Seeing Red

by Roger Ormerod

  ‘Between man and wife? Me?’

  ‘You would, you damn fool.’

  I raised my scarred face to her. ‘But I’m not fit to drive.’

  ‘Damn you!’ she shouted.

  The following morning the locksmith came to mend the lock on the buckled garage door. Somebody had leaned the door, upside down, against the house wall next to the caravan. The outside was showing, so that he could easily have got at the lock, but as I pointed out, it would be locking the garage door after the garage had gone.

  When he drove away, I noticed the pick-up outside in the lane again.

  That seemed to decide Angie. She mooned around the house for a while, then she came to me, where I was leaning over what was left of the paddock rail and smoking, and said: ‘I’ve made up my mind, Harry. We’re getting nowhere, and...’ She looked beyond me over her beloved valley. ‘...and I’m scared. I’ve just phoned Phil to come and get me. It’s the only thing.’

  ‘Not the only one.’

  ‘Why don’t you shout at me!’ she shouted at me. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking?’

  ‘It’s not just you anymore, Angie. Don’t be so selfish. I’m not going to let you go back to him.’

  ‘You’re not...’ A glance. ‘Be serious, Harry, please.’

  ‘When’s he coming?’

  ‘Tomorrow evening. Late.’

  ‘But you don’t really want to go?’

  Her eyes were on the view, her voice soft. ‘But it’s not the same anymore, Harry. The house — it’s changed. Cold and empty. I don’t seem to be able...oh, I can’t explain.’

  She didn’t need to. Phil had destroyed more than her father-image. I stared at my raw hands, flexed them, and when I winced she understood my intention.

  ‘I want you gone before he arrives, Harry.’

  And if he used the same delicate diplomacy as last time, I could see it all disintegrating into violence. Oh, she was quiet enough now, but one touch on the wrong nerve...I hadn’t realised how much I hated Phil.

  ‘I think I’ll hang around.’

  ‘Oh...I could strangle you!’

  ‘A watching brief, call it.’

  With one furious glare at me, she whirled away and into the house.

  But she was back in half an hour. I was still in the same spot. She seemed quietly confident.

  ‘We shan’t need you, Harry. I’ve managed to contact Paul. He’s staying at Oxford, and he’s promised to come along.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘And Evan...he’ll drive over from Aberystwyth. Just for the evening.’

  I said nothing.

  ‘Even Neville. He said he’d find time…’

  ‘A kind of going-away party.’

  ‘Just to be here! So that you can leave!’ She thumped the rail.

  ‘But now I shan’t need to, shall I? With all that manly protection, I’ll be safe.’

  She went off into the house. That door wasn’t going to stand much more slamming.

  It should all have worked fine, except for that fact that Phil gave himself time off and arrived early in the evening, casual in jeans and a T-shirt to indicate confidence, sporting a Jaguar XJ6 to show how much he cared. Clancy and Boggis followed him into the yard with the breakdown pick-up, rather spoiling the effect. They were uneasy, but Phil spotted me, sitting quietly on the caravan steps, and told them to stay close. I wandered after them into the house.

  There was no sign of any of Angie’s reinforcements.

  She’d been upstairs to do some packing, and had changed into a neat two-piece in olive green — flared, tight-waisted skirt and a little jacket, with beneath it a white shirt with ruffles down the front. Like a honeymoon going-away outfit. I’d been expected to comment, but I hadn’t been able to say anything.

  We went into the long sitting room at the back. The sun was setting, and Angie moved round putting on lights. Phil was impatient. He’d thought it was just going to be a quick in-and-out.

  Angie nodded towards Phil’s two helpers. ‘I’ve decided to come home,’ she told him. ‘You didn’t need those two.’

  ‘With Harry here?’ He was nervous. Clancy waved a bandaged hand at me cheerfully. ‘I bet he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut.’

  ‘There was just one thing,’ I admitted.

  ‘You see!’

  And Angie shook her head at me.

  ‘Somebody’s been sending threatening letters,’ I told him. ‘We’ve kept ’em all. It could be your writing, or printing rather, I reckon...’

  ‘That proves you’re insane!’

