At this point, Melissa found herself faced with a problem: Should she, when making her formal statement in a few hours’ time, include the information that she and Bruce had gleaned from Julie’s concerned neighbour? Common sense – and conscience – insisted that she should, but she found herself hesitating. Bruce urgently wanted a copy of that picture in order to claim a scoop for his newspaper, so he would quite possibly ‘forget’ to mention Rocky’s hobby or the existence of the darkroom until he had done his level best to get his hands on it. If in the meantime she, Melissa, reported their conversation with Penny Lister in full, it would earn Bruce the blackest of black marks from DCI Holloway and possibly make him persona non grata at future press briefings. Since Bruce was an old friend, she decided to have a word with him first. It was a little after eight o’clock; hoping to catch him before he left for work, she called his home number.
‘That’s a nice thought, Mel, and I appreciate it,’ he said when she explained the reason for her call. ‘Actually, I was going to give you a bell … I thought you’d be interested to know what I turned up yesterday evening.’
‘Yesterday evening? Where?’
‘In Carston. I went to see Penny.’
‘Hoping that Julie Wilkins would have poured her troubles into her friend’s sympathetic ear and you’d get a story?’ Instead of a joking response to what was intended as a good-natured taunt, there was silence at the other end of the line. A trifle impatiently, Melissa said, ‘Well, had she?’
‘As it happens, yes,’ said Bruce, ‘but that wasn’t my reason for the visit.’
‘No?’
‘No. You were probably still too shaken up after your struggle with Rocky to take much notice of your surroundings while we were talking to Penny, but it was obvious to me that she was having a hard time, coping with that kid on her own … I mean, there was no man around.’
‘How did you figure that out?’
‘No men’s clothing on the hall stand, no men’s boots or shoes, no man in any of the photos. The furniture was pretty shabby and her and the kid’s clothes looked as if they’d come from jumble sales … I had the impression that life was a bit of a struggle for Penny and it seemed to me she deserved something better and … well … to cut a long story short, I bought a cuddly toy for Kirsty and some flowers and chocs for Penny and took them round.’
‘That was kind of you.’
‘Mel, you wouldn’t believe how touched she was, how grateful. Anyone would have thought I was there to tell her she’d won the lottery. As I guessed, she’s all on her own – the kid’s father dumped her when she told him she was pregnant and her parents are dead—’
‘Poor girl.’ There had been times during Melissa’s long acquaintance with Bruce when he had shown himself to be as hard-headed as any other journalist on the track of a story, but she also knew him to be capable at times of great kindness and humanity. This, she sensed, was one of those times. It occurred to her how similar Penny’s situation was to her own when Simon was a baby, yet at the same time, how different. At least her dead lover’s parents had looked after her and given her and her child a home, even though her own had rejected her.
‘Anyway,’ Bruce went on, ‘we got talking … and then of course the subject of the rumpus next door came up. As we guessed, the patrol car that turned up at the superstore had been sent by Holloway to pick up Julie and bring her home. Then he asked her a lot of questions about Rocky that she couldn’t answer.’
‘Couldn’t or wouldn’t?’
‘Some and some, by the sound of it.’
‘Did they find Hannah’s picture?’
‘Possibly. Not the one you saw in Rachel’s caravan, though.’
‘There were others of her?’
‘That has yet to be established.’ There was a tantalising pause; evidently, Bruce had something sensational up his sleeve and was determined to milk it for maximum effect.
‘Oh, do get on with it!’ Melissa said impatiently. ‘Did the police search the house? What did they find?’
‘They searched the house all right … and they found the darkroom in the attic. They brought down a quantity of photographs; some were in albums that had been stored openly on shelves. They’d also broken into a locked cupboard and found—’ Bruce paused on a note of rising intonation, a sure sign that he was about to release his bombshell. Melissa mentally allowed him a count of five and was on the point of giving him a further prompt – in somewhat more energetic terms than before – when he continued, in an uncharacteristically serious voice, ‘—more photographs, the kind that no nice person would want to look at.’
