictly off-duty excursions. “It can’t be,” he repeated a third time.

“Well, it’s him and no mistake,” snapped Horton, “Hell’s bells, he must have more lives than a cat, damn and blast it!” They saw Fred Winter open the door and, after a long pause, show Liam inside. “But what’s he doing here? Besides, we should have heard from the cops by now, let’s face it.  None of it makes any sense unless, maybe...”

“I’m scared, Daz,” Cotter moaned.

“Shut up and let me think,” Horton barked and chose to ignore the sulky expression on Ralph’s prettily made-up face. “The way I see it, there can only be one reason why we haven’t had a visit from the law and that’s because they don’t know what’s happened any more than we do.  Young Liam can’t have told them a thing - and why not?  I’ll tell you why not, shall I?” Cotter nodded dumbly. “My guess is he doesn’t know either. He’s got bloody amnesia. That’s what he’s got, flower, bloody amnesia...”

“But for how long?” wailed Cotter.

Horton shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, flower, but at least it buys us some time. I could be wrong, I suppose, but nothing else makes sense. How he survived the crash, God only knows. I knew we should have belted him in, I just knew it.  He must have been thrown clear or maybe he came round before the car went over and somehow managed to jump out. Hell’s bells, what a turn up for the book eh?” he guffawed.

“So what do we do now, Daz?” whined Cotter.

“We wait, my turtledove, we wait,” Horton told him and snickered, a gleam in the eyes that made Cotter shudder with an anticipation soon visible in the crotch of his trousers. “There’s only one way to find out if I’m right but we need this Fred Winter character out of the way first.”

“You mean bump him off?”

“Don’t be daft, he’s a copper. No, we wait, my flower. For now, at least, we just wait...”

They did not have to wait too long. After less than hour, Fred Winter emerged alone and drove away. “Good. Now we can pay our old mate Liam a little visit without any interruptions,” Horton declared, pursing his lips reflectively.

“But, suppose...” Cotter stammered.

“Suppose, my arse!” retorted Horton, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Maybe I should wait here?” Cotter suggested weakly.

“We’re in this together, right? Besides, if I’m guessing wrong about him having amnesia, I’ll need you to lend a hand.”

“Oh, all right,” muttered Cotter crossly but took his time wrenching opening the passenger door all the same. Nor did he start breathing properly again until Liam Brady opened the front door of Fred Winter’s house, stared at them blankly.

“Yes?” Liam asked.

“We’re friends of Fred’s,” explained Horton with growing confidence. “There’s been an accident, nothing serious though.  But the hospital may have to keep him in overnight so he’d like you to bring a few things. Can we come in?  We can give you a lift just as soon as you’re ready.”

Horton already had a foot inside the door. Liam-Harry stood back, feeling distinctly uneasy as the couple pushed past him. “Wait in the lounge,” he mumbled and pointed. The man, he reflected, was a big burly bloke who carried himself confidently, if brusquely. The woman, on the other hand, seemed nervous and unsure of herself. He found himself wondering about their relationship and did not doubt for a moment that here was a man who liked a woman to know her place…and a woman who was only too happy to oblige. Yet something did not ring true. He could not put a finger on it. Their story was plausible enough. Could it be the couple themselves that somehow failed to convince him…but, of what? 

Liam was puzzled, confused. Why, he kept asking himself, did he not feel the slightest concern for Fred Winter?  The only explanation was that he did not believe a word he had been told about any “accident”.

“I’ll be right back…” he told them, smiling in a way he hoped would convey a mix of casual politeness and mild dismay.  In the kitchen, he hesitated only a fraction at the back door then fled.

He ran, loped and finally walked, panting, through a maze of alleyways and side roads before ducking into a café whose windows were so steamed-up no one could tell if it was empty or bursting at the seams. In the event it was neither. An elderly trio sat at a table chatting over cups of tea while two young women in one corner kept taking time off from devouring egg and chips to toss meaningful glances at a gay couple in the opposite corner. 

Liam ordered a large mug of tea, much relieved to discover that he had enough small change in his jeans pocket to pay for it then went and sat down at a table nearest the counter which gave him not only an overall view of the café but, more importantly, its steamed-up door and windows.  They gave him a sense of security. No one would find him there, he was sure of it. But why, he wondered, should the odd couple have lied to him? Why on earth should anyone intend him harm?  “Who am I?” he demanded of finger scrawls on the glass, assorted stains on the plastic tablecloths and – not least – a motley bunch of characters that kept throwing curious glances in his direction. Certainly, the Three Wise Men and teenage gigglers were undecided as to who was providing the most entertainment…the gay couple holding hands and kissing or the newcomer muttering to himself like nobody’s business.

Aware suddenly that he was a focus of attention and why, Liam shut up. Instead he tried to remember. But nothing came to aid or rescue. No images came to mind that meant anything. He caught glimpses of faces but might as well have been peering through the café windows, no way of telling who was who or what was what. Places, objects passed in front of his eyes but it was like watching a blurred slideshow. The only thing that had any meaning was a teddy bear…a shabby, tatty lump of mangled fur that no more conjured up a name than any of the faces but invoked powerful feelings all the same. Nor were these feelings in the least unpleasant. On the contrary, the teddy bear gave him a warm glow, like cold hands at a cosy fire. Yet how did that explain the nightmare? Why should he stab the teddy bear?  Words sprung unbidden to mind, a quotation of sorts…something along the lines of a man killing the thing he loves. 

Not for the first time, Harry Smith asked himself the question, “Who have I killed?”

The more the cold mug shook in his grasp, the harder Liam clutched at it. His teeth began to chatter. He staggered to his feet, lurched towards the counter and ordered another cup of tea in a low, mumbling voice.

“This is a respectable café, not a drop-in for those with nothing better to do than act queer,” said the young woman behind the counter and gave him a frosty look.

“I can pay,” Liam muttered, hoped it was true and counted out the exact money on to the counter’s much-battered wooden surface.

“Well, I suppose…but don’t you go disturbing anybody or you’ll be slinging your hook before you know it,” she declared loudly, plainly enjoying the unspoken approval of pensioners and teenagers alike while the gay couple showed no interest whatsoever but continued to have eyes only for each other.

Liam sighed. He missed Sadie terribly. Perhaps the best thing would be to return to The Green Man and pretend Fred Winter did not exist?  They had got by okay so far, he and Sadie…well, hadn’t they? Why spoil everything? “Because none of it is real,” his alter ego was quick to point out. “Everything is a sham. You’re a sham.” But I love Sadie, that’s real enough. “So prove it. Feelings, if they are real, can survive anything…even the truth. If you love her, and she loves you, the truth won’t matter. You’ll be together as a real couple, not a pair of losers pretending you’re on a winning streak!”  We’re not.  “Well, that’s how it looks. Do you want to spend the rest of your life playing at being in love or take a chance on it being the real thing?  What have you got to lose?” 

“Everything,” Harry Smith groaned aloud.

The gay couple got up and left. Five pairs of eyes watched them go while the sixth started into his mug as if the muddy brown liquid that passed for tea might hold the solution to all his problems.  “You have to go back, face Fred Winter and the woman who says she’s your mother,” his distorted reflection declared. I can’t. “You can.” I can’t. “You must”. What about Popeye and Olive Oil?  Liam’s thoughts turned to the unsavoury couple that had practically barged their way into Fred Winter’s house.  But there was no answer, only the sound of chairs scraping the lino floor as the Three Wise Men prepared to leave.

