Kiss and Tell

by Leo McNeir

  “I saw John Hewitt – if that was his name – climb out of the kitchen window in the farmhouse. I thought you were dead, Anne, and I blamed him for everything. I wanted, well, you know. He was going to make a break for it up the slope, but suddenly swerved left into the old garden. That slowed him, and I almost caught up with him just as the men opened fire. Something knocked me flying, and we both went down.”

  “A ricochet,” said Ralph. “It caught you as you stumbled, apparently.”

  “You’re not going to tell me I was lucky.”

  “Not quite. But you had a lucky escape.”

  Marnie touched the dressing on the back of her head. “More shaved off?”

  “Not much. Your favourite hairdresser will be able to work her usual magic, I expect.”

  “What did you do with Simon’s watch?” she said to Anne.

  “It’s at the back of the drawer.” Anne glanced at the bedside unit.

  “I’ll have to give it to the police,” said Marnie.

  Anne reached in and pulled it out from the furthest corner, where it lay hidden behind a box of paper tissues. She gave it to Marnie, who gazed at the bracelet, rubbing the back of it with her thumb. She turned it inside out, revealing the name – fixoflex – on each link. Marnie could not help herself; a single tear ran down each cheek. In sorrow for Marnie’s pain and at the thought of Simon, Anne’s eyes also filled with tears and she reached forward to hug Marnie. Ralph enveloped them both in his arms.

  At that moment there was a knock, and the door opened to admit DCI Bartlett and WDC Lamb.

  “I’m sorry to intrude,” said Bartlett, hesitating in the doorway. “Would you prefer it if we came back another time?”

  “It’s all right,” said Marnie as they separated, each mopping their eyes from the box of tissues that Anne passed round. “There’s never going to be a good time.”

  “I just thought,” Bartlett began. He sighed. “You’ll be having me at it next.”

  “Blimey!” Lamb exclaimed, quickly adding, “ ... sir.”

  “You’ll be wanting this,” Marnie said, holding up the watch. “I suppose it’s evidence, but if it’s at all possible, I’d like it back some time.”

  “I quite understand,” said Bartlett. “Though strictly speaking, that is a valuable article, and it may be that Mr Walker’s solicitor might have a view on what becomes of it.”

  “Of course,” said Marnie. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’m not Simon’s next of kin. This will have to go to them.”

  “Do you know who they might be?” said Bartlett.

  Marnie shook her head and regretted it. “No idea, I’m afraid.”

  She reversed the bracelet back to the right position and turned the watch over, looking down at its face for perhaps the last time. Her eyes seemed to be out of focus again. There was no distinctive five-pointed crown on the dial surmounting the name Rolex. Instead she saw the last letter of the Greek alphabet above the name Omega. Where she expected the words Oyster Perpetual, she saw Seamaster.

  She looked up at Bartlett. “This is not Simon’s watch.”

  *

  It was late morning when the Volvo arrived back at Glebe Farm. They had been at the hospital with Marnie since noon the previous day, and neither had had any real sleep in that time. They were stopped at the entrance to the field track by two policemen in a car before being allowed to drive down to the farm. Anne yawned as Ralph parked outside the garage barn. They walked in silence to the courtyard and paused on the corner by the office to stare across at the farmhouse. It was cordoned off with blue and white tape. The builders were still away, and the site was quiet and deserted. It was difficult to imagine the horrific scenes that had been played out there yesterday. Anne moved closer to Ralph and held his arm.

  Without speaking, they turned the corner and headed towards the office. They promised themselves a few hours of rest, but first Anne wanted to check for messages on the answerphone. Rounding the corner of the office barn, they stopped in their tracks. The entrance was stacked with flowers. They knelt down to read the cards.

  “They think I’m dead,” Anne said quietly. “All these nice words about me.”

  “I’m sure they’re sincere, Anne. You’re a very popular person you know.”

  “But I can’t have them thinking I’m dead. I’d better phone Molly and all the others. Some of the cards haven’t got names on.”

  They picked up the flowers and pushed open the office door. It was unlocked. From nowhere Dolly bounded in behind them, warbling a greeting, rubbing herself against Ralph’s trouser legs before taking up position by the fridge. Anne laughed and hugged Ralph. He kissed the top of her head. She broke free and pirouetted in the middle of the room. Dolly blinked but held her ground, and Anne stroked her ears before filling the food bowl and milk saucer with generous measures.

