Falling into Crime

by Penny Grubb

  ‘Uh … only you. I was only there for a minute. Why?’

  ‘I don’t want this going any further, Annie, but we had an intruder on Monday night.’

  ‘Oh … uh … did you lose much?’

  ‘No, luckily security was on to them before they had time to do much. Margot’s desk was broken into. Otherwise, just a bit of damage, things thrown about.’

  Margot’s desk? She’d been nowhere near Margot’s office.

  ‘Margot said to tell you they took the tapes you gave her.’

  Annie’s head spun. Had the guy who’d chased her gone back for the tapes? Was that why he hadn’t come after her when she made it to a public space, or was Margot using the break-in as an excuse to be rid of them?

  ‘Annie, did you leave the building straight away?’

  She pulled in a breath. ‘Uh … more or less. I tried to find the loo downstairs before I went but it was so crowded I nipped across the road into a coffee shop instead.’

  ‘And you didn’t see anyone hanging about?’

  ‘It was packed, Janice.’

  ‘I meant upstairs.’

  ‘No, I didn’t see anyone except you.’

  As she put down the phone, Annie let out a huge sigh of relief and scuttled across to find Dean. She went through every second of her excursion to Margot’s. What might have been caught on camera? How closely would they check her out? Her theory that her pursuer had gone back for the tapes.

  ‘It’s all fits together, Dean, but I haven’t got enough yet. It isn’t clear. That night in the car, maybe even the break-in at my place …’

  ‘What night in the car?’

  ‘Sorry, nothing. It doesn’t matter for now. I need to get at whatever’s in those files and then get all this lot back to my father. Will Margot connect it to me because of the tapes?’

  ‘Why are you worried, Annie? You’ve done this stuff before.’ ‘Not to an old schoolfriend.’

  Saturday dawned bright. Too bright. Annie wanted to see the days contracting. It hadn’t been a summer to hang on to. Mike took advantage of the weekend and slept in.

  She took the transcripts Dean had given her and spread them over the table. His program had found nothing on Charlotte Grainger, employee. He didn’t think it was because she’d snatched the drive before it had finished its trawl, he guessed there were no electronic staff records on the networked system. There were several Charlottes from Margot’s client list, but Annie discounted them. It was Lorraine she was after.

  She read through the fragmented data.

  ‘Look at all the crap, Annie,’ he’d said. ‘Typos, mistakes, and all just sitting there. It’ll look OK on their screens, all banged out in neat boxes to make it look something like. Seeing it raw like this shows up the crap.’

  The name Lorraine cropped up dozens of times in four different spellings.

  ‘Three different surnames and three addresses, but if I’ve decoded the date of birth right, then there are four of them.’

  ‘And the rest?’

  ‘Spurious duplicates, typos, data entry errors.’

  Annie sat now with the transcripts in front of her and redid Dean’s calculations. It was tedious, but important she got it right.

  By the afternoon she had distilled the data to two possible records. At thirty-five and forty they were both older than she’d estimated from the scratchy voice on the tape.

  She signalled Mike to be quiet as she picked up the phone and put on her call-centre telesales pitch for the thirty-five year old Lorraine.

  The voice she spoke to had no resonance with the tones she remembered. Mike gave her a quizzical look as she chirruped, ‘Thank you for your time. Have a nice day,’ and put the phone down.

  He busied himself rinsing cups at the sink and she told him briefly what she was doing. ‘I’m not sure what she’ll be able to tell me but I know she’s the link back to why Casey died.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you go straight to your father with all this?’

  ‘Believe me, I intend to, just as soon as I have something concrete to give him.’

  ‘How will you tell if it’s her?’

  ‘The tapes weren’t great quality, but I think I’ll know her voice.’

  ‘What will you do when you find her?’

  ‘Get her to agree to talk to someone.’

  Mike sat at the table and watched as she punched in the number.

  ‘Hello …’ The voice that answered was low, rich … A shiver speared Annie from head to toe.

  ‘Uh … hello …’ She struggled with her script. ‘I’m calling on behalf of–’

  ‘Why, Annie …’ The voice was smooth as chocolate silk. ‘I wondered when you’d call. They told me you might. Why the phone, why not a visit?’