Meanwhile, back at Fred Winter’s house, Cotter continued to whine and wail while Horton slumped thoughtfully in the detective’s favourite armchair, sipping at his best malt.

“I tell you, Liam knows. He must know or why else would he do a runner?” Cotter groaned.

“Trust me, he knows sod all,” said Horton with a firmness that went some way towards easing poor Cotter’s frantic state of mind. “If he’d had so much as a clue who we are, he wouldn’t have bothered with play-acting, he’d have let us have it good and proper then called the Old Bill.”

“I’m not so sure…” Cotter remained sceptical.

“Well I am.”

“So what do we do now, wait?”

“Wait for what, Christmas? No, my flower, we catch up with young Liam and sort our little problem once and for all.”

“He could be anywhere.”

“So he could, but somehow I don’t think so. I think our Liam will be doing exactly what half the bloody world does when it gets its knickers in a twist.”

“And what might that be?” demanded Cotter, emulating Sarah Manners at her most peevish.

Horton shrugged. “He’ll hot foot it back to mum of course.”

“But if he’s lost his memory, he may not know he even has a mum!” Cotter pointed out with growing exasperation.

“Ah, but basic instinct, flower, basic instinct... it never lets you down even if you haven’t got the foggiest idea where it’s coming from. Mark my words, our Liam will be banging on his mum’s front door right now.”

“Then we had better get a move on,” snapped Cotter, unconvinced.

“I suppose we better had,” Horton agreed parting reluctantly with his glass and leaping to his feet with such unexpected alacrity that Cotter took several paces backwards in alarm, sent a lamp stand flying in the process and promptly burst into tears. “Don’t you worry about a thing, my turtledove,” murmured Horton and gathered his old friend in a bear hug. “Our Liam won’t know what’s hit him by the time we’re through and the same goes for that nosey parker, Fred Winter, you’ll see.”

Cotter, enjoying the hug, felt totally reassured. Suddenly, Horton thrust him away and banged his palm against the side of his head. “What is it, Daz, what’s up?”

“The bear…that bloody teddy bear you said Carol Brady’s kept all these years!  If young Liam recollects we’ve got its other half or goes and tells anyone else, we’re in big trouble, my turtle dove. It won’t take a genius to put two and two together and come up with the right bloody answer.  I warned you. Didn’t I warn you that damn bear would be the death of us yet?” But he let Cotter stammer and sweat without waiting for an answer. “Come on, we’re wasting time.”

Each made a simultaneous dash for the front door.

“Suppose we don’t find Liam in time?” Cotter wailed.

“We find his mum, we find Liam,” muttered Horton crossly. He had a bad feeling about all this.

“And then what?” Cotter insisted.

“We finish what we started, what else?” snapped Horton. Even so, he took care to avoid meeting the anxious expression in his companion’s eyes. . 

The front door had barely closed on its latest drama before they were heading for the car at a brisk walk. 

To be continued

Predisposed To Murder - Chapter Thirty-Six

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

“Colin, Wait!”  It was a very confused, increasingly agitated Nina who shouted after her brother, chased after him, caught up with him on the front garden path and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “You can’t leave things the way they are,” she gasped, “Please, Colin, believe me this isn’t the way. Whatever it is you’ve done, we can see this through together. But you have to face up to those things, you can’t just run away. Please, Colin, stop and think before it’s too late…” she pleaded, fixing tearful, imploring eyes on her brother’s frank expression of incandescent rage.

“Let go of me, you stupid bitch!” he yelled at her, “You don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Then tell me,” she begged, “and help me to understand. Let me help you. I’m always here for you, you know I am.”

“God, you sound just like Mum. I’m always here for you,” he mimicked cruelly, “You’re so much like her, you know…beautiful, generous to a fault and as thick as two planks. She should have left the old man years ago, but she always thought she could change him. It didn’t matter the pair of them were tearing us all apart. She didn’t even have the guts to kick him out in the end. He just upped and left. I dare say he got bored with hearing the same old bullshit year in, year out. And now you’re getting chummy with him all over again. So why is that, sis? Think he’s changed, do you? Do you honestly think that man is capable of giving a toss about anyone but himself?  If you do, you’re even a bigger fool than Mum. Well, I’m…

“So very like him, you make me want to throw up!” Nina screamed.

“You bitch!” He slapped her so hard that she cried out and reeled from the blow, hand on her cheek. “How can you say that?” he raged. “It’s a lie, a filthy lie. I’ve made something of myself, not like that piece of garbage. Why, he’s no better than your friend Max or the rest of your pretty hangers-on, a bunch of losers the lot of ’em. You’re not much better yourself. You may be the goose that lays their golden eggs, for now, but how long do you think that will last? It’s not as if you can even act. You’re just another flavour of the month TV celebrity. Take a tip from me, sis. Invest some cash while you’ve still got any coming in. It will dry up soon enough, believe you me.”

Over his right shoulder, Nina had been watching two men approach with caution while trying to decide whether she should warn him. Much of his outburst she hadn’t heard. Her cheek stung. Her head was spinning. This can’t be happening, she kept telling herself. Then she caught the last few sentences flung at her, his expression one of such bitterness and contempt that she could barely think let alone come to any decision. So she said nothing and did nothing.

His sister’s silence and reproachful look did nothing to contain a fury in Colin Fox that had simmered for years and was always sure to erupt sooner or later as it did now. Even so, it struck him there was more than a pathetic forlornness about her, as if she was past caring. Or could it be something else? Damn it if she isn’t looking so damn smug. Does she know something I don’t?  Too late, he swung round just as DC Mike Pritchard leapt forward.

After a brief struggle, Pritchard took great satisfaction in placing first one of his prisoner’s wrists and then the other in handcuffs although a colleague had to step in to help restrain the furious Fox.

“Bitch…!” Fox spat at his sister. “Let go of me, you bastards!” he yelled at both men who, for all their sturdy build, were hard pressed to restrain a near hysterical Fox. Pritchard winced as it felt both arms were being wrenched from their sockets. As if on cue, two uniformed officers appeared at the gate and ran to assist.

Nina couldn’t bear to watch. She had already turned her back and was walking slowly back to the house.

…………………………………

“Don’t fuss so, woman,” Winter growled, “it’s only my shoulder that’s hit not my heart, and it’s only a graze.” He continued to complain while Carol cleaned the wound and applied a makeshift sling.

“You don’t fool me one bit, Freddy Winter. You like nothing better than being fussed over. Show me a man that doesn’t! Well, make the most of it. Once we get you to a hospital, the nurses won’t be anywhere near as gentle as me. You should be so lucky. No, they’ll rough you up good and proper. and it will be no more than you deserve. What on earth were you thinking of, tackling a man years younger and pointing a gun at you? He might of…” her voice broke.

“Ouch!” Winter gave an involuntary yelp as Carol secured the sling with more force than she intended. “I don’t need to go hospital,” he insisted.

“She has a point, Fred,” said Pritchard, grinning from ear to ear. “Him being a younger man and all that...He might have killed you.”

