by Rachel Green
“I find that hard to believe. “
“Why?
Malcolm stood behind Meinwen and patted her shoulder. “Because you wouldn’t post the key to a box you were convinced you were about to dig up.” She felt the flurry of movement as he whipped the towel around her throat and pulled. Her vision shrank to a pinpoint as the breath left her.
Nothing but the pressure had changed when she came to, though Graham was rifling through the Inspector’s pockets. Malcolm’s voice sounded behind her. “She’s back.” He tapped her cheek with the inspector’s gun.
“I’m sorry.” Michelle spoke up. “I had to tell them I saw you give the inspector a key. You were choking. He would have killed you.”
“They’re going to kill us anyway.” Meinwen coughed. It hurt to swallow and despite her words feared permanent damage even if they survived. “The end excuses any evil.”
“Bingo.” Graham held up a key to a mortice lock. “So new it still has the burrs on it. If that fits a modern lock I’m the Queen of Sheba. So you were telling the truth about posting the key in the letterbox, you just didn’t mention you’d made a copy.” He crossed to the table and tried it in the witchfinder’s box. There was a click as the lid opened. “What did I tell you?”
He opened the lid and although Meinwen craned her neck she couldn’t see the contents.
Graham seemed pleased with himself. He looked across at Malcolm and gave him the sort of smile Meinwen had only seen cats give to dogs that had been shut outside.
“Are they there?” Malcolm moved a pace forward.
“Yes.” Graham lifted a package out of the chest and unwrapped it, dropping layers of soft cotton on the floor. He held a glimmering metal plate by the edges, turning it this way and that to reveal the detail. “Welcome back, my little beauties.”
Chapter 40
A dull clunk sounded and Malcolm slid to the floor, the gun skittering across the kitchen tiles. Graham turned to find a large man pointing the nozzle of what looked to be a fire extinguisher at him. He put the plate down slowly.
“I suggest you make no sudden moves.” The newcomer smiled at him. “I really don’t want to use this.”
“David!” Eden almost purred. “What frightfully good timing.”
“I thought so.” David glanced at her. “You didn’t tell me you were having a soiree. Are you all right?”
“A bit stiff, actually. These bindings are a bit tight.”
“Give me a moment and I’ll see what I can do about it.” David stepped toward the table, indicating Graham should move backward by a jerk of the nozzle. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”
“This is Meinwen Jones.” Eden jerked her head. “You remember I talked about some cross-business promotions?”
“The pagan woman, I remember.”
“And this lady is Michelle, but we’ve only just met.”
“How do you do.” Michelle smiled at David. “I’d shake hands but…” She shrugged.
“Nice to meet you.” David gave her the briefest of nods. “And the gentleman on the floor? Not Malcolm. I know him, of course. As a matter of face I did have a word with someone about him. One of the reasons I was home early. I wanted to talk to you about letting him go.”
“That’s DI White. I told you, he came to Eddie Burbridge’s funeral in case there was any trouble.”
“You did, I remember.” David moved to the table. “And this gentleman?”
Michelle piped up. “That’s Graham. We used to be partners but I’m having a re-think about it now.”
David rested the cylinder on the wooden surface and used his free hand to pull out a mobile phone. “Does anyone know the number of the local police?”
“Four-three-five-eight.” Meinwen shuffled her chair forward, trying to reach the Martin and the knife she knew he had. “Quite clever, really. It’s ‘help’ on a telephone keypad.”
“Oh! That is clever. I shall remember that.” David dialed the number, glancing between Graham and the phone. When he finished dialing he put it on the table and had obviously switched it to speaker, since they could all hear it picked up by the operator.
“Laverstone Police. I see you’re calling from a mobile telephone registered to David Maguire, New Eden Cemetery, Laverstone. Is that correct?
“Er…it is, yes.” David beamed at Eden. “All my years in court and I never knew they could do that. Marvelous.”
“How can we be of assistance, sir?
“We’ve got two armed chaps menacing us and they’ve tied up my wife and her friends–”
“And DI White needs an ambulance,” added Meinwen.
