by Jay Gill
“Life can certainly be unfair, I’ll give you that.” Changing the subject to something lighter, Aunt Patti said, “Tell me more about your daughter, Edward. She sounds like a delightful girl. A talented musician.”
“On Sunday, I’m hoping to see her sing. She’s not sure she wants me there, but I thought I’d surprise her. I’ll be discreet and watch from a distance.”
“How exciting. She’ll be tickled pink by a surprise like that, I’m sure.”
“I hope so. In fact, after I’ve finished this wonderful cake, I must hit the road. I should be getting back.”
“That’s such a shame. I so rarely get visitors, and to have you both here is quite a treat.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late, and it’s such a long drive back to Dorset. Must be at least two or three hours. Why don’t you take the other spare room? You’d be most welcome.”
“I couldn’t impose like that.”
“Nonsense.”
Fischer leaned back in his chair and looked out the window beside him at the dark clouds gathering in the afternoon sky. “Well, it does look like it might rain. I can set off tomorrow morning.”
“Good. Then it’s settled. We’ll have a little dinner later and perhaps a small brandy nightcap. In the morning, we’ll take a stroll around my garden. Jack, my gardener, has transformed the walled garden. It’s been a labour of love. You really must see it.”
Moon tried to hold back her laughter at the thought of Fischer on a tour of Aunt Patti’s garden.
Out of the corner of his eye, Fischer could see Moon found the idea funny. “That would be lovely,” he said to Aunt Patti. “With the garden’s open aspect, a walled garden must provide a welcome shelter from wind and frost. And as the bricks warm up they act like a radiator, providing the plants with warmth that will extend the growing season.” Moon raised her eyebrows with surprise at Fischer’s knowledge.
“That’s what Jack and I thought,” said Aunt Patti. “You’ve made my day – no, my week.”
“Thank you. You have such a lovely home. I feel very relaxed here.”
“That’s very kind,” said Aunt Patti. “I hope you won’t think me rude, but, if you don’t mind, I’ll go for a little nap. By all means pour yourself more tea and have another slice of cake. I’ll never finish it all.” Aunt Patti got up and headed wearily to her room. “You two make yourselves at home.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“Hey. We’re here,” said Donny. He lifted the handbrake and turned off the car. “We’re at the woman’s house. The hostage woman, Judy Primmer.”
Barton sat up. He yawned and looked out the window. “Good.” He stretched and rubbed his nose with his knuckle. Reaching down, he took a bottle of water from the side door, opened it and sipped. “Why don’t I go in? If we both go in, it might spook her. I mean, look at you. Your head all bandaged up, you look like a freak.”
“I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea,” said Donny. “No disrespect, but you’re not exactly Mr Charming. Tactful you are not.”
“I can be tactful. You stay here.”
“Hang on, hang on,” said Donny. “She’s been through an ordeal. She might be skittish.”
“Look. You sit tight. I’ll do a recce, see how the land lies.”
“I dunno...”
“Trust me. I’ve got this.” Barton got out of the car and walked towards the house. He turned, yanked at his crotch to straighten his jeans out and gave Donny a thumbs-up.
Donny forced a smile and muttered under his breath. “What an idiot. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, a really bad feeling.”
Barton pushed open the front gate and looked down the empty driveway. The back door of the house was open. He watched for a moment then cautiously walked closer and peered into the back garden. A movement on the lawn caught his eye. “Hello,” he said softly.
At the end of the lawn, tall conifers shielded the garden from onlookers. To the left stood a greenhouse and beside it a wooden garden shed. To the right of the garden, a six-foot fence and two silver birch trees gave further seclusion.
In the middle of the lawn stood Judy, hanging washing on a three-armed rotary washing line. A basket of washing sat by her feet and a bag of pegs swung from the line; Judy was in a world of her own as she pegged out bedding.
“Hello,” Barton said again. He nudged a garden spade alongside the greenhouse. The spade toppled over and knocked against the glass before falling to the ground.
Startled, Judy looked up. She froze.
“Howdy. Sorry to intrude. I knocked at the front door and nobody answered.”
Judy frowned. She stepped back and away from the washing line.
“Don’t be concerned. I’m part of the team investigating Edward Fischer’s escape from Larkstone Prison. I’m the guy the authorities call in when there’s a manhunt and the police need a little extra help. I’m like a Texas Ranger but without a horse or spurs.” Barton doffed his imaginary cowboy hat and gave a big ol’ friendly smile. “I heard about your unfortunate encounter with the fugitive and I wondered if I might ask you a couple of questions. It won’t take but a minute.”
“I told the police everything I know.”
“I know you did, and I’m sorry to inconvenience you further. I read the report cover to cover, and interesting reading it was, too. I just need to go over a couple of points again. I apologise. Perhaps it might be more private inside.”
Judy looked around. Curious neighbours on either side might be in their gardens. She nodded, picked up her basket, and led the way.
* * *
Barton finished his cup of tea and put the mug down on the kitchen table. He waited while Judy dried her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” said Judy. “There were times I thought I was going to die.”