  “You appear to be recovering from your ordeal,” said Ralph.

  “Yes, oh yes! We’re alive, and Marnie’s alive, and it must be the first time ever that the person commemorated by flowers after being killed can put them in vases to decorate her room.”

  Ralph smiled. “You’ve probably got a point there.”

  “I’m not being cruel, really I’m not. It was terrible about Simon and the couple who were shot. It was all horrible, and I wish none of it had happened. But seeing the flowers, and thinking what might’ve been, and knowing I’m alive after all. I just wanted to jump in the air. Is that wicked, Ralph?”

  “Not at all. I think it’s probably a very healthy reaction.”

  “Good. And for the moment I feel awake again. I know it won’t last. I must ring mum and dad. Then I’ll make a few local calls before I collapse.”

  Ralph made for the door as Anne sat at her desk pressing buttons on the phone. Turning, he said, “Be sure to break it gently to our neighbours. People are going to have a tremendous shock, receiving a phone call from someone they believe to be dead.”

  Anne looked up, the receiver pressed to her ear. “I will, don’t worry. I’m just checking the messages first and then I’ll ...” Her voice faded.

  “What is it?” said Ralph.

  Anne looked as if she had seen the proverbial ghost. “It’s Marlene!”

  *

  The knock was so soft that Marnie scarcely heard it. Angela Hemingway looked drawn, as if she had not slept for a week. She stepped in and closed the door quietly behind her.

  “Oh Marnie, I’m so sorry.”

  She looked as if she was going to cry, and if she did, it would obviously not be the first time that day.

  “About?”

  “About Anne.”

  “You haven’t heard. Come over here and sit down. I have a pleasant surprise for you and I don’t want you fainting on the floor. Anne is alive and well and on her way back to Glebe Farm with Ralph. In fact, they’re probably home by now.”

  “Oh my goodness.” Angela crossed the room unsteadily and took the visitor’s chair. “I prayed for this. Wow! I don’t know what to say. You must feel absolutely ... Actually, Marnie, you don’t look absolutely ... you know.”

  “Maybe it’s because I’ve caused two people to be killed for murdering Simon, only to find that they may not have done it.”

  “Oh, no! Can you bear to talk about it?”

  Marnie outlined the situation, the chance meeting with the broken-down boat, recognising Simon’s watch, the pursuit by the armed police. Angela knew the rest.

  “The trouble is, when I got a proper look at the watch, I saw that it wasn’t Simon’s at all. It was just a similar bracelet.”

  “That’s dreadful, Marnie. And you really think they were innocent of –”

  Before she could finish the sentence, another knock announced the arrival of DS Marriner, accompanied by WDC Lamb.

  “Bad timing?” said Marriner.

  “Come in,” said Marnie. “The more the merrier.”

  “Truer than you think.”

  Marnie made introductions.

/>   “I’d better be going,” said Angela.

  “You’ve only just come.”

  “I know, but I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “Don’t go unless you have to,” said Marnie. “Is that all right with you, Mr Marriner?”

  “Of course. I only wanted to let you know that the couple who were ...”

  “Shot dead, is the correct way to put it,” said Marnie.

  “They were our muggers.”

  Marnie sat up. “You’re certain of this?”

  “We found several items in their bags and on their boat that had been reported as stolen, and a substantial amount of cash. One of the items has been identified as Gary Rawlings’s camera.”

  “Whose?” Marnie looked blank.

  “The photographer?” said Marriner. “The one who was attacked near the towpath in Blisworth.”

  “Ah, the one you thought I’d beaten up and robbed.”

  Marriner looked uncomfortable. “Yes, well, we got that wrong. That was the time you were telling the truth. You took us by surprise.”

  “Did you find Simon’s Rolex?”

  Marriner shook his head. “No watches.”

  “You searched the boat really thoroughly?”

  “Practically dismantled it. It’s a miracle it floats.”

  Marnie lay back against the pillows. “Can I ask you something? When someone knows they’re going to die, would they lie about something they’d done?”

  “Depends,” said Marriner. “If they thought it might cause trouble for one of their family, for example, they might tell a lie.”

  “But this isn’t like that,” said Marnie. “There was nothing to stop John Hewitt admitting he’d killed Simon. He just said he didn’t do it, and then he died.”

