The Anna McColl Mysteries Box Set 1

by Penny Kline

  ‘Me? No. Why d’you ask?’

  ‘Lived with someone?’

  ‘Briefly. It didn’t work out.’

  ‘Licking your wounds? That makes two of us.’ His head was very close to mine and I noticed a deep scratch on the side of his neck, as though someone had drawn a sharp fingernail across his skin. He leaned across and fastened my seat belt. ‘Most fatal accidents take place within a mile of the victim’s house. Isn’t that what they say?’

  When we reached the flat Pam came out of her front door, carrying a large brown envelope.

  ‘This was delivered for you, Anna, but it wouldn’t fit through your letter box.’

  ‘Oh. Thanks. D’you know who brought it?’

  ‘A man on a bicycle. He was out of breath, looked a funny colour. I offered him a glass of water but he wouldn’t stay, said he was in a hurry.’

  ‘Thanks, Pam. How’s Ernest?’

  ‘Oh, not so bad. Up and down. If you have a moment I know he’d like — ’

  ‘Yes, I haven’t forgotten. I’ve been rather busy but next weekend … ’

  Pam glanced at Michael. She was thinking that I didn’t look busy at all. Returning from a pleasant evening out with my latest boyfriend. Having fun. Living it up.

  Back in the flat I slumped into a chair and tore open the envelope. A note fell out. From Doug, as I had expected.

  Dear Anna,

  I thought you might like to see this. I promised it to Luke so when he turns up perhaps you could pass it on. The police came round but it was just a formality.

  Yours sincerely, Doug.

  I pulled out the eight by ten black and white photo and held it up to the light.

  ‘Let’s have a look.’ Michael was behind my chair. His fingers brushed my shoulder. ‘Who took that? Luke looks like a bloody male model.’

  ‘At least he’s dressed,’ I said.

  ‘How d’you know, it stops halfway down his chest. That guy with the darkroom, was it?’

  I nodded. ‘He wants me to give it to Luke when he turns up.’

  ‘Why? I mean, why did he bring it round here?’

  ‘Who knows. I imagine there’s all kinds of complicated motivations. He wants me to see what a good photographer he is.’

  ‘Hardly my idea of a good — ’

  ‘That’s beside the point. And he wants to demonstrate how strongly he felt about Luke. I suppose he thinks it kind of rounds things off. This way I won’t bother him or Elaine again.’

  I stood up and pushed the photo into a drawer, then I started walking towards the kitchen. Michael followed and stood leaning against the window frame, watching a battered Transit van squeeze between the row of parked cars.

  ‘Why did you choose this road to live in? There seems to be a fair amount of traffic.’

  ‘I liked the flat.’

  ‘Bristol’s full of flats.’

  ‘I like the road too,’ I said. ‘It’s near the city centre and the river but it hasn’t been all tarted up.’

  ‘Best of all possible worlds,’ he said flatly. He was staring at me. He looked tired, depressed. His hair was damp with sweat and there were tiny lines I had never noticed before, running down from his nose to the corners of his mouth.

  ‘Anna.’ He crossed the room and slid his hands under my arms, gently pushing me back against the wall with his chest.

  I tensed, then let myself relax. It was the last thing I wanted to happen, but I needed the warmth of another human being. Someone who could understand what was going on in my head, someone who would stop me from feeling so alone. We were both exhausted, angry with Luke, upset about what had happened — now and in the past — about what might happen when Luke finally turned up.

  ‘Oh God, Anna.’ It was the groan of a beaten man rather than a lover but its effect on me was stronger than the most passionate declaration.

  15

  The day had gone badly. One client had missed his appointment and another had walked out on me. When the phone rang I jumped.

  ‘Inspector Fry,’ said Heather. ‘Your client’s gone, hasn’t she? Shall I put him through?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I suppose you’d better.’

  ‘Anna, Howard Fry speaking. Nothing urgent but I wanted a few words about Douglas Hargreaves.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘I’ve been chatting to Graham — he went to see the Hargreaves — and he was under the impression, only a feeling, that Hargreaves was hiding something.’

