by Wendy Reakes
She wasgoing crazy. It wasn’t like her. She had never been so reckless. Men usually did the chasing, not her! What had she been thinking? Slowing the car down, she stopped driving and pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. What good was her pride if she let him go now? She looked up into the rear-view mirror, and then, without any further ado, she slammed her foot on the accelerator and about-turned, back in the direction she’d come.
Further along Whiteladies road, she spotted him once more. He was about to enter a club. She screeched to a halt and he turned about to see her sitting in the car with her hands clutching the wheel. Every part of her body was shaking, but she had no fear. She wound down the window and she watched as he moved stealthily around the side of the car towards her.
Suddenly there was nothing else to do but to give in to all reason and logic. She got out of the car, accepted his outstretched hand and stepped into a future at his side.
They arrivedat the front of the club and the noise of a car screeching to a halt made Jack turn around. There was Katherine, sitting inside the car, her hands clutching the steering wheel, looking at him through the windscreen. He couldn’t fathom it. Why was she there? But suddenly…he knew it was right. She was meant to be there. It was destiny.
He walked around the front of the car and opened the door. Then she stepped out and into his life, at last.
Chapter 72
The day after D.I Brian Watts and Jack Taylor bumped into Frank Warner at the cafe in Bristol, Brian took a phone call from Eva Long. He suspected Frank Warner had sent her to find out what the police were up to and if they had him, Frank, on their minds.
He asked Eva to come into the station straight away. “You want to talk to me about Mr. Warner?” he said. He’d already calculated all his questions, because he was 100% sure that she had too.
“That’s right. I work for him. I run a café for him in Shepherd's Bush. Have done for over thirty years.”
“So?”
“So I know what he’s up to. Well, most of the time anyhow. I can help you.”
“Help us do what?”
“Catch him.”
“Catch him at what?”
“At it!” she said. “You must know he illegally imports wine. I know who he supplies and I can give them both to you on a platter.”
“No, actually, we didn’t know he imports wine. We were under the impression he had a chain of greasy spoons.”
“What?” Eva glared at D.I Watts, knowing he was lying. “Well, what about the set-up four years ago when we had that shipment come in…to my café in The Bush?”
“What about it?”
“You were all there. He knew you were coming. He set you up. He had you chasing a van full of courgettes and black grapes while the last two vans took the wine. He had another two vans on stand-by. He switched them, which is why your men lost them.”
Brian Watts leaned forward, “Eva is it?” He looked her square in the eyes. I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. We have no vested interest in Mr. Warner. Although I’m sure he’d be very interested to know one of his employees is in here shouting the odds.”
She looked terrified. But Brian was sure he hadn’t got things wrong. She had been sent there by Warner. It was a no brainer.
“You can’t tell him. Look, I can give you more. His wife, Yvonne, thinks Frank murdered her son Ben Corner. Surely that’s enough for you to put him away.”
“Speculation! A disgruntled wife out for revenge.”
Eva Long reached into her bag on the floor next to her chair. “What about these?” She placed two invoices in front of her and pushed them across the table.
He picked up the sheets and scanned them quickly. One was a copy of an invoice for three hundred and fifty cases of wine, delivered to the café in Shepherd's Bush, five years ago. The other, for four hundred cases delivered to Benny’s Bites in Ealing.
He stood up and left the room. He called his sergeant over and told him he wanted Eva Long followed, “Watch her for as long as it takes,” he said as he wondered privately if he’d misjudged Eva Long.
Chapter 73
Eva left the building two hours later. They made her provide a statement. She didn’t want to, since she was worried about implicating herself but now there was no going back. She thought about Frank, about when he turned up last night. He’d just got back from Bristol. He was drunk and he’d sent Harry Bell home, which usually meant Frank would be staying the night.
“Get me a drink,” he’d said as she went into the flat. She’d just locked up the café and she was tired. He had already taken his jacket and shoes off, and he was lounging on the couch with an empty glass in his hand. She took it from him and filled it from the bottle of scotch sitting on the table just outside her small kitchen. He took her hand and pulled her down to the side of him and it was only then he noticed her hair.
“What have you done?” he said with a look of sheer disbelief on his fleshy face. “You’ve cut your hair.”
“I got fed up with it,” she said.
He squeezed her wrist between his fingers. “Fed up with me, you mean.” He twisted her arm until she was on her knees in front of him and then he pushed her away. She fell backwards and stared at him, wondering why she had put up with him for so long.
When she'd told him about Yvonne’s little love nest five-years before, she'd had no idea Yvonne had been running her racket of designer gear. She thought Yvonne was simply having an affair, and Eva only told Frank to upset the balance of things, and to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. The whole plan had gone horribly wrong and Eva had spent the past five-years regretting the actions which led to Yvonne’s downfall.