“I understand. I’m nearly done. You’ve been really helpful.”
Judy sighed heavily and wiped her nose with a damp tissue.
“You mentioned a moment ago that the woman, Faye Moon, left the house alone. That you believe she took Fischer’s money. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”
“Why are you interested in her? I thought Fischer was who you were interested in.”
“I’m just trying to understand what happened. We need to pursue every lead.”
“I don’t know. I overheard them talking about money. They talked about leaving the UK. Somewhere hot, they said. That’s all. It was all whispers. I was in here, tied up, but I could hear them late at night.”
“You say Faye Moon took the money. The thing is, if we can trace the money, we might find Fischer. I don’t think he’d walk away from what he would consider rightfully his.”
Judy shook her head. “I can’t think of anything else.”
“Okay,” said Barton. “Let’s go over it one more time. Did they make any calls? Mention anywhere else they might go? Did they mention any names?”
“No! I told you.”
“Okay. I’m sorry to press you.”
“I might have heard her talking to a woman one time. Possibly. I don’t remember.”
“Go on.”
“I might have misheard. Moon was on her mobile phone, whispering. She was outside walking back and forth.” Judy pointed through the window to the back garden. “Back and forth she went. She was talking to someone. I think they were arguing. Possibly a woman. Moon may have said something about seeing her nephews. At least, I think that’s what she said. I might have it all wrong, though. She may have said she’s going to the Seychelles.”
“God almighty, woman,” blurted Barton.
Surprised by his outburst, Judy sat up a little straighter.
“Sorry. It’s just this case. Long days, even longer nights.”
“Yeah,” said Judy, unconvincingly. “You don’t dress like a detective.”
“I’m undercover a lot.”
“I see.” Judy got to her feet. She collected their empty mugs and put them in the sink. “What about ID?”
&
nbsp; Barton’s eyes followed her as she edged around the kitchen towards the door. “Of course. Though it’s not on me. I wouldn’t be much of an undercover detective walking around with ID on me.” He chuckled and got to his feet. “I’m sorry, I should have shown it to you already. It’s in the car. I’ll fetch it. You wait here.”
“There’s no need. I can’t help you any further, and I have a doctor’s appointment in twenty minutes, so I need to get ready.”
“Thank you for your time. I can show myself out,” said Barton.
Judy nodded. “Okay.”
“Thank you for the tea.” Barton turned to leave. He took a few steps before turning back to see Judy touch her front pocket. There was a rectangular bulge in it the size and shape of a mobile phone. You silly, silly woman, thought Barton. Why couldn’t you have just believed I was who I said I was?
Barton stepped out of the back door and strode towards the gate. Once he reached it, he stopped and looked across at the car. Inside it, Donny raised his hands in a manner that said, Well? How’d you get on?
Instead of opening the gate, Barton turned around and looked at the house. Shaking his head, he said to himself, She’s going to phone the law. Stupid bitch.
Donny saw a look on Barton’s face he recognised. He scrambled to get the car door open. “Oh, shit,” he said out loud.
Barton turned around and walked back down the driveway. He reached the back door of the house and found it closed. He tried the handle. The door wasn’t locked. He stepped inside and listened. Judy was on the phone; he could hear her talking. Barton turned around and went back outside. He walked over to the greenhouse and picked up the spade.
Donny raced through the gate. Not wanting to draw any unwanted attention, he called out in a loud whisper, “Barton. For God’s sake, no. Don’t you dare. Stop.”
Barton picked up his pace. Spade in hand, and with purpose in his stride, he entered the house through the back door.
He found Judy in the hallway.
“Yes. I can do that. No. Umm, I’d appreciate that. How long do you think until the patrol officers get here?”
Judy turned as Barton approached. She screamed into the phone for help. She raised her arms as Barton made his first swing with the spade. Judy collapsed to the floor and Barton kept swinging. Using the edge of the spade like an axe, he kept swinging until Judy stopped moving.
Seconds too late, Donny appeared beside Barton. He watched Barton’s shoulders rise and fall as he breathed heavily. “Really? Was that necessary? I mean—”
Barton placed the bloody spade against the wall. “Very necessary.” He bent down and picked up Judy’s phone. He listened for a moment, then turned it off. He looked at Donny with cold, dark, empty eyes. Blood trickled down his face and neck. He wiped it with his sleeve, examined it, then pushed past Donny. “Let’s go. She told me all we need to know.”
Donny looked down at Judy’s lifeless, blood-soaked body. Her face was no longer recognisable as anything human. He turned back towards Barton. “Jeez. Is there anybody you met you didn’t kill?”
“I haven’t killed you yet.”
“That’s comforting.”
Barton strode off down the hall and Donny trotted to catch up with him. “So where to?”
“I need to make a call. The woman had a sister. We need to find her.”
“Okay. How about we don’t kill her? You know, just as an experiment. How does that sound?”
“How about you stop whining? Just as an experiment.”
