A Beginner’s Guide to Murder

by Rosalind Stopps

  ‘They’ve done it before, that’s the thing. Had successes, I mean.’

  We all look at each other and suddenly, it’s real. Suddenly, we’ve got a fighting chance of getting that lovely girl back, and helping her to have the life she should have been having all along.

  ‘I’m going to call a number,’ he says, ‘but I’m not going to bring them here. You wouldn’t want them in your house, I can assure you of that. They’re friends of mine, acquaintances really, and they’re good guys, solid gold, but they need the money if you know what I’m saying. They really need the money.’

  I can hear alarm bells ringing straight away. I mean I’m not saying the person we use has to be doing it for job satisfaction or because it’s a vocation, I’m not that crazy. It’s just I’ve met some people in my life who are desperate for money, really desperate, and they’re not always the most trustworthy. Or calm. We really need someone we can trust, but I can see that’s a tall order. I think that Meg and Daphne might be thinking along those lines as well because neither of them says anything for a moment.

  ‘Oh,’ Des says, ‘I can see that you’re not quite happy with that. I feel like you were expecting something else. Am I right?’

  The three of us look at each other, no one sure what to say so I jump in.

  ‘We’re worried, that’s all, Des. We’re very grateful but we are worried.’

  ‘Would it help you to trust me if I tell you my story?’ Des says. ‘The brief version?’

  I nod and Meg does too. I really want to know more about this young man. A lot rests on him. I guess Daphne already knows, and that’s almost enough, but still…

  Des looks at his holey socks and holds on to his knees as if they might leave the room without him if he gave them a chance.

  ‘I tried to help my sister in a time of crisis and something terrible happened,’ Des says. ‘I was in prison for many years. I am not a troublemaker, but my whole life has been spoiled. Daphne here, she helps me.’

  ‘Sorry, Des,’ Daphne says, ‘sorry to ask for your help. I know how much you hate trouble.’

  ‘I understand,’ Des says, ‘and I’d just like to say that I’m not sure that this is a course of action to which you are totally committed. I get that and perhaps I could be of help, you know, with the decision-making process. I’ve made some poor decisions in my time. I know the wrong decision when I see it, usually.’

  That isn’t what we asked for, I think; this isn’t helpful at all. All we were after was a hired hand, it’s easy in the movies.

  ‘What else are we supposed to do?’ I say. I didn’t mean to say anything but the words kind of erupted, as if they had a mind of their own.

  ‘You don’t know,’ Des says, ‘by any chance whether the gentleman in question has any allergies? For example an allergy to bananas, that can be life-threatening in some instances. Or nuts, that can have tragic consequences for the sufferer.’

  Oh my God, I thought, and I thought it in capitals, like the kids use when they’re texting. OMG. This guy is a fruitcake. He watches too much TV, and that’s clear. I mean, that might work, if it was a drama series on the TV. He might well have a fatal allergy, but this is the real world.

  ‘I’m afraid,’ I say quietly, ‘we don’t have access to the person’s medical records. And we’re serious, Des, make no mistake about that.’

  The others look at me as though I’ve kicked a puppy and I shrug my shoulders. Someone has to think clearly, I hope the shrug says. Daphne pulls herself together first.

  ‘There’s always poisoning,’ she says. ‘Everyone is allergic to poison.’

  ‘I’m more of a brute force kind of guy,’ Des says. ‘I mean, not personally, but by way of a belief.’ He removes a couple of invisible specks from his trousers.

  It’s incongruous, the idea of Des and brute force, and I try not to smile. Meg looks alarmed.

  ‘If you’re sure, then I think I’ve got a plan which will work,’ Des says.

  This is not what I’m expecting.

  ‘What we need,’ Des says, ‘is to get him somewhere on his own. Maybe arrange to meet him or something like that. Then we can send in the guys and hey presto, job done.’

  Des looks pleased with his idea. He stretches his mouth out once and then looks up, smiling.

