by Ray Smithies
~ * ~
T
he persistent ring from his kitchen phone prompted James Slattery to temporarily abandon some light chores in the backyard.
‘Good morning, Mr Slattery. This is Detective Paul Marsh calling from the local police station. There are some further matters we need to discuss regarding the Reynolds case. Could you make your way to the station in, say, half an hour?’
‘Yes, I’ll see you shortly.’
Upon arriving at the station’s entrance lobby, James was greeted by Marsh, who immediately led him through to his superior’s office and closed the door behind them.
‘Thank you for coming at such short notice,’ welcomed Forbes.
‘Not a problem,’ James said. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I see you’ve had an accident with your arm. Nasty, by the size of the dressing you’ve wrapped it in. What happened?’
‘It’s nothing really. I hurt my arm tinkering with the car engine yesterday.’
‘I’ll come straight to the point. I know you were a friend of Brigit’s. Do you know the whereabouts of both Helen and Brigit O’Neill?’
‘Why no. Is there something wrong?’
‘We have our concerns,’ Forbes responded.
‘What concerns?’
‘Detective Marsh went around to the O’Neill house this morning and found the front door wide open with no one home. One of the side window shutters has been badly damaged and he noticed the rear door had been smashed in. It all points to forced entry sometime last night.’
‘My god, I hope they’re all right,’ said James.
‘There’s the strong possibility that Brigit’s life may be in danger. We’ve established that Jake Reynolds’ murder was drug related. Whatever his motive, it’s feasible to think that he may have told Brigit more than he told the police about what he saw that night in the park. We can confidently conclude that whatever it was, it’s sufficient enough to expose their entire local activity. It’s therefore logical to further assume the drug syndicate would want to silence Brigit.’
James slumped in his chair and placed the palms of his hands over each cheek. He wasn’t shocked by the fact that Brigit’s life was in danger, for he had already anticipated this, but her disappearance concerned him. Better pay Tom Harrison a visit when I’m finished here, he thought.
‘James, when was the last time you saw Brigit O’Neill?’ asked Marsh.
‘It would be some months ago now. As I explained to you in our last interview, Brigit won’t have anything to do with me now.’
‘We hope you’re not holding back on anything. What were your movements last night?’
‘I spent two hours at O’Riley’s Inn and around nine o’clock I went to a friend’s place, stayed there for a while and was home by one.’
‘Since the drug world plays a key role in this case, we’ll ask you one more time, James. Have you ever been associated with this organisation regarding the use of or distribution of their products?’ asked Forbes.
‘No!’
‘James,’ said Forbes, ‘I can’t help but think you’re hiding something from us. You despised Jake Reynolds for his relationship with Brigit. You arrive with this mysterious injury that you claim was car-related and for the moment we have no choice but to take your word regarding any drug connections.’
‘The only thing that’s remotely acceptable is motive,’ James said, ‘since I was peeved at Jake for taking Brigit away from me. But as for the other, it’s pure speculation.’
‘Very well. For the moment, if you have any intention of leaving Pedley for either business or pleasure please inform the station prior to your departure. That will be all for now, thank you,’ concluded Forbes.
~ * ~
In the living room of the Harrisons’ residence, Emily was holding her customary fortnightly afternoon tea party for the ladies. It was her excuse to catch up with all the local gossip and today’s affair would be no exception, particularly with what had transpired over the past week and a half. It was the usual gathering of Emily’s friends - Jill Wallace, Sally Jones, Martha Kellett, and today, much to Tom’s horror, Ruth Evans and Marge Samson. Ruth had arrived in her Sunday best, overkill given the occasion. Still, she meant well and Emily possibly looked upon her intentions as a compliment.
I deliberately boycotted these events, purposely organising my day’s routine work around outdoor activities. Unfortunately, there was reason to enter the house today to collect a tool I had forgotten. I entered discreetly, trying to remember where the hell I had left the damn thing. My search started in the front office, which led directly into the living room.
I heard Emily ask, ‘Martha, is there a chance I could borrow Sam for a morning to clean up the front garden bed? Tom never seems to have the time to attend gardening, it’s just not his forte.’
‘Certainly, my dear, you just name your day and I’ll arrange for him to come over.’
Ruth Evans spoke next. I knew she wouldn’t be particularly interested in all this pleasant talk and would want to talk about the Reynolds case.
‘I wonder how much longer the police will take to arrest the guilty party in the Jake Reynolds case,’ Ruth fished.
‘Ruth, it’s far too early to expect arrests. The case is only a week and a half old,’ responded Emily.
‘That’s right. These things tend to take time. The police are probably still conducting their interviews,’ added Martha.
‘That’s all very well, but how can you sleep at night with a murderer in our midst?’ whined Ruth in her typical trademark style.
