by Alan Cooke
Ferdy answered the door to see a white faced Carol standing in front of him. ‘Come in Carol, my God you look as though you have seen a ghost. I’ll tell Sonia you’re here.’ He turned to call his wife, but Carol held his arm.
‘It’s you I want to see,’ she mumbled before bursting into tears.
What on earth could be wrong, Carol was such a sensible girl. ‘Don’t tell me she’s pregnant,’ he thought as he led her into the kitchen. ‘Come on, let’s have a drink and you can tell me all about it.’ She finally stopped shaking and told Ferdy and Sonia who had now joined them, the whole story as she knew it.
‘I’ve never seen him before in my life, I thought you brought him as a guest.’ He was now very concerned for her safety. ‘Two things we must do straight away, first inform the Police and then change the lock on your door. You think he might be away until tomorrow? Well that will give me a chance to get a locksmith for you.’ He hated seeing her in this state and hated still more the man who had treated her in such an appalling way. ‘Wait a minute, the photographs. I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet. Hang on, I’ll get the camera.’
‘I can’t believe it, both of you are in three of these pictures and he has turned his back on the camera each time. He’s the only person not facing it, if you ask me it was deliberate. There you see.’ He passed the camera to let Sonia and Carol see for themselves. ‘Not one other person has turned away, and there,’ he pointed, ‘his body is facing forwards and he has deliberately turned away. He obviously didn’t want to go on record. That’s very suspicious behaviour. There’s nothing to show the Police to identity him.’
The feeling of despair hadn’t left Carol, but she was pleased she had been able to share her worries with good friends who were a great comfort to her. The plan of action was reassuring even if she hated imposing on their time.
Carol and Sonia went together to report the problem to the Police and were advised that C.I.D. detectives would visit the flat the following morning and take fingerprints. In the meantime a mobile patrol car would monitor the flat each time it passed.
The flat was just as Carol had left it, there was no sign of Hugo having returned. She felt ashamed that she had let him share her bedroom and her body after such a short time. Fortunately Sonia was not a person who either passed judgement on people, nor was the type who fed on others’ misfortunes only to embellish the information and create stories to amuse others. She was a true friend, and Carol was pleased that she had accompanied her back to the flat.
‘Have you checked his things Carol?’ The bedroom door was half open and Sonia peered in. ‘He might have left some incriminating evidence, let’s check.’ She walked into the bedroom followed by Carol.
‘I didn’t think about checking or anything, I was just so upset. That’s his suitcase.’ She pointed to the corner of the room. ‘He keeps his things in there. Only his dirty washing is left out.’ She was beginning to absorb some of Sonia’s investigative skills and headed for the suitcase. She tried to open it but it was locked. ‘Bloody typical. He must have something in there he doesn’t want me to see. What do you think, should we break it open?’
‘Perhaps that might not be a good idea, he could always say that things had been planted in there. Far better for the Police to ask him to open it in their presence.’ Sonia was pleased with herself, this would be the way it would be done in a crime novel or a film. ‘Did he take his toilet things with him, you know, razor, toothbrush, those sorts of things?’
‘I, I haven’t checked.’ She was losing control again, becoming helpless in front of her friend. She scurried off to the bathroom determined to overcome her lack of self control. ‘No, he’s taken everything,’ she called through to the bedroom where Sonia was still looking for clues.
She rejoined her friend in the bedroom, the scene of her lovemaking with Hugo. ‘There’s not much else we can do until tomorrow. ‘I can’t thank you both enough, I feel I have burdened you through my own stupidity. Now, you must get back to that husband of yours, you have done too much for me already. Do thank Ferdy for me, You have a real gem there.’ Hugging her friend, she then ushered her towards the door. The first sign of anyone trying the door, I’ll be dialling 999 from the bedroom. I won’t go near the front door. Now off you go, I’ll speak to you tomorrow and let you know which prison he is in.’