The day after she'd returned from Manchester, Frank had caught up with her in Shepherd's Bush. She’d been putting some things together in a case when the café buzzed her to say Frank Warner had just walked in. She’d pushed her suitcase under the bed, tidied herself up a bit and welcomed him when he walked through the flat door. She’d made out she knew about Yvonne’s little side-line and that she wanted to do him a favour by letting him see for himself. She’d said she was happy now that he realised what a deceitful wife he had and that he was able to spend more time with her.
He’d forgiven her for the charade and understood about the things he’d heard her say in the flat that day when she confided to Yvonne. But, after that, he’d kept a close watch on her, and she was sick of it.
“You repulse me,” he’d said last night as he swung his legs around and began pulling on his shoes.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m getting out of here. You think you’re the only selfish bitch in my life. I’ve got tarts like you all over town, darling, I don’t need you.” Then, before he left, he pulled his arm back and punched her low in the stomach. “That’s for cutting your hair.”
Eva went to the police the next morning. She needed that man out of her life for good. Giving them statements and handing over those invoices was her biggest worry. It was one thing telling the police all she knew, but providing evidence was something else.
Now she was wondering if she'd ever feel safe from Frank Warner again.
After leaving the station she went straight back to the flat. Frank’s car wasn’t there so that was a good sign. He could have come back after their row last night, but thankfully he hadn’t. She had some protection in her bag, just in case. A little flick-knife, which she carried with her at all times.
After she looked in on the café, she climbed the stairs to the flat. The place was quiet. It was just after the lunchtime session so she’d be able to put her feet up for an hour.
She knew when she walked in she was done for.
She smelled his cigar smoke first, that old familiar smell, which had sickened her so many times in the past. He grabbed her from behind, and saying nothing, he tied her wrists behind her back with a ball of string. She struggled, but she knew it was futile. Her strength was no match for his.
S
he began to shout, calling his name, trying to reason with him, but then he pulled a rolled-up white bandage from his pocket and tied it around her head, between her parted lips, making her feel as if her jaw was about to break if he pulled any tighter. He pushed her into the kitchen and made her kneel down, where he tied the rest of the string around a water pipe running up the wall from the floor from the floor. Finally, he kissed her cheek, opened the oven door and turned on the gas.
He left as quietly as he’d come, closing the door behind him.
Eva glanced over to the drawers that held knives and scissors. She couldn’t reach them. She used her foot, but she was not even close. If she had her bag, but she remembered dropping it when he’d grabbed her. If she could just get a knife. The tears streamed down her face. The smell of gas was becoming overbearing. She pulled her weight against the pipe, hoping to tear it from its hinges, but the pain on her wrists as the cord cuts into her flesh was too much to bear. She sat back against the wall, exhausted by her struggles, waiting for the end.
When it came she thought about her Benny and how they would soon be together once more. Finally!
Chapter 74
Frank wentback thirty-minutes later. He opened the door, taking care not to touch anything. He knew the slightest spark could set the gas alight. He’d taken pains before she got back to the flat to make sure everything was turned off, the electric at the mains and the pilot light on the stove. Frank wasn’t about to put his café at risk from a gas explosion for anyone.
He opened the door carefully and felt chilled at the sight of Eva sitting against the wall. Her mouth was wide open and the bandage tight against the sides of her blue lips. Her eyes were closed, as if she was asleep. With one hand on the handkerchief covering his mouth, his other hand reached over and turned off the gas. Covering up his face again, he went back to Eva’s side. He cut the string from the pipe and unravelled it from her wrists and then he cut the bandage from the back of her head. The gauze was still wet from Eva’s saliva and tears, so he bundled up the remnants and stuffed them into his coat pocket. He dragged her heavy lifeless body from the wall and then he dropped her in front of the stove. The oven door was already open, he’d seen to that earlier, so he put Eva’s head inside, allowing her body to flop naturally into position on the floor. Then he gently turned the knob and turned the gas on very low. He was confident they’d find her in five minutes after he made an anonymous call.
He closed the kitchen door gently and as he gasped for breath he looked around to check he’d left nothing obvious behind. Then leaving the flat door ajar he left quickly and quietly.
Seven minutes later, after the staff had a call from someone who could smell gas coming from Eva’s flat, they found her with her head in the oven. As one of them pulled her lifeless body from the bottom of the stove, someone else turned the knob to shut off the gas. When asked later, by the police investigating the crime, no one could remember how high it had been, “but it must have been on full,” they said. “The smell of gas was really bad.” No one could explain the bruises on her wrists, or the red welts across her face, which had cut into the corners of her mouth. No one saw anyone enter or leave her flat. No one knew of any connection to her and another man, and no one knew of anyone who would want to harm her.
No witnesses. Proof zilch!
Frank Warner answeredhis mobile. It was six o’clock.
“It’s me,” Harry Bell said. “We need to talk.”
“Where are you?”
“Heathrow.”
“Well, where the hell’s my car?” Frank shouted. “And what are you doing at the airport?”
“I drove it back to Bristol like you said. It’s in the underground car park at the Swallow Hotel. You’re registered for two more nights.”
“Good. So what are you doing at Heathrow?”
