by Jay Gill
Your ever-loving Moonbeam XXX
Fischer read the note over and over.
What to do? Moon had his money. He needed that money to get out of the country. There was no doubt that by now the police were looking for him in Judy’s stolen car. There was also little doubt Hardy was coming for him. He now knew Lyle had eased his escape; she’d probably bribed the screws, Nessie and Farley. Then there was Jessica. He was desperate to see her perform but didn’t want to put her in harm’s way. His future looked bleak. He was either going to spend the rest of his life behind bars or wind up dead at the hands of Lyle. Best-case scenario was he’d live out the rest of his days looking over his shoulder in some Third World backwater.
He set his jaw. No; whatever happened, he had to see Jessica perform. That meant he had five days to stay ahead of whatever was coming for him and to find Moon and get back his money.
An hour later Fischer was heading away from the coast. Away from Hardy’s hometown and away from Jessica. He’d return for the gig once he’d dealt with Moon.
Then he’d be gone, forever.
He was pretty sure he knew where Moon would go. Whenever she was in trouble, she returned to her roots. He needed to get to that place before she outstayed her welcome and moved on. In all the time they’d been together, there were only two people Moon ever talked about with fondness: her sister and her godmother.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The house was cordoned off. The front door and windows were charred and blackened, and the walls were streaked with smoke. An acrid odour hung in the air. Water from the fire service’s attempt at saving the house dripped, pooled and trickled. There was a gaping hole in the roof where heat and fire had burned through, causing it to collapse.
“I hope the inspector had house insurance; otherwise, he’s screwed,” said Barton. Flowers from well-wishers had been placed along a low wall at the front of the property. Barton picked up a small teddy bear that had fallen over. He brushed it off and sat it back down.
Donny held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. He lifted it off briefly to speak. “I guess we can safely assume Fischer was here; there’s no mistaking this message. Fischer’s clearly a man who harbours a grudge.”
“Agreed. So, now what? Fischer will be long gone after a stunt like this.”
Donny looked around at the neighbouring houses. In the front garden of the house opposite, Donny noticed a woman tending her flowerbed and watching them. She looked away when Donny caught her eye.
“Where are you going?” asked Barton.
“Neighbourhood watch. Every street has a nosy neighbour. They’re a fount of information.” Donny put on his most friendly smile and crossed the street. Barton followed him. “Hello,” he called over the fence. “Excuse me.”
The lady got to her feet. She clapped her hands together; excess soil fell from her gardening gloves. She rubbed her nose with the back of her wrist and put on a surprised and helpful face, as though she had been unaware of their presence. She took off her gloves and brushed off her light-grey trousers before adjusting her bright flowery blouse. She stepped up to the garden gate. “Yes? Can I help?”
“I hope so, Mrs—?” said Donny.
“Ms Montgomery.”
“Sorry to bother you, Ms Montgomery. The thing is, we’re friends of the occupants across the street. Inspector Hardy and I go way back.”
“You’re not the press, are you? I don’t talk to journalists.” She eyed Donny, showing particular interest in his bandaged ear. Barton she was clearly unimpressed with. It was unclear whether it was his appearance or just the look in his eye, but her face puckered as she examined him. She turned her attention back to Donny. “So, what are you? I don’t for a minute believe you’re police officers, retired or otherwise.”
Barton almost growled.
“Very astute,” said Donny. “No, no. I can see I need to be straight with you.” Looking over her shoulder, he said, “Are those dahlias you’re putting in? I’d recognise those tubers anywhere. You know, my father won prizes for his dahlias. He always told me the secret to big, bold, beautiful dahlias is to ensure they get at least eight hours of direct sun each day.” Donny could see Ms Montgomery soften.
“He’s right,” she said. “Deadheading daily is also essential for prolonged flowering. They also prefer a rich, well-drained soil, slightly acidic. My soil isn’t ideal, but I make do. I have devised my own formula to enrich the beds.”
