Death Rope

by Leigh Russell

  18

  The stench was getting worse. She knew when he’d been down in the cellar because the whole house reeked. There was no point in tackling him about it directly. When he was sober, his temper was erratic at the best of times. She had only to say something he didn’t like and he would become violent. She knew the danger signs well: his cheeks would flush slightly while his eyes took on a fixed glare, and if she was close enough she might hear his breathing quicken. Sometimes she had time to notice his fists clench before he struck, but usually he moved too quickly for that. In the early days of their relationship she had suffered terribly, and often hadn’t been able to go out of the house for weeks at a time. Even after she had learned how best to avoid provoking him it wasn’t always possible, but she had suffered enough bruises, and more than a few cigarette burns, to know when it was time to get away.

  One time he had knocked out one of her teeth, so she couldn’t smile without revealing an unsightly gap. He had been gutted when he sobered up, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She forgave him, of course, like she always did. What else could she do? She had nowhere else to go, and precious little chance of earning her own money. With a missing tooth and thinning hair, her chance of picking up punters was slim. She sometimes wondered if that was why he had done it, although he swore blind he’d been too pissed to know what he was doing. It wasn’t generally difficult to predict his mood changes as long as he was sober, but when he had been drinking he could fly into a rage without warning. Fortunately she was more nimble than him when he was pissed, or he would probably have killed her by now.

  She chose her moment with care, and made sure she was out of reach of his fists before she spoke. He was sprawled in a chair, half asleep. With another chair between them, and the door to the hall open behind her, she cleared her throat and began.

  ‘What are you going to do about that animal in the cellar?’

  When he didn’t answer, she suspected he was planning to leap up and launch himself at her. Doing her best to keep her voice steady, she repeated the question.

  ‘I said, what are you going to do about that animal in the cellar?’

  Instead of jumping to his feet, he leaned further back in his chair.

  ‘Are you going to answer me, or what?’ she persisted.

  This time he opened his eyes, squinted up at her and grunted. Her legs trembled and she struggled to conceal her agitation.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘That animal you’re keeping in the cellar. What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You can’t just leave it down there.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, woman, you’re the one who wanted it moved out of the living room. Are you saying you want it brought back up here again? You go and fetch it then.’

  ‘Listen, all I’m saying is it’s a big dog. It needs food and exercise.’

  He nodded. ‘You can take it for a walk if you like. Any time. Be my guest.’

  It was hopeless. He was determined to bat away her concerns. All the same, she made one last attempt.

  ‘It’s cruel, keeping that animal cooped up down there. And it’s not just cruel, it stinks. You can’t just leave it there to die! It’s not healthy for us or the dog!’

  She glared at him but he just laughed and closed his eyes again.

  ‘You want to do something about it?’ he said. ‘I won’t stop you. But you know that dog’s waiting to bite your hand off as soon as you go down there.’

  ‘There’s no way I’m going anywhere near that monster.’

  ‘Just shut the fuck up then, will you? I’m trying to get to sleep here.’

  ‘You’ve got to do something about it.’

  He didn’t open his eyes. ‘You spill the beans to anyone about my dog, and you’ll be down there with him.’

  She wanted to run over and slap him, but she knew him too well to risk upsetting him. Miserably she went into the kitchen to find something to eat. Chewing on a slice of bread, she heard him calling her. Listening closely, she could tell he wasn’t drunk.

  ‘Where are you, bitch? This beer’s warm! Get in here now, and bring me a cold beer.’

  She took him the last two bottles of beer from the fridge.

  ‘Thanks. You’re a babe.’ He took a swig from one of the bottles. ‘I’m starving! Get me something to eat. I need to go out soon.’

  As she scurried back to the kitchen to make him a sandwich, she wondered if the dog in the cellar had starved to death yet. However frightened of it she was, she didn’t like to think of the creature dying down there, all alone in stinking darkness. She knew how it felt to be alone, hungry and afraid. But she was too scared to complain any more, and she certainly wasn’t willing to go down there and feed it herself. Like her, the wretched creature would just have to rely on its owner to take care of it.

  19

  On his way home from work, Eddy looked in on his stepmother. He glanced around furtively as he walked up the path, although no one was around, and it wouldn’t matter if he was spotted there anyway. He was entitled to visit his stepmother. Luciana didn’t need to know that he had already been to see her several times that week. It was not her place to dictate when he could or couldn’t see his recently widowed stepmother. Not that he particularly wanted to see his stepmother, although naturally he was concerned to see that she was coping on her own. But he had something very particular to ask her, and if she agreed to his proposal Luciana would benefit too, so he felt no compunction in keeping his visits a secret from his wife. He just wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject with his stepmother. It was awkward. He sat in the front room while she fussed around, fetching him a beer and a slab of cake. When he had finished, he smacked his lips and grinned.

  ‘Thanks mum, that was great.’

  He leaned back in his chair and waved away her offer of more cake.

  ‘I couldn’t, really. It was great, but I’m stuffed.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘So dad’s left all this to you?’ he asked at last, despairing of finding a subtle way of raising the topic.

