False Impression

by Veronica Heley

  He was putting himself back together again, ignoring his moment of weakness. ‘Well, as I said, it’s not my case. Tell Leon to report whatever it is he’s worried about himself.’

  ‘I heard you.’

  She saw him out. The agency rooms were deserted, except for Carrie shutting down the system and getting ready to leave. Carrie was fidgeting, darting looks at Bea. Wanting something. Bea was too tired to find out what it might be. That talk with the inspector had taken it out of her. All she wanted was a quiet sit-down while supper was being cooked – preferably by someone else. They were going out, weren’t they? And Anna was expected, too. Bother. She could do with an early night.

  But, Carrie was still fidgeting.

  Bea made an effort. ‘You wanted me for something, earlier?’

  ‘Dilys came back with Keith. She’s been out with him all afternoon.’ An even tone, concealing irritation. ‘Dilys says she wants to replace a button on his shirt and that she’s sure you won’t mind her raiding your sewing basket, so she’s taken him upstairs.’

  Bea nodded, but didn’t comment.

  ‘This box arrived for you.’ Carrie indicated a hefty cardboard box on her desk. ‘I thought it could wait till tomorrow, but the man who brought it said you’d ordered it for delivery today.’

  ‘I haven’t ordered anything. I suppose we’d better see what it is.’

  Carrie produced a pair of sharp scissors, and together they prised up the lid and tackled the bubble wrap inside.

  ‘Eeeek!’ Carrie stumbled back against her desk.

  Bea’s mouth dried.

  Her hands shook as she pulled apart the last layer of packaging.

  Soft black fur.

  Winston? Their cat?

  He didn’t often come down into the agency rooms but, if someone left a window open, especially in the summer, he did venture in to be stroked, given titbits and made much of.

  The cat in the box was very, very dead.

  Bea felt for a chair and slumped into it.

  Carrie pulled herself upright. She managed, ‘A glass of water?’ And went off to get it.

  Bea put out a hand, with care, to touch the soft fur. The cat was curled around itself. Winston usually lay stretched out at full length. He was a very big cat.

  Perhaps he’d died somewhere on the street, met with an accident, and someone who knew where he lived had thought fit to return him to Bea? To be opened immediately.

  She felt numb. Shock.

  She stroked him. His fur was cold and … not quite right. Too short. And, he seemed a lot smaller in death.

  She tried to lift him out, thinking in a fuzzy sort of way that she must bury him in the garden … and let him fall back into the box.

  Carrie brought a glass of water and handed it to Bea. ‘Drink up.’

  Bea was shaking. She took the glass of water and drank it off. Cold, cold. That was good.

  At the second attempt, Bea lifted the cat out of the packaging. She realized with another shock that this cat was too light, far too light for Winston.

  The cat mewed. Bea fumbled and dropped it back into the box.

  Carrie stifled a scream and backed away.

  Bea closed her eyes. Her heartbeat had gone into overdrive.

  She picked the cat up again. It was a pretty little black puss. A toy cat. With a mechanical ‘mew’ when you touched its tummy.

  A joke, Mrs Abbot. Someone is playing a practical joke on you.

  She firmed her voice. ‘It’s a toy, Carrie. It’s not Winston.’

  Stop shaking, Mrs Abbot. Take it in your stride. Yes, you know and I know that this has been sent to you as a warning, to let you know that at any time they could kill your real, live cat.

  She put the toy cat up on the shelf. ‘The girls will enjoy stroking him and making him mew, just like a real cat.’

  Stop shaking, I tell you!

  She said aloud, ‘It gave us quite a shock, didn’t it? Are you all right now, Carrie? Thank you for the water. I was quite taken in for a moment or two.’ She pushed the packaging back into the box and set it aside. If she could get the police to pay attention to her problems, she’d give them the box to look at.

  Carrie had her hand to her heart. ‘What a fright …!’

  ‘Yes.’ Bea tried to smile. ‘That’s enough shocks for today, I think. Time to pack up. Are you all right to face the rush hour traffic? I must go and feed Winston. He always wants food at this time of day.’

  She was still shaking, though not as badly as before. She couldn’t wait to get rid of Carrie so that she could look for Winston.