“But he didn’t,” Winter was quick to point out albeit his customary gruffness was subtly muted, a fact not lost upon either Carol or Pritchard.

“Whatever, you did us a huge favour,” said Pritchard with a cheerfulness guaranteed to send   Winter’s hackles soaring as the D C’s manner invariably did. “We’ve been after Fox for ages. As for those letters of Cutler’s that he was after...Well, at first glance I’d say they’ll be a big help in tying up some loose ends. In fact, the entire contents of that box will help put some very nasty characters away for a very long time.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to elaborate?” Winter suggested.

“All in good time, Fred, all in good time. Let’s get you fixed up good and proper at the hospital first.

“How’s Cutler?”

“Alive. But only just,” Pritchard added grimly, “His mother went with him in the ambulance.”

“If I’d had my way, Freddy Winter, you’d have gone with them,” said Carol, “but, no, you have to play the martyr to the bloody end.”

“I’m hardly in the same category as Max Cutler,” Winter pointed out, “but if it makes you happy, you can drive me to the hospital and they can look me over. However, I can assure you I am perfectly okay. I passed out, that’s all. All the excitement must have got to me.”

“Your blood pressure more likely,” she retorted although her expression was anything but severe.

“Nina?” Winter wanted to know.

“Nina is fine.”  It was Nina herself who answered as she entered the kitchen looking very pale, and sat down. “You gave us all a nasty scare, Mr Winter.”

Winter grinned. “There’s life in the old dog yet.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Nina hesitated and looked, slightly embarrassed, at Carol. “I really can’t face going back to Chelsea. Once the media get a whiff of this they’ll make my life hell. I can handle it, but not right now. I don’t suppose…

“You must come to Herne Bay with us.”

“We’re going to Herne Bay?” Winter was pleased.

“Just as soon as they’ve finished with you at the hospital,” Carol told him with a look that defied him to argue with her at his peril.

Winter shrugged. He knew when he was beaten and gave Pritchard a look of mock despair before adding, “You won’t need us tonight will, you Mike? Tell me you won’t need us tonight…”

Pritchard shook his head. “You’ll all have to make statements, of course, but not right away. I dare say you’ll want to get some rest. Besides,” he added and gave Winter a knowing wink, “I have other fish to fry tonight.”

“I bet you have,” said Winter, “and I can’t wait to hear all the gory details.”

Pritchard merely shrugged and pursed his lips in a manner that told Winter he could count on having to wait a long time.

………………………………

Much to Winter’s satisfaction, the hospital did not keep him long. A doctor confirmed the wound to his shoulder was much worse than it looked, only superficial in fact, and needing just a few stitches.

“Rest the shoulder for a few days,” advised an elderly bespectacled man wearing a very obvious toupee before leaving a male nurse to apply the stitches and a fresh sling. “Otherwise, there’s no cause for concern. You’re lucky the other fellow was such a poor shot.” He laughed at his own feeble joke.

Winter laughed too. The male nurse grinned and didn’t need telling that the sound Winter made was uncomplimentary to say the least. For his part, Winter instantly warmed to the young man.

The journey to Herne Bay was uneventful. Carol had phoned earlier to say what time they expected to arrive. She’d also mentioned that she and Freddy had a friend with them, but neglected to say at first it was Nina Fox. “Are you sure that’s alright, Sadie? I know it’s an imposition, but... well, frankly, Freddy and I are feeling a bit the worse for wear and poor Nina’s had a hard time of it too. What? Yes, Nina Fox... Yes, that Nina Fox. But she doesn’t want any fuss. She just needs to get away for a couple of days. Yes, I know Herne Bay isn’t the French Riviera, but right now it’s just what the doctor ordered. Yes, I’m sure. Oh, thank you. See you later.” Breathing a sigh of relief, she had only to lay the phone on the dashboard, turn the ignition key, and they were off.

No one spoke much except to make the occasional inconsequential remark to remind the others they were still there. Stanley, in seventh heaven on Nina’s lap, slept the whole time. Nina brooded about Colin’s likely fate and wondered how she would tell her father his son looked certain to go to jail for a long time. How could Colin have said those terrible things to me? she asked herself over and over, but came up with neither answer nor excuses.

As Nina’s thoughts turned to Pip, she sunk into an even deeper gloom. She had called the girl to say she wouldn’t be coming home that night, possibly not for a couple of days. Pip had sounded much the same as ever, taking everything in her stride. There had been nothing in her tone to suggest she even remembered confessing to murder. What was she, Nina, supposed to make of those confessions, for heaven’s sake? How could anyone in their right mind take them seriously?  They wouldn’t of course. So why should she? The whole thing is absurd. Take her mother, for example. True, she and Pip hadn’t got on but…any suggestion that Pip may have killed her mother was too horrible for words. I must talk to Fred Winter about Pip and the sooner the better. He’ll know what to do for the best….

Winter, for his part, was being hard on himself. The doctor at the hospital had been right about one thing. He, Fred Winter, had been lucky. “Incredibly lucky,” he muttered under his breath. Maybe Pritchard was right, implying I’m too old for this kind of caper. He’d come through it, though, hadn’t he? And he’d found Max Cutler, even if it had meant opening a can or two of worms along the way and nearly getting himself killed into the bargain.

He frowned and tried to think about something else, only to find himself dwelling on Pip Sparrow. Let it go, Fred, let it go, he kept telling himself. But how could he? If I’m right, the girl is a psychopath. If I’m wrong, well, it wouldn’t be the first time...

Carol concentrated on the road ahead. From time to time Freddy made grunting noises, but she ignored him. If he’s fishing for conversation, let him try Nina or the dog.

What should she do about Liam? Should she tell him the truth?  I owe him that, surely? On the other hand, it was unlikely that he would ever find out…unless his real mother should ever turn up, and that was about as likely as pigs flying over Hampstead Heath. Besides, it’s my name on the birth certificate. The woman would not be able to prove a thing although…There is DNA testing these days...just suppose…? But, no, she was just being silly… Oh, but am I though?

Liam has every right to know, Carol told herself, reflecting unhappily for the umpteenth time that his unborn child, too, deserved to know from whom he or she had inherited at least some of their genes. It wasn’t as if she had been able to obliterate the woman’s name from her memory directory. “I wish!” she murmured aloud and bit her lip, relieved no one appeared to have heard. Meanwhile, Siobhan Duffy’s name flaunted itself at every turn, performing an obscene dance among cat’s eyes that as a driver she could not ignore, but as a mother she’d gladly have given her life to extinguish once and for all.

By the time the trio arrived at The Green Man, they were exhausted. Only Stanley found the energy to leap from the back seat, tail wagging, to greet Sadie and Liam with much barking and exuberant pawing at trouser legs before rushing off in search of his elderly canine pal, Ben.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” a concerned Sadie asked Winter several times.

“I’m fine, it’s just a temporary inconvenience, that’s all.”

“Your drinking arm too, that’s even worse,” commented Liam good-naturedly.

“I’m ambidextrous when it comes to a decent pint,” Winter assured him with a grin and the two men disappeared inside.

“Welcome to Herne Bay Miss Fox,” Sadie turned to Nina with a broad smile.

“Nina, please.”

“You’re very welcome Nina,” Sadie repeated and impulsively gave the younger woman a hug.