  ‘It’s just his manner, he always looks shifty.’

  There was a short pause. ‘Yes, well, I expect you’re right but Graham wondered if Luke might have told Hargreaves about a friend he was hoping to visit, a place the rest of us don’t know about. You’ve heard nothing — ’

  ‘I’d have told you if there was any news.’

  ‘Of course. Are you still in touch with the Hargreaves?’

  ‘Yes and no. You mean you want me to go round?’

  Was that what he meant or was he just fishing for information, letting me know he thought I was holding something back?

  ‘If you could. It might help. We’ve drawn a blank so far. Run out of ideas.’

  ‘You’re still looking for Luke, then?’

  I wondered if he had seen Rhiannon Pascoe’s picture in the evening paper. I ought to be telling him how Michael thought he had seen Luke outside the Arnolfini Gallery. But what good would it do? We had searched the area fairly comprehensively and, in any case, even if it had been Luke he could be miles away by now.

  I came up with a compromise. ‘I’ve a feeling he’s still in Bristol,’ I said.

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Oh, nothing in particular. Just a feeling.’

  ‘You go in for ESP too, do you?’

  He wasn’t being sarcastic. On the contrary he was trying to make the call seem almost a social one.

  *

  Elaine answered the front door. She stood in the porch, her face as nearly expressionless as she could make it, waiting for me to explain the reason for my visit.

  ‘Can I talk to you for a few minutes?’

  She went back into the house, leaving the door ajar. I took this to mean I could come in if I must. The house smelled stuffy, as though all the windows had been kept closed for several days. I followed her down the passage and caught up with her in the kitchen where, just as I expected, she began filling the kettle.

  ‘Tea?’

  ‘No thank you but you have some if that’s what you were … ’ My voice trailed away. There was something about her rounded shoulders, the back of her crumpled pink sweatshirt. She wasn’t angry with me, she hadn’t the energy.

  Abandoning the kettle but leaving the tap dripping, she sat down heavily on the nearest chair. In front of her a family size bag of prawn-flavour crisps, half eaten, spilled out on to the table. An empty glass stood beside it. We looked at each other and her lips parted a little as though she was deciding whether or not to speak.

  ‘Sit down then,’ she said. ‘What is it you wanted to know?’

  ‘The police told you Luke’s gone missing?’

  ‘You blame us, I suppose.’

  ‘No, of course not. I just thought you might have a few ideas where he could have gone.’

  She fiddled with the bag of crisps, then pushed it aside. ‘The police thought the same but we couldn’t help. He never said much, just about the shop, or if he’d been to the pictures with Paula. The last one he saw, I mean, the one before last, was about street gangs in Los Angeles. Drug dealers shooting each other, some of them still in their teens.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound Luke’s kind of thing.’

  She shrugged. ‘Who knows. Maybe it was Paula’s choice.’

  I let that pass.

  ‘Luke never mentioned his family? Or people he’d met at university?’

  ‘Once — he was in a funny mood at the time — he told me his father hated him. I didn’t take much notice. Children often talk lik
e that.’

  ‘Luke’s not a child.’

  ‘I know that. I was thinking of his parents. I expect if you have children you always think of them that way, even when they’re middle-aged.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ I said.

  She smiled. ‘Me neither.’

  On a shelf above her head was a teapot I had never noticed before in the shape of a country cottage: thatched roof, shuttered windows, roses round the door. I thought about Brigid Jesty, standing in the garden of the White Cottage snipping dead heads off Jacques Cartier and Stanwell Perpetua. Her life style was a million miles from that of Elaine Hargreaves but given the right questionnaires their ‘depression’ score would probably come out much the same.

  Elaine turned her head to see what I was looking at.

  ‘Present from Doug,’ she said dully. ‘Spout drips. Still I suppose it’s the thought that counts.’

  ‘Luke once had a job packing china,’ I said.

  ‘Packing china? When did he do that?’

  ‘Before he took the overdose. It wasn’t much of a job, only temporary, but I thought he might have met someone in the store.’