“You clearly know your Bora Bora from your Clearview Daniel.”
Ms Montgomery smiled at his apparent knowledge of dahlia varieties.
“Now, I don’t want to keep you,” continued Donny. “Those giant and spectacular Boogie Nights won’t plant themselves. So, back to your question. We’re private investigators. We’re trying to trace the man who started the fire. He’s a dangerous man, and—”
“It was a man and a woman started the fire. I saw them.”
Donny looked at Barton. “You did? What did you see?”
“I told the police exactly what I’ll tell you.” Ms Montgomery pointed down the road. “The car was parked just down there, on the corner. I saw the woman cross the street. She went over to the house on her own and came back to the car. Then, they both walked over, bold as brass, and set light to the house. Broad daylight it was. It wasn’t until the fire was well underway that I realised what they’d done; otherwise I would have stopped them. Of course, the poor woman who was in the house is in critical condition in hospital. I heard she’ll probably die. Serious and extensive burns. Smoke inhalation. It’s not usually the flames that get you; it’s the smoke, of course. I thank the Lord the inspector’s two girls weren’t in the house. Such sweet children. They always wave whenever they see me. Smile and wave, they do. So polite. Well brought up, you see. Lovely family.”
“Yes, yes,” said Donny. “About the man who started the fire – our role is to complement the police effort and bring him to justice as swiftly as possible. We can’t have people like him roaming the streets. Putting fear into hardworking, decent folk.”
“A man like that doesn’t scare me. He’s a coward. Burning down a house the way he did is cowardly. He should be ashamed. Those poor, poor children. I’ve cried every night since it happened.” Ms Montgomery took out a large embroidered cotton handkerchief and dabbed her eyes before loudly blowing her nose. “I think about those children, Alice and little Faith, and all they’ve lost, and I can’t help myself. They must have been so scared. It’s all so terrible. I know they weren’t a married couple, James and Monica, and I know they have a baby on the way, but I like to think of myself as forward thinking. We have to move with the times, don’t we?”
Barton jumped in. “Any of your gossipy friends tell you where he might have gone? The man we’re looking for?”
Donny put up a hand to stop Barton continuing. “What he’s trying to say is, with this no doubt being a close-knit, neighbourly community, we wondered whether any rumours might be circulating. Often, we find, rumours are based to some extent on fact.”
Ms Montgomery gave Barton a look that could have withered a cactus. “No. Nothing. Now, I must get back to my tubers. I’d like to get them in before the sun goes down.” She turned her back, dismissing them, and returned to her flowerbed.
It was Donny’s turn to give Barton a hard stare. “Mr Tactful. Had to open your big fat mouth.”
“She’s nothing but a busybody. She was just droning on and on. She probably knew nothing. Just likes the sound of her own up-herself voice. Self-important old hag.”
“Thanks to your flapping brainless mouth, we’ll never know whether she knew anything, will we?”
The two men stood at the edge of the pavement and waited for a single car to pass. A voice from behind them made them turn. It was Ms Montgomery; she was standing by the gate again, trowel in hand.
“I do apologise – I missed that,” said Donny.
“I said, you know about the kidnapping, I suppose?”
“It was in the paper. They believe the same man kidnapped a woman from McDonald’s. That fast-food restaurant. I’ve never been to one myself; I’m not a big fan of cheeseburgers and those French fries. Myself, I prefer the more traditional thick-cut chip. Generational thing, I suppose. Anyway, from what I heard at the bowls club – I bowl on a Tuesday and Thursday; that’s lawn bowls, not that American-style bowling-alley bowls – he held her hostage in her own home, then he and his lady friend did all sorts of perverted things to her, so I’ve heard. Ghastly. I feel sure the poor woman is going to need therapy to get over an ordeal like that.” Ms Montgomery pulled the top of her blouse tight and shook her head in disgust. “Could happen to anyone. You just never know.”
“I think you’re safe from any interference of that nature,” mumbled Barton.
