The Second Jeopardy

by Roger Ormerod

  ‘Oh…that.’ The unrevealing face set into a blank mask.

  ‘I believe you were the officer who was sent to pick her up.’

  ‘Stupid woman. She was told to stay there. Why can’t they do as they’re told?’ It was what Freda Graham would expect of the public.

  ‘Perhaps, to her, the word “there” would mean the lay-by. That was where she’d been left.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You knew that?’

  ‘No. I was told the location of the phone box.’

  ‘So you went there, and she wasn’t waiting, so you went away?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  When she seemed not to be about to go on, Virginia said gently: ‘Then what did you do?’

  ‘I cruised around, all the roads she could have taken — four directions, for your information — as far as she could be expected to have walked in the time.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘How long between the time you received the call and when you arrived at the phone booth?’

  Freda Graham stared at her blankly, got up, found a packet of cigarettes, and returned with one bobbing in her lips. She wore no make-up, but her lips were full and red.

  ‘I don’t like this. A police officer questioned by a civilian…’

  ‘Surely that’s not unusual. You must have answered questions such as: can you tell me the way to so-and-so?’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘Because this is relating to your duties? But I’m only asking for facts, nothing that can betray official secrets. And you needn’t reply if you feel under any pressure.’

  Ash was flicked angrily towards an ashtray. ‘For what good it’ll do you…the call came at two thirty-seven, and it was a nine minutes’ run to the phone box.’

  ‘Thank you. Then she couldn’t have walked far.’

  ‘I didn’t see her.’

  ‘Perhaps she was dead by then.’

  ‘I think not.’ Freda’s voice held contempt.

  But Virginia’s was as smooth as cream. ‘She was found, in that road-grit bin, at four-forty…’

  ‘By me.’

  ‘And the doctor believed she’d been dead for only a short while before then.’

  ‘No more than half an hour.’

  ‘So she was alive for at least an hour and a half after her phone call.’

  ‘I can work that out myself.’

  ‘Yet you didn’t catch a glimpse of her?’

  ‘No.’

  Freda was losing patience. The full lips were becoming thinner, the unplucked eyebrows creeping closer together.

  ‘It didn’t occur to you that she could’ve been hiding from you?’

  ‘Not at that time. Later…’ She shook her head, annoyed with herself for offering something.

  ‘Later?’

  ‘It seemed she could have been hiding.’

  ‘Perhaps she regretted her 999 call.’

  ‘She certainly must’ve phoned somebody else, who came along and killed her.’

  ‘That’s what you thought happened?’

  Virginia waited, but there was no response. ‘Afterwards,’ she suggested.

  Freda nodded, looking down, then up again in defiance. ‘When it was too late.’

  ‘Too late to save her?’

  ‘I called in and reported and was told to return to my patrol. But by that time they’d got that Hodnutt creature…’

  ‘Me,’ said Harry proudly, glad to slip in his single word.

  Her head came round sharply. ‘What in God’s name’s this?’

  ‘This is Harry Hodnutt. Shall we say I’m checking on his statement?’

  ‘Say what you like. I’m going to ask you to leave.’

  ‘Does his presence upset you? If so, I’m sure he’d wait outside.’

  She struggled with her emotions for a moment, then stabbed them out beneath the end of her cigarette. ‘Let him stay. He’ll know the truth of this. He told them he’d left her in the lay-by, so they sent me back to have another look.’

  ‘By which time it was too late.’

  ‘Are you trying to get at me?’

  ‘Sorry. By no means. Your actions were in no way reprehensible.’

  ‘Well thank you for that, I’m sure. Who the hell’re you to pass judgement?’ Then she made an effort, and turned her bitterness in another direction. ‘I got a reprimand for that. A big X on my record. Or I’d be a sergeant by now.’

  ‘No commendation for finding her so cleverly — the second time round?’

  ‘Ha!’ Freda laughed flatly. On her face a laugh was ugly.

  ‘In the grit bin? Inspiration, was that?’

  ‘My eyes fell on it. Yellow. Standing there. I had a feeling.’

  ‘No clue then? Nothing to point to it, lying by it or something?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘A tenpence coin, perhaps.’