“You’ve no idea how good it feels to be here,” said Nina with feeling. She liked this warm, hugely pregnant woman immediately.”

“Herne Bay isn’t London,” Sadie laughed, “but we like it, Liam and I. Now, come through to the sitting room. I dare say you’re both starving. Men must drink and women must eat, that’s what I always say…”

As the three women entered the pub by a private side entrance, the two men were already chatting idly over a couple of beers.

“Would you think me terribly rude if I took a bath?” Nina asked. “Whenever I need to unwind, a long hot bath always does the trick.”

“For me too,” said Sadie, “I’ll find you some clean towels and you can borrow my bathrobe if you want.”

“That would be wonderful if you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Sadie reassured her guest cheerfully and went in search of towels.

“Nothing’s too much trouble for Sadie,” Carol told Nina.

She seems a lovely person,” Nina enthused.

“She is,” Carol agreed and instantly felt guilty for harbouring unkind thoughts of late towards her prospective daughter-in-law. Not, she hastily reminded herself, that she had ever felt anything but affection for Sadie. It was just that…Oh, why does life have to be so complicated?  Rather than attempt to answer the question, she led Nina into the kitchen and made a fresh pot of tea.

Sadie soon joined them. “The bath water is running and I’ve left out clean towels and a robe. The bathroom is upstairs, second door on the right. Oh, and your welcome to my oil of lavender too. You can take a cup of tea up with you if you like as well. Liam always brings me a cup if he’s around when I take a bath. A disgusting habit, I know, but who cares?” All three women laughed companionably, and Nina especially felt more relaxed than she had in ages.

Nina took Sadie at her word and carried a steaming mug of tea to the bathroom, depositing it on a tiled surface within easy reach. Feeling more relaxed than she had in ages, she lay back, inhaling the pungent, curiously invigorating scent of lavender, let the water come up to her chin, and closed her eyes.

Facing her, on a shelf by the window, a circular mirror stood on a stand. If she hadn’t closed her eyes, Nina would have seen the door open ajar quickly followed by Pip’s face and the glazed, hauntingly menacing expression it wore. As it was, she neither saw nor heard a thing. In her mind’s eye she was a little girl again, part of a happy, loving family. She could see her parents and Colin. They, too, were young. They were in a children’s playground. She could hear laughter. Some of it was hers and Colin’s. She was wearing a green dress. He wore jeans and a red sweat tee shirt. They were playing on a seesaw, both parents watching and holding hands like young lovers.

Had it ever happened quite like that, Nina wondered?  Or was this nothing more than wishful thinking, a wistful looking back through a rose tinted haze?

Before Nina could begin to answer her own question, her eyes flew open. The vision disappeared in a cloud of steam. Hands on both shoulders were pushing her down into the water. In the mirror, she saw Pip leaning over her.

First shock, and then terror lent Nina the strength to try and grab one of the girl’s wrists with both hands, but they were wet and she couldn’t get a firm grip. Legs thrashing about in sheer desperation, she tried to scream. But whenever she opened her mouth, her head was plunged underwater again, forcing her to hold her breath.

Nina’s last thoughts before she slipped into unconsciousness were of her mother, father and brother…also how glad she was that, in spite of everything, she had at least made a start at building bridges with her father.

She heard her mother calling her name, and then Colin’s voice, angry and incoherent. Meanwhile, her father’s face had become fixed to a huge wheel. His face, no body attached. She reached up to take it down, but couldn’t quite reach. She tried and tried again, but still could not reach it. Finally, she gave up trying, almost content to let herself sink into an immense, immeasurable sadness. From a great distance, she thought she heard a dog barking. The little girl in the green dress heard it too. She held on to the sound for dear life, much as the proverbial drowning man might cling to a straw.

…………………………………

Downstairs, in the kitchen, old Ben added an uncharacteristic spell of sustained barking to Stanley’s furious yapping.

“That’s odd,” commented Sadie. “Ben never barks. Well, not like that he doesn’t, especially indoors.”

“It must be Stanley’s bad influence.” Carol sighed. “I’ll go and tell him to shut up.”

“He’s probably angling for attention and a cuddle.” Sadie laughed.

“Probably,” Carol agreed and went to the door. No sooner had she opened it than Stanley ran past her to the door that led into the hallway where the little dog continued barking while frantically leaping up and scratching the paintwork at the same time. Ben plodded across the carpet as if to join in the fracas although the ageing Irish setter had stopped barking and was now making low, growling noises. “Stop it Stanley!” cried Carol, “Whatever’s got into you?”

“Stop him,” Sadie cried, “or he’ll wake Pip.”

“Pip’s here?” Carol heard alarm bells ringing in her head.

“Yes, she turned up a couple of hours ago. The poor girl was so exhausted I sent her straight to bed. Sorry, I thought you knew,” she added, and then, “Something’s wrong,” she declared and rose unsteadily to her feet, “Ben has never done anything like this before.”

“Don’t blame Ben. It’s this rascal’s fault,” said Carol, trying to make light of the situation. She attempted to scoop the little dog into her arms. Stanley, though, was for once having none of it. The little dog not only neatly avoided the outstretched arms, but also continued barking and kept jumping up at the door as if trying to reach the handle.

“Let them out,” said Sadie, a tummy spasm forcing her to sit down again. “Stanley is probably missing Fred. He’ll be in his element in the bar with everyone fussing over him. Go on, Carol, open the door. Stanley will be fine. Ben will see to it that he doesn’t wreck the place.”

Weary of the barking, and starting to feel a shade fraught, Carol opened the door. Instead of dashing into the bar, however, Stanley ran in the opposite direction and scampered, barking furiously, up the stairs. Carol chased after him. “Stanley, come here!” she shouted angrily. Then she saw the half open bathroom door and Pip leaning over the bath. For her part, the girl made no sign that she had heard the commotion.

“Oh, my God…!” Carol sprinted forward, but Stanley was already there. The little white dog leapt on to Pip’s back, digging its claws into her shoulders and teeth into the back of her neck.

Pip screamed, let go of Nina and fought off the animal. Stanley dropped to the floor with a yelp and then continued yapping, adroitly dodging Pip’s foot as she kicked out.

Carol burst into the bathroom, taking in the situation at a glance. Ignoring Pip, she dragged Nina to the surface when, almost at once, she began spluttering and spewing out water.

“You murdering bitch!” Carol shouted at Pip. But Pip appeared neither to see nor hear her. Stanley had stopped barking. Nina had ceased to splutter and was now struggling to catch her breath. Clouds of steam were like scented bubbles of silence sucking all three women and dog into a weird vacuum.

“What the devil...?” Winter growled as he appeared at the bathroom door, Liam Brady at his elbow and a distraught looking Sadie close behind.

“I should have expected something like this,” Winter cried and would remonstrate further with himself later. Meanwhile, everyone was taken by surprise when Pip made a sudden, mad dash for the stairs. Only Sadie had the presence of mind to block the girl’s path. “Get out of my way, you fat cow!” Pip yelled at her. But Sadie stood her ground. Pip lashed out with her fists.

Sadie screamed, and tumbled down the stairs.

To be concluded on Friday

Predisposed To Murder - Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 

“Who is that horrible man Colin? Tell me, I need to know. What is he to you, anyway? What on earth possessed you to bring him here to Chelsea?”