This was something entirely unexpected and it took a few seconds to sink in. ‘You mean, hard porn?’ she said, almost in disbelief.
‘Very hard, so I understand. It seems that Rocky has some seriously original ideas about accessories and camera angles.’
‘You mean, he took the pics himself?’
‘Maybe not all of them. Apparently he features in some.’
‘Good Lord! Did Julie see them?’
‘A few, for identification purposes I suppose. Penny says the poor woman’s distraught at the knowledge of what her wonderman has been up to. She was prepared to lie through her teeth for him – after they saw the E-FIT of Hannah in the Gazette the two of them destroyed the last copy of a picture that Rocky had taken of her and the negative as well.’
‘Would that be the one I saw in Rachel’s caravan, d’you think?’
‘I imagine so. He’d hardly have let her see any of the other sort.’
‘He can’t be very bright, keeping all that obscene material in the house for his wife to find.’
‘She’d been forbidden – under threat of violence, Penny says – to go near the studio, but she disobeyed once because some of the people where she works jokingly suggested he might be hiding girlie pictures up there. And the only one she found was a perfectly innocent one of a gipsy. Ironic, isn’t it? I reckon he’s been making a fortune selling the dirty ones to perverts like himself. You can tell from the way their place is furnished that there’s plenty of money sloshing around … more than you’d expect your average truckie to bring in.’
‘Yes, that did occur to me, but I didn’t give it that much thought. Has Julie told the police about the photo they destroyed?’
‘She most definitely has not. In fact, she’s regretting now having blurted it out to Penny … even though she feels nothing but revulsion over the pornography, she’s convinced herself Rocky’s innocent of the murder and she’ll do all she can to protect him.’
‘So Penny, like a good friend, reveals all to the press instead.’ Melissa felt her sympathy evaporating in the face of this apparent act of betrayal. ‘Hoping you’d make it worth her while, I suppose.’
‘I didn’t go there to get a story, nothing was said about money and I promised her that everything she told me is off the record,’ said Bruce quietly.
He sounded hurt rather than offended and Melissa was quick to apologise. ‘But surely,’ she added, ‘the police should be told about the destruction of the photograph?’
‘What proof is there that it really was of Hannah? It’s only hearsay, not evidence. Even if Julie was prepared to make a formal statement about it, she’d only be incriminating herself.’
‘Mm, you’re probably right. Bruce, you hinted a moment ago that some of the other pictures might be of Hannah as well?’
‘Not having seen any of them, I can’t say for sure, but they might be. The police may be able to identify her in some of them. If they can’t, it’ll be difficult to prove that Rocky was involved with her.’
‘Not even if Julie decides to shop him?’
‘He’d simply deny it … claim she was trying to drop him in it by way of revenge.’
‘True. Well, Bruce, thanks for bringing me up to date. Bad luck about missing your scoop over the photo.’
‘I think maybe I’ve got something better than a scoop.’ And he rang off, leavin
g Melissa to speculate on this somewhat cryptic remark.
Yesterday, while still in a state of shock, Melissa had paid little attention to WPC Audrey Savage’s appearance. Now, sitting opposite her in an interview room at police headquarters, she saw that the young officer had curly blonde hair, freckles and an engaging smile that revealed small, even teeth. ‘I take it you’ll be pressing charges?’ she said as Melissa, having read over her statement, signed it and handed it back. ‘When we catch him, that is.’
‘To be frank, I’d rather not.’ Visions of appearances in court, titillating reports in the tabloids and stormy scenes with Ken Harris flashed through her head. ‘You’ve surely got enough on him already, without my four penn’orth.’
The young officer’s eyes grew suddenly keen and questioning. ‘What do you mean by that?’
Realising that she had been on the point of revealing how much she knew about Rocky’s unusual hobby, Melissa said hastily, ‘I took it for granted that he’s in the frame for Hannah Rose’s murder. From the way he reacted when I mentioned her name, it was obvious that he knew her and he’s almost certainly the man she ran off with. I suspected it all along … I told Sergeant Waters …’
Audrey nodded. ‘So I understand. All we need now is evidence,’ she added wryly. ‘And of course, Wilkins himself.’