  I am horrified. Oh really? I think, no shit, Sherlock. I can’t believe the other two are nodding, but then I look at Daphne and I realise that she’s trying really hard here. She wants this to work, for Nina and for Des and for all of us, and I need to join in properly if I want to help her. No matter that he’s stated the obvious, no matter that we could have come up with this on our own. It still had to work. Get him on his own and drop him. That’s the suggestion? Even though that’s the basis for every murder plot I’ve ever watched or read, even though I was hoping for something a little more specific? He’s a beginner too, I think, prison or no prison. I walk over to the window and lift a tiny corner of curtain. There’s a thick silence in the room and I realise that the other two are waiting for me to comment before they say anything. OK, I think, steel yourself, girl, there’s something in it even if it’s obvious. I nod.

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ Daphne says.

  ‘Really good,’ Meg says.

  ‘How would we get him on his own?’ I say. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re role-playing in some ghastly management training course.

  ‘If I might offer a suggestion?’ says Des, crossing one knee over the other so that I can’t help seeing the underside of one of his socks, which is more or less one big hole. ‘This is a man who likes money. I can tell that. Don’t we all, I can hear you thinking, but some more than most, I’d say. For some people it’s the reason they get up in the morning, the reason they go to bed at night. I think this guy is one of them.’

  Good point, I think, keep going.

  ‘And a man who likes money may not always use his head, if he thinks there’s some more he can get hold of.’

  The way he speaks reminds me of year eight pupils writing a stilted essay, but I try not to feel like his teacher.

  ‘So what I propose is,’ he continues, ‘that you ladies should offer him some money in return for the release of your friend.’

  ‘He wouldn’t do it,’ Daphne says. I’m glad she’s thinking straight.

  ‘Exactly,’ says Des, clapping his hands. ‘This is a fact we know already, he would not at all do this under any circumstances. This is where the essence of this plan lies. He turns up to take the money – I am predicting with all the powers of prediction at my disposal that he will not be able to turn down the money – and we then bish, bosh, bash and all is done.’

  As he says bish, bosh, bash Des slaps his knees hard to emphasise each word. Meg looks terrified.

  ‘What about our friend?’ Daphne says. ‘How will that help us to get her?’

  ‘Aha, I haven’t finished yet,’ Des says. ‘Part two, of course, we need to rescue the girl. This is the great part. We will ask him to bring her to the rendezvous so that we can see her before we hand the money over. He brings her with him and this is our chance to obtain her. Snatch her back from the jaws of, jaws of…’ Des runs out of steam and stands waiting for us to react. I can see that he’s pleased with himself.

  ‘There’s a hole in that argument I could drive a bus through, Des,’ Daphne says. ‘If he brings her, he’ll bring someone else with her, so that she doesn’t run away.’

  Meg and I nod.

  ‘No, no,’ Des says. ‘Oh no, we can nip that one in the bud. We have to tell him, don’t bring anyone with you except the girl or we won’t hand the money over.’

  We all stare at him. I don’t know about the others, but I’m thinking, what? Why on earth would he do what we ask him to? Can we really help that poor girl?

  ‘You have an advantage here, ladies,’ Des says, ‘although I don’t think that any of you have realised it yet. He’s not expecting any funny business, our man, that’s the thing. He’ll be thi
nking, and pardon me for taking a liberty and stepping into his shoes, he’ll be thinking, these are old women with no power. Stupid old women. I can do exactly what I like, take their money and run for the hills.’

  ‘That’s outrageous,’ Meg says, ‘but very familiar.’

  That Henry again, I think.

  Daphne looks at me with a slight shrug of her shoulders. I see what she means. It’s not as if we have an alternative plan, and we have to try something, for Nina.

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘If we go with that idea, what happens next?’

  I’m not sure. I could be so wrong, here. I’ve been wrong before when it mattered.

  ‘Right,’ Des says, ‘right, OK, let’s see.’

  He taps his fingers on his knees and looks up to the ceiling as if there might be some kind of auto prompt there.

