by Anne Coates
“So what did you find out?” James noticed her heightened colour.
“Nothing very savoury.” She reached over for the envelope. “I made some more copies while you were asleep. Would you mind holding onto one for me?”
“Look, Hannah, about the police…”
“I’m going to the police. James. I’m going to hand over a photocopy and let them read it for themselves.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“And I’m going to The News with the story.”
“What?” James’s face was a study in disbelief.
“I am a journalist, you know.”
“But not in this league, Hannah.” He could almost feel and taste the antagonism that remark provoked. “Don’t get involved in case it all backfires on you,” he said more gently.
“I am involved, James. And Caroline’s life is at stake.”
James wasn’t impressed. “Isn’t there someone closer to home that you should be concerned about?”
“That was uncalled for! What a low –”
“Ok I’m sorry. Look I’ve got to go. I’ll take this with me.”
He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Life’s a bitch isn’t it? I’ll call you. And for God’s sake be careful, Hannah.”
FORTY-ONE
Hannah was still writing when the bell rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She breathed deeply to calm herself. Fear seemed to be her constant companion these days.
The bell rang again.
She padded silently down the stairs and looked through the spyhole. Tom Jordan.
Hannah opened the door. The inspector looked almost as haggard as James had done.
“Hello.” He summoned up a smile.
Hannah returned his smile and stood aside for him to come in. “Have you got anything to drink?”
Hannah was taken back by his request and his manner. Humour him, she thought.
“There’s some whiskey in the kitchen, top cupboard on your left.”
Tom went straight there, found the bottle and poured a generous measure. Hannah noticed there was only one glass. He walked back into the sitting room. “Where’s Elizabeth?”
Everyone seemed to be concerned for her daughter. “She’s with Nicky…”
“Good.”
For an awful moment, Hannah thought he was about to kill her and was glad the baby wasn’t there. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the sofa. Hannah was dumbstruck. She looked into those blue eyes that held hers and tried to fathom their depths.
“Princess is dead.” His grip tightened on her shoulder. His eyes never for one second left hers. “Her body was discovered this morning on some waste ground behind the station.”
Hannah thought she was going to faint. Her eyelids felt heavy. She tried to say something, but no words came out. Her body slumped against Tom’s and he held her even more closely for a moment.
“Here, drink some of this.” The whiskey had been for her.
Hannah drank. The spirit burned her throat and she coughed. The moment of faintness had passed. She looked at Tom. He looked so trustworthy, so –
“I… I …” she couldn’t get the words out.
Tom came to her rescue. “I know she was staying here,” he said quietly holding a finger to her lips as she attempted to say something. “Don’t say anything now. We can talk later. In fact, I’ll have to interview you – later.”
His arm had not left her shoulder. She was drawing strength from him. He was being so kind, so understanding when he had every right to be furious with her if he was on the level. If he had known Caroline was with her, then …?
“I wanted to tell you myself. I didn’t want you to hear it on the news or through your newspaper friends.”
Princess is dead. Princess is dead. It’s over. They’ve won.
Slowly, Hannah pulled away from him and walked unsteadily out of the room. She returned with a bulky envelope.
“I was going to give this to you today, anyway.” She handed him the package.
He looked at it and then Hannah.
“It’s a photocopy of Caroline’s – Princess’s – notebooks. She wrote everything down. You’ll find what you need in there. Names…”
The sob rose in her throat and tears gushed down her distraught face. “And… and … just in case there’s any kind of cover-up, The News also has a copy.” They didn’t – yet. It was just a piece of insurance for Hannah.
Tom was standing before her. She found herself within the powerful circle of his arms. “Oh Hannah, Hannah,” he said, then kissed her hair gently. Tears were soaking his shirt but he didn’t move away. Hannah clung to him. Gradually the sobs ceased wracking her body and she pulled away from him.
“And last night I was attacked.”
Tom nodded. He knew. She felt icy. How the hell did he know that? She hadn’t reported the incident. “And it seems one of your men is…”
“He was arrested last night by Special Branch. He paid someone to put the frighteners on you.”
Hannah’s eyes widened. She couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran though her body. Tom put his arm once more around her shoulder.
“Come on, I’ll take you round to Nicky’s.”
Yes, that was what she needed more than anything. To be with her child.
◊◊◊
Tom locked the door for her as Hannah noticed the police car with a WPC at the wheel. Good. A witness. Then her gaze travelled across the road to where the white transit van with its blackened windows was still parked.
Tom directed Avril to Nicky’s home. He took her to the door. “I’ll have to speak to you officially and I’ll ring you later.” He smiled at her.
Was that the smile of a guilty man?
It was only much later that Hannah wondered how Tom had known about her attack. Had Special Branch been tailing Don Martin or had she herself led them to him? If so, how long had they been monitoring her movements?
FORTY-TWO
Her heels echoed on the tiled floor. Each step in time with her pulse, which pounded in her ears. The corridor was cool, chilly even, but the shiver that ran through her body had nothing to do with temperature.