“He’s a business associate, that’s all. Why are you making such a fuss?”

“Why?” Nina Fox fumed, “Because poor Pip is in hospital, traumatised after what he did to her, that’s why!”

“Poor Pip,” Colin Fox echoed with an ill-disguised sneer, “What do you care about ‘poor Pip? She salves your conscience about her father, that’s all. Oh, I dare say it’s handy to have an unpaid housekeeper too…”

“How dare you! I love that girl. I give her a damn good allowance too, so less of the unpaid housekeeper if you don’t mind. Of course I’m doing it for Nathan. It’s the least I can do. But I love her like a sister. I do, I really do.”

“I do, I do,” he mimicked. “Listen to yourself Nina. You can’t even convince yourself for pity’s sake,”

“I do,” she repeated stubbornly.

“So why aren’t you at the patient’s bedside administering champagne and chocolates?”

“Because, like you, I’ve been with the police for bloody ages as well you know. Besides, I’ve spoken to Carol and she assures me Pip is much better. When they say she’s fit to come home I’ll go and collect her myself.”

“Home…? Huh!” he snorted.

“Why are you being so offensive?”  She paused. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she hissed, “What, exactly, is your connection with Steve Williams?”

“I told you, he’s a business associate.”

“Oh? And what kind of business would that be?”

“It’s none of yours, for a start.”

“You always were a sneaky bastard, all smiles to everyone’s face and not a scruple when it comes to going behind their backs.”

“Oh, and hark who’s talking!”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning, sister mine, your going behind my back with our father.”

“He’s still our father, whatever he’s done.”

“Whatever he’s done? To you, to me, to our mother…you are joking?  Give me strength!  Not that any of that matters any more, I suppose, now poor Nina has no one else to turn to…”

“That’s right!” she yelled, “There’s no one else since…mum died.” She began to cry.

“Spare me the performance, Nina,” Colin Fox shouted back at her. “This is me you’re talking to. As far as you were concerned, mum was never anything more than a useful crutch. When April Showers came along, you dumped her just like you dumped everyone else.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is and you know it. You don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself, Nina, you never have and I dare say you never will. You’re using Pip to get at Nathan, just like you’re using Max for the same reason. You don’t love Nathan. You’ve never loved anyone but yourself. You’ve already sacrificed him to the publicity being a murderer’s ex brings with it, not to mention a nice touch of notoriety. What I want to know is why you bothered to get in touch with me. How do you plan to use me, Nina? Planning another sacrifice, are we? Come on, give, sis, I’m all ears.”

Brother and sister glared at each other across the room. To Nina’s relief, the doorbell rang. She went to the entry phone, glad of an excuse to turn her back on Colin. “Hello?”

“Nina?  It’s Fred Winter here. Carol’s with me. Can we come up?”

“Push the door,” she told him and replaced the receiver. “It’s Fred Winter,” she said, turning to face her brother again. “Maybe you’ll tell him whatever it is you’re not telling me?” she declared, the evenness of her tone belying the turmoil in both mind and body. Much as she welcomed he detective’s timely appearance, she also dreaded having to face him again, suspecting he realised only too well that she had not been completely honest with him about Max. Should she tell him about Max and Ray, she wondered? But what good would that do?  It was history. Besides, it was all so embarrassing. As for any suggestion that Max and Pip were lovers, she needn’t go into that, surely?

Yes, she decided, she would come clean to Fred Winter about Max and Pip. Her resolve strengthened as she went to open the door to the detective and Carol Brady. It’s high time people knew there’s more to Pip Sparrow than the victim the little minx so likes to make out she is.

Nina started, guiltily, as her brother’s words returned to haunt her. Did she really intend to ‘sacrifice’ Pip? But that must wait. She flung open the door, greeting Winter and Carol with a broad smile? “Oh, but it’s just so nice to see you, darlings. Come in, grab a chair and make yourselves comfortable. Can I get you drink?  I believe you’ve met my brother, Colin…”

“Good to see you again,” Colin Fox strode forward and shook both visitors’ hands warmly.

“Can I get you both a drink?” Nina repeated.

“A cup of coffee would be lovely if it’s no trouble,” said Carol.

“Coffee would go down a treat,” Winter agreed, “Milk no sugar for both us,” he added without thinking. Carol glared as if to point out she could speak up for herself, but he ignored the unspoken reprimand and turned his attention to Colin Fox as soon as Nina had left the room.

“I’ll come and give you a hand,” Carol called after her and couldn’t help wondering why a rising star like Nina Fox didn’t have a maid as she followed close on the soap star’s heels.

“You’ll be wondering about Steve Williams,” said Fox, sprawling in an armchair. “I’ve already told the police all I know and, honestly, that’s not a lot. I hardly know the man. We’ve been in on a few business deals together, that’s all. He is…was,” Fox corrected himself blushing, “an accountant, like me. We work for different companies, but sometimes it’s not a bad idea to join forces.  A little rivalry is a good thing. but too much can sometimes prove costly.” He smiled.

In other words, mused the detective wryly, mind your own damn business, Fred Winter, you’ll get precious little information out of me. Winter chuckled. He wouldn’t waste too much time on Colin Fox.  They were two a penny, these types who liked to give the impression they were helping the police with their enquiries while, in reality, they were giving damn all away. “How well did Williams know Max Cutler?” he asked.

Fox looked genuinely surprised. “Did he know Max?” he put the question back to Winter, “It’s news to me if he did.”

“His name is in Cutler’s mobile phone directory,” said Winter matter-of-factly, “so I naturally assumed they knew each other.”

“You have Max’s mobile? Why, you sly old sod…” It was Fox’s turn to give a hearty chuckle. “Does Nina know that? No, she can’t or she’d have said. I wouldn’t mind betting the cops don’t know either.”

Winter shrugged. “If you’re a betting man,” he said noncommittally. “You’re quite sure Williams never mentioned Max in the course of your…business dealings?” he insisted, returning to his original question.

Fox shook his head. “I’d have remembered. To be honest, Winter, I don’t much care for the likes of Max Cutler. Nina is better off without him. If you ask me, she’s worrying herself sick over nothing. He’s probably attached himself to some other fancy piece for his own selfish reasons.”

Winter frowned. Obviously, Nina hadn’t told her brother about Cutler’s relationship with the woman, ‘Gypsy’. Was that down to pride…or guilt?  He must find a way to encourage the delightful Ms Fox to be more forthcoming. Was Carol faring any better, he wondered and swallowed another chuckle.  If not, it wouldn’t be for want to trying. “So, Mr Fox,” he said conversationally, “How long are you planning to stay in London?”

“Is that a diplomatic way of suggesting I don’t stray too far?” Fox grinned. “The police were nowhere near as subtle, I must say.”

“I was just making conversation,” Winter protested mildly.

“Ah conversation,” drawled Fox, “a dying art, so they tell me. So let’s do a spot of mouth to mouth, shall we? You first, Winter. You’re the one burning up with lots to say, after all…”

“Better that than holding out on people, wouldn’t you agree?” responded Winter with an answering smile that spoke volumes.

Fox pursed his lips.  This Fred Winter was nobody’s fool. Well, neither am I.  “I love the States. Bu, my, how I miss dirty, overcrowded, ugly old London…”

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Carol was having precious little success trying to draw out Nina on the subject of Steve Williams.        