  His stepmother raised her eyebrows. ‘All this? What do you mean?’

  He shrugged. ‘The house and – everything.’

  ‘Of course he left everything to me. It was ours, and now it’s mine. I’m his wife. His widow,’ she corrected herself. ‘Who else would it go to? But don’t worry, the mortgage is paid off. I’ll be all right.’

  He smiled weakly. He hadn’t actually been thinking of her. He hesitated, but now he had started he had to continue.

  ‘He didn’t leave anything to me?’

  Without a word his stepmother stood up and left the room. He started up too late. Falling back on his chair, he waited anxiously, wondering whether he ought to go after her to check she was all right. She was probably upstairs crying over his selfish question. If he upset her, she might leave him out of her will too and then he really would end up with nothing. Sitting alone, he rehearsed what he might say to her if he went to find her. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. We’re both cut up about what happened, mum.’

  While he was prevaricating, he heard her coming downstairs. To his relief, when she came back in the room she didn’t look as though she had been crying. On the contrary, she was smiling as she sat down on a chair facing him.

  ‘He did leave something for you,’ she said. ‘I was just waiting for the right moment to give it to you.’

  His spirits gave a leap. For an instant he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. If this was what he thought it was, all his troubles would be over. He listened impatiently, trying not to fidget, as she talked about how much his father had cared for him.

  ‘He might not have said much about it while he was alive,’ she went on. ‘He wasn’t a demonstrative man. But he was always proud of you. You know he thought the world of you?’

  She paused, as though expecting Eddy to respond.

  ‘I know,’ he mumbled. �
��Thank you. I thought the world of him too.’

  He could barely breathe, almost choking on his anticipation, speculating about how much he was about to receive.

  His stepmother held out her hand. ‘This is for you,’ she said, her smile broadening.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  Her smile hadn’t faltered. She was holding out a small black box.

  ‘Open it.’

  After the build-up, his disappointment was acute. Aware that he was gaping, he closed his mouth. He shook his head, unable to speak. It was a very nice watch, doubtless worth a few quid, but it was hardly going to solve his problems.

  ‘It’s a watch,’ he blurted out, unable to hide his anger.

  ‘Your father wanted you to have it,’ she sought to reassure him, misinterpreting his response. ‘I bought it for him on our first anniversary, and he wore it every day since then. It’s real gold plate,’ she added. ‘Oh, it wasn’t fantastically expensive, but it’s the sentimental value, isn’t it? You know he wore it all the time.’ She smiled.

  He was speechless. He had been given a box containing a dead man’s watch. In a fury of desperation he pressed on, hardly knowing what he was saying any more.

  ‘Isn’t there something else? No money? It’s just –’ he drew in a deep shuddering breath. ‘We’re not doing so well right now. We’re struggling to make ends meet. You know how it is –’

  ‘You both work, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I know, but things are – it’s all so expensive, bills and –’

  ‘I’m sorry, Eddy, but if you’re living beyond your means, you’ll have to learn to be more restrained. We didn’t bring you up to be extravagant, and if Luciana’s turning out to be profligate, you’ll just have to rein her in.’ She leaned forward, looking concerned. ‘Would you like me to have a word with her? I don’t like to see you worried like this.’

  He felt like throwing the watch in her face. Struggling to suppress his rage, he put the box down. It rested precariously on the arm of his chair. Staring at the floor, he almost broke down and confessed that his debts were spiralling out of control. His stepmother knew nothing about his problems. Luciana was the only person who had discovered the truth but she believed he had stopped now. Once or twice he had almost told his father, but he had never even been tempted to confess to his stepmother, and he was certain Luciana wouldn’t have revealed his secret to her.

  ‘She does like to spend,’ he mumbled, ashamed of himself for blaming his difficulties on his wife. ‘Don’t let on that I told you, please.’

  ‘There’s no need to look so embarrassed,’ his stepmother said kindly. ‘This isn’t your fault. But you’re going to have to talk to Luciana about it. If you’re really struggling –’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You need to take control of her spending. Tell her it can’t go on. Be firm, Eddy. It might not be easy but you’re going to have to do it sooner or later, or she’ll ruin you.’

  Eddy sighed. This was not how he had planned the conversation would go. Miserably he picked up the small black box in which his hopes were buried.

  20

  Although she couldn’t put her finger on what was bothering her, Geraldine couldn’t shake off the feeling that something wasn’t right about the circumstances surrounding Mark’s death. However traumatised they were following a suicide, relatives usually accepted the reality of what had happened. Accusations might be raised about who was responsible for having allowed it to happen, and how it could have been prevented, but this time a question had been raised over whether or not Mark had actually taken his own life. His sister had been so passionate in her demands that the police investigate, it was surprising that nearly a week had passed and she still hadn’t followed up her visit with so much as a phone call. She hadn’t struck Geraldine as flaky. And now Mark’s widow had turned up claiming she was being stalked by some unidentified person. If nothing else, it was all slightly odd.