“Sorry, Hannah,” Tom had said on the phone. “I hate to ask you to do this but officially you were the last person to see Princess alive and her parents haven’t seen her in years. Even the other working women hadn’t seen her new look.”
Hannah had agreed to identify Caroline’s body and a squad car had collected her and taken her to the morgue.
Avril Spenser had smiled sympathetically. Dead bodies. She remembered her own reaction to seeing Lisa. Her stomach had heaved, and to her utmost mortification, she’d vomited in front of her colleagues. Not to mention DI Jordan.
They reached the glass panelling that covered the top half of the left hand wall. Avril touched Hannah’s arm. Silence. No sounds from the world outside intruded. Someone brought the trolley to the window.
“Are you ready?”
Hannah nodded, unable to speak.
The attendant on the other side lifted the cover to reveal the face of a young woman. Hannah hadn’t known what to expect, remembering the way she had appeared when she had collapsed on her doorstep all those weeks ago. She’d hardly recognised her then.
Now the auburn hair had been combed back from her face, which bore no sign of violence. She looked as though she could have been sleeping deeply.
“Yes, that’s her.”
Avril nodded to the attendant and steered Hannah back down the corridor. Again, the echo of her heels. And round and round in her head swam the words: “I failed her.” She was unaware of her tears until Avril passed her a bunch of tissues.
They walked out into the bright sunshine. Back into the living world where Caroline would never again walk. Hannah stumbled. Drained of energy, her legs almost gave way.
“Sit here for a moment.” Avril guided her to a low wall and sat alongside her.
Suddenly she re
alised that this was tough for the WPC as well.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.” Avril blew her nose noisily. “Think you can make it to the car now?”
Hannah stood up. “Yes, thank you.”
During the journey back, both women kept their own counsel. Hannah had put on her sunglasses and Avril had the impression she’d closed her eyes but obviously wasn’t dozing. The officer drove on in silence. At one point, her car radio spat into life and she switch it off. Whatever was happening could wait. Neither of them needed reminding of the darker side of life and death.
The car came to a halt just a little up from Hannah’s house. “Would you like me to come in with you?”
“Would you mind?” Hannah felt a complete wimp.
“Not at all. I need the loo anyway.” Avril locked the car after them and followed Hannah to her door. She noticed that the locks had been replaced. Hannah dropped the keys as she went from the mortice to the Yale. Avril retrieved them and opened the door. The two women looked at each other before going in but for very different reasons.
◊◊◊
Hannah held on to Elizabeth long after she had fallen asleep. Suddenly her leg jerked and she was wide-awake. It was after midnight. Hannah’s exhaustion had overcome her. She walked upstairs and placed the baby in the cot.
As she went to draw the curtains, she noticed that the rear doors of the transit van were open and someone was getting in. She stood where she was, unable to look or move away. The doors shut then opened and the same – or another? – shadowy figure got out and walked swiftly up the road.
Hannah stood there her arms folded in front of her chest. Each hand clutching the other upper arm. She should have told Tom about the van. But perhaps he knew all about that too. Hannah closed the curtains. Tom hadn’t phoned her and she was desperate to know what he thought of Caroline’s accusations. His silence didn’t bode well.
She went to the bathroom and ran a deep bath, throwing in the first thing she laid her hands on. The fragrance was lily of the valley. Lily of the valley, she loved that little flower. The bubbles covered her, caressed her body… and her mind drifted back to another scene in her bathroom. Herself washing Princess. Washing away the blood and make-up. Patting her bruised and swollen body dry. Applying ointments and creams. Easing her into an old dressing-gown.
Hannah felt hot tears course down her scalding cheeks, making little rivulets that ended their journey in the now-cool bath water. Better get out. She dried herself quickly and slipped into bed, convinced she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Her eyes closed almost immediately and she didn’t wake again until five in the morning.
Knowing she needed to be active, to be doing something, Hannah got up and went to her study. The screen was still green. She hadn’t turned off the computer when Tom arrived. Hannah read what she had written and then in silent agony changed the first two paragraphs. Princess was no longer missing. She was dead.
The printer was still grinding on when Elizabeth woke.
◊◊◊
“Rory? Hannah Weybridge here.”
“Hi Hannah, how’re doing?” He didn’t wait for an answer. His tone changed slightly. “I don’t know if you’ve heard but Princess has turned up – dead.”
“Yes I know. It’s about that I –” Hannah’s throat constricted and she made herself swallow hard.
“You all right, Hannah?” Rory couldn’t cope with tears. He was making frantic signs to the secretary to come over but she had a more engrossing engagement with her nail file.
Hannah coughed, took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice pitched lower. It sounded more businesslike.
“I have an exclusive on her death. I’d like to come in and discuss it with you.”
Maybe Rory hadn’t heard her correctly. “Do you want to fax over the details?”
“No, I don’t.” Assertive, not aggressive she told herself under her breath. “I’d like to come in and see you and the editor.”
“Well we do have a planning meeting today and …” Rory was trying to stall her.
“What I have is an exclusive about the murders of four – sorry five – prostitutes and I can name names. If you’re not in the market for the story, I’ll go elsewhere.”