  ‘Uh … I … uh …’ Annie fought for control. This woman couldn’t know anything. She’d known Annie’s voice – how? – and was fishing for how much she knew. That was all. Maybe Margot had guessed more about Monday night than she realized. Whatever, she’d blagged her way through that and she’d get through this.

  ‘I don’t have an address,’ she said. ‘Just a piece of paper with a name and a number.’

  ‘And what does the name say?’ the voice purred, trying to caress her as though seeing inside her soul.

  ‘Just Lorraine.’ She kept her voice clipped and clinical.

  No doubts that this was the voice on the tape, but without the fear. This was Lorraine in control. ‘Let’s meet, Annie. I’d like to see you again.’

  Again?

  ‘Yes, I’d like to. Where can we meet?’

  Lorraine’s laugh was light and velvet. ‘We’ll meet, Annie. Somewhere nicely public where we’ll both feel safe and secure.’ She named a coffee bar near Kings Cross Station. ‘Shall we say an hour?’

  ‘Can we say two hours? I can’t get to King’s Cross in an hour …’ Automatically, Annie played for time.

  ‘Then you’ll miss me, won’t you?’ The voice flowed seamlessly into the click of the receiver going down, and the buzz of the dialling tone.

  Chapter 23

  Annie leapt to her feet and grabbed Mike’s arm. ‘Come on, hurry. We’ve got to get to her before she runs.’

  ‘Who? Where?’

  ‘Lorraine. She might believe I don’t know where she lives. We’ve got to try. Brackenbury village. We can make it if we hurry. Come on. Get your shoes on.’

  ‘But you said King’s Cross.’

  ‘She’ll have been on to someone to get a reception party organized, but it won’t be Lorraine waiting for us there.’ She took in a deep breath. It wasn’t Mike she needed. This was no routine surveillance. She needed experience. Dean or Pieternel. A pain stabbed her as she thought of Casey. It was Casey she needed for a job like this. But they must be on Lorraine’s doorstep in minutes, had to catch her before she ran. No matter how in control she’d sounded, she wouldn’t wait around for Annie to find her.

  She leapt down the stairs. Every second was vital now. Mike could drop her at the end of Lorraine’s street and–

  ‘Hellfire! We haven’t a damned car between us. No, come on. We can still do it.’

  As they ran towards the Tube station, Annie tried to talk Mike through what might happen but it was hard to say anything useful to someone who wasn’t in the game. Mike didn’t have the experience. Her instinct told her Lorraine had been alone. She could only hope they could get there before anyone else, because her instinct was also telling her that Lorraine was the key to something far more than Casey’s death and if she didn’t confront her now, she would never find her again.

  It was a quiet, tree-lined suburban street. Big houses stood back from the road in well-tended plots that said money in a clear, but understated way.

  ‘If she knows my voice,’ Annie told Mike. ‘She might know my face.’

  ‘But how does she know you?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. We can’t risk walking past. If I can see a way in, you’re to stay here. Try not to be conspicuous.
Look as though you’re just waiting for someone.’

  ‘Leave you to go on your own?’

  ‘Yes.’ She shot him a look that dared him to argue.

  ‘Annie, you’re not thinking of breaking in, are you?’

  ‘Round here? No way. They’re all alarmed to the hilt. Right, it’s that one up ahead with the tall hedge. Slow down a bit. I can’t see any way to get to the door without being seen.’ She slowed as her gaze ran over the house next door. Professional lettering on the discreet board at its gate. Corporate, not residential. With luck, that meant empty at weekends. ‘I’m going to chance it through that garden,’ she told Mike. ‘Wait here, but don’t stand where you can be seen from the house. And don’t stare after me.’

  Annie sensed reluctance in every move as Mike turned away and made play of checking his watch, but he did as she asked. She marched up the gravelled driveway. A high wall hid the houses from each other. The building itself would be impregnable, she was sure, but that was fine. All she needed was access to its garden.