  Carrie said, ‘Well, if you’re sure …?’ And tried to laugh. ‘Luckily, I’m staying in town tonight, meeting an old friend for supper.’

  Bea saw Carrie out, switched on the separate alarm system for the agency. She took the inside stairs, locking the door which led from the basement to the ground floor behind her. She made an effort to remember what she was supposed to be doing that evening. They were going out to eat somewhere, weren’t they?

  It would be an informal occasion. She’d bought a new dress the other day, which she was looking forward to giving an outing. It was midnight blue with a sequinned bodice and lace sleeves. Rather fetching. But, considering all that was going on, a warm jumper and a woollen skirt would be more appropriate for a family-type get-together. She was looking forward to seeing Anna again. Hopefully, she’d have some worthwhile gossip about Briscoe to report.

  Would Briscoe really have bothered to send her a toy cat which could be mistaken for Winston? She couldn’t think straight. Because if he had done that, then he would be capable of trying to kill his brother … or would he?

  She must tell Leon about it, ask his opinion. Now, where was Winston? She couldn’t rest until she’d found him and checked that he was all right. Ought she to keep him indoors in future? No, he wouldn’t agree to that.

  And then there was the inspector. She switched off her cares to pray for him. Dear Lord, forgive our foolish ways. He’s a good man, pulled down by the dreadful things he has to deal with. You have always said that we will not be given tasks too hard for us to manage, but sometimes we need time off to recuperate. If he doesn’t get away soon he might resign from the force, and that would be a great loss … besides which, what would he do with the rest of his life? Please be with him in this, his dark hour.

  She was conscious of people shouting as she mounted the stairs. There were lights on in the hall. Wait a minute, wasn’t Dilys supposed to be …? And whose were all those bundles and suitcases in the hall?

  Orlando’s? Oh, surely not.

  Men’s voices, shouting. In the living room. Lights were on in the kitchen, as well. And someone was cooking. Now who would that be?

  Thump. More shouting.

  Winston came streaking out of the living room, ears flattened. In the hall he paused to give his bib a lick. He spotted Bea and changed direction to wind around her legs. I’m starving, feed me, I love you, I need food. Now!

  She picked him up to give him a cuddle. The great big lummock! The stupid, big, furry thing! How dare he give her such a fright as to pretend to be dead and delivered in a parcel! Well, not him. Obviously. But someone.

  Winston’s tolerance for being cuddled was minimal. He wriggled around, jumped down to the floor, gave her a look of offended dignity, and stalked off into the kitchen … from which came the aforesaid cooking sounds and smells.

  Curry?

  Keith, swaddled in an apron, was wielding a wooden spoon while tasting something which was cooking in one of her largest saucepans. He’d got the radio on, playing softly. Dilys was seated at the table with a sharp knife, paring cooking apples and laying slices in a pattern into a pastry-base in a flan tin.

  What a delightfully domestic scene, and how annoyed it made her feel! And, weren’t they supposed to be all going out for supper tonight? But if the meal was already being cooked … and it would be less stressful, wouldn’t it? She must act pleased that Keith
and Dilys were preparing the meal.

  Dilys saw her first. ‘Apple tart for supper, Mrs Abbot. Keith’s favourite.’

  ‘Sounds delicious,’ she said.

  On seeing her, Keith dropped the spoon and looked sheepish. ‘Mrs Abbot, I hope you don’t mind. Dilys said something about checking your landline up here and looking out for a camera which might be recording your movements. Then young Orlando arrived with his luggage and needed help bringing it in, and Dilys said you could do with something cooking for supper, and invited me but … Sorry. I ought to have checked with you first.’

  Bea didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so concentrated on feeding Winston. ‘Thank you, Keith. That’s most kind of you. Is the phone up here all right?’

  ‘Yes, but there was something in the porch. Dilys said someone seemed to know who was coming and going, and I found a tiny camera trained on the front door. Someone close by must be monitoring it, in another house, or in a parked van, perhaps. Can’t be far off. Probably still in the street. Do you want the camera put out of action, or removed, or what?’

  ‘Put out of action … No, wait a minute. Can you skew it so that it only covers people going down to the agency rooms? Then whoever put it in might think the wind had shifted it and not realize we’d discovered it was there.’

