Terror in the Night

by J. M. Robinson

  He pulled away from her, the anger snapping back into focus. The world seemed pin sharp. “Who are you seeing?”

  “What? I ... Graham I don’t understand.”

  But she did, he could see it on her face. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Who is he damn it?” If he had come close to hitting her before it had never been like this. He wanted to strike her, wanted to leave his mark on her face so that no other man would want her. It scared him how much he wanted to hurt her.

  “Graham sit down,” she said.

  He didn’t move. He thought that if he did he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from striking her.

  “Please dear, it’s not what you think,” Agnes said.

  Oh how he wanted that to be true. But her words did release some of the pressure he felt building in his head, he felt able to think again and followed her across the room to sit down on a chair in front of the table. She sat opposite him.

  “Do you remember Mr Park?” she said, using her soft voice, keeping herself calm because she knew what he wanted to do to her and maybe she didn’t blame him.

  He nodded, wanted to strangle the scrawny bastard until his tongue fell out of his mouth and he breathed no more.

  She told him everything: how Mr Park had carried her to Lunden with unusual speed after Bridget had been taken, how he had left her at the hospital only when the sun came up and he was sure she would get the help she needed. How he had found her that night at the train station and told her that he wanted to help find Bridget. She stressed repeatedly that he had been a perfect gentleman and that they had never so much as shaken hands.

  He wanted to believe her, maybe he even did, but there were appearances to consider. Even if she knew the truth he didn’t think Mrs White would be satisfied; she didn’t just want things to be christian, she wanted them to appear that way as well.

  “Have you found out anything?” he said, the question he should have asked weeks ago.

  She shook her head, both of them calmer now that the truth, what they each knew of it, was on the table. “We think they are on the river somewhere but they aren’t in Lunden yet. You do believe me don’t you Graham? Oh please say you do.”

  He nodded and found that he did believe her. The poor woman could think of nothing but her lost daughter, the very idea that she would be embarking on affair at such a time was ridiculous. But it didn’t change the situation. “You have to stop seeing him,” he said.

  “You don’t believe me?” she said, evidently hurt.

  He reached for her hand and took it in his. “I do believe you Agnes, I promise. But other people talk, rumours are started. We might lose our home if this carries on.”

  “Oh that fussy old biddy. She wouldn’t throw us out, it wouldn’t be ‘Christian’ of her.”

  “This isn’t just about Mrs White--“

  “And so what if she does throw us out?” she continued as if she hadn’t actually heard him. “There are plenty of other boarding houses in Lunden.”

  “I could lose my job Agnes,” he said. If Hayes found out that Agnes was conducting a private investigation how would it look? It would look like they were covering their tracks, it would look like they were guilty of something.

  “So what,” she said. “You can join Mr Park and I and we will find Bridget that much sooner.”

  “But we won’t have any money. What will we live on?”

  She waved her hand dismissively and he couldn’t blame her for that, she had never had to worry about money so having it or not didn’t seem like an issue to her, but it was.

  “I’m sorry Agnes but I simply cannot allow this to continue.”

  “What are you saying?” she said, upset and close to tears.

  “I’m telling you not to see that man anymore and you are not to go out alone after dark.”

  “Graham you can’t mean it.”

  He stood up and stuck out his chest. “I do mean it Agnes. You are my wife and you need to listen to me. I won’t have you going off all over town with strange men.”

  “But he can help find Bridget,” she said. She sounded shocked but maybe that was a good thing, if she was shocked then it meant she was taking him seriously.

  “So he says, but don’t you think it strange that he’s so keen to help? Doesn’t he have family of his own?”

  Agnes didn’t respond. Maybe this Park character did want to help, that was just about possible, but he should have come to him rather than his wife.

  “Do you know anything about this man?” he said.

  “I thought I could trust him,” she said which meant she was starting to think that it was possible that she couldn’t.

  “Well now you know better,” he said and stood up. He felt good, his mood was much improved on what it had been just an hour earlier. “I need to go to work,” he said, realising that he stood a good chance of being late now, despite the early start he had begun with. “Will you be here when I get home?”

  She nodded meekly.

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek, it was cold with drying tears. He left her sitting on the chair knowing that she was telling the truth, that she would still be there when he got home that evening.

  Graham left with a smile on his face. The day seemed brighter than it had in a long time. He was even pleased to see Poleman when he arrived at the Yard.

  CHAPTER 20

  MRS VICTORIA WHITE WAITED. SHE HAD HER INSTRUCTIONS and, as with all things, she intended to follow them to the letter. She lived a spartan life and that was fine by her. She would get her reward in the next life.

  She stood at her bedroom window and watched the world become dark. The trees in the park opposite were the last to go, the nasty wicked park where she knew what went on at night. When it was finally out of sight she turned away from the glass and left the room. Detective Kable would be home soon and she needed to be ready for him. His wife? The interfering bitch could rot in hell for all she cared, but the detective, he might be useful.