‘I take it he’s not been spotted yet?’
‘Not that I’ve heard.’
‘What about Hannah? Have the house-to-house inquiries turned up any more sightings?’
‘Yes, several, but all earlier in the day, nothing after she called on Major and Mrs Ford.’
‘Theirs is the last house at their end of the village,’ Melissa pointed out. ‘If she was heading back to catch the bus on the main road, there’d be nowhere else for her to call.’
‘Yes, that’s just the trouble,’ Audrey sighed. ‘We’re hoping some passing motorist may have seen her.’
‘Or given her a lift.’
‘Exactly.’ The two women exchanged glances. Each knew what the other was thinking.
Melissa stood up to leave. ‘Well, with DCI Holloway on his track, I’m sure his days of freedom are numbered,’ she remarked with exaggerated solemnity, and Audrey replied, ‘Oh, undoubtedly they are,’ with an earnestness that belied the merry twinkle in her eyes. It was clear to them both as they shook hands that they were at one in their assessment of the officer in question.
‘You’re sure you’re quite recovered after your ordeal?’ said Audrey. ‘We can arrange for you to see a victim support counsellor if you’re suffering any after-effects.’
‘No, I’m fine, thanks. I take my support from thinking of Rocky’s sore head and shins … to say nothing of his wounded vanity,’ Melissa grinned. ‘I hope you get him soon,’ she added, becoming serious. ‘He’s a thoroughly nasty piece of work.’
‘Oh, we’ll get him, never fear.’
When Melissa reached home, Iris was at her front door, on the point of poking something through the letter-box. Spotting the car, she marched towards it, waving an envelope. ‘Glad I caught you,’ she said. ‘Easier to explain than a note. Going to London to meet Jack … something about the house … won’t be back till tomorrow.’
‘Oh, right. You want me to feed Binkie?’
‘Please. Gloria’s supposed to come this afternoon to do extra cleaning. You’ll be here to let her in?’
‘Yes, no problem.’
‘Good. Spare key in there.’ Iris thrust the envelope through the driver’s window into Melissa’s hand. ‘Must fly. Taxi due in ten minutes.’ With a hasty wave, she scuttled indoors.
A short time later, Melissa heard the crunch of wheels on the drive and glanced out of her sitting-room window to see her friend, clad in a shapeless tweed coat with a leather pouch slung over one shoulder, handing a battered suitcase to a taxi driver, who stowed it in the boot while Iris scrambled inelegantly into the passenger seat and slammed the door. Melissa stood watching as the car disappeared and then went into the kitchen to fill the kettle for a cup of coffee. Her thoughts were gloomy. In a few weeks’ time there would be a removal van at the door and Iris would leave Elder Cottage for good. She felt a surge of envy for her friend, so confident that she had made the right decision, so positive about her future with Jack. Then she gave herself a shake.
‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself,’ she said aloud as she made her coffee. As she did so, she heard the sound of an approaching car. Thinking that it might be Iris returning for something she had forgotten, she went to the front door. But it was not the taxi that drew up outside, but a Ford Sierra that had seen better days. The driver got out and came towards her. It was Rachel.
Eighteen
Rachel’s features were drawn and there were dark rings under her eyes. As she approached the door of Hawthorn Cottage her scarlet shawl began slipping from her shoulders and she dragged it awkwardly back into place with hands that shook.
‘Mrs Melissa,’ she said in a voice that sounded harsh and unsteady, ‘Please, I must speak to you.’
‘Of course … come in.’ Melissa led her unexpected visitor into the kitchen. ‘Sit down. I’ve just made coffee. Would you like some?’
‘Thank you.’