“I keep telling you, Carol, the police too. Why does everyone keep asking me the same questions? Yes, I’m sure he’s the man Pip and I saw running away from the cottage. And, no, I hadn’t a clue my brother knew him. Pip and I were shocked when we came back here and found the pair of them chatting away like old friends.  If you must know, we were pretty scared too. When he followed Pip into the kitchen…”

“She was alone with him?”  Nina nodded. “I would have gone with her, but Colin wanted to know where we’d been and…heaven only knows what that creature said to her.”

“She said nothing to you about it?”

“Not a word. Oh, Carol, it’s all such a mess!” She collapsed sobbing in Carol’s arms. First Max disappears, and now all this. Where is Max, for heaven’s sake?”

“Not long ago you were telling me he was dead,” Carol reminded her tersely and felt the woman in her arms tense.

“I did think so…then. But Pip swears he was alive when she left the cottage.”

Carol pricked up her ears. “When Pip left the cottage? But I thought you were together?”

Nina sprung apart, pale-faced and looking haggard. Certainly, the woman confronting Carol bore little resemblance to the airbrushed beauty that frequently decorated glossy magazine covers for months as well as appearing three times weekly in April Showers. “That isn’t strictly true,” she admitted shamefacedly. “But it makes no difference and, well, it made sense to keep things simple,” she murmured lamely.

“What makes no difference?  Look, the coffee’s made. So why don’t we sit at the table and enjoy a cup. The men can wait.  I need to know what it is you’re holding back, Nina, and I think you need to tell me.”

“It doesn’t make any difference,” Nina repeated irritably, but did not shrug off the arm that assisted her to a chair at the table. “If you must know…” she began. The rest followed in such a torrent of words that Carol frequently had to make Nina stop and start again, more slowly and intelligibly this time.

“So Pip was in the house on her own and you went in afterwards?” Nina nodded tearfully. “And Pip says Max was alive when she left the house?” Nina nodded again. “But you thought he was dead?”

“I couldn’t find a pulse,” she sobbed, “but I could easily have been mistaken. I was in such a state. I was angry, upset…”

“Angry?” Carol pounced on the word.

“I thought Pip…and Max…I didn’t expect to find Max lying in pool of blood. I didn’t know what to think. It even crossed my mind that they may have argued and Pip…until that awful woman flung herself at me like a beast out of hell. It was awful, awful!”

“Woman, what awful woman...?” Carol was intrigued.

“Huge, she was, covered in blood. Came out of nowhere, she did, and flung herself at me. Somehow I managed to keep my balance and…dropped her. It was horrible, horrible.”

“Gypsy Kate,” Carol murmured.

“What? Oh, yes, I believe that’s what they called her. I had no idea she and Max were…lovers. I thought…well, he and Pip…”

“You thought Max and Pip were lovers?” Carol was incredulous.

“Pip told me so herself. You can imagine the row that erupted after that little bombshell.” She managed a rueful little smile. “Max denied it of course.”

“Is that what you argued about, why you threw him out?”

Nina barely hesitated before replying, “Yes.”  She suspected the lie would return to haunt her but saw no harm in it. It was hardly relevant and could do no one any good to know that Ray and Max were lovers. Oh, God, what next? She shivered, and was glad of Carol Brady’s comforting arm. 

“And do you still think Max was lying?”

“No. Oh, I don’t know. Teenager girls do get crushes on older men, don’t they? Maybe Max was telling the truth and it was all in her head. That’s the first thought that went through mine when that awful woman fell into my arms. Not who she was or whether she was half alive or dead, but that Max may have been telling the truth about Pip if he was having an affair with this…’Gypsy’ person.”

“And was she alive or dead when you left her?” Carol asked quietly.

Nina shook her head. “I haven’t the faintest idea. It was all too much to take in. I kept thinking I must find Pip so dashed out of the house and drove straight to the railway station. Luckily she’d missed one train and was waiting for the next. We drove back to the house. I thought Max was dead, but Pip kept saying he was still alive. We had to know for sure. We were approaching the house when we saw that horrible man, Williams, come out of the house and drive away. It was Pip’s idea to follow him, not mine.”

“So what did you intend to do about Max or even Gypsy? For all the pair of you knew they could have been bleeding to death. Didn’t you even call an ambulance?” Carol was appalled.

“I know, I know. But Pip was so determined. Besides, what good would it have done for the pair of us to get involved? It was just as Pip said. If Max was dead he didn’t need our help and if he was still alive, well, he could damn well call for an ambulance himself. I knew it was wrong. But I was so confused, upset and, yes, angry. Perhaps I was so angry with Max I didn’t bloody care whether he lived or died. I know, I know, that’s a terrible thing to say. But anger…well, it distorts everything doesn’t it?”

Carol had no answer to that heartfelt plea. Did Nina really expect her to help justify what she’d done?

“You won’t tell the police, will you?  Promise me you won’t tell a soul. What good would it do?  It’s pretty obvious this ‘Gypsy’ woman killed Max or at least tried to. The police think Williams killed her and presumably tried to kill poor Pip because he suspected she knew something.  Why put poor Pip through any more hoops? Hasn’t the child suffered enough?”

Carol was partially inclined to agree. Even so, “It’s not as simple as that, Nina, and you know it. I won’t tell the police, but I’ll have to tell Freddy. He’ll know what to do for the best. He can be an impossible, bloody-minded so-and-so when he likes but he’s a damn good copper and his heart is in the right place.”

“Do you love him?” Nina asked unexpectedly.

Carol gave a pensive little shrug. She was beginning to feel weighed down by everything and everyone…Nina, Pip, Freddy, Liam, Sadie, the baby. “Come on,” she rallied quickly enough without answering the question, “the men will be wondering where we’ve got to. I’ll take the tray, you open the door.”

As soon as the two women re-entered the room, Winter could tell from her tight-lipped expression that Carol had found out something useful. She was a diamond, and no mistake. He sighed, aware too that she was very unhappy and he wasn’t helping. Even so, he was impatient to get out of this place and see how much of the bigger picture she had managed to piece together. For another half an hour, though, he was obliged to contribute occasionally to a seemingly endless stream of small talk while, try as he might, unable to catch Carol’s eye.

To be continued on Friday

Predisposed To Murder - Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Pip demanded, looking anxiously from Carol Brady to Fred Winter and then again to Carol. The detective’s sharp, penetrative gaze was unnerving her. Carol, too, looked wary. Pip smiled weakly, duly provided a few tears, and Carol was soon giving her a hug and oozing sympathy.

Pip was pleased her guess had proven correct. For a while she had sat in a taxi near Carol Brady’s flat in Camden Town wondering what to do next. She had seen Nina flee the house and drive away.  Should she follow?  She decided against it, fairly sure where Nina would be heading. First, she needed to find out exactly what Nina had been telling Carol. She hadn’t been very surprised either to find Fred Winter at the flat in the early hours of the morning. It had crossed her mind several times that the two were more than just friends. At their age too, she contemplated derisively and hoped the giggle she couldn’t swallow would pass for an expression of frayed nerves.