Back at the car, Donny got behind the wheel and Barton climbed in beside him. “You make the call. I’ll drive,” said Donny. “I’ll find us a hotel and somewhere to eat. I’m going to need a stiff drink too. A very stiff drink. Somewhere with girls, too. I need to get laid.”
“Whatever you want,” said Barton.
“Clearly you’re preoccupied. A girl might chill you out. You know, ease some of that tension you carry around with you.”
“Do whatever you think best. What’s important right now is that we’re getting close to Fischer. I can feel it. His woman walked out on him, which means his plans must have changed. He’ll go after her. That gives us an opportunity.”
Barton figured that was enough information to keep Donny satisfied. He hadn’t decided what he’d do if Donny learned of the money. He’d deal with that when the time came.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
After getting a call from Cotton, I arrived at the home of Judy Primmer. Judy had recently claimed she’d been held hostage by Fischer and Moon. Cotton and I had planned to interview her, but with the investigation moving along quickly our plan had been to interview her after speaking to Moon’s sister.
Cotton took me to the scene in the hallway where Forensics were cataloguing the spade that was considered to be the murder weapon.
Despite looking visibly shaken by the scene, Cotton pressed on. “It seems Judy Primmer was on the phone to officers about a suspicious individual who had just left her home when an intruder attacked her. In all likelihood the suspicious individual and the attacker are one and the same, but that hasn’t been confirmed. Officers are going house to house trying to gather more information.”
The body was covered, but I could see from the amount of blood spatter on the walls and carpet that the attack had been ferocious. “Could it be Fischer?” I asked Cotton. “Do you think he came back? There will be a shitstorm in the press if he did. I can see the headlines now: ‘Kidnapper Returns to Finish Off Hostage.’ The press will say we failed her. Which we did.” I felt sick. This should never have happened, and I felt responsible for not having seen this scenario as a possibility.
“There’s something you need to know,” Cotton said. “Before the call ended, Judy described the man as looking like a cowboy.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “Whoever this fella is, he’s one step ahead of us at every turn. Did she mention whether he was alone?”
“She never talked of seeing anyone else. What do you want to do?”
I looked down at Judy’s lifeless body then back at Cotton. “We stick to tracking Fischer. We can’t let this cowboy sidetrack us.”
“You still want to visit Moon’s sister?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what we should do. Tell your boss that he should also consider keeping her and her family under discreet surveillance. They might be at risk. Nothing obvious, though. Keep it low key.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Donny turned off the car’s headlights and switched off the engine. He checked the address on the napkin one last time. This was the house.
Once again, Lyle had spoken to Barton and not him. She’d called Barton with the address. That made him feel uneasy. It should have been him she called; he’d made it clear he was leading this job. He was convinced Barton was talking to Lyle about him behind his back. Undermining his credibility. Barton was definitely being secretive, hiding something. Donny always knew. And Barton certainly wasn’t being forthcoming about all the details of his conversations with Lyle. There was a lot he was unsure about when it came to Barton.
This job should have been a simple track and hit. Nice and easy. Stress-free. Yet, thanks to Mr Cowboy Boots, they had left in their wake more dead bodies than in a John Wayne western. Barton had overcomplicated everything. He was a liability. Despite all that, Donny felt Barton was the kind of guy who would come out of all this smelling of roses. While he, on the other hand, would have to answer to Lyle. He couldn’t leave it any longer; he’d have to confront him soon.
Donny rang the doorbell. He was about to ring again when it opened.
“Hello?”
“I’m looking for Mrs Sandra Palmer.”
“I’m John Palmer. Her husband. How can I help?”
“Hi, John. I’m with the parole office. It’s about Faye Moon. Sandra’s sister.”
“My wife’s out. She’s gone out for a drink with a friend.”
“I see. Well, do you know Faye?”
John was a short, stocky man with a balding, shaved head and serious brown eyes. His white shirt was tight across his wide chest and around his thick arms. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms with a good covering of thick, dark hair. As he spoke, Donny detected a slight stammer, which seemed to be getting worse the angrier he got.
“I completely understand, and I wouldn’t be here unless it was completely necessary.”
“If she’s violated her parole, then send her back to prison and throw away the key. At least if she’s in prison she won’t come around here again.”
“Has she been here lately?”
“Yes. A week or two ago. Asking for help. Again. Once again, we got suckered into helping. Once again, she metaphorically shat on our doorstep.”
“Would you happen to know where she went?”
“Not for certain, but I can make an educated guess.”
John reached inside the front door and grabbed a pen and notepad off the telephone table. As he wrote down the address, he said, “If you catch up with her, tell her we never want to see her again. She’s not welcome around here ever again.” He tore the sheet of paper off and thrust it at Donny, who folded it and shoved it into his pants pocket. “The address is that of Sandra’s and Faye’s godmother. Moon is probably there right now sponging off her. Bleeding the old lady dry. She has a knack for worming her way in with a sob story.”
“That’s super. Thank you.”
“What happened to your ear?” said John, tilting his head to look at the bandage.
Donny chuckled. “This? It’s nothing. Occupational hazard.”