  ‘What the hell’re you talking about?’

  ‘Or perhaps a shoe?’ At Freda’s blank expression, Virginia went on: ‘She didn’t have any shoes on.’

  ‘Didn’t she? I never knew that.’

  ‘You didn’t notice?’

  ‘You don’t imagine I looked? One glance, and I dropped the lid.’

  ‘So…no shoe lying around?’

  ‘As though I’d have touched it if there had been! I was younger then, but not a damned amateur.’

  ‘And that was aimed at me,’ said Virginia, smiling.

  ‘Right between the eyes,’ Freda Graham agreed. ‘And now…’ Rising to her feet. ‘I’ll have to ask you to leave.’

  Virginia nodded, stood and turned to Harry. ‘Anything you want to ask, Harry?’

  Harry stared at the outraged glare from Freda, and shook his head.

  They left. The door was closed a little too close to their heels. They walked back to the car.

  ‘An’ a right waste of time that was,’ said Harry.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Want to drive, Harry? No? Right.’

  When she was pulling out onto the street he said: ‘What did it get us?’

  ‘A clearer picture, perhaps. Angela must have hung around for anything up to an hour and a half, obviously waiting for somebody. And hiding while she did the waiting.’

  ‘The other side of that five-barred gate,’ he suggested.

  ‘Could be. She waited until somebody came, and that person killed her.’

  ‘You’re sayin’ she managed to contact Charlie, and as soon as he could get there he came…’

  ‘And hit her with his stiletto heel, Harry?’

  ‘With hers?’

  ‘Then what happened to the other, if he took the murder one away?’

  ‘Search me.’

  ‘It’s beginning to worry me,’ she admitted. ‘Really worry me. Why would a man kill her with her own shoe, and then take away both of them?’

  ‘You think it points to a woman? Using her own.’

  ‘It would still mean that both of Angela’s were taken away. It’s just that I can’t see why.’

  Chapter Nine

  The spell of fine weather was slinking towards the horizon when they headed into Shropshire. Ahead, the sky was uneasy, with heavy clouds bustling in from the west. The forecast had been for thundery showers.

  It was ten o’clock the following morning. Once again she had picked him up in the town square, this time looking for a big, smartly dressed man. He had on another outfit: T-shirt with a leather jacket over it, new jeans that could have been designed for him, and soft tan leather shoes.

  ‘Another change, Harry? Your fence must have been very grateful.’

  ‘We shared a cell, and I kept the goons off him in the showers. He wanted to fit me out with an Italian suit, but y’ got to draw the line somewhere. I insisted on British goods.’

  ‘Smart, but casual,’ she commented, held by the traffic lights at Trinity Street.

  ‘Gotta impress O’Loughlin. Can’t let him know I’m broke
. Money impresses money. Where’d you get the Range Rover?’

  ‘It’s my father’s. I looked for the lake on the map, and couldn’t find it, but there were a lot of minor roads, so I played safe.’

  They drove on in silence. Harry was wondering what she expected to get out of the coming visit, and whether she realized that only he would be expected by O’Loughlin. If they allowed her on the island, would she let Harry do the talking? O’Loughlin would be able to talk more easily with one of his own kind, even if Harry was only a minor, buckled cog in the machinery and O’Loughlin the main spring.

  He wondered if she would brief him, but when she eventually spoke she was still thinking about Freda Graham.

  ‘What did you think about our WPC Graham, Harry?’

  ‘A tough character. Wouldn’t take her long to clear a pub.’

  ‘She didn’t like you.’

  ‘Because I was on the wrong side of the fence.’

  ‘Not that, I think. She fancied me.’

  ‘She what?’ Harry twisted on the seat. ‘She’d have had your eyes out…’

  ‘No. She was aggressive because I wouldn’t sweet-talk her. Don’t you realize why I kept it so formal?’ She glanced at him, her eyes bright. ‘She scared me, Harry.’

  ‘Scared?’

  ‘You’re such an innocent, that’s your trouble.’