  ‘Perhaps there’s a strain of insanity in the family?’ Ariadne had suggested when Geraldine had raised her concerns to her colleague. ‘Although it’s hardly surprising that people might behave irrationally after a suicide in the family, especially when it was so unexpected. Anyway, he’s dead and buried, isn’t he? The coroner didn’t find anything suspicious.’

  By Thursday evening, when Geraldine still hadn’t heard from Amanda, she decided to speak to her to establish whether she had been serious in her allegations against Charlotte. Expecting Amanda to climb down and admit that she had been overreacting in her shock at losing her brother, Geraldine phoned her but there was no answer. On her way home from work that evening, on impulse she took a detour to Amanda’s house. At least she might be able to put an end to one irritating line of enquiry, and it wasn’t as though she had anything else to do. She had just opened the gate, when a voice called out.

  ‘You know she’s not in?’

  Geraldine looked around and saw a small grey-haired woman standing outside the neighbouring front door.

  ‘I saw you there and wondered if you knew where she was?’ the woman called out.

  Geraldine approached and introduced herself, explaining in the vaguest terms possible that she was there to talk to Amanda about a recent incident in her family.

  ‘Oh, you mean her brother? Yes, we heard something about that. What a terrible thing to happen.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you know when she’ll be back?’

  ‘I was about to ask you where she’s gone, although that’s a bit of a stupid question, isn’t it, since you’ve come here looking for her.’ The woman gave a little laugh. ‘The thing is,’ she went on, serious again, ‘I need to know where she’s gone, and what we’re supposed to do with her cat.’ She looked expectantly at Geraldine.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know where she is.’

  ‘But what are we going to do with her cat? It’s not our responsibility, but someone’s got to feed it.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ Geraldine said, with an uneasy feeling about what she was hearing.

  ‘You’d better come in,’ the woman said.

  Turning, she led the way indoors and into a small cosily furnished living room, with comfortable armchairs and matching sofa, all upholstered in brown and dark orange fabric.

  ‘It’s been scratching at the furniture again,’ a middle-aged man grumbled. He paused and raised his eyebrows when Geraldine entered the room. A large black and white cat was sitting on his lap, purring, while he stroked it gently. ‘Hello, who’s this? Have you come to take this animal off our hands?’

  It didn’t take long for Geraldine to establish that Amanda had gone away, leaving her cat unattended.

  ‘I can’t believe she was the type to abandon a poor animal,’ Moira said. ‘She always seemed such a sensible woman. And you can see the cat’s been well looked after.’

  ‘Too well,’ Geoff added, patting the cat. ‘We wondered if she’d been rushed to hospital, didn’t we?’

  ‘Yes, because there was the shoe she left outside.’

  ‘What shoe?’ Geraldine asked.

  ‘It’s out in the hall,’ Moira answered. ‘We didn’t know what to do with it, did we, Geoff?’

  Geraldine frowned. ‘When did you last see your neighbour?’

  ‘It was yesterday, wasn’t it, Geoff?’ She turned back to Geraldine. ‘We wondered whether to say something, you know, report it to the police, and now here you are.’

  ‘What’s happened to her then?’ Geoff asked.

  Geraldine shook her head. ‘Nothing as far as we know.’

  He looked sceptical. ‘How come you’re here looking for her then?’

  Geraldine did her best to reassure them that she had only turned up to give Amanda information about the circumstances surrounding her brother’s death. She could tell the couple weren’t convinced, but wasn’t sure what else she could say to satisfy their curiosity. There wasn’t much more she could do to prevent them spreading rumours about Amanda’s di
sappearance, apart from telling them she hoped their neighbour would return home soon. In the meantime, she could only suggest that Amanda must be taking a holiday.

  ‘But what about this poor creature?’ Geoff asked, still stroking the purring cat.

  ‘How could she have gone away and left it like that?’ Moira asked indignantly.

  ‘It can’t stay here,’ Geoff added. ‘It’s tearing our furniture to shreds.’

  Geraldine sighed. ‘I suggest you contact the RSPCA if your neighbour doesn’t return soon. They can advise you what to do.’

  Despite her reassuring words, Geraldine was perturbed by Amanda’s disappearance. And it wasn’t only the cat she was worried about.

  21

  Eddy fiddled with the small black box.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Charlotte asked anxiously.

  He nodded wordlessly, hating himself. It wasn’t long before she launched into a complaint about being on her own so much of the time.

  ‘It’s not as if dad was here all day,’ he replied. ‘You must be used to spending time by yourself.’

  Not wanting to annoy his stepmother when he had come to ask a favour, he did his best to hide his irritation. He hadn’t yet given up all hope of a handout.

  ‘So are you pleased with the hall?’ he asked, building gradually to his question.

  ‘Pleased? How can I be pleased when that’s where your father…’ she broke off in tears.

  Cursing under his breath, Eddy waited for her to calm down before continuing.

  ‘I meant are you pleased with what I did, the decorating? Bloody hell, mum, I worked like a slave on that, because you wanted it done straight away. I nearly broke my back getting it done for you.’