'I witnessed murder!'
'What?' gasped Aubrey.
Michael said one more word. 'There.' His arm was raised, his index finger pointed.
32
Everyone froze for several moments. Except for Michael, who walked slowly forward, his accusing finger pointing. The person he was pointing at also froze, but only briefly. Lucinda put down the phone she hadn't used.
She stared at the finger pointed at her like a gun, shrugged, went to her armchair, sat down, moved a cushion concealing her handbag, opened it and slipped her hand inside.
'He's crazy,' she said. 'First it's amnesia when he bumped his head falling down the stairs the first time. Now he's gone right over the edge.'
'I saw you,' Michael said, his voice clear and balanced. 'I'd come back early from the office. I parked my car on the verge just outside Post Lacey. I always walk up from there. Which is why you didn't hear me coming . . .'
'You're quite mad . . .'
'No, you are. I walked up the track in the moonlight. I saw you grabbing Lee from behind, holding her hair, then you used a knife to cut her throat, turned it round and used it again. I was stunned. You were cutting pieces of her flesh off and dropping them into a bag. Then you dragged what was left of Lee and dropped her down a mine shaft.'
'You must see a doctor,' she said and lit a cigarette.
'You were startled when you saw me,' he went on. 'You grabbed my arm and we walked up to the house. You were talking nonstop, something about Lee had attacked you. You hustled me into the house and I couldn't decide what was true. You took me up the stairs. Near the top you said you'd twisted your ankle. Then you were in front of me, on the step above. You turned, used both hands to give me a great shove. I went all the way down those damned stairs, just as I did a moment ago. Hit my head on the bottom pillar and everything went blank.'
'We're home and dry,' said Tweed, still seated. 'We need only one witness to one murder. Michael is the witness.'
Lucinda jumped up. Her right hand held the knife she had extracted from her handbag. She rushed forward towards Michael. Everyone was taken by surprise. Everyone except Paula.
'Without one witness,' Lucinda screamed in a voice hardly sane, 'without one witness,' she yelled again, 'you can do nothing.'
She held the large knife up high, ready to plunge it into Michael. Paula was already close to her, the Browning she had snatched from under her napkin held in both hands. She called out a warning.
'Drop the knife, Lucinda, or I'll shoot you dead.'
Lucinda swung round. Her expression shocked Paula, almost froze her. Her eyes were slits. The eyes behind the slits were full of evil and hatred. Her mouth was twisted into a ferocious animal-like grimace. She didn't look human any more.
She rushed towards Paula. Again the knife was held high for a downward strike. Automatically, Paula noticed it had two edges. One a fine razor edge, the other side serrated. It had brown stains on it.
'I'll shoot,' Paula shouted at her.
It didn't stop Lucinda. She moved forward with astonishing speed. The handle of the knife was tightly gripped in both hands. She took a deep breath, psyching herself up to plunge it deep into her opponent's body.
'You've always got in the way,' she screamed, spittle dripping from her mouth.
Paula fired once. The bullet slammed into Luanda's chest. Blood spurted. Amazingly, it didn't stop Lucinda's oncoming rush. Paula fired again, then again. An expression of surprise, disbelief, crossed Lucinda's face. Then she fell forward, smashed her head against the floor, lying very still."
Tweed checked her carotid artery, looked up at Paula, shook his head. Someone had rushed in from the terrace. Tweed stared. It was Chief Superintendent Buchanan, dressed in a suit. Tweed had earlier jumped up from his seat, holding his Walther. He'd not dared to use the weapon because Paula had been in the way. Buchanan's manner was authoritative as he strode forward.
'It's still your case, Tweed, so regard me as backup. I saw and heard everything that happened. Mr Drago Volkanian was most cooperative when I signalled to him to ignore me outside on the terrace.'
'I've killed a woman,' Paula said quietly. 'Killed a woman.'
She was in a state. The climax of so much exertion recently, so much horror, had finally exhausted her stamina. Tweed put his arm round her, used his left hand to take the Browning by the end of the muzzle and drop it into an evidence bag.
I'll have to stand trial,' Paula said in the same quiet voice.
'Nonsense,' said Buchanan with deliberate abruptness. 'You fired in self-defence. The room is full of witnesses who will agree that forcefully, including myself. There will never be a trial,' he predicted. 'Maybe a statement from you later. That will be it.'
'We should call an ambulance,' Tweed suggested.
'Already coming.' Buchanan waved a small mobile phone.
Tweed looked at Drago Volkanian. The billionaire had made no attempt to rise from his chair. Possibly for the first time in his life he looked stunned. After getting Paula comfortable in a chair, avoiding the one Lucinda had sat in, he went over to Drago. 'Are you all right?'
'So she, Lucinda, was responsible for the frightful murders?'
'No doubt about it. These days women do kill. Read the newspapers. It's the age of equality,' Tweed said ironically.
Epilogue
Three weeks later, the team were assembled in the Park Crescent office. They were there to welcome back Paula, now seated at her desk and looking her normal eager self. Buchanan had visited them briefly, refusing Tweed's offer to sit down.
Instead, he made straight for Paula's desk, his face wreathed in a smile. She looked up at him warily.
'It's all over,' he told her. 'You've made your statement, a copy of which was sent with other witnesses' accounts to the public prosecutor. They all came back to me with a blunt note. "Why have you sent this junk to me? It's clear as crystal there is no case to answer. Don't waste my time again.'"
'Thank you for coming over to tell me,' she replied in a normal voice. 'The odd thing is, I did rather like Lucinda. She was so alive.'
'None of her foully treated victims are alive,' he reminded her. 'Must go now.'
'I found something last night in a jacket pocket,' Marler reported. 'Sorry, but everything was a bit of a rush. Before we dumped Charmian's body down that drain at Stonehenge I'd searched him quickly, found a wallet and tucked it away.'
'Anything interesting?' asked Tweed.
'An expertly produced fake passport in an English name, plenty of British money.' He paused. 'And a temporary certificate allowing him to fly light aircraft over here.'
'That plane I saw!' Paula exclaimed. 'First following us on our visit with Michael navigating us to Abbey Grange. Then later as we drove up the A303, had to stop because of the Gantia truck stolen and blocking the way. So the bullet through our window which just missed us . . .'
'Obviously fired by Charmian,' Marler drawled. 'Not his finest performance, fortunately.'
'Too close for comfort.' Tweed remarked.
Newman was waving the day's copy of the Daily Nation he had been reading.
'I don't think any of you heard the latest news. Last night four American B52 bombers flew over Angora and wiped out their long-range rocket installation in the desert.'
'Better late than never,' Tweed observed caustically. 'Three weeks since we destroyed that freighter and its deadly cargo. If it had survived it would have arrived at a port in Angora, the missiles would have been rushed to that installation and launched.'
'One favour I have to repay,' Marler said. 'What's Loriot's private number?'
From memory Tweed scribbled the number of the French counterespionage chief. He wondered what Marler was up to as he passed him the sheet of paper.
'Is that Loriot?' Marler asked after making the call.
'Oui. And that is Marler. I recognize the distinctive voice.'
Loriot prided himself on his command of English.
'Just c
alling,' Marler said, 'to tell you not to worry any more about Charmian. He's been dealt with over here. Cheers!'
In his Paris office Loriot chuckled and turned to his assistant, Marianne.
'Spread the word. Charmian no longer exists. You know what Marler said? "He has been dealt with." I do love British understatement.'
No Mercy Page 30