Donny gave Barton a discreet kick with his heel. “You wouldn’t happen to know who this woman is or where she lives?”
Ms Montgomery frowned as she thought about it. “Hold on. I’ll get the article. I might still have the paper.”
Donny and Barton held their breath while Ms Montgomery disappeared inside the house. A few minutes later she returned, victorious. “Here it is. You’re welcome to it. Take it with you. It says here her name is Judy Primmer.” She pointed to the article and handed the paper over the gate.
“Thank you, Ms Montgomery. You’ve been most helpful. I have no doubt that, with your assistance, we’re one step closer to ensuring this man is brought to justice.”
“He needs to pay for what he did. Scaring those poor girls. All their toys destroyed. How a child gets over something like this I don’t know.” Ms Montgomery teared up again.
“Thank you,” said Barton, trying desperately to sound sincere.
Ms Montgomery scowled at him.
Barton smiled anyway. For amusement, he pictured beating her over the head with her spade before burying her lifeless body beneath the bed of dahlias.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Fischer sat outside the house of Moon’s sister, Sandra. He was waiting for her to return from doing the school pickup. The last thing he wanted was a scene, especially in front of her kids, but he was pressed for time.
He and Moon had once pressed Sandra for cash, back when he had become the prime suspect in the hunt for the UK’s most-wanted serial killer. He felt sure that if Moon was in trouble, this is where she’d come.
Fischer sank down in his seat as, in his wing mirror, he spotted Sandra’s metallic-red Land Rover swinging into the driveway. Fischer didn’t waste a second. As Sandra got out of the car, he was across the road and walking up the driveway. On seeing him, Sandra looked at her boys, Philip and Max, in the back of the car. She attempted to get back inside the Land Rover, but Fischer grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the car.
“Tell the boys to stay in the car,” he barked.
“Boys, stay where you are. Listen to Mummy. Do not get out of the car. Do you hear me?”
The boys nodded then clambered across the car seat and pressed their faces against the glass to get a better look.
“You have to leave,” insisted Sandra. “I don’t know where she is.”
“You see, Sandra, that tells me a great deal.” Fischer waved to the boys. “How old are they now? They must be seven and nine?” The boys were fighting over whether or not they should disobey their mother and open the car door to get a better look at the tattooed stranger worrying their mother.
“What do you want?”
“She has my money. I want it back. Leave the boys in the car and let’s go inside for a chat.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Fischer squeezed her arm. “I’m not asking.”
Sandra considered her options. “Philip, Max, stay in the car,” she said again. “If you get out, you’ll be punished. Mummy’s going inside. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“After you,” said Fischer. He smiled and winked at the boys. Max, the youngest boy, started crying.
Fischer held Sandra’s arm as they marched up to the house.
Sandra’s hand trembled as she struggled to unlock the front door. “My husband will be home any minute. He finishes work early today.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t get here before I have what I need.”
Inside the house, Sandra started acting breezy, even though she knew Fischer couldn’t be reasoned with. Full of smiles, she opened her purse and took out some notes. “Forty, sixty, eighty-five pounds. It’s all I’ve got. Take it and go. I don’t know where she is. I swear.”
Fischer took the money and tucked it into his back pocket. “Why are you making this more difficult than it needs to be? I love Moon; you know that. I just want my money back.”
“If you loved her, you’d leave her alone.”
“What do you care? In your fancy house, with your fancy clothes and perfect life. You’ve never cared about Moon. It was me that helped her, not you. Even though I was dealing with a ton of my own shit, it was me that got her straight. You didn’t want to dirty your hands. She’d be dead from an overdose by now if it wasn’t for me.”
“That’s crap and you know it. I tried to help her, more than once. But I couldn’t have her around the boys. I got her into rehab. She wouldn’t stay. She was volatile. Unpredictable. I guess you just found that out the hard way.”
Fischer moved close, and Sandra found herself pressed against the tall fridge freezer. A child’s Iron Man fridge magnet slipped, causing a crayon drawing to fall to the floor.