“Oh dear. Did you catch that?”
“Yes, sir. Units have been dispatched and are on their way.”
“Excellent.”
“Please stay on the line if you can, sir.”
“I shall. Please hu–” David stabbed the telephone to disconnect the call. He lifted the nozzle again and pointed it at Graham. “There. Wouldn’t want the local bobbies to hear what I’m going to say. Do you know what my wife does?”
Graham took his hand away from his pocket. “Funerals?”
“Indeed yes. And what else?”
“Cremations?”
“Yes and no. Cryomations. It’s like cremations but…you tell him, dear.”
“I freeze the bodies with liquid nitrogen until they’re as brittle as a sandcastle, then vibrate them at high speeds until they’re reduced to a powder which is then dissolved to remove all the water content. The result is then freeze-dried and compressed into a biodegradable block.”
“Yes. That.” David smiled like a solicitor who’d just won his case. “The salient point being the liquid nitrogen. A canister of which I am aiming at you. I’ve seen what this does to a body but never a living man, though I’ve seen enough Hollywood blockbusters to hazard a good guess. Truth be told, I’d rather never find out and unless you’ve a pressing desire to discover how it feels to lose a hand in three seconds flat I suggest you don’t make any sudden moves.”
“Fair enough.” Graham backed off a step. “I’m an artist, me. I’d rather keep all my limbs.”
“Jolly good. Perhaps you’d like to take a seat while we wait for the police?”
Meinwen had managed to shuffle the chair as far as Malcolm’s inert form. She knew the knife was in his right jacket pocket, she’d been watching, but with her hands tied she was at a loss to know how to get it out. She tried nudging the jacket with her foot to spill the contents but no sooner had she hooked her toes beneath the cloth that Malcolm had opened his eyes and grabbed her leg with one hand and her foot with the other and twisted. She shrieked with pain and, unable to jerk her foot away, ended up tipping over the whole chair with herself still attached to it.
Malcolm used the chair as leverage to haul himself upright, keeping Meinwen between himself and David’s liquid nitrogen. Once up he pulled the knife from his pocket and stood behind Eden, the blade to her throat once more. “I’d put that down if I was you, squire, or my erstwhile employer will find herself a client of her own business.”
“She’d be the guest, not the client. Didn’t you learn anything?” David stepped away from the canister and Graham picked it up, grunting with the effort. “You’re stronger than you look, mate.” He turned the valve and a stream of gas shot out over the cupboards and sent him stumbling backward. “Blimey, he’s not wrong.”
“You heard the lady on the telephone. The police are on their way.” David held up his hands and took a step to the left. Meinwen guessed it was to keep both Malcolm and Graham in his field of view.
“Why don’t you take a seat, mate.” Malcolm nodded to fourth chair. “My lad’ll make you comfortable.”
“On these?” David pinched up his trousers and sat. “I said we should have got director’s chairs, didn’t I?”
“Very droll.” Malcolm looked about the room. “What happened to the gun? I had it in my hand when that bastard dropped me.”
“I don’t know, Dad. There was a lot of commotion. On the floor, somewhere, I expect.” Graham pulled open several drawers.
“What are you messing about at? Just tie him up.”
“With what, exactly? I used the last of the rope from the tractor on the copper.”
“There must be something.”
“This is a kitchen, not a tool shed.”
“Just kill him then. You heard him call the coppers. We don’t have time to muck about.”
“There’s cling film in the cupboard over the kettle.” Eden’s mouth was a tight line of anxiety. “You could tie him up with that. It’s ever so strong.”
Graham opened the cupboard and pulled out a tube of it. He unrolled a few inches and tested it. “Who’d have thought?”
“Get a move on.” Malcolm swapped the knife to his other hand to stretch and flex his fingers. He tilted his head to one side, trying to see beneath the chairs. “Don’t worry about his circulation. The coppers’ll free him.”
“All done.” Graham stood in front of David. “Not so cocky now, are you, Mr. High-and-Mighty? Think you’re better than other people, don’t you?”