  The breeze rustled the leaves high above her as she approached. Alarms bristled from the tall stone frontage, but there were no cameras. The closed blinds at the windows were reassuring. Once the curve in the drive shielded her from the road, she veered off and made her way down a narrow, overgrown pathway beside the house.

  The rear aspect of the house was as inattentive to her presence as the front. Her feet crunched softly in a carpet of twigs. A row of spindly trees stood subservient to the cityscape around them. She strode through the undergrowth, keeping to the shadow, heading for a thick creeper that smothered the wall between this garden and Lorraine’s.

  The stones wore a thick ivy coat. This creeper looked like it was sucking the life from the wall, but she could only hope it wasn’t at the point of collapse. She pulled on her gloves and took a good grip on the thicker stalks.

  This must be done in one quick move. She might be visible from the top of the wall. The creeper stayed firm as she hoisted herself up and then flattened into a sideways roll over the top. A moment’s panic as she clawed for ivy that wasn’t there the other side, then she landed hard on her back.

  Pressing close to the sagging remains of a wooden trellis, she spat out the mouthful of dust the creeper had given her. She kept low and peered round into the garden. It was bizarre. On the ground lay wooden decking and manufactured stone slabs. Cast-iron trellises and tall gazebos grew from it. Plant life was restricted to a couple of exotic shrubs that drooped from fancy pots like sad prisoners in an alien world.

  Tall trees from the neighbouring gardens flew branches out over the sterile iron and woodwork. Annie saw that the dancing shadows were her allies. They would shield her movement as she skipped lightly round the edge of the space. A quick recce of the windows showed no one in sight.

  She ran, dodging the obstacles, dancing in time to the shadows, until she could press herself to the side of the house and edge along to take a proper look through the French windows.

  The room was large, but dark. It held no conventional furniture, just statues and tall sculptures of snakelike animals. She tried the handle and felt it give under her hand. Heart thumping, she eased open the door and slipped inside.

  Footsteps padded from within the house, heading her way. Annie sped across the floor and crammed herself behind a gargoyle figure.

  The door opened. A woman stalked in.

  Annie saw the mass of red hair, a tiny form where she’d expected a tall one.

  ‘Lorraine.’

  The woman spun round, fury and fear blazing in her eyes. The fear came at Annie too. It came fast, hit her before she could put up a defence. She couldn’t pretend, knew that the raw emotion sat naked on her face. All her planned words deserted her. She could only stare, and whisper, ‘Who are you? Who are you?’ as the intense blue eyes glared at her from within the frame of deep red curls.

  ‘You are in so much trouble, Annie Raymond.’

  ‘Lorraine?’

  Lorraine turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.

  Annie leapt after her, keeping close behind. Her gaze flew everywhere, noting the doors, the stairs, searching for hidden watchers.

  The room where Lorraine led her was more conventionally furnished, with high-backed chairs and settees. The floor was polished wood. No carpet. No rugs.

  Lorraine sat at one end of a long settee. After a moment’s hesitation, Annie perched at the other end. Lorraine pushed her hair off her face and said, ‘Well?’

  ‘I want you to come with me. To make a statement.’

  ‘A statement?’

  ‘I heard the tapes, Lorraine.’

  ‘The tapes are gone now, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, probably.’

  ‘Burnt up in Charlotte’s car.’

  Annie tried not to look shocked at the matter-of-fact tone.

  ‘Anyway, it was all a dream.’ Lorraine’s voice was disinterested, not trying to convince.

  ‘No, Lorraine. It wasn’t. They found a body. Just where you said.’

  ‘Burnt, was it?’

  Annie felt control leaking away. She’d expected Lorraine to play at being an innocent witness at the very least. ‘You must know it was or you wouldn’t ask.’

  Lorraine turned to her with a smile and leant forward. ‘Does it matter, Annie?’ Her blue eyes stared deep into Annie’s as though they saw inside her soul. ‘Remember, Annie. Remember?’ Lorraine leant closer.

  Annie heard her own voice say ‘Yes …’ She felt emotions stir. Recognition, deep inside. ‘Yes, it’s …’ She could reach out for … something … It was there, within reach. One more second and she would see her mother’s face.

  ‘No!’ Shocked, she drew back and stared at Lorraine.