Melissa filled a second mug and put it on the table alongside a jug of milk, a bowl of sugar and an open packet of ginger nuts. Rachel helped herself to milk but declined the sugar and the biscuits with a shake of the head. She raised the mug to her mouth, gripping it with both hands as if in an effort to steady them. After a few hesitant sips she put it down and stared into the contents as if she saw something fearful in their depths.
There was a long silence. At last, Melissa said, ‘Rachel, what’s the matter?’
The reply came in a low, tremulous whisper. ‘I am afraid!’
‘Afraid of what?’
‘Of what my man and his brethren are planning to do.’ Rachel broke off, her mouth working, and put one hand over her eyes. ‘I cannot sleep,’ she continued, her voice barely audible. ‘I lie awake in fear … if they carry out their vow, they will bring great trouble on our people.’
‘What vow is that?’
‘They have found him … and they mean to …’ Once again, emotion stemmed the flow of words, but the gipsy had said enough to confirm Melissa’s own fears.
‘You’re talking about the man Hannah ran away with, aren’t you?’ she said.
Rachel raised her head, plainly startled by the question. Her eyes seemed to burn with the same fierce, angry light as on her previous visit. ‘The man who brought about her death,’ she corrected harshly. Her expression altered to one of suspicion as she asked, ‘Has someone spoken to you of this already?’
‘I have read about the customs of your people, and I feared something of the kind,’ Melissa said. ‘But Rachel, your menfolk must realise that there is nothing to prove that the man you are speaking of is the one who actually killed her. The police are doing all they can, but—’
‘The police!’ Rachel’s voice rang with scorn. ‘What is it to them that a gipsy has died?’
‘I assure you, they’re taking the case very seriously … sooner or later Hannah’s killer will be found and punished.’
‘We know who he is,’ Rachel declared. She leaned forward and spoke in a voice that throbbed with a blend of fear and anger. ‘Listen, and I will tell you. After Hannah’s body was found, ever since that day, there has been much secret talk among the men, but we women were told nothing. Yesterday we knew something had happened … there had been news, but still we were kept in ignorance. In the evening they left the camp and when they returned we saw there had been a fight – they had bleeding knuckles and one had a cut over his eye.’
Melissa had a sickening vision of Rocky being seized and dragged away to some remote hiding place, there to be mercilessly beaten by men on the fringe of society whose one thought was of revenge. He was strong, he would have put up a fight – the injury to one of the gipsies would seem to prove that – but he woul
d have been heavily outnumbered. She swallowed hard, but said nothing and waited.
After a moment, Rachel continued, ‘Straight away they held a kris … a council meeting. Only the men are allowed to be present at such meetings, but we were curious … and afraid.’ Her voice died away on the last word and she lapsed into a brooding silence that seemed to last for a long time, staring at her coffee but making no move to drink it.
In an attempt to bring her out of her reverie, Melissa said hesitantly, ‘You said there had been a fight. What was it about?’
‘Oh, that was nothing.’ Rachel’s dismissive gesture indicated that to return to camp with a few bruises after an evening out was a regular event, something Melissa was quite prepared to believe. At least, it was now clear that Rocky had not, as she first thought, been involved. ‘But a kris is something rare,’ Rachel went on, ‘called only when there is a matter of importance to discuss, so I and my sisters followed the men in secret. We hid ourselves and listened. Most of the time they spoke one at a time in low voices and we could make nothing of what they were saying, but when they gave their verdict, they spoke as one man.’
Pin-pricks of apprehension crept along Melissa’s spine as she asked, ‘What verdict?’
‘Our leader, our Rai, said, “So we are all agreed. He must be punished,” and together they repeated the words. And this can mean only one thing – they will do this man some harm and bring ill fortune on us all. Mrs Melissa, you must help me stop them!’
‘I? What can I do?’ Melissa had listened to the story with growing alarm. With Rocky’s exposure and flight, and the belief that the police had the investigation into Hannah’s murder well in hand, she had mentally written herself out of the affair. Now, it seemed, Fate was doing its best to suck her back into an even more dangerous scenario.
Murder in Langley Woods Page 17