I listened from the office with a smile on my face, anticipating where this conversation would lead. If I was any judge of character, Ruth would have these women in the palm of her hand for the next ten minutes or so, forever asking questions to which there was seldom an answer.
‘Why don’t you try taking a sleeping tablet,’ volunteered Jill Wallace.
‘I can’t. They don’t agree with my stomach, and besides, they keep me awake,’ said Ruth.
I burst out laughing and then tried to cover up with a series of coughs that drew Emily’s attention.
‘Is that you, Tom? Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I said, coming into the room. ‘Just trying to find a misplaced tool. Afternoon, ladies, don’t let me interrupt you.’
Ruth immediately pounced, not allowing the others opportunity.
‘As I was saying, we could have an axe murderer or something equally as bad running around town in search of another victim.’
‘Don’t be silly, Ruth. It’s hardly an axe murderer,’ said Emily.
‘We don’t know for sure. I feel very vulnerable in my van at night. At least you ladies have the comfort of knowing your homes are far more secure.’
‘You can always return to the city,’ suggested Martha.
‘No, you can’t allow them to dictate your life, and besides, I still have three days left,’ insisted Ruth.
It was becoming entertaining, listening to Ruth and her insecurities.
Sally Jones spoke with a hint of sarcasm. ‘I think you’re overreacting. I read in the local paper that the police believe the case is drug related. You probably don’t even know what these drugs look like, Ruth, so why would anyone want to murder you?’
‘Excuse me, but have you noticed that I’m a woman who is living alone and feeling very vulnerable under the circumstances,’ declared Ruth.
‘You’re not exactly a spring chicken any more. I’m sure our homicidal maniac would be looking for fairer game, don’t you think?’ said Jill.
Ruth glared at Jill and I knew Emily could sense her afternoon tea party was about to explode. I had retrieved my tool from one of the office drawers and decided it was time to depart. That woman is unbelievable, I thought. Entertaining today, but nonetheless still incredible.
I had left the office and was walking toward the games room when a car approached from behind, blasting its horn. James Slattery was be
hind the wheel. He pulled over to my side of the road and brought his car to a stop.
‘Tom, thank goodness you’re here, we need to talk somewhere in private.’
‘Certainly, we’ll go to the laundry.’
I was immediately drawn to his arm wrapped in some makeshift dressing. I also recalled from last night’s experience that I had hurt one of the assailant’s forearms with the steering wheel lock, but initially I couldn’t remember which arm it was. James appeared very agitated as we commenced our walk. I had never seen him in such an emotional state before and I could only anticipate he was about to tell me of some developing news.
‘James, before you start I need to know how you incurred that injury.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s extremely important and I need you to be completely honest with me.’
‘I was dismantling the car engine from my old Land Rover yesterday afternoon when part of the motor dropped, scraping my arm as it fell. Why would you want to know this?’
‘Before I explain, can you prove it to me?’
‘Bloody hell, Tom. The motor’s in a hundred pieces. What more proof do you need?’ James was clearly annoyed with this cross-examining tactic of mine.
‘Sorry, James, but it was necessary. Last night I inflicted a nasty arm injury on one of the thugs trying to abduct Helen and Brigit.’
‘What in hell are you implying?’ James exploded. ‘If you think I was -’
‘Steady on, I know it wasn’t you,’ I interrupted. ‘I’m just making a passing observation, that’s all.’
I recounted the events of the night before, from the attempted break-in through to hiding the women in one of the van sites. The look on James’ face was complete shock. He stared in amazement, not uttering one word as the story unfolded.
‘That’s one hell of a relief. When the cops asked me if I knew of their whereabouts and told me about the damage to their house, I suspected the syndicate had called and taken Helen and Brigit.’
‘You could say we were a bit fortunate last night. Had I delayed my visit by half an hour or so I would hate to think what might have been,’ I said.
James continued to focus on the police interview. ‘The cops didn’t hold back with their questions this morning. They seemed reluctant to accept that the car engine was responsible for my injury. Claimed I had motive to harm Jake and on top of all this, I now have to inform them if I intend leaving Pedley for any reason. It’s crazy, Tom. There are thugs running around loose and the cops are giving me the third degree!’
‘Yes, it’s unfortunate but you’ve got to learn to ride this one out. In the eyes of the law there’s motive and that can’t be ignored. My advice is to be patient and accept the ways of the police because given time their resources will be concentrating elsewhere.’
‘So what do you plan to do with Helen and Brigit now?’ asked James.
‘I’ll keep them here for a while until I’ve worked out what to do next.’
‘Tom, this is police work. You shouldn’t be doing this after what happened last night.’
‘I’m in two minds. My public duty tells me to take Brigit to the police, but she insists on staying hidden. As I mentioned to Emily, the police would only take them back to the house and keep a casual eye on things, which in my opinion still puts them in a very vulnerable position. Besides, Forbes has already told me he lacks the resources to provide round-the-clock protection. I’ll most likely inform the police tomorrow and insist they be taken to a safer place.’