  ‘Yes, Annie. Remember the chants. So beautiful.’ Lorraine’s voice was faraway now, not trying to capture Annie any more, talking to herself. What was she saying? Why did it resonate?

  Then Annie saw it in the deep colour of her eyes, in the shape of her head. ‘My God, the Doll Makers! You’re Beth’s mother. You’re Ellie.’

  And something more powerful overwhelmed her. A presence seemed to stand by Lorraine, a laughing figure that almost turned its head her way. ‘My mother!’ she cried out. ‘What happened to my mother?’

  This woman held the key to her memories, but showed no emotion at Annie’s outburst, no sign she’d even heard it. If her mother was alive, Annie knew she’d be here next to this woman. Next to Lorraine, not Annie, but Annie would see her face.

  ‘My name is Elora.’ Lorraine spoke with head held high, saying the name proudly. ‘I took Lorraine just to create a distance, but I never changed my face, only my label. Wouldn’t you have done the same? We didn’t want to be the mad children of the mad old man forever.’

  That’s just what you are, thought Annie. The mad child of the mad old man. Lorraine was completely off her head. No reaction at all to the mention of her daughter. Just pride in her name.

  And Annie had been sitting here allowing herself to be pulled in.

  ‘Elora? That’s an unusual name.’ She softened her voice, tried to find a connection with Lorraine that she could use.

  Lorraine’s face relaxed into a smile. ‘It’s a beautiful name, Annie, and it was a beautiful life. I didn’t spoil it. He was never the mad old man, you know. You do know that, don’t you, Annie?’

  ‘Yes, of course I know.’ Annie made her voice drip with understanding, with a secret shared. Lorraine was off with the fairies. She hadn’t a clue how to handle her, she could only try to steer and hope for the best.

  ‘And he never had three mad children, whatever they say.’ Lorraine laughed. ‘Only one. He shouldn’t have done it. Remember the chants, Annie?’

  ‘Elora?’ she said gently. ‘Why did you go to the edge of the forest that day?’

  ‘I went to meet Julia Lee. She asked to meet me.’

  ‘Why did she ask for you?’

  ‘She said she trusted me bec
ause I got away.’ Lorraine laughed and threw her head back so the red hair bounced around her face. ‘She boasted to me what she knew, what she’d seen.’

  ‘What had she seen, Elora?’

  Lorraine looked up, her eyes focused beyond Annie as though she’d stopped listening. Annie tried again, placing her words carefully, trying to catch Lorraine’s mood. ‘But when, Elora? Julia wasn’t important enough to see anything.’

  ‘She was in the van when they had to run and hide. They should have left her in it when they burnt it.’

  Annie was amazed. Julia Lee had been involved in that drugs raid gone wrong. ‘Who did she try to blackmail and why did you go to meet her, Elora?’

  ‘He made me.’

  ‘Who made you, Elora?’

  ‘She told me I wouldn’t betray her. She had no right to tell me what to do. When I gave her the money she said she’d get a car and push it off the top of Hell’s Glen to make out she’d died.’

  ‘Whose body did she intend to put in the car?’

  ‘No one’s. It was a silly plan. She didn’t even have a car.’

  Without knowing the detail, Annie could feel the pieces coming together. She could feel sorry for the wreck who had been Julia Lee, who’d fallen over something she thought she could use for blackmail, maybe to set herself and her sister up for life. Instead, they’d both died.

  ‘But Julia didn’t get off the hill, did she, Elora?’

  ‘I didn’t know he’d kill her. Not there and then.’ Lorraine shuddered. ‘So messy! He would have killed me too. Me! He had no right.’

  ‘He thought you’d just walk away, didn’t he? He didn’t know you’d come back and see what he’d done.’

  ‘He had no right. I go where I choose.’

  ‘You ended up in the hospital, didn’t you, Elora?’

  ‘I didn’t talk to anyone.’

  ‘Not even Charlotte?’

  ‘She came to see me. Just like you. And he’ll kill you just like he killed them.’

  ‘Why didn’t he kill you later, Elora? He found you again, didn’t he?’

  ‘Of course he wouldn’t kill me.’