  ‘I’ll do that straight away.’ Keith still looked uncomfortable. As well he might, thought Bea. She’d deal with him later.

  She said, ‘So who’s in the living room?’

  ‘Orlando,’ said Dilys. ‘Keith said he’d help him hump his stuff up the stairs, but we didn’t get far before Orlando had to take a phone call from Charles. His best friend, you know?’

  Keith’s eyebrows rose, wanting to know if Bea shared his opinion of ‘the friend’. He picked up the tale. ‘When Orlando got off the phone to Charles two policemen arrived, wanting Orlando to go down to the station again. I don’t know why. The poor wee lad doesn’t seem to know what time of day it is. I was going to fetch you to sort them out, but Dilys said Orlando must learn to stand on his own two feet.’

  Footsteps in the hall. The front door opened. And shut.

  Silence.

  Had the visitors gone? Bea went into the living room, which was empty of people. The lights had all been left on. Just like men, switching things on and forgetting to turn them off. But, the curtains hadn’t been drawn. She drew the curtains. In a dull sort of way, she wondered whether or not she ought to be doing something to make sure Orlando had called his solicitor, but it was all too much trouble and she’d had enough trouble that day … not to mention that she was really worried about Leon. He’d said he had meetings all that day …

  Keith mumbled himself in, shutting the door behind him. He’d forgotten to take off the apron he’d been wearing. ‘Camera turned away from the front door. You really ought to report its existence to the police.’

  She stared at him, thinking that yes, she ought to do so.

  He said, being helpful, ‘Shall I report it for you? I mean, it’s not urgent to get it off or anything, is it? But they ought to know.’

  She nodded.

  He cleared his throat. ‘If convenient, might I have a word?’

  She nodded again and indicated that he should take a seat, hoping he wouldn’t be long. She sat, too.

  He was uneasy. Fingering that stupid beard of his. She wondered what he’d look like without it. He plucked at his jeans. Realized he was wearing an apron, and tore it off. Flushing. Embarrassed. ‘Mrs Abbot, I don’t want you to think that …’ His eyes were everywhere, but not on her. He shifted in his chair. Started again. ‘Dilys is the sweetest little … I want you to know that I wouldn’t ever take advantage of … I mean, she’s told me all about her bigamous marriage to that man, and how it ended. I can see how it might look, her inviting me for supper, but I can assure you that … What I mean is, you can trust me. I wouldn’t harm a hair on her head.’

  Bea made herself smile. ‘I know you wouldn’t.’ She was so tired …

  He crunched big knuckles together. ‘She was saying she comes from a family with money, and that she’d like to put money into a business for me, but of course I wouldn’t, ever. Honestly. I need that like I need a hole in the head. I’ve been there, you see. Done that. Had my own business, worked it up nicely and sold it. I like putting things right, and helping people with their IT stuff on a one to one basis, but admin …’ He shook his head. ‘Not for me. I’ve already got my own house, not up to her standard, but it’s worth a bit now and … What I mean is, I know I’m too old for her. I’ll look after her for a bit, if you like, just till someone her own age comes along.’

  Bea said, ‘What would a girl like Dilys do with a man her own age?’

  The big hands spread out in a gesture of renunciation. ‘I expect she’ll meet someone suitable one day.’

  Bea might not have continued this conversation if she hadn’t been so tired and worried. ‘What you mean is that you spent last night dreaming of coming home to a bright, cosy house and supper waiting for you, with Dilys flitting about, telling you what she’d heard from a friend, or seen at the shops. You thought about how good it would be to drop into bed beside her, and you even wondered if she’d mind giving you a child. Then this morning you woke up, looked in the mirror, and told yourself you were too old for her, that there was no fool like an old fool.’

  Crimson in the face, he nodded.

  ‘I think,’ said Bea, ‘that you are exactly what she needs. Her own father has never been interested in her, has been throwing her in the way of anyone likely to take her off his hands. Like Orlando.’

  The big hands clenched. ‘Orlando’s all right, I suppose. But to think of him with her … That’s not right.’

  ‘Dilys needs a home where she’ll be cherished and can blossom as a wife and mother. You do know she has a daughter still?’