  In the kitchen she took down the china plates and the cups and glasses and laid them out on the table. She took a packet of cheap meat (she didn’t know what kind but it didn’t matter, nobody would be eating it) and dropped it in the frying pan that she had on the heat.

  The detective’s wife hadn’t been out in the evening for three days but she was still here. Still holding her husband back. Victoria had hoped he would throw her out when he found out she was seeing another man but apparently the bitch had a stronger hold on him than she’d thought.

  The door opened behind her and she turned around to see him walk in. “Good evening detective,” she said. “How was your day?”

  “Oh not so bad Mrs White, not so bad. And yourself?”

  “Very good, thank you. And I have Church this evening so there’s more to look forward to.”

  She waited and he stood by the door as if he was waiting to be excused.

  “We’ve been saying prayers for your daughter,” she said.

  He smiled. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “I haven’t seen Mrs Kable today.”

  “She has been feeling out of sorts,” he said, cagey as ever when it came to the bitch.

  “No more sign of--“

  “Good evening Mrs White,” he said and excused himself from the conversation. There was something going on there that she didn’t know about. Something that she might just have to investigate.

  When she heard the door to his rooms close she took the pan off the stove and dumped the half-cooked meat in the bin. Then she cleared the things off the table and washed her hands. It was time to go to Church.

  The Church that Mrs White attended was not well known. It was a small, unremarkable building on the outside. On the inside it seated fewer than one-hundred people, but remarkable things happened there. The vicar was an old friend, Rutherford, he had known her husband at one time, before the unpleasantness.

  “Mrs White,” said Father Rutherford as she closed the door behind her.
The walls and the pews where white and worn to a dull greenish yellow. She was the first to arrive.

  “Glad you could make it dear lady.”

  She smiled at him as she always did. Father Rutherford had never married, despite having the full blessing of the Church to do so. But he was like a child in many ways. It didn’t seem like he was interested in that sort of thing. Mrs White was pleased, she had never liked it much herself. The few times she had endured it with Mr White were quite enough to last her a life time.

  “Have you news on the Kable’s?” he said.

  She shook her head and sighed. “I thought that the vampire would solve the problem but he has convinced her not to see him again.”

  “I see,” Father Rutherford said. They took seats at the front of the room before a golden cross that hung from floor to ceiling.

  “Maybe there is another way?” Mrs White said.

  “You have something in mind?”

  She shook her head, she had been so convinced that her plan would work that she hadn’t considered any alternatives.

  “No,” Father Rutherford said, “I think you had it right the first time. Perhaps they just need a little push.”

  “What do you mean?” she said. She was keen to do what she had been asked but she was out of ideas. She needed help.

  Before he could answer her the door opened and more people came in. “I will leave that to your capable hands,” Father Rutherford said and then he stood up to greet the new arrivals.

  They were a small congregation, no more than seventy on a good day. But they were close and they were not like other Church’s. Most Church’s were passive institutes, waiting for god to act and then applauding him for his work. Not that there was anything wrong with that, they were needed as well. But the Church of St. Margaret’s was different, they were active in making gods will happen on earth.

  After the service she walked the long way home. The streets were almost empty except for a few drunks and harlots. They would get theirs soon enough and she wouldn’t trade places with them for the world. Things were changing and not in the way some of these people thought. If she was lucky she would live to see it but if she had to give her life in order to bring it about she would do it gladly.

  She crossed the road, walking slowly, her mind on higher things. She didn’t hear the carriage come racing towards her, the horse hooves beating on the rough stone. It was a miracle that she managed to step back in time and avoid being knocked down. The speed it was going it probably would have sent her flying. Mrs White was used to miracles; the Lord looked after the true believers.

  The carriage driver didn’t even stop to make sure she was alright. She stood on the side of the road, her hand on her chest, panting. The shock took her right out of the moment and it took her seconds to remember what she had been thinking about and with it came the answer.

  She smiled to herself. She knew exactly how to deal with Mrs Kable now.

  Mrs White took the rest of the journey home as quickly as she could, almost running. Her little legs barely making contact with the ground beneath them. There was so much to do, so much to organise but she could do it, oh yes she could do it.

  CHAPTER 21

  THE KITCHEN DOOR SWUNG OPEN EVEN BEFORE HE was through the gate. Mrs White stepped out to meet him, her face wore a look of concern and fear that Graham had not seen before. Mrs White was usually so in control. It worried him even before he had heard what she had to say.

  “Detective Kable,” she said. It fell out of her mouth as a single word ‘detectivekable’. She rushed down the path towards him so quickly that he expected to see her stumble and fall to the ground.

  “What is it Mrs White? Has something happened?”

  Up close he could see that her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were shining with tears. “It’s Mrs Kable,” she said. “I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t listen to me and now she’s gone.”