Once Sonia had left, there were things she had to do. The first was to change the bedding. She would not be able to sleep on the sheets and pillows Hugo had used. Next she cleaned the bathroom thoroughly to expunge any remnant of the dreaded Hugo. She would leave the rest of the house just in case finger prints were needed. The Police could hardly prosecute someone who might have given a false name, had left no photograph to compare with their rogues gallery. Finger prints might be the only clue.
By 10.30 p.m. she was both physically and mentally exhausted and had settled down on the sofa with a hot drink when she heard the front door open. She froze, terror stricken. What should she do, scream, throw things at him? She calmed herself ready for the confrontation.
Hugo strolled into the sitting room and threw his coat on to a chair. ‘Hi darling, I was going to ring you to let you know that my business finished earlier than expected. Very successful too.’ He bent over, kissed her forehead and sat down beside her. ‘How’s your day been?’
‘Stay calm Carol, stay calm,’ she told herself. ‘Make a plan, make a plan, and don’t rush. Keep calm.’ Slowly a plan did move into place. She gripped her hands together for reassurance and turned towards Hugo. ‘No luck on the job front I’m afraid, but I have to keep trying. You look very tired Hugo. Your day must have been more tiring than mine, would you like me to run you a nice hot bath? It will relax you before bed.’ She added a sexy tone to her voice to avoid giving him any indication that he had been found out. Carol willed him to say, ‘Yes please Carol.’
He stretched his arms out in front of him. ‘That would be marvellous, and a whisky would be a treat too if you wouldn’t mind.’ He had spent a very tiring day making love to a titled lady with more money than sense. She had been a bit too demanding of his body, but the money she had promised to fund a nonexistent business had more than made up for that. It would take a week she had said. He could wait for that sort of money, he had patience in abundance.
He undressed in the bedroom while Carol finished running the bath water. She left the whisky on the side of the bath. Once he was in the bath she went straight to his jacket and took out his wallet. She could not believe the amount of money in it. Mostly £20 notes. Another thing which shocked her was the number of credit cards, as she examined them she noticed they all had different names on them. One she noted was for T.C. Jackson. No H. Biggs-Connaughton or even just Connaughton. There was no other evidence relating to ‘Hugo’. She was getting some money back, he was not getting away with it. Determination set in. She replaced the wallet minus the money and headed for the sitting room where she hid the notes under a cushion. Now for the next part of her plan. She strolled into the bathroom where he was laying back, sipping his whisky.
‘There was a strange visitor today, I hope he wasn’t thinking of breaking in. He was obviously pretending to look for someone. He gave a name I’ve never heard of, hang on I’ve written it down somewhere.’ She left the bathroom and went to the telephone table where she scribbled the name T.C. Jackson on the pad. Back in the bathroom she said, ‘Yes, here it is T.C. Jackson. There’s no one called Jackson in the flats that I know of. Do you think I should let the Police know?’
As soon as she had mentioned T.C. Jackson, he had reacted by sitting up immediately with a shocked look on his face. Carol pretended not to notice, and changing the subject asked him if he would like anything to eat. He must not see that she had found him out and now was terrified of him.
‘Not at the moment thanks Carol, I’ve still got a few things to do.’ He was out of the bath and dressed in record time. Soon he was in the bedroom collecting his mobile phone. He jo
ined Carol and looking very concerned said, ‘Damn, I’ve got a text message to ring someone urgently, I should have checked it earlier. He returned to the bedroom, tapping numbers into the phone as he went. He spoke loudly so Carol could hear. ‘Do you mean I’ll have to travel tonight?’ There was a pause as he awaited a response. ‘For the whole week, well if it’s really necessary. With luck I might just make the midnight sleeper. See you in Edinburgh at nine in the morning. Bye.’ He turned to Carol, ‘Sorry love, I’ve got to dash, be away for a week or so. My fault for not checking messages. I’ll ring for a taxi to get me to the station, do you have a number handy?’