“I’m losing patience, Sandra,” he said. His hand whipped up to grasp Sandra’s throat.
“She was here,” gasped Sandra. “Only a few hours. She didn’t tell me where she was going, I swear.”
Fischer sniffed Sandra’s hair. He continued to smell her neck and shoulder. With his knee, Fischer forced Sandra’s thighs apart. “Why are you going to make me hurt you?”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“I don’t believe you. I need to find her. She’s in danger.” Fischer’s hand went under her sweater, where he cupped her breast. “You know, Sandra, you’re a very beautiful woman.” He moved his hand down over her body. He unfastened the button of her jeans and slipped his hand inside. “I’ve often wondered, during those long days in my prison cell, what similarities you and your sister share.”
Sandra turned her face away and gritted her teeth. “Fuck you. You’re an animal.”
Fischer forced down the zip of the jeans to give his hand more freedom. “Where’s Moon? This is nothing. I can really hurt you if you make me. Right here on the kitchen floor. Feels to me like you’d like that.”
“You try it and I’ll cut your balls off,” spat Sandra. She hit him and tried to push him away, but he was too strong. She groped around on the worktop for something she could use against him, but Fischer grabbed her wrist.
He changed tack. “It would be a terrible shame if your boys should meet with an accident. Kids get hit by cars every day. They wander off and fall into lakes. Drown in canals. So many accidents a child could have.”
“You bastard – you stay away from them. You promise me you won’t hurt my boys?”
“I promise. I just want my money and to know Moon is safe. She doesn’t know what she’s got herself into. That’s all. Then, I’ll be gone. Forever.”
“Okay.”
Fischer removed his hand and once more gripped her throat. “Where?”
“She was here overnight. One night. She wanted my passport. She thought she and I looked similar enough that she could use it. I told her she couldn’t have it. There was big argument and she left. That’s it.”
“Did she take the passport?”
“No. I checked once she’d gone.”
“Where is she going?”
Sandra hesitated.
“Where?” Fischer tightened his grip.
“Aunt Patti. She’ll go to Aunt Patti. I’l
l give you the address.”
Fischer released his grip and Sandra took a deep breath. He watched as she wrote the address down on the back of an old envelope. “If this is bogus, I’m coming back. You understand me? And next time I won’t be so nice.”
Sandra nodded. “Yes.”
The youngest boy, Max, appeared at the door behind Fischer. Sandra looked panicked.
Fischer crouched down in front of him. “Hello, mister. What’s your name?” Max ran past him and clung to his mother, like a koala hugging a tree. Philip, the older boy, now appeared and ran straight to his mother.
Sandra passed Fischer the address and held her boys close to her.
“Okay, well, it was lovely to see you again, Sandra. Sorry, I can’t stay. Sorry I didn’t get more time to meet you boys.” Fischer waved the envelope and said to Sandra, “Thank you for this. Don’t call the police and don’t call ahead. My visit to Aunt Patti’s needs to be a surprise.” Fischer stepped forward and pinched the youngest boy’s cheek. “Perhaps, if things don’t work out when I get to Aunt Patti’s, I’ll come back. How does that sound?” He looked up at Sandra. “Best for us both if that doesn’t happen. Wouldn’t you say?”
Sandra stepped in front of her boys, holding them behind her. “Go. Get the hell out of here. I never want to see you or my sister ever again.”
Fischer winked at the boys. “Take care of your mother, boys. You only get one. And this one’s real special.” He turned and walked away.
Chapter Forty-Nine
My neighbour, Ms Montgomery, took me by surprise when she reached out and hugged me. I introduced DI Cotton, and Ms Montgomery showed us both through to her reception room.
Cotton and I sat at a table with carved legs and ornate edging in front of a large window with fancy net curtains. On the window ledge sat a narrow trough filled with flowering cacti. In the corner of the room, a canary enthusiastically trilled and sang. Cotton watched the bird jump back and forth from perch to perch.