  While Harry was considering this insult, she was hunting ahead for signposts. She said: ‘You told me, aim for Craven Arms. That’s it, up ahead. Where to now? I hope you know.’

  ‘Roughly. Where’s your map?’

  They pulled in to the side of the road and consulted her three miles to the inch atlas. At that scale the lake, when he thought he’d found it, was tiny, and bore no name. Not even minor roads seemed to go near it, the only access appearing to be dotted lines.

  ‘Left up here,’ he said, ‘and I’ll guide you.’

  They ran out of road with nothing but dark trees and tangled slopes ahead. It had been a long while since they had seen a sign of habitation. They were faced by a ride cut through woodland, a ride which soon forked, split again, crossed a ridge, plunged across a valley inhabited by a few sheep and a family of deer, negotiated a log bridge over a crisp, white stream, and eventually reached a crossing with one arm signposted: Sean Lake. The sign was a wooden slat nailed crookedly to a tree. It was small. Beneath it, much more prominent, was the sign: NO ADMITTANCE.

  ‘Success,’ said Harry. ‘Carry on.’

  They came down through the trees to a clearing on the edge of the water. The motionless lake was holding its breath in the hush before a storm, with crows calling warnings in the trees and wild geese paddling hurriedly beneath the overhanging branches.

  It was not a large lake, but it would have required an experienced swimmer to reach the island in the centre of it. The island itself was thickly wooded, and the house was barely visible amongst the trees, being of log construction. They could see the runway down from it to the water, the jetty, and the two motor launches berthed at it, their paintwork bright in the half-light.

  In front of them was another wooden jetty, with a post to one side of it, affixed to it a wooden construction like a nesting box. Harry said: ‘Come on,’ and led the way. His halting stride gave an impression of confidence, because he knew they were being observed, probably from a telescope on the house roof. He was also aware that they had reached this far only by the kind permission of the advance defences in the woodland they had just driven through. The very fact that they had reached the lake meant they were expected — at least, he was — so that when he opened the door in the front of the box and took out the phone he simply answered the snapped: ‘Yes?’ with the equally abrupt statement: ‘Harry Hodnutt to see Sean O’Loughlin.’

  ‘Wait,’ said the voice. The phone clicked off.

  ‘We wait,’ said Harry.

  Across the water, two tiny figures were seen walking down to the jetty and jumping into one of the motor boats. The engine fired with a throb of power. O’Loughlin, land-bound, would be satisfied with nothing less than a racing cruiser. Harry wondered how they’d got it there.

  The cruiser putt-putted up to the jetty and nudged it gently. The two tiny figures turned out to be two very large and expressionless toughs in unnecessarily bulky parkas to hide the weaponry. There seemed no point in hiding it, thought Harry, but they’d have felt naked without their underarm reach for the dramatic snap draw. And useless.

  They might have been twins, apart from their hair. The ginger one said to Harry: ‘Hoist ’em.’ Harry did so, and was patted all over. The bald one said to Virginia: ‘You too, sister,’ using the Bogart lisp.

  Harry glanced at her. Her eyes had glazed. Slowly she raised her arms. Impersonally, impassionately, he patted her all over, reached for her shoulder bag and examined its contents, discovered her lighter, sneered at it, and tossed it into the lake. He stood back and nodded to his mate, who gestured towards the cruiser.

  Harry led the way, in order not to study Virginia’s expression. She was moving stiffly, with delicate precision. The boat took off in a splendid sweep and headed for the island.

  During the time they were there they saw no one but those two, Red and Baldy, and Sean O’Loughlin himself. They were taken straight through the house, having no time to register anything but a general air of wealthy lack of taste. O’Loughlin seemed to own everything worth owning, and had packed it all into his headquarters. Out at the back he had a wooden veranda, on piles over the water, and here, apparently because he was in the open air, his only displayed possessions were a table and half a dozen chrome and moulded plastic chairs. Sean O’Loughlin, living the simple life, was dressed in a white silk and mohair suit, a pale blue silk shirt and a maroon silk cravat. He was sitting at the table, one leg negligently crossed over the other knee, and swinging a white Gucci shoe in lizard skin.