Satisfied that Nina hadn’t told them much and pretty sure they wouldn’t call the police, at least not yet a while, Pip was wondering what was expected of her now when her mobile phone rang. Surprised and not a little irritated at first, she glanced at the screen and did not recognize the number. The glimmer of an idea came to her. Only fleetingly did she consider the possible consequences. Glancing apologetically at Carol and a dour looking Fred Winter, she listened to an unknown male voice asking for a taxi to pick him up at an address in Pimlico.

“Did you get that? Can you get here as quickly as possible please? Are you deaf or something?” the caller was getting impatient.

“I see,” said Pip, “Yes, I’ll come over straight away. No, it’s no trouble. Yes. I’m sure, and thank you for letting me know.” She paused but a fraction before crying, “Max, wait. How did you know…? Oh, I see, of course. Goodbye.”

“What the f**k…?” demanded the voice. But Pip had already switched off the phone. She stared into space for a few moments as if unaware she was in company before draining the remaining brandy in her glass, and then looked directly at Fred Winter. “That was Max. He’s at the apartment. Nina’s just got back, but according to him she’s hysterical. He says she keeps asking for me.” 

 “But how could he…?” Carol began, but was restrained from continuing by a glare from Winter.

Pip caught the exchange and began to panic. “Could I possibly have another brandy please?” she asked plaintively, and then to Winter, “Can you call me a cab? I must get there right away,” accepting another brandy, knocking it back in several long swigs and spluttering all over the carpet. “I’m sorry, I…I’m not myself…I…” Carol came and gave her a big hug. “Why didn’t she wait for me? Oh, but that’s Nina all over, unpredictable at the best of times.” At the same time, she gave what she hoped would be seen as a despairing shrug that allowed her to slip out of Carol’s comforting embrace. It had occurred to her that she was already feeling too relaxed and dare not let herself be caught off guard.

“I’ll drive you myself,” Winter offered, but Pip shook her head.

“Thank you, but I’d rather get a cab if you don’t mind. You’ll only…”

“Get in the way, Freddy,” Carol finished the sentence for her and all three tittered unconvincingly.

 “Are you sure you wouldn’t like one of us to come with you?”  Carol asked in a concerned, motherly tone of voice while Winter called for a taxi.

Pip shook her head and contrived a grateful but determined smile. That wouldn’t do at all. At least they would now think Max was still alive. Nor was that a lie either, she was sure of it. Nina must have panicked. It was easy enough to miss someone’s pulse. Well, wasn’t it?  Max is alive, she kept telling herself. At the same time, she suspected she was losing the plot as the taxi headed for East London. “Bow Road,” she told the driver for she was certain Nina had gone to see her father. Where else would she go in the middle of the night?

Suddenly, Pip’s heart missed a beat. How could she have forgotten about Colin Fox?  Had Nina, too, remembered and returned to Chelsea in the hope of finding him at the flat?  But she quickly dismissed that idea. Colin doesn’t have a key. Besides, she knew Nina too well. The actress had confided how she had already met up with Alistair Fox a couple of times and their reunion hadn’t gone half as badly as expected. Pip could tell Nina was ready to forgive and forget, not least because her father was on hand and her brother wasn’t. Nor had Nina been enthusiastic about her brother’s impending visit. “Colin doesn’t care about me or daddy,” she had complained peevishly, “He just wants to interfere. He loves nothing better than to mess with other people’s lives, especially mine” No, at this moment in time, the star of April Showers would be with her father. Pip was willing to bet on it. Was it true, she wondered, vaguely, that the show was in trouble? Nina had hinted as much.

“Drop me here please,” Pip told the driver and paid him. Not for the first time, she  thanked her lucky stars that Nina had made her a generous allowance since her father had been made bankrupt by legal fees, mortgage arrears and other debts. He had only been able to keep number 22 because it had belonged to her mother and would pass to herself once she turned eighteen. Pip frowned. What would happen to her allowance if they pulled the plug on April Showers?  She shrugged. There was always university to look forward to…

Pip yawned and glanced at her watch. It was 4.00am. She would be almost as glad to grab some sleep as she was looking forward to meeting Alistair Fox for the first time.

It was Nina who opened the door a few minutes later, scantily dressed and looking very pale. “Pip, it’s you!”

“Who were you expecting, the police?” This unsettled Nina completely. She turned a shade even paler and was lost for words. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Nina stammered, finding her voice at last.

“Who is it?” a man’s voice called out. Seconds later, a bleary-eyed Alistair Fox appeared and gave Pip a long, disapproving glare.

“This is Pip. You know...Pip?  I’ve told you all about her. She’s…”

“Your killer boyfriend’s brat, if I’m not mistaken?” Nina look nonplussed.

“That’s right,” said Pip and yawned again, “and right now I could use some sleep.

“You’ll find no bed here.”

“Some floor space will do fine. Oh, and if you can spare a blanket, too, so much the better.”

“Pip and I can share your bed, daddy,” declared Nina, “and you can take the chair.”

“I’m too old for sleeping in chairs,” Alistair Fox grumbled.

“And I’m too tired to argue,” Nina snapped back at him, “Come through, Pip. You look as exhausted as I feel. Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat or drink?”  Pip shook her head.

Alistair Fox made no further protest, but watched them disappear into the bedroom and then went in search of a supermarket whiskey he remembered leaving in the kitchen. Settling into the armchair Nina had recently vacated, he took several long swigs from the bottle before pulling the blanket to his chin and falling soundly asleep.

Pip, too, fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Nina lay and listened to the girl’s steady breathing. She hadn’t been as surprised as she’d made out to find Pip at the door.  While she was fond enough of the girl, there were times when she felt almost stalked by her. But now, Nina told herself sharply, she was being foolish. She tried to sleep. But sleep did not come for a long, tortuous while since each time she closed her eyes she saw the bloodied face of Max Cutler lying (Dead, surely?) at number 22 Waterfield Road.

Only seconds before a restless sleep finally took her, Nina decided that she would call Fred Winter first thing in the morning. The decision opened up a cosy niche in her mind that offered shelter and some reassurance if not the place of ultimate safety or peace of mind she sought. Thankfully, she crept into it.

Nina rose early the next day, while the others continued to sleep on soundly. She set about preparing breakfast for all three. Several times she went to call Fred Winter on the mobile. On each occasion, for no obvious reason, she changed her mind.  I really must call him, she kept telling herself. She needed help, didn’t she, advice at the very least? So who else can I turn to?   Yet, still she did not make the call. A long, tiresome hour passed before she finally spoke to the detective and agreed to meet him in Canterbury at 5.00 pm that same day. She glanced at her watch. There was plenty of time. Much as she disliked driving, it was better that she should drive down to Kent rather than have Fred return to London on her account. In the back of her mind, she toyed with the thought that he might accompany her to number 22 Waterfield Road, but a conscious nausea refused to let the notion surface. But I have to know for sure, don’t I? Ignoring the question or, rather, putting it on hold, she confided her intention to Pip.

“I’m coming with you,” Pip declared. Nina shook her head, surprised. She had expected Pip to raise objections “It’s a school day,” she reminded the girl.