  ‘I can contact the gentlemen involved and arrange a meet up,’ he says. ‘I use the word “gentlemen” loosely, I hope you understand. As I said, the meet up is better away from here, possibly in a park or a café.’

  Another café, I think. It’s good that south-east London is riddled with them these days. I name one on the Brockley Road, one we haven’t used yet to make a pact or rescue a teenager.

  ‘Ten o’clock in the morning?’ Daphne says. ‘Will that give you enough time? Only all the time we’re talking about it, Nina is…’ She tailed off.

  ‘Plenty, plenty,’ Des says, looking at his watch.

  I can’t help thinking that I’m not terribly hopeful but he’s all we’ve got. All we have between us and leaving Nina to a terrible fate.

  Des gets up to leave and there’s an awkward moment while he stretches and then undoes the laces on his shoes. I wonder what’s taking him so long and I can see that the others are too.

  ‘The thing is…’ he says.

  We wait. Don’t back out now, please, I think.

  ‘The thing is, I’m in a bit of a sticky situation at the moment. I’m just wondering – no obligation, obviously, ladies – just wondering whether I might at all be able to stay here tonight, make my phone calls from here, as it were?’

  We all stare at him without speaking. He seems genuine, but it’s not my house so I’m glad when Meg speaks up.

  ‘I only have three bedrooms,’ she says, ‘and we’re all staying here, there’s three of us, I’m so sorry.’

  I look at Daphne and realise that Meg is right, it’s probably best to stick together. We’ll stay together, until something has been sorted out. Whatever that means.

  ‘I’m not sure how to say this,’ Des says, ‘and I know it’s the biggest cheek ever, but I can’t help thinking that your sofa would be utterly adequate for me. And the other thing is, these phone calls I’m intending to make, on your behalf, they’re not the kind of phone calls a person should make in the road, where anyone could hear them. Better behind closed doors, I’m thinking.’

  ‘Des,’ says Daphne, and her tone takes me right back to one of the schools I worked in, where the teacher in the next-door classroom always spoke in loud and disappointed tones, even when she was taking the register. ‘Des, has there been another problem with the rent? I told you, come to me before you get turned out next time. It’s much easier to help you before than after.’

  Des examines his nails.

  ‘There was a series of unfortunate coincidences,’ he says, ‘many of which I couldn’t have predicted, I swear.’

  ‘And none of them your fault, Des?’ Daphne says, with a smile.

  Des hangs his head like a year seven pupil who has forgotten his homework.

  ‘OK, OK,’ Meg says, ‘I’ll bring you down some blankets and a pillow. You can have a shower if you’d like, too, I’ll bring a towel.’

  Des looks embarrassed to the point of desperation and I wonder how the hell he’s going to be able to do the tasks we’ve trusted him with, but later, upstairs in Meg’s bedroom when the three of us get together for a quick debrief before bed, Daphne says differently.

  ‘Don’t be fooled,’ she says. ‘He’s smart as a whip, and sweet with it. If gambling had never been invented, he’d probably be living in a mansion or running a successful business. He just can’t resist, to the point where he literally has nothing. He’s gambled everything away, and failed every rehab and treatment programme that’s been tried. And that’s not all, but he can tell you the rest another time. The thing is, I think he will know the right kind of people.’

  Meg bursts out laughing and despite the oddness and desperation of our situation it’s hard for Daphne and me not to join in.

  ‘The right kind of people,’ Meg says, shaking her head. ‘Henry used to talk about them all the time. The right kind of people.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Meg

  Wednesday, 27 February

  I couldn’t sleep at all now that Nina was gone. I moved from one side of the bed to the other, trying not to hear the echo of Henry’s snores and thinking about her, wondering where she was and how she was coping. The feelings were familiar. I had felt like that before, I knew I had, but I didn’t want to think about that. I couldn’t bear it, and I couldn’t bear to think of what might be happening to Nina either. I thought of all the times I’d lain awake, especially recently, since Henry passed, and I realised I didn’t need much sleep any more. It was strange, finding out new things about myself. I’d always thought I needed lots of sleep but it seems I was wrong about that as well as everything else.