  She thought about it for a moment. When she spoke she still sounded wretched but there was a slight edge to her voice.

  ‘You’d know more about all that than I do. You get paid to listen to people. I just took in a lodger.’

  When I said nothing, she looked away and cleared her throat noisily. ‘Doug’s at the health centre.’

  ‘He’s not well?’

  ‘An insect bite. He thinks it’s going septic.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. Nothing a dab of cream wouldn’t have sorted out.’ She stared at me. She was weighing up her feelings of resentment against her wish to talk to someone — anyone.

  ‘Doug and me,’ she said slowly, ‘we’ve been together almost thirty years.’

  I opened my mouth to acknowledge this fact but she shook her head to indicate it had just been an opening statement.

  ‘We met on holiday, both on our own, sitting next to each other in the coach. All the rest were married couples. Scotland. A tour of the Highlands and Islands. Food and accommodation part of the package. Nothing to do but sit there, do as you were told. I felt sorry for Doug. So nervous, he was. Nothing to say for himself, but longing to pour out his soul.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Later, when we were back in Bristol, it seemed funny just to say goodbye, not arrange anything. I can’t remember who took the initiative. I expect it was me. The pictures or a trip to Weston, although neither of us could stand crowds. It was one of the few things we had in common.’

  She paused, picking up a crisp, then returning it to the bag. I was praying Doug would stay away until she finished her story.

  ‘Our marriage just sort of happened. He was thinking of buying a house and we started looking in shop windows, choosing furniture, curtains, all that kind of thing.’

  She stood up, gave the tap a hard twist, then sat down again. ‘We married in the registry office. My sister was a witness. She died a year or two back. She was fifteen years older than me, divorced with a couple of grown-up boys.’ Her voice was flat, expressionless. ‘Anyway, that’s about it, except after we’d moved in here I realized it wasn’t going to be quite as I’d expected.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘That’s just it. Nothing happened. I thought at first he was too anxious. It was making him incapable, if you know what I mean. Patience itself, that’s what I was, but after a month or two I began to have my doubts.’ She paused for a moment, staring at her wedding ring, twisting it round. ‘Of course people didn’t talk about that kind of thing, not like they do now. Once I suggested a chat with the doctor but he went all red in the face, changed the subject.’

  ‘He knew what you meant?’

  ‘Oh, he knew all right, but as far as he was concerned there wasn’t a problem. He had his housekeeper. Everything in the garden was — ’

  ‘I’m sure that wasn’t how he … He seems very attached to you.’

  ‘Attached? That’s exactly it. You’ve chosen just the right word there.’

  She was staring through the window at the cloud of midges hovering above the ornamental pond. I looked away, following the pattern on the wall tiles through half-closed eyes and trying to imagine what it must have been like to live for nearly thirty years in an unconsummated marriage. The anger. The misery. No wonder she kept a good stock of junk food to stave off bad feelings.

  She turned to face me. ‘I know what happened,’ she said. ‘You know too, don’t you? I suppose when Luke was in hospital he told you all about it.’

  ‘About what?’ I had no wish to be cruel. It was just that I had to be certain we were both talking about the same thing.

  ‘Don’t make me go into details. Doug and Luke. Oh, I don’t blame the lad. I knew what was going to happen before he did. You only had to look at Doug’s face.’

  ‘You should have told me.’

  She pushed her hair behind her ears. ‘What good would that have done?’

  ‘I could have found Luke somewhere else to live.’

  ‘It’s never happened before. I’m sure of it. As sure as I can be. When you brought Luke round that first time … If I’d known — ’

  ‘How could you have done?’

  I reached out a hand but she stood up, then bent down to pick up a spoon that had fallen under the table. When she straightened up there were tears in her eyes.

  ‘I liked having him live with us. He was so considerate, so thoughtful.’

  Doug was back. I heard the key in the front door, then Doug whistling through his teeth, wiping his shoes on the mat.

  Elaine froze. ‘Don’t say anything.’ She was squeezing my arm so hard that I was afraid it might leave a bruise.