“I had a call from my contact at the police station in Charing Cross. When Eva went in this morning, she gave them some old wine invoices. She also made a very damaging statement. She told them everything. You’ve been stitched.”
“Why do you think I need my car in Bristol? It’s my alibi. I need it to look like I’ve been in Bristol the whole time,” Frank said, rubbing his chin, feeling the coarse stubble on his skin. “The bitch! I never thought she’d grass me up. I didn’t think she had it in her. After all I did for her. Well, she won’t be saying nothing to no one, no more.”
“That’s why I’m at Heathrow. It’s getting too hot for me, Frank. I’m getting away for a while. Until things cool down a bit.”
“Harry! What are you saying? You can’t run out on me now. We’ve been a team for too long. Come on back, Harry. I’ve got it all sorted. You know me. We’ve got our alibi. The old Bill can’t prove nothing.”
“Frank, I liked Eva. We’ve all been friends for years. And to be honest, I’ve met someone.”
“What do you mean? Who?”
“She’s just a woman I’ve been seeing for a few weeks. I promised her I’d get a proper job driving. Her old man’s got a taxi company and he wants to start doing chauffeured runs.”
“Is that right? Well, here’s the thing, ‘arry me old mate. You’d better hope I don’t buy that cab firm, because when I do, I’m going to show you what happens to employees who stitch up old Frankie Warner.”
“I do know what happens to them, Frank, which is why I’m getting out. You’re out of control, mate.”
Whatever Harry Bell said next, Frank didn’t hear him. He’d already pressed the end button on his mobile phone, just as a voice over the tannoy called for passengers to board.
Then he caught the next train for Bristol. He paid cash for his ticket!
Chapter 75
“Yesterday I was alone and today I’m not.” Katherine said. She was next to him in her bed, lying in the crook of his arm with her head resting on his shoulder.
“Fate, Katherine,” Jack said, stroking her hair away from her face. “Fate, plain and simple,” He ran his eyes across her nakedness.
The night before, they’d gone into the club. Both of them were unsure why they were together and neither of them knew what would happen next. They both simply went along with the force that was driving them, a force they couldn’t describe or reason with. If they had, they would have said it was all madness and that things like that didn’t happen in real life; that they were being reckless and carefree and life wasn’t like that.
Inside the club, Jack had bought her a drink and they’d sat down on a couple of easy chairs. They both knew the score: talk, seduce, kiss, seduce, dance, seduce, and then go home together. They both knew it, but neither of them wanted to waste any more time; both of them just wanted to go home, so that they could be alone, so that they could devour each other. It was that simple.
An hour later they pushed the door closed to Katherine’s flat and they kissed. It was the hundredth time since they’d left the club. Once they started they couldn’t stop. They were joined together and they both wanted more. It was just a question of privacy and how quickly they could close the door on the world. He pulled his shirt up over his head while she unbuttoned hers as fast as she could, knowing it would be quicker that way and wanting to dispense with all obstructions. She unbuttoned his jeans and he hers and then they pulled apart for just a moment while they pulled their boots off and tossed them aside. He unhooked her bra at the back while he nuzzled her neck and then Katherine guided him into the bedroom as he ran his hands over every part of her skin. Finally, they fell onto the bed, everything around them obsolete; only their passion was alive and moving and desperate to be spent.
They made love twice that night, not wanting to stop, and now as they lay together in her bed the following day, Katherine was trying to make sense of it all. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything about him. Who he was, where he lived and what he did for work. Why did he love her? What did he think when he first saw her? Did he feel the same as her when their eyes met across the room?
Jac
k was tortured. He’d just begun a relationship with a woman he’d loved for years and now he had to lie. He couldn’t tell her everything. It would look like last night had been contrived. She’d feel exposed, vulnerable; she might not trust him again, and he couldn’t lose her now. He had already thought about how much he could say when he woke before her. He’d watched her sleep, her hair tumbling over her shoulders and against the pillow. She’d washed off her make-up last night, so she was completely naked before him.
“We’ve met before,” he said.
“What?” Katherine sat up against the pillow at the side of him. “That’s not possible. I would have remembered you.”
“I was a lot younger then and I looked different.” She was waiting for him to tell her how and when. “It was in Switzerland in ’83. We met on the side of a mountain.”
She gasped. “That was you?” she said, not believing they had already spoken, in another time, another country, another age.
He nodded.
“I can’t believe it, after all these years.” She looked stunned. “Well, now I know we were meant to be together. You’re right, it was fate, Jack,” she said. She laughed suddenly, “Well, bang goes my love at first sight theory. More like love at second sight.”
“It was first sight for me,” he said, stroking her arm, pushing her hair behind her shoulder.
“What? You fell in love with me sixteen-years ago and we’ve only just been introduced. The thought of missing out on you for all those years, not knowing I could feel this way… I could have been feeling like this for the past sixteen years.” She was gathering her thought while Jack waited for the next question. He was on tenterhooks. He should tell her the truth. “Why didn’t you find me, tell me you loved me?” she asked.