  Long ago, Henry’s boss had asked us to go on an early morning walk with him and his wife. I think it was some kind of bonding exercise for the staff but I heard Henry on the phone saying, ‘No, I’m sorry, Meg would be hopeless any time before twelve, she doesn’t do mornings.’

  The boss must have said something about how it was a good thing we didn’t have any children and Henry said, ‘Yes, well, the lord moves in mysterious ways but I would have been the one who had to disrupt my day with the school run so I’m grateful for small mercies.’

  I was terribly upset at the time. I would have loved to go on the walk – I think some of them were bringing dogs. I would have loved the school run even more. I would never have entrusted a child to Henry and his foul temper.

  I gave up on trying to sleep at about six o’clock. I couldn’t think of anything helpful I could do except make breakfast for everyone. Thinking about that took my mind off the plan and poor Nina for a moment or two but when I got downstairs they had beaten me to it. Everyone had hot drinks and empty plates and I had to listen hard while I made toast to bring myself up to speed. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself by not knowing what was going on. It seemed that Des had contacted his ‘friends’ and we were going to meet them that morning in the park, not a coffee bar.

  ‘Meeting in the park,’ Grace said, ‘are you sure? No one goes to Hilly Fields in this sort of weather. We’ll stick out.’

  I looked out of the window and saw that she was right. Rain and wind and winter. Even the dog walkers would probably be at home.

  ‘No, it’s best,’ Des said. ‘No one will see us, we’ll be home and dry if you’ll pardon the pun.’

  I could see the sense in that. I glanced at the other two and saw that they felt the same way.

  I dug out some of Henry’s clothes for Des, including Henry’s hiking socks. Henry had never gone hiking, and the socks were still bound together with a plastic tag. We all smiled despite the circumstances as Des sat in a chair and turned his feet this way and that with the new socks on, admiring how they looked. I found scarves and hats for all of us, and was in the middle of doling them out when Daphne said, ‘Don’t you think we should have a clearer plan? I mean, I know what we’re aiming for, and how much we can pay, but that doesn’t seem enough somehow.’

  Grace and I agreed. Des had gone to the bathroom to put on Henry’s jogging pants.

  ‘We’ve only got a minute or two on our own,’ Grace said. ‘Are we confident that we know what we’re doing? Let me just take us through it. OK, we’
re going to meet these chaps, two of them, I think. We won’t have to explain from scratch because Des has already done that, but we will have to check that they know what we think they know, and fill in any gaps.’

  ‘Will we be asking them how they’re going to do it?’ I said. ‘Only I’m thinking maybe it’s better not to know. Not because I don’t want it done, I do, but…’

  I couldn’t really explain. It was too much, that was the beginning and the end of it. I’d seen enough. I didn’t want to seem like a big coward, but I knew my limits.

  ‘You can stay out of that bit if you’re squeamish,’ Grace said, ‘but I think we need to know the details, so that we can check it all out. There’s so much that could go wrong.’

  I could see that I needed to know.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, ‘sorry. We’re in this together.’

  I crossed my fingers behind my back for luck and left my toast on the plate to get cold.

  There wasn’t time for any more talking. We left the house by separate doors in case we were being watched. I went out of the front door with Grace. I think she thought that talking would make me feel better. It was kind of her.

  ‘Did you ever go to one of those laser shooting party things?’ Grace said.

  I opened my mouth to say that I hadn’t but she just went on talking.

  ‘I did,’ she said. ‘We went on a team-building thing from school and it was terrible. You walk around in the dark knowing that the other team are all trying to shoot you, even though it’s only with a laser. I feel a bit like that, do you?’

  Bloody Nora, I thought, is Grace scared? I had thought she was practically invincible. I felt as though the odds against us were getting shorter all the time. Or longer, I wasn’t sure which one was appropriate. And did she want me to say something comforting? Me? I felt a surge of pride, and something like comradeship. Like a soldier in battle.