  ‘You might have thought it was worth driving to Whitchurch every day,’ I went on stubbornly, realising it sounded thin, ‘to make it look reasonably local. And then, when that didn’t work, tried something a bit more scary — a fire.’

  He laughed. ‘I always knew you were crazy.’ Then I knew I was on a wrong tack. He’d relaxed. There’d been something he was nervous about, but that wasn’t it. He was standing with his palms raised, as though testing for rain, and smiling round at my stupidity.

  ‘Did y’ever hear the like?’ he asked. ‘You packed, Angie?’

  ‘All I need.’ But her eyes were on me, and she was tense. ‘Let it drop, Harry,’ she pleaded.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Phil, pleased at what he took for her support. ‘Relax, Harry. You and your threatening letters and your fires! You’re out of it now. It’s over. Angie’s coming home.’

  ‘And that’s it, I suppose?’ I demanded. ‘Angie’s coming home, and it’s voluntary.’

  ‘You did well, Harry,’ he conceded.

  ‘I made a botch of it,’ I snapped. ‘I started off all wrong, with the idea it was all for Angie, because she was upset about her father’s death. But it wasn’t for Angie at all — every bit of it was for you.’

  Angie was becoming restless. Clancy and Boggis were at my shoulders, looking stern. Phil could afford to take it all casually.

  ‘Of course it was for me. I wanted her home.’

  ‘But bringing with her the proceeds of the sale of the house — and still friendly enough with you...’

  Angie turned away. ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ she said in disgust.

  It was at that moment I knew I’d lost. Angie had surrendered completely to his pressure, and I could offer her nothing.

  ‘All the same,’ I said weakly, more quietly, morosely.

  He slapped me on the shoulder, and spoilt it all. ‘That’s the ticket, Harry. Chin up. We’ve always been friends.’

  ‘Friends?’ I said. ‘My god, d’you think I didn’t see through it all, getting me to come here, well away from the investigation into bribery, and have your own say with no contradictions?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  And Angie moaned impatiently.

  ‘You don’t have to be in such a hurry,’ I said angrily, and she tossed her head. I returned to Phil.

  ‘You sent a Renault 5 round to my place. Was that friendly? It was intended as a bribe, but you knew I’d have to bring it back.’

  He shrugged, looking round at Angie, who was twisting a lock of hair in her fingers, worried, distracted, not liking what she was hearing.

  ‘So you’d bring it back. Where’s the bribe, Harry?’

  ‘I didn’t manage to get it back, did I?’

  ‘Why don’t you leave it alone,’ said Angie. ‘It does no good. I want to go home.’ She lifted a hand wearily, then turned away.

  But I’d seen something in his eyes. I persisted. ‘That Renault was a bribe, and you can’t get round it. I can’t prove I’d have run it back.’

  ‘It was a deal. I offered you a bargain.’

  ‘You! A bargain. It’d kill you, losing a quid. Why, you mean bugger, you couldn’t even run a car up here for Angie to use. The blasted breakdown pick-up can do the run a dozen times when you need it for a threat, but never towing something for Angie.’

  Phil was white. I’d hit a nerve. God, how I wanted to hit something!
But Angie wasn’t pleased. The tip of her tongue appeared and ran along her lips. Her eyes were bleak, and they were on me. Was this all I could do for her, this pitiful attempt at denigration?

  ‘We use the breakdown pick-up for breakdowns.’ It was an empty excuse, and Phil knew it.

  Clancy stirred at my elbow. We’d ventured into his territory. ‘Now that ain’t always true, is it Mr Rollason?’ he asked, being completely fair.

  ‘You see.’ I smiled.

  Phil waved a finger at me. ‘Now you just listen...’

  ‘Just ’cause a car’s towed,’ amplified Clancy, in case we hadn’t got it, ‘it don’t mean there’s gotta be something wrong with it.’

  ‘And you shut your face!’ Phil bellowed. I couldn’t understand why his nerve was cracking up. Angie gasped at the outburst, but Clancy, who was probably used to it, was unmoved.

  ‘I took the Renault 5 up to your place,’ Clancy told me proudly. ‘Towed it on the crane. Don’t have to mean there was something wrong with it.’