She didn’t offer to drive him to the station, and he didn’t ask. His concern was obviously to get away as soon as he could. Carol had the Yellow Pages open instantly and gave him the number of a well known company which he dialled using the house phone. ‘The driver will give three rings when he gets here, so I’ll just go down then. I must pack now and make sure I have enough to keep me going for the week.’ He disappeared into the bedroom, checked the bathroom and was soon standing in front of Carol with all he possessed packed in the suitcase and holdall.
Her legs were shaking, ‘Go for God’s sake, go,’ she said to herself, she couldn’t keep up this acting for much longer. He would suspect something and then who knows what might happen. The phone rang. One, two, three rings and stopped.
‘That’s it, must dash.’ He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as he headed for the door. ‘I’ll give you a call from Edinburgh.’ And then he was gone.
She knew the calls concerning Edinburgh were a figment of his imagination, and he thought he had fooled her completely.
Watching from her window she saw the driver take Hugo’s case before driving off in the opposite direction from the station.
The relief she felt as she collapsed on to the sofa was overwhelming. Had it really happened? It was as though someone had written the script and she had acted it out. She must let Sonia know, she wasn’t sure Hugo wouldn’t come back when he discovered the money was missing from his wallet. Her call was answered immediately
‘Stay where you are, I’ll pick you up in ten minutes. You are staying here tonight. Don’t even think of refusing.’ With that said she replaced the handset.
Carol hurriedly packed an overnight bag and nervously waited for Sonia. It was a relief when she arrived and ten minutes later was safely at her friend’s house.
The taxi driver was delighted to have this fare on such a quiet night. Ten miles, twenty quid and the possibility of a return fare.
On arriving at the hotel, the driver was out of the cab as soon as it stopped. Taking Hugo’s case and holdall he went straight to the reception desk.
Glancing around the foyer, Hugo saw the board. ‘Four Seasons Hotel Welcomes New Designer Options Ltd.’ The receptionist appeared at the desk smiling a five star welcome. ‘I received an urgent call from my M.D. to be here for the meeting tomorrow.’ He pointed his finger towards the Welcome board. ‘Sorry I’m a late arrival, hope it doesn’t create problems.’ This was Hugo at his most charming. ‘Just let me pay this young man for his kindness.’ He turned to the taxi driver who was at least sixty. Taking out his wallet he was horrified to see the space where his money should be. ‘I’m so sorry, in my haste to get here, I’ve come without picking up any money.’ The driver shuffled uncomfortably. Hugo’s brain was in overdrive and he quickly regained his composure. Speaking to the receptionist, he asked her if she would kindly get the Duty Manager for him.
The young Manager was equally as courteous as his receptionist and having heard Hugo’s story, he immediately paid the taxi driver adding a tip at Hugo’s suggestion. ‘No problem at all Sir. Felicity will put it on to your room number. Have a pleasant stay.’ Smiling, he turned and left the reception area.
The driver was relieved, one minute he was expecting his fare then he was faced with an empty wallet. He was again a happy man. Smiling he turned to Hugo. ‘Thank you and goodnight Sir.’ His luck was in tonight, he might even get a fare on the way back. To himself he said, ‘Now that was a real gentleman.’
Hugo received his room number and card to open the door while a porter took his case and holdall to his room. Sitting on the bed he tried to retrace his movements for the day. ‘Surely Lady B wasn’t in the confidence trickery business,’ he asked himself. He would have sniffed that out, or was he just pushing his luck.
He then thought about his return to Carol’s flat. ‘No she wouldn’t have had a chance, and she would have to be a bloody good actress to behave as she had done. No, it wasn’t Carol.’ Lady B was in the frame. He was a bad loser even if it wasn’t his money.
It had been a bad day, never before had he been faced with two disasters one after the other. He would catch up with Lady B when she was least expecting it and then she would find out who was the loser, and it wasn’t going to be Hugo Biggs-Connaughton. He had lost his free accommodation with Carol, great sex and entrée to her bank account. Then there was the mysterious caller. In all probability a private investigator acting on behalf of one of his earlier victims, there had been so many. He could not relate back to the last time he had used the name T.C. Jackson or the victim at the time. He realised he had come to the end of his time with Carol, there was no going back unless he had a strong desire to change his address to H.M. Prison, Strangeways.