  Doug came into the kitchen. When he saw me his tongue flicked out and brushed his upper lip.

  ‘Anna! What a nice surprise. How are you? Any news of the boy?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Shame, but I’m sure he won’t come to any harm. Put it this way, he’s more resourceful than some people realize, that’s what I used to say, didn’t I, dear?’ The evening paper lay on top of the fridge-freezer. I wondered if they had seen the photo of Rhiannon Pascoe in yesterday’s edition. Even if they had, they would never have connected it with Paula’s death.

  The three of us sat in uneasy silence for what seemed a long time but was probably less than a minute. Elaine spoke first and her words were evenly spaced, deadpan.

  ‘What did the doctor say?’

  Doug jumped. ‘Dr Thornton? Wasn’t on duty. I had to see a trainee, no use at all.’

  ‘He told you there was nothing to worry about?’

  ‘Something like that, but the receptionist, that one with the blonde hair, she agreed it was always best to be on the safe side.’

  ‘That’s all right then.’

  The nervous tic had returned to the corner of Doug’s eye. He put up a hand to try and stop it.

  ‘I believe Detective Sergeant Whittle came to see you,’ I said.

  ‘Whittle? Yes, that could’ve been the name.’

  Elaine spoke slowly. Both her hands were clasping her neck as though it was an effort keeping her head up straight.

  ‘Doug doesn’t like the police, do you?’

  ‘Why d’you say that? Only doing their job.’

  For a few moments we sat in silence.

  Then I tried again. ‘Sergeant Whittle thought you might have a few ideas where Luke could have gone,’ I said, ‘but you didn’t want to say in case he wanted to be left in peace.’

  Doug licked his lips, then spoke with an effort as though there was very little air in his lungs.

  ‘The lad hasn’t done anything wrong. Just finds it hard to make a go of things. Put it in a nutshell, he wants a week or two on his own, time to sort things out in his mind.’

  I stared at him. He would
have liked it if Luke had confided in him but in reality I doubted if he knew any more than the rest of us.

  He turned to face me and just for a moment I could see what he was going to look like when he was old.

  ‘Forgot to tell you, Anna,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Several job opportunities in the pipeline. One with a car hire place although I’ve a feeling they might want a younger man. Don’t have to pay so much. You know how it is. And another in security.’

  ‘Caretaker,’ said Elaine. ‘Anna doesn’t want to hear about that now.’

  He flinched. I felt sorry for him. ‘Something will turn up sooner or later,’ I said.

  ‘I doubt it.’ Elaine put a crisp in her mouth and crunched it between her teeth. ‘Wendy, she’s one of the other supervisors, she says the government wants the young people to get the jobs.’

  ‘She would!’ shouted Doug. ‘Wendy says this, Wendy says — ’

  ‘Anyway,’ I interrupted, ‘I must go. Oh, just before I leave. I expect the police told you, didn’t they? When Paula was killed she was wearing Luke’s blue and white sweater.’

  ‘Really?’ Doug leaned against the wall. ‘Of course they were about the same size. Same height, give or take an inch, same fair hair.’

  Elaine rested her chin on her hands. ‘What Anna means is if the accident wasn’t an accident someone could have thought Paula was Luke.’

  I turned to look at Doug. His body was shaking so much that he was having difficulty standing up.

  ‘Of course it was an accident,’ he muttered. ‘Who said it wasn’t an accident?’

  Elaine spoke slowly, quietly. ‘You were out at your framing class at the time, weren’t you.’

  ‘What? When? Yes, the class. Afterwards we went to the pub. Just a quick one. Maybe two. People like to buy their round. You have to let them or … I was back here — what time was it? You’d been watching the television, that programme about the people who — ’

  ‘I wouldn’t hurt Luke, Doug, you know that.’

  ‘What? Hurt Luke? Why would anyone want to hurt the lad?’ He slid to the floor. I noticed that his glasses had been repaired with sticky tape that was starting to unravel. The seam of his trousers just below the pocket had come unstitched. White underpants showed through the gap.