David sneered. “I do, rather. At least I don’t spend my days terrorizing women.”
Graham leaned forward, resting his hands on the arms of the chair to laugh in David’s face. “Well at least I gave you a last chance to see your missus.”
“Indeed.” David lifted his right leg and slammed the foot as hard as he could against Graham’s knee. Graham collapsed onto the tiles, shrieking and clutching his knee with both hands. “I think you’ve broken my kneecap.”
“Good.” David leaned forward, lifting both himself and the chair and slamming it down diagonally onto a single chair leg. The wood splintered and broke, dumping him into the floor with his arms still attached to the wooden legs like Japanese tonfa. He lay there for a moment, puffing his breath like a steam engine on an incline.
“You bastard.” Graham, wincing in pain, pulled the knife from his pocket and stabbed at him. The slight warning was enough for David, lying diagonally with respect to Graham, to roll onto one side.
The blade missed his chest and entered his upper thigh instead. David gave a gasp.
Michelle screamed.
“Right.” Malcolm grabbed Eden by the hair and pulled her head back to expose her throat and leaned around her with the blade. Before he could cut her throat three shots rang out, a spatter of blood and brains covering the painting his son had admired earlier. The knife clattered to the floor as his body slumped and rolled off the back of the chair and fell.
Michelle’s screams paused only for her to take a breath.
“Be quiet, dear.” Meinwen didn’t recognise the woman who came into the room, the inspector’s gun held loosely in one hand and a large carpetbag similar to Meinwen’s in the other. Michelle was so shocked she did as she was told. “Vera? I thought–”
“I was in was these two? You thought wrong.” She gave Malcolm’s body a kick. “Good riddance to him. Still, it saves the cost of a divorce, eh?”
She looked the three women up and down. You’re all be right as rain after a cup of tea, I shouldn’t wonder. She bent to the inspector. “He’s breathing all right but he’ll have stitches, I shouldn’t wonder.”
She crossed to David and hissed. “That’s nasty.”
“You don’t say?” David’s words were barely more than hisses.
“Do you want to live or not?” She put the gun in the bag and set it down, glancing around the room. She picked up the cling film.
Graham raised himself to a seated position. “Just leave him, mum. Help me up.”
“And have my son wanted for murder?” Vera tutted. “I’m old enough not to care and he wasn’t my first, besides. You’ve got your whole life in front of you.” She began to wrap the plastic tightly around David’s leg. “There. That should keep your insides inside long enough for the ambulance to get here.”
Michelle sniffed. “We called ages ago.”
“Did you, love? There was an accident on Markham Road they’re still trying to get around. “Some fool parked their car on the bend.” She smiled, wrinkling her nose. “You should have seen that coming.”
She opened the door to the pantry, closed it and tried a second. She took out a broom and helped Graham to his feet, handing him the broom to use as a crutch. “Are these the plates?”
“Yes mum. The chest is pretty valuable, too.”
“But far too cumbersome.” She dropped the plates in her bag and picked it up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, we have a plane to catch.” She paused to allow Graham to negotiate the stairs and nudged Michelle. “If you do speak to Malcolm, tell him he owes me thirteen years of child maintenance, will you?”
Chapter 41
Meinwen twisted one leg beneath her and with effort managed to tip herself onto her front. From this position she was able to inch along until she was behind the other women then twish onto her side. A brief study of the knots lent credence to the idea that Graham had some regard for Michelle, since her bonds weren’t as tightly knotted as Eden’s. Trying to avoid kneeling in the pool of blood from Malcolm’s corpse, she began to worry at them with her teeth.
“David? Are you all right? Talk to me.” Eden’s voice wavered with her concern. “Don’t pass out on me. The ambulance will be here soon.” She looked across at Michelle and Meinwen. “What kind of person blocks a road to stop the emergency services?”
“A desperate one.” Meinwen spat out fibers. The rope tasted of diesel fuel, which made her feel sick. She gripped the end of the knot with her teeth again and worried at it. “Goddess save me from half-hitches.”