  These things pounce out of nowhere, catching you unprepared. I whirled on him. ‘You mean you towed the Renault to my place? You’d got it lifted on the crane?’

  Clancy beamed. ‘Under the front.’

  Never for one moment had I suspected this possibility. If the car had been safe to drive, it would have been driven there. I’d assumed Cynthia had simply had an accident; she hadn’t driven for years. That it should have been intended...

  Clancy might not have been bright, but his instincts were good. He clamped a hand on my arm, Boggis attaching himself to the other. It was hurting Clancy more than me.

  ‘By God!’ I shouted at Phil, ‘it was never intended as bribery. You expected me to drive it back.’

  Seeing me restrained, Phil could afford to sneer, looking round for Angie’s support. But she was staring past him, her eyes on me, and in them something...was it appeal? I didn’t have time to work it out, because I was thinking: this news to my superintendent! They’d dig in deep...

  ‘Try proving one word of it,’ said Phil.

  ‘I was getting too close for comfort,’ I claimed, ‘and you knew it was no good offering me bribes. The accident was supposed to be mine!’

  Now I was able to grin at him. They’d pin him down like a butterfly, and admire the intricacy of him. ‘You make me laugh,’ said Phil, but he wouldn’t be laughing for long.

  Angie sat down abruptly on the settee, her hand to her mouth. Her eyes never left me, and every line in my face must have been crying out my triumph. Couldn’t repress it. I was aware that it must seem I’d abandoned her problems. I needed time alone with her.

  And Phil, I think, realised this, and had no intention of allowing it. With Angie, he had to keep himself in the clear. He spoke confidently. ‘And don’t say I had anything to do with the threats. Nor the fire. Angie’s coming home, and it’s what she wants.’

  I stared down at the hands on my arms. I now had myself under control and shrugged myself free easily enough, Clancy sighing with relief.

  ‘There’s more to say.’

  ‘Such as what?’ he demanded. ‘You and your blathering about rigged cars and hidden bribes! There’s nothing — nothing at all left to prove a thing. It’s an obsession...all you can think about.’

  I heard a car draw up outside — it seemed to be in the yard. The reinforcements had arrived, but I couldn’t think why we’d needed them. The castle had been surrendered, judging by the way Angie was standing, smoothing her skirt, looking prepared.

  ‘It’s all he’s ever thought about,’ she said, her voice uneven.

  She’d worked it out. Phil’s previous visit had left her with very little to hold on to, but there’d still been one person devoted to her interests: good old Harry Kyle. And who’d spent the last few minutes telling her it was a lie? Who’d demonstrated that his only reason for being here at all was to sort out his own problems and clear himself of bribery charges? Your good friend, Harry Kyle. That’s who.

  ‘Are you ready, Phil?’ she asked. She was lifeless, withdrawn.

  ‘There’s more to say!’ I appealed frantically. ‘And I thought you really wanted to know.’ It slid off into a whisper.

  And who, I realised she must be thinking, had stalled frantically for the past few days, refusing to leave, just in order to bring about this confrontation with Phil? Who but...

  ‘Harry,’ she said, almost unable to use my name. ‘I think you’d better leave.’

  This was said so quietly and with such cool dignity that it cut me worse than her anger. She’d thrust her fingers into the tiny pockets of her jacket, jutting the points like fluttering wings, and suddenly I felt drained and useless.

  Two months before — ask me and I’d have said my ultimate ambition was to trap Phil Rollason and prove he’d rigged me into a corruption charge. Well...I’d done that. I’d done more; I had evidence that he’d killed my wife. But the triumph was tasteless. I’d gained nothing. I saw that I’d lost everything.

  Angie was staring at me with cold rejection. I couldn’t take her in my arms and plead; half a room intervened. Sunlight slanted onto one cheek, blood red, like a slap.

  ‘All right,’ I said, defeated, ‘I’ll go.’ I could just detect her teeth between dry lips. I waited for them to open. One word, just one...but there was no protest at my decision, only contempt.

  ‘I’ll go!’ I shouted.