“It’s a bit late for that now,” Pip retorted and repeated her intention to accompany Nina to Canterbury. “No one at school will mind,” she fibbed with convincing nonchalance, “Not at this time of year, they won’t. Everyone’s taking time off to revise for exams. Besides,” she added with a wicked grin, “We girls need to stick together, right? Who knows? We might need an alibi sooner than we think…”

Nina managed a weak smile, turned away and proceeded to busy herself with washing up the breakfast things. There were times, she mused for the umpteenth time - part of her amused, the greater part resentful - when it was all but impossible to remember that Pip would not be eighteen for a few weeks yet.  “Seventeen, going on forty-something,” she muttered inaudibly, resolving there and then that, whatever Pip might say, she would drive to Canterbury on her own. On the other hand, she was forced to admit, the girl might well have a point about needing an alibi. “Damn!” Nina swore as she dropped a flower-patterned plate and watched it shatter on the cheap linoleum floor. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to her father who had just entered the tiny kitchen. But Alistair Fox merely grunted, turned round and walked away. She was still on her hands and knees brushing the pieces into a dustpan when Pip’s voice promptly caused all annoyance and confusion to rise to panic proportions on the spot.

“So what do we do about your brother, Colin, just forget about him?”

“Colin? Oh, my God…!” Nina wailed, “I forgot all about him. He’ll have been expecting me to meet him at the airport!”

“He’ll have probably found a hotel for the night. Call him on your mobile and see,” Pip suggested.

Nina shook her head. “I don’t have a mobile number for Colin. I’m not even sure he has a mobile.

“Then we’ll just have to go back to Chelsea and see if he’s left a message on the land line. We have plenty of time.”

“I suppose so…” Nina glanced anxiously at her watch. Pip was right, there was plenty of time to head back to Chelsea and still be in Canterbury by 5.00 pm.

“If there’s a problem, Mr Winter will just have to come to London.  Mohammad and the mountain ‘n’ all that,” said Pip.

Nina frowned. Suddenly it had become more important than ever that she should return to number 22...but with Fred Winter, not with Pip.   Not with Pip, not with Pip, not with Pip. Why? It wasn’t as if she believed Pip could have killed Max…or was it? But that’s ridiculous. Pip is little more than a child, for heaven’s sake. So why was she shaking?

“Are you alright Nina? You’re not ill are you?”

It seemed to Nina that Pip’s voice, far from sounding concerned, had a razor’s edge to it. It’s just my imagination, surely? “It’s probably a bug or something. I dare say it will pass.” She went into the bedroom where her father lay sprawled on the bed asleep, snoring loudly. Nina scribbled a note, left it on a small table beside the bed and returned to Pip. “We had better get a move on or poor Colin will be frantic.”

In the event, it took much longer to reach Chelsea than either Nina or Pip had anticipated thanks to a combination of road works, disabled traffic lights and a burst water main. As they entered the apartment they heard voices. Nina froze. Close behind her, Pip whispered, “Who can it be? Burglars, do you think?”

Recognizing her brother’s voice, Nina burst out laughing from sheer relief and moved forward with greater confidence. At the same time, she was already asking herself how Colin had gained access to the apartment. Relief began to give way to anger. It was in something of a confrontational frame of mind, therefore, that she faced her brother across the rich expanse of carpet.

“Hello Colin.”

“Nina! Where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you…” Colin Fox moved forward to greet his sister warmly but Nina’s eyes were already fixed on his companion. A sharp intake of breath close behind told her that Pip too had recognized the tall balding man with a moustache.

“Shall I go and make some tea?” Pip offered.

“Tea would be nice,” said Nina.

“Coffee for me…strong, black, one sugar and instant will be fine,” said the tall man with a queer smile that was impossible to interpret.

“Tea…milk, no sugar, Colin Fox mumbled then, “Oh, I’m sorry. This is Steve Williams,” he turned to his companion, “Steve, this is my sister Nina and her…err…”

“I’m Pip,” stepping forward, hand outstretched.

“Pleased to meet you,” Williams shook hands with both women. 

Nina winced involuntarily. The man’s handshake was limp and damp with sweat. She mistrusted it just as she mistrusted its smiling owner. Why was he here? What business could he possibly have with her brother? It required as supreme an effort to say nothing - for now at least - as it took to resist wiping her own palm on the stylish trousers she wore.

Pip left the room without another word, conscious of voices in her ears but hardly aware of what they were saying…

“So where has Colin been hiding you, Mr Williams?  He’s certainly never mentioned you before.”

“Hiding, Miss Fox? Why, nowhere. Your brother and I are merely business associates. And who wants to discuss business with a beautiful woman even if she’s your sister?”

“Shall we sit down?” suggested Colin Fox uncomfortably.

Pip was glad to escape to the kitchen, shut the others out and let her thoughts run free. What was going on? Who is this Steve Williams and what’s he doing here of all places? Her heart missed a beat. Did he realize she and Nina had followed him from Whitstable? If so, how had he known to come to the apartment and what was his connection with Colin Fox? She frowned. If the two men were “merely business associates” she was the Queen of Sheba. Had he recognized Nina in the car? What is he doing here? What does he want? The door opened and closed behind her. She swung round to find herself face to face with the very subject of her thoughts…and dropped a cup.  It smashed to the floor but neither took their eyes off the other.

“You father sends his regards.”

“You know my father?”

“Oh yes, very well. You have plenty of time to get close to people in prison.”

“Prison, eh?” Pip bit her lip and tried to act nonchalant. “So how come he’s never mentioned you or I’ve never seen you when I visit?”

“I never had any visitors. Those that do, well…” He shrugged, “the last thing you want to talk about to folks on the outside is how it is inside.”

“I dare say,” Pip acknowledged coolly, wishing he would go away. Something about the man frightened her.  Fear was an emotion to which she wasn’t accustomed and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Your daddy thinks the world of you. Now I can see why. You’re almost pretty. Not quite, but almost. I like that. My guess is you’ll blossom in a year or so.” He came closer. Pip pressed her back against the rim of the sink. The electric kettle began to boil. He reached out a flabby hand and touched her hair. Pip recoiled and moved away but did not take her eyes off the smiling face. The kettle turned itself off with a sharp click.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Pip flashed angrily, “Sorry, and all that, but you’re not my type.”

“Too old for you am I?  Oh, a pity, that. After the way your daddy used to go on and on about you...Well, I couldn’t wait to meet you, could I?  So let’s be friends, eh, Pip? I’ll be honest with you. You’re a girl after my own heart…you murdering little bitch,” he added unexpectedly and chuckled. It was not a pleasant sound.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Pip protested although not as strongly as she intended.

“Oh, I think you do young lady. I think you know exactly what I mean. But you don’t have to worry. Your daddy has a blind spot for his precious butter-wouldn’t-melt little girl. Too damn right he has. But we know better, don’t we, you and I?”

“You’re mad.”

“Tell that to Ray Bannister’s family.” He laughed, another ugly sound, “But don’t worry, your daddy doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“So what are you trying to say?” demanded Pip, feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

“You don’t remember me, do you? There’s no reason why you should. But I was there, you see. I was there the night your house burned down. I saw your face as you watched your mother and little brother burn to death. I’ve never forgotten it. That little madam is pure evil, I told myself…pure evil. Then when your daddy told me how he found you, oh, so distressed after finding poor Ray murdered… well, I got to thinking didn’t I? ” He approached the terrified girl again. His face wore the same queer smile as he stroked her cheek with one finger.

Pip froze for an instant, and then fled the room.

To be continued on Friday