“You’d prefer a Turk’s Head?” Eden referred to a complex, difficult knot generally used decoratively, most commonly on whips and floggers.
“No, but a good reef knot would have been both secure and easy to release.”
“Just hurry, please. I’m worried about David.”
“We all are. Inspector White needs urgent attention, too. He’s been out cold for almost an hour.” Meinwen pulled a knot loose. “One down.”
“Out of how many?”
Meinwen shook her head, aware the others couldn’t see the gesture. “Too many.” There was a noise downstairs and she stiffened. “What was that?”
“The police?” Eden’s reply was barely more than a hiss.
“Maybe they’ve come back.” Michelle struggled, making Meinwen’s job harder. “Maybe Graham wants to take me with him.”
“More likely he convinced his mother not to leave us alive.”
A shout from downstairs made Meinwen laugh with relief. “This is the police…”
“Up here!” All three women shouted in unison. “Hurry.”
Seconds later, the kitchen door was opened by two officers from the armed response unit, followed by Sergeant Peters in a flak vest, a pistol held in both hands. His eyebrows rose when her saw Meinwen.
“They’re gone,” she said, correctly interpreting the movement as a question. “They said an airport. White’s been hit in the head with a shovel and David’s been stabbed in the leg.”
Peters holstered his gun while the two armed officers swept through the rest of the flat. He turned to the door and shouted for paramedics. Sergeant Wilde, who must have already been on the stairs, appeared a moment later carrying a medical kit and hurried across to DI White. She checked his pulse and his breathing. “Head wound. He’s stable and there’s no bleeding.” She crossed to David.
Peters pulled out a pocketknife and crossed to Meinwen, who jerked her head at Eden and Michelle. “Do them first.” He made short work of the ropes, sawing through them as if they were cheese strings. Eden ran across to her husband the moment she was freed. Michelle rubbed her arms while Peters freed Meinwen.
He nodded at Malcolm. “Friend of yours?”
“Not likely. He’s–” Meinwen’s explanation was interrupted by the arrival of the paramedics. They
assessed the situation and went to the aid of David first. Meinwen hovered behind them while Peters gave orders to sweep the rest of the property.
Eden was holding David’s hand, crying and talking through her tears. “You’re going to be all right, David. Hold on. They’re going to take you to the hospital. Hang on, David.”
“Blackberry…” His voice was faint.
“Don’t try to talk, sir. Conserve your strength. Try to stay awake, please.” The paramedic prepared a syringe and injected him.
“Blackberry?”
“He wants his mobile.” Eden looked around the room. “Can anyone see it?”
“She has it.” His eyes fluttered and closed.
“David!” Eden grasped his hand so hard it was a wonder it didn’t break.
“We need to get him to Pity’s.” The medics laid out a stretcher.
“He needs his Blackberry.” Eden wouldn’t let go even as they transferred him to the stretcher and raised it. “Who has it?”
“Madam, please.” They pushed past and maneuvered the gurney through the kitchen and down the stairs, closely followed by Eden. They returned moments later for White.
The kitchen seemed silent when they’d all gone. Peters surveyed the blood, the broken chair, the cling film and the cut ropes. He visibly sagged. “That’s my crime scene buggered.”
Meinwen looked at Malcolm’s body. The blood had formed a sizeable pool around him, a good indication his heart had continued to beat for several minutes. Circular marks proved she’d knelt in the pool at least once and the hem of her skirt had soaked up a good portion. “At least you can close the cases on Edward Burbridge and Joseph Yanuk. He confessed to killing them both, though he claimed they were accidents.” She wished Eden were still here to lend her something to change into.
“Handy Glover. Petty thief, safecracker and general thug. Did ten years in Brixton in the eighties. Thought he was clean now. Just shows how wrong you can be.” Sergeant Peters smelled of sweat and gun oil. Meinwen was sorry he was spoken for. “Are you hurt? Your skirt’s all bloody.”