  I turned and marched blindly out of the door, with Clancy calling after me: ‘It don’t mean there was anything wrong with it.’

  Only the brakes and the steering perhaps.

  I discovered Neville in the kitchen, calling out was anybody there. He saw my face and stood aside quickly. Paul was just drawing up in the yard, with Rena staring at me through the side window. Oh, they’d all made it easy! No dignified departure for me when there were three cars and a pick-up scattered around. I climbed into the Range Rover, backing it up wildly and causing Paul to reverse and give me clearance, and when I clambered down it was sheer luck that the cup on the caravan was reasonably close to the towing ball. With my hands crying out, I lifted the caravan into position, forgetting to wind up the little wheel at the front, forgetting the lowered braces at each corner of the caravan, and ran back to the seat of the Range Rover.

  I got it into four-wheel drive for extra traction, and with a grinding lurch moved it three yards. Then Evan drove in. I rammed on the brakes, cursing, and tried reverse. It locked on the caravan’s over-run brake, but all the same the Range Rover backed it all, rasping and scraping, with smoke from all four tyres. There was a crash from behind me.

  You can’t see the back end of a caravan, but I knew where it’d got to. I’d bashed into the house. I fought the box into first gear again, and moved it away, stopped with the front wheels in a pile of charred timber, cut the engine, and got out to have a look.

  I’d backed into the garage door. As I watched, it slowly toppled forward and fell flat at my feet with a clang. I was staring at its rear side. The only light out there was from the kitchen window, supplemented by Evan’s dipped headlights and the failing sun.

  The door was by now considerably buckled, its up-and-over lever arms standing up but bent. The heat had had a strange effect on the paintwork. The metallic paint I had used for my exercise in graffito now stood out dark and strong against the non-metallic green that Gledwyn had sprayed on the inside door surface.

  HARRY KYLE

  ‘You signed it,’ said Sergeant Timmis at my elbow.

  ‘Where’ve you come from?’

  He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I hear things.’

  Then we both stared at the door. The graffito was now graffiti. Underneath my signature, at a point that would have been close to the ground with the door in position, had now appeared:

  LESBIAN COW.

  ‘I’m surprised at you, Mr Kyle.’

  ‘Not me, you idiot. I didn’t do that.’ Then I understood. ‘Oh my God!’

  ‘What’s up?’
he asked.

  ‘So that was why we had the fire — to destroy this.’

  Somewhere in the back of my scrambled mind I realised I was staring at the one clue that linked up all that had happened. A little time, a little thought — I needed time.

  But I wasn’t going to get any. Angie was standing in the open doorway, a dim and

  distraught silhouette.

  ‘Why don’t you go!’ she screamed.

  ‘I think she means it,’ said Timmis.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He took my elbow in the proprietorial manner of policemen, and I shook him off.

  ‘D’you know about the threatening messages we’ve been getting?’ I asked. ‘Do you?’

  ‘How could I? Now calm down, Mr Kyle.’

  ‘Calm down! One a day they’ve been coming, threatening all manner of things...’

  ‘And I wasn’t told?’

  ‘...but all with the object of getting Angie and me away from here. Until the fire. None since then. Heavens above, I thought I’d got everything sorted out, except for those threats. And — don’t you see — it looks like it’s all opened up again.’

  ‘No, I don’t see. You’re not wanted here.’

  ‘The reason for the threats and the fire, that’s what’s there, on that door.’

  ‘All I see is an unpleasant reference to a Lesbian Cow, whatever that might mean — and your signature. Let’s get moving, shall we. Into the Range Rover with you...and away.’

  ‘Will you listen!’

  The group around us — the scattered cars, the people poised as though for flight but caught on curiosity — was silent, listening. There was a pall of embarrassment for my predicament. I appealed to them.

  ‘Doesn’t anybody see? I came here, and later I started using the garage. That’s when the threats started...’

  ‘Nobody’s interested,’ Timmis said. ‘You’re causing a disturbance, and I’m asking you to leave.’

  ‘Now wait!’ I looked round in appeal. Blank faces. Phil walked out into the yard, pushing past Angie, who appeared to be clinging to the door frame, and joined in.