‘Where have you put them?’
‘They’re in one of the sites as we speak. They’re quite safe for the moment so the less people that know the better,’ I replied, having no intention of telling James the site number.
‘When you see Brigit tell her I do care and that I’m genuinely concerned for her safety. She only has to contact me on my mobile if she needs anything.’
With that gesture, James returned to his car and drove off.
Now alone, I decided to run a check by B8. All’s well on the western front, I thought. I turned the corner and nearly bumped into Ruth Evans and Marge Samson leaving Emily’s social gathering.
‘Ah, I see afternoon tea with Emily has finished. Did you enjoy yourselves today, ladies?’
‘To be perfectly honest, Tom, I did not,’ Ruth said. ‘Certainly your wife is always the perfect hostess, but I don’t think very much of the company she keeps. Those women were calling me names and telling me I’m overreacting to this murder investigation.’
‘One must be careful these days,’ I answered diplomatically, hoping to cut her short.
I noticed Kurt Muller heading my way. I don’t deserve this, I thought. Bloody hell, which was the lesser of two evils - Ruth’s whining voice or Kurt’s foul tongue? I had to make a decision and quickly. Unfortunately, by the time Ruth allowed my exit Kurt had already arrived.
‘Have the cops solved the murder yet so things can return to normal?’ asked Kurt forcefully.
‘I said exactly the same thing to the ladies this afternoon, Mr Muller,’ declared Ruth, nodding in agreement.
‘I didn’t ask you!’ said Kurt to Ruth.
‘Why is everybody so rude to me today?’ Ruth said. ‘Come on, Marge, we’ll head back to the van.’
‘That woman is forever prying into other people’s business,’ said Kurt after the two had departed.
‘That was a bit uncalled for,’ I said. ‘Ruth was only agreeing with your comment. To answer your question, I don’t believe there’s been much progress. The Pedley Advertiser is claiming the case is drug related, so we’ll just have to wait and see what unfolds.’
‘Tom, I need to borrow some of your tools today if that’s all right. I’m doing a minor alteration inside the van and I need a hammer, fretsaw and about four G-clamps.’
‘Sure, follow me and I’ll get them for you now.’
Kurt continued with his complaining. ‘Anyway, as far as this murder business is concerned, I hope they find the bloody culprit soon because I’ve had a gutful of the cops sniffing around. They give me the shits with all their questions and suspicions.’
Forever the grumbling bum, I thought, as we made our way to collect the tools. Perhaps one day Kurt might get out of bed on the right side and actually be pleasant to people. I gave him the tools and he continued on his way.
~ * ~
E
m, it’s almost nine o’clock. Time to move Helen and Brigit to C7.’
‘Okay. I suggest you take a tool or something just in case someone’s watching.’
‘Good thinking. If I’m caught unawares it’ll at least give the impression there’s purpose to all of this,’ I said, grabbing a bucket. ‘Which reminds me, I mentioned to Ruth Evans we have a problem with rats when she overheard a noise coming from B8. It was a close call but she seemed to take the bait.’
With the office now locked I made my way via the rear laundry door. The night was dark and there appeared to be no sign of anyone in the immediate vicinity. Emily kept watch from the laundry exit as I searched amongst my ring of endless keys for the right one. I looked back at her and she signaled the all clear. I opened the annex sliding door.
‘It’s only me, Tom,’ I whispered, entering the dark room and placing the bucket on a nearby ledge.
‘Thank God. You gave us a fright,’ muttered a reply from within.
‘You two okay?’
‘Sort of,’ Helen replied. ‘It’s been a long day with nothing to do.’
‘Tonight I’m moving you to C7 as a precaution. I know there’s a risk, but we must move quickly. Emily’s keeping watch in case someone’s lurking around. Unfortunately our resident busybody, Ruth Evans, heard a noise coming from your van today so all the more reason to do the switch. I’ve got to the stage where I’m not sure who to trust anymore. Bring with you only what’s necessary.’
Having locked the door behind us and with clearance from Emily, we began our trek to C7. I had purposely chosen this site
because rows B and C were coupled back to back on the one block. As a result there was no need to expose ourselves by crossing unnecessary roads, providing we kept close to the row of vans.
So far, so good. Only four vans to pass now before we reached our destination. Suddenly I heard the noise from an approaching car. With no time to hesitate I signaled to both women to crawl under a nearby van. I squeezed in beside them, wondering whether it was a resident simply looking for their site or someone with sinister intent. We lay chest-up in our dark protective surroundings, totally invisible. Our refuge was cold and damp but we were adequately concealed from passersby. The sound of slow-turning wheels on the gravel road drew nearer.