  ‘The one who’s gone to America?’

  ‘Bernice has made herself a new family and, although Dilys may not yet realize it, the girl may never return to live with her mother. Bernice is no fool, and she’s a good judge of character. She’ll take one look at you and see what I see; a good, kind man, who is offering a loving home to her mother.’

  He blushed again. ‘It’s too soon. I’m sure Dilys hasn’t thought of me that way.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Bea. ‘Consciously or otherwise, she made a beeline for you. Didn’t she invite you to supper?’

  ‘But her family—’

  ‘The only one you have to worry about is her Uncle Leon, who is setting up a trust fund for her. She’ll have an income for life, and you will make sure she’s never again targeted by charlatans out to fleece her.’

  He stood up, awkward, bumbling. ‘I’m sure you’re wrong. She wouldn’t want someone like me, except perhaps in emergencies.’

  Someone rat-tat-tatted on the door. A key turned in the lock.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Bea. She flew into the hall and Leon’s arms. And burst into tears.

  TEN

  ‘Hey, hey! What’s all this?’ Leon held her tightly. ‘Tears?’

  ‘Stupid me,’ said Bea, trying to disentangle herself and reach for a hankie at the same time. ‘Things have been happening, and I was so worried about you, and the inspector’s burned out, and the police have taken Orlando in again for questioning, and yes, that’s all his stuff that he’s brought in and … you are all right? Still got all your fingers and toes?’

  ‘I’ve been skinny dipping in the piranha pool, but emerged with all the essential bits in working order. So, what’s going on?’

  ‘Supper,’ said Bea, withdrawing from his arms. ‘Here. Dilys and Keith have been cooking for us. And Anna’s coming over later. Is that all right with you?’

  Dilys sang out from the kitchen doorway, ‘Come and get it!’ She was flushed and laughing. ‘I really think I’ve mastered this oven at last. My flan looks wonderful!’

  Leon registered Dilys’s newly acquired air of happiness and rubbed h
is chin, looking sideways at Bea.

  Keith called out from the kitchen, ‘I’ve laid the table in here. Is that all right?’

  ‘What?’ said Leon, checking with Bea. ‘Who?’

  ‘Keith, our Mr Fixit computer man,’ Bea said, touching Leon’s cheek to reassure herself that he really was there and apparently in perfect health. Her fears now seemed childish. What on earth had she thought might have happened to him? She said, ‘I’ll explain later. Do you think we ought to do something about Orlando?’

  Leon shook his head. ‘Surely he’ll have had the sense to contact his solicitor? Let’s eat first. If he’s not back by the time we’ve finished I’ll phone around, see where they’re holding him.’

  They ate in the kitchen. Bea was conscious that Leon was putting Keith under the microscope, as if interviewing him for a job, which in a sense he was. Keith did seem to understand what was going on and, though his colour rose a little, he was secure enough in himself to cooperate. The curry was good, and the apple flan was delicious.

  When they got to the coffee stage, Bea spotted Winston trying to climb on Leon’s knee. ‘Don’t give Winston anything. He’s had his supper already. Which reminds me that someone sent me a toy cat today, and for one awful moment I thought it was him.’

  The phone rang, and Bea reached for it.

  ‘Mrs Abbot, sorry to trouble you. A small problem.’ Anna, from the training college. She was speaking in the clipped voice of someone fighting off a panic attack. ‘My car won’t start.’

  ‘What!’ Bea swivelled to look at Leon, saying, ‘Anna’s car won’t start.’

  Leon reached for the phone, but Bea fended him off. ‘Where are you? You won’t try to walk to the station, will you?’

  ‘I came back into the college to look up a taxi number and …’ A long intake of breath. ‘I can smell gas. And I can’t get out. The front door’s jammed or something.’

  ‘You have keys?’

  ‘Yes, but … you know the security people up at the big house used to check the college buildings after I’d left at night? A routine inspection. They used to put a chain round the handles to the front and back doors and padlock it. That all stopped when Leon took over, and they don’t come round here any more. Or aren’t supposed to. But I think that’s what’s happened now. I’ve rung British Gas, but … I just wanted you to know that … If anything happens …’