  The woman was about to lapse into incoherent babble but Graham had heard enough to know that he needed to hear more. He grabbed her shoulders and held her firmly. “What is it Mrs White, what happened?” She bowed her head and started to sob. He shook her once and she looked up at him. “Tell me what happened.”

  She nodded, her mouth opened and closed but no words came out. She was in shock, he recognised the symptoms, but he was determined to keep his head.

  “Tell me what happened Mrs White,” he said, his voice firm and clear.

  “It’s Mrs Kable sir, she’s gone.”

  He ran the information over but came out needing to know more. “When did she leave?”

  “More than an hour ago. I didn’t know what to do, I should have come for you,” she said and then she was crying again.

  “Tell me what happened,” Graham said, forcing himself not to run off looking for his wife before he had at least some idea where she might have gone.

  Mrs White took a series of deep breaths which seemed to calm her down. When she was ready she looked at him and said: “I was in the kitchen and she came running down the hall. She was already dressed to go outside. I asked her where she was going but I don’t think she heard me. She looked so excited sir, she just ran out the back door without even saying goodbye.”

  Graham listened and nodded and couldn’t work out why this was something that Mrs White had taken to worrying herself about. “Was there anything else?” he said.

  Mrs White nodded and reached into her apron. She took out a piece of paper and handed it to him. “This fell out of her pocket as she ran out the door.”

  Graham looked down at the piece of paper. A thin piece of blue that looked as if it had been torn from the middle of a larger sheet, there were tears on the top and bottom of it and written in black ink was the message:

  Agnes,

  I have important information about your daughter. Please meet me in the usual place as soon as you can. I will be waiting.

  Arthur.

  Graham read the message three times and felt the anger grow in his chest each time. She had gone to meet Park, after he had expressly forbidden her to do so.

  “It’s from him isn’t it?” Mrs White said, but Graham barely heard her. “She lied to you detective, she has been seeing him behind your back.”

  He shook his head. He knew that she hadn’t been going out to see him at night but he was at work all day and she was left by herself. For all he knew she might have been spending the days with him, looking for Bridget, or worse. “Thank you Mrs White,” he said, “for bringing this to me.” He walked around her to the door.

  “Are you going to look for her sir?” she called after him.

  “No, she will return in due course and I shall be waiting for her.” He walked into the kitchen and down the long dark corridor, up the stairs and into his apartment. He took of his coat and hung it behind the door. He closed the door and sat on the chair, confident that Agnes would be home soon and that maybe this time a stern talking to was not going to be enough.

  Graham waited on the chair as the room became dark and his stomach started to growl. He didn’t move from his seat even when the night passed and the first rays of morning light came through the open windows and started to warm the room. He didn’t fall asleep and he didn’t go to the bathroom. He waited until it was time for him to go to work before he started to worry. She still wasn’t home.

  He paced the floor until he was late for a meeting with Poleman. He checked the bedroom repeatedly in case she had somehow snuck back in without him noticing but the bed was still made. He walked to the window and looked out at the park opposite. There were some dogs running around and a constable he didn’t recognise but there was no sign of Agnes.

  Eventually he had to leave but he was troubled. There was something different about her disappearance, the note, the fact that she was still out, but those things didn’t fit somehow, there was a gap in his understanding of what was happening.

  He found Mrs White in the kitchen frying som
ething. She stopped at once and turned around to face him when he came in. “Has she come home?” Mrs White said. “I stayed up as late as I could but I didn’t hear her come in.”

  Graham didn’t think Mrs White looked like someone who had sat up half the night but he didn’t say anything.

  The morning was bright but cold. The air seemed thinner than usual. Most of the trees had lost their leaves and there was a smokey smell on the breeze. Graham walked slowly along the road staring at his feet, not sure what to do. Maybe she would be home by the time he arrived that evening but he no longer had the energy to chastise her. A feeling of concern had begun to grow in his gut and he thought that if she was home that evening he would be able to hold her tightly but not much else.

  The note from Park was still in his pocket, he stopped in the middle of the street. People walked around him, maybe some of them shouted at him not to be such an idiot. If so he didn’t hear them. He took out the note and read it again. ‘I have important information about your daughter’, it said. What if Park did? What if he had found out something that the police hadn’t been able to?

  It was a lot better to think that than to ignore it, or worse still replace it with what he feared it meant; ‘I need to see you, don’t tell your husband’. But she had been gone all night and he knew what happened at night. Even now they could be lying together in some dirty little love den.

  He shook his head, he couldn’t bring himself to think of Agnes that way. He loved her and he thought that she loved him still. This was nothing, this was just him being silly. He should take the note at face value but whatever way he took it he had to worry about why she hadn’t come home. Had something happened to her?

  Scotland Yard appeared before him like an illusion. He couldn’t, for a moment, work out how he had managed to walk all the way there without noticing it. Poleman would be annoyed that he hadn’t arrived in time for their meeting, maybe Hayes would be waiting to speak to him about his tardiness. He walked to the stairs at the back and up to his floor.