Rory digested this information. Hannah sounded as if she meant business. Sod the editor’s wrath if she didn’t come up with the goods. You have to take risks sometimes. “We do have a meeting, Hannah, but get in as soon as you can and interrupt us. We’ll be waiting for you.”
◊◊◊
Hannah had chosen her clothes with care. She needed to look the part and if she couldn’t interest The News with the story, she’d have to try the other nationals. Her cream linen suit still just about fitted her and the low-heeled green shoes matched the silk shirt, which had been one of her more successful impulse buys. As a boost to her confidence, she sprayed herself liberally with a sample of Caroline Herrera she’d been sent. The face that looked back at her from the mirror didn’t look too bad considering how she felt. Concealer to cover the shadows under her eyes and a bit of blusher had worked wonders. She didn’t want to confront them looking as though she was about to burst into tears.
The toot from the mini-cab told her it was outside and she collected her handbag and briefcase, took one last look at herself in the hall mirror and put her head round the sitting room door. It was a habit she’d fallen into but, of course, Caroline wasn’t there. She never would be again.
FORTY-THREE
“Christ, this is dynamite,” Rory looked up from Hannah’s typescript and echoed her own first impressions when she read Caroline’s notebooks. She’d brought in two copies of her own account for good measure. The editor was reading the other.
Hannah knew Georgina Henderson by repute but she’d never met her. She was slimmer than she had looked when she appeared on numerous television chat shows, her features sharper. The suit she was wearing was Armani, her shoes, Gucci. Her jewellery looked absolutely the real thing and her ash-bond hair, cut fashionably short, and make-up were immaculate. Hannah felt like the poor relation next to her. Incongruously, Georgina’s nails were bitten to the quick, making her fingers look short and stubby. Hannah looked at her own neatly manicured fingertips and felt marginally better.
“And you say,” said Georgina – everyone in the office called her George but never to her face – “that you have the notebooks?”
“I have a photocopy,” Hannah corrected her.
“And how did you come to have it?”
“Caroline, that is Princess –” Hannah knew this was going to be a sticky point – “gave them to me.”
“I see.” Ms Henderson referred back to the pages in front of her. “And she’s been staying with you?” Hannah was about to make some sort of answer, but Georgina suddenly smiled. “What a brave lady.”
Hannah didn’t know if she was talking about herself or Caroline.
“This is, as Rory so succinctly put it, dynamite, Hannah.” The editor’s fingers drummed lightly on the desktop. There was something in her tone that Hannah found irritating. “And we will have to make our own investigations but –” suspicious, there was something suspect in all this but Hannah was too innocent in the ways of tabloid editors to work out exactly what was bothering her.
Then she dismissed the thought as Georgina buzzed the phone on her desk. “Get me Larry Jefferson up here will you, Mandy?”
She gazed at Hannah, considering. “For really big stories like this we get our lawyer in to draw up a special contract,” she explained with a smile, which looked too practiced. “It won’t take long. Why don’t you take Hannah over the road for a drink, Rory?”
It was their dismissal.
◊◊◊
When Hannah returned to the office, Georgina was waiting with a four-page contract. “Read it at your leisure,” the editor said casually. “Basically, it states that we agree to pay you the sum of £17,000 –” she heard Hannah’s slight intake of
breath and knew she’d gauged her correctly – “for exclusive rights to this story. You can talk to no other papers or media until we have published…”
Hannah wasn’t really listening any more. £17,000! £17,000.
What did strike her as odd was that they gave her a cheque there and then and advised her to pay it in right away. Thinking of her overdraft, Hannah was only too happy to comply.
It was only in the taxi going home after a detour to the bank that the hard truth hit her. £17,000 was poor compensation for Caroline’s death. She wasn’t going to benefit. Blood money. It really was blood money. Hannah felt disgusted that she was actually benefitting financially from Caroline’s death. With just enough time to ask the driver to pull over, she opened the door and vomited into the kerb-side.
◊◊◊
When she got back to the house, having collected Elizabeth, there was a message on the answerphone asking her to ring Tom Jordan as soon as possible.
“I need your statement, Hannah.” He sounded oddly constrained. “I’ll send a squad car over to pick you up.”
It sounded like an offer she couldn’t refuse.
“Ok, but I’ll have to bring Elizabeth with me, I’ve only just got her home.”
“No problem.” At last she could hear a smile in his voice. “See you soon.” He rang off.
◊◊◊
Hannah strapped Elizabeth into her car seat and carried her out to the waiting car. It was the same woman officer as before. Hannah noticed one or two curtains twitching and guessed she’d be invited into a few neighbours’ homes for coffee or a drink over the next couple of days. She smiled at Avril.
“I’ll sit in the back with the baby if you don’t mind?”
“Go ahead.” Avril returned the smile and wondered if the rumours that were circulating the office about their esteemed boss and the lady journalist were true. He certainly seemed concerned about her. Well, good for him, she thought as she eased the car into gear and glanced at the mother and child in the rear view mirror.
◊◊◊
“Right, if you would just initial each sheet and then sign the final page, that will be it.”