  It was clear to Virginia that the reason he was sitting was that he was small. Small and mean and casually vicious, if those tiny, almost colourless eyes were anything to go by. A thin face, carved by time, which he clearly resented. Delicate hands, with slim fingers that twitched. He had a tic that flickered the corner of his mouth, so that a smile could easily become a sneer.

  ‘Introduce me, Harry,’ he said, his voice as thin as his face, as pale as his eyes, adopting a friendship that was clearly a trap.

  ‘Virginia Brent,’ said Harry. ‘My friend.’ Thus rejecting O’Loughlin’s offer. The eyes narrowed fractionally.

  ‘You’ve been asking around, Harry,’ he said casually, looking out at the water.

  Red had taken up a position with his back to the guard rail above the lake. Baldy was standing, legs spread, at Virginia’s shoulder. She said: ‘We would like to trace Charlie Braine.’

  The eyes focused on her. ‘Anybody ask you?’

  ‘We would also,’ she said, ‘like to ask your advice about a bank job.’

  ‘Harry?’ said O’Loughlin, keeping his eyes on Virginia.

  Harry, who had not been briefed, was unsure of Virginia’s angle. She was no doubt playing it as it came. He said: ‘We’d like to trace Charlie Braine, and also ask your advice about a bank job.’

  O’Loughlin tapped a finger on the table surface. Red tensed. O’Loughlin smiled. Baldy took a pace back; the smile had come too close.

  ‘Suppose we decide who’s doing the talking. Harry, I know you’re not too bright, so…’ He inclined his head towards her, briefly revealing the edge of his toupee. ‘The lady, perhaps? Why do you want to find Charlie Braine?’

  ‘Because,’ she said, ‘he’s missing. He’s been missing for four years, from about the time that over a hundred grand in cash disappeared from the Mercantile Bank in Trinity Street.’

  ‘You think they disappeared together?’ he asked with distant interest.

  ‘Possibly. The money hasn’t stirred up any silt, so it’s buried deep.’

  ‘By that, I suppose you mean it hasn’t shown?’

  ‘Th
at’s what I meant.’

  ‘Can’t help you there, I’m afraid.’

  ‘We didn’t expect you to,’ she assured him. ‘We’d hardly come here and expect you to hand over a hundred and twenty thousand in cash, just for the asking. We’re not interested in the money.’

  His face wavered, then became set. Even the tic ceased to operate. Shock, she decided. ‘You’re not interested…I don’t believe it.’

  ‘We’re interested in how it was done. The bank job. We thought you would know. When in doubt, consult a specialist, I always say.’

  O’Loughlin laughed. At least, he spluttered, and so abruptly that it caught him by surprise and he had to whip up a hand to restrain his lower denture. He recovered. The tic went wild. ‘By God, but you’ve got a nerve.’

  Harry thought so, too. He had decided he could take Red, get him over the guard rail before he could draw, but he wasn’t sure about Baldy and Virginia. She seemed relaxed, not poised for any violent action, even if there was any possible opposition she could offer to Baldy.

  Inside, she was almost paralysed with fear, but the smile she managed seemed genuine from her side of it. This man admired nerve. The bank job, as she’d reconstructed it in her mind, had required nerve and audacity. She was risking everything on her assessment of O’Loughlin.

  ‘I wouldn’t venture to ask you whether that bank job was yours,’ she said meekly.

  ‘I should hope not.’

  ‘Because I know you’re too big for that. It was paltry. You might have planned it. Or you might have heard about it, and admired the technique. It’s simply that I would like to hear how that job would have been planned by you — if you had planned it…’

  ‘So that you can find Charlie Braine?’ he cut in, his voice incisive. ‘You think it would help you?’

  ‘Exactly.’ She seemed pleased at his lightning perception. ‘I believe he was involved, in an obscure way.’

  O’Loughlin was silent. His eyes wandered, and his two helpers stiffened as his gaze slid past. Virginia waited patiently, perfectly still, although the tension was shooting pains up her legs and her back. She knew only that O’Loughlin had virtually sent for Harry, even if he hadn’t expected her. O’Loughlin wanted something. She waited to discover what.