The next morning he thought he had better make a discreet exit from the hotel and leave New Designer Options to sort out the problems, but first he would enjoy a good breakfast. As always he slept well even though the day had ended badly. The following morning he made his plan over breakfast. When the Reception desk was busy with departing guests paying their bills, that would be the time to go, first he would find the next hotel which would have the pleasure of his company. The pay phone booth in the foyer had the Yellow Pages, this he picked up and headed for his room. As he waited for the lift, his attention was drawn to an extremely elegant lady booking in at the reception desk. ‘Interesting,’ he murmured and waited until she moved towards the lift before joining her. By the time the lift reached the eighth floor, he had arranged to have lunch with her. Plans for a quick exit could wait, there was money to be made.
CHAPTER FOUR
Looking at his discharge book in disbelief, he was startled as Captain Rose barked, ‘Get him out of the barracks Sar’nt Major.’
There it was in bold letters, Unfit for Military Service. He had been tested for drugs after collapsing in the street, the results were positive. He might have got away with it when he denied all knowledge and said that drugs must have been put into his drink by someone else, unfortunately the Military Police had searched his room. How the ecstasy tablets got there was a mystery to him but they had found a box containing twenty. It was his box used for spare change, just another way to save as he had been doing since joining the Army. He had protested his innocence, but the only fingerprints on the box were his. Military Law was quite clear, and the only verdict was that which had been reached. His time in Afghanistan counted for nothing.
In his teens Steven Henderson had been a tearaway, although never charged by the Police they had cautioned him on a number of occasions. Frequently absent from school and twice excluded for bad behaviour did little to prepare him for the world of work. Leaving school at the age of sixteen, he had not gained one certificate. Full time employment was not on his agenda, but there were casual jobs where no questions were asked. The twilight world in which he existed had no time for Tax or National Insurance. It was cash in hand for some honest, but mainly dishonest effort. All he was interested in was beer money.
The problems Steve’s mother had with him, her only child, had played their part in the pain which showed on her face. Although not yet forty, she looked ten years older. He was verbally abusive towards her, but never physically violent. As far as he was concerned, this was the behaviour of his friends and acquaintances. It was normal. When he wanted to go out but had no money, he would demand it
from his mother. Usually she would give him some of her meagre funds if she had any, just to get him out of the house. She had visited the school on a number of occasions with the hope that the teachers would help, but they had given up on him. When he and his friends finally left, there had been celebrations in the staff room. The problems they caused had disrupted lessons, affecting not only the teachers but also the few pupils eager to move on to higher education. He had the ability to do more, she was sure of that. In the early years, even without his father’s presence, he had been bright and inquisitive. She knew he could have benefited from an education even at that school. The Headmaster had done his best, telling her that her son was an intelligent boy who could easily have gone on to further education if he had applied himself with that aim in mind. Steven was however well on the way to self destruction.
His life began to change when his closest friend Darren died from a drug overdose. They had promised each other that they would never touch drugs as they continually saw acquaintances become addicts and the thought of ending up like them had no appeal. It was a shocked Steven who stood on his friend’s doorstep being told by Darren’s parents that he had been found dead on wasteland behind the school. He remembered saying something to Darren’s mother and her thanking him for his words. She had put her arms around him before he left but was understandably grief stricken and couldn’t say anything else. Trying to tell her that he had no idea Darren was using drugs would not help. Her son’s death was as much as she could cope with at that moment. When he arrived home he sat on the sofa thinking about his friend and the promise they had made to each other, and couldn’t believe how stupid Darren had been. The revelation hurt him more than anything had ever done before, his friend since starting school was gone forever. All that mattered when he heard the news was to get home, close the door behind him and hope the world outside would disappear. Not moving, he thought about the times he and Darren had been in trouble, how they had shared secrets and anything else they had. He had always been a true friend even though their escapades had left some people less than happy.