  “That’s strange,” Angela chimed in. “In their last moments most people experience a strong urge to confess, get something off their conscience, before they die.”

  “You can’t be sure, though,” said Marriner. “When someone’s fading, their brain can do strange things. It’s not like in films where they manage to say something sensible and then they go. All sorts of things can happen.”

  “So you do think they killed Simon.”

  “Personally, yes, I do.”

  “What about his watch?”

  Marriner shrugged. “It’s valuable and conspicuous. They would’ve wanted to off-load it as soon as they could.”

  *

  Chief Superintendent Scutt listened to Bartlett’s report without interrupting. The third man in the room was Sergeant Pat Robson, who had led the armed support unit at Glebe Farm. When Bartlett finished, Scutt asked Robson if he had anything to add.

  “No, sir. I think the DCI’s covered everything.”

  “Including your back,” said Scutt tersely. “There’ll be an inquiry, of course. The Chief Constable is under siege from the press.”

  “I believe we acted appropriately in the circumstances, sir,” said Robson.

  “And two people were killed. Do you know what today’s headline is in the Milton Keynes Echo? GUNFIGHT AT THE MK CORRAL.”

  Bartlett and Robson winced.

  “Sir, I wasn’t trying to cover their backs. Sergeant Robson and his men did what they had to in a dangerous situation. They thought Hewitt had a shotgun. We all did. Everything happened very quickly. It could’ve been worse. Hewitt could’ve killed Anne or Marnie Walker or taken them hostage, all sorts of possibilities.”

  “I know,” said Scutt. “But the fact remains, both of them were unarmed.”

  “They had already killed one person, sir, and injured others. It’s not as if they were being picked up for a minor offence. They were violent criminals.”

  “And that’s what makes the difference,” said Scutt. “I’m sure it’ll all come out right in the end. In the meantime, no comment to the press or media pending the inquiry. We’ll play it by the book.”

  “That won’t stop the papers running the story, sir.”

  “No, Jack. it won’t. But they’ll be concentrating on the human angle. After the first report that the girl had been killed – Anne Price – they’ll be able to tell the world that she’s alive after all. That’ll keep ’em happy.”

  *

  By early evening, Ralph and Anne were back with Marnie, who had recovered so well that she was asking to be sent home. Anne had rung her parents to warn them not to be alarmed at the news that would be broadcast and published, and they arranged to come up to see her in a few days, ‘once normal life had been resumed’. Anne felt that was being over-optimistic, but she thought it best not to disagree.

  Ralph sided with the medics and insisted that Marnie should have another night of nursing care. The three sat eating grapes reviewing their situation. It had been a busier afternoon than they had anticipated. The phone in the office barn had been ringing constantly as journalists tried to arrange an interview or at least obtain a statement. Ralph decided to take action.

  After agreeing it with Bartlett, he fixed a brief press conference at the police station – determined not to have Glebe Farm featuring in any newspaper photos – and drove Anne there on the way to the hospital. Bartlett chaired the proceedings, stressing that the police investigation was still in progress. Anne was allowed to say that she had been present when the police engaged the criminals and that there had been a misunderstanding about her being shot. The session came to an end when Bartlett made it clear that no further details of the action would be revealed as the matter was the subject of a formal inquiry, like any incident involving the fatal use of firearms.

  “Did Bartlett say anything to you about their investigation in general?” Marnie asked.

  “I gather it depends on how his report is received by the top brass,” said Ralph. “But he told me his conclusion. These were the muggers who injured Frank Day and one or two others. He believes they also killed Simon, though that was probably an accident, he thinks.”

  “It’s so obvious,” said Marnie. “They were hiding out in a boat, able to travel about at night, rob their victims and just vanish afterwards.”

  “It’s easy to see it all with hindsight.”

  “So the case is closed?”

  “That’s Bartlett’s recommendation.”

  “He’ll be glad to be able to put it down,” said Marnie. “All neat and tidy. Another case solved.” She took a grape from the bag on the bed. “I’ve been thinking about our case, the Anthony affair. I’ve come to a conclusion, too.”

  “Marlene phoned,” Anne said quickly.

  Marnie sat up. “When?”

  “This morning. She’d heard on the news about me being, well, killed and she tried to get in touch with you. I rang her back. She was in a terrible state, and when I told her it was me and I was all right, I thought she’d blow a fuse.”

  “Where’s she staying?”

  “She’s camping out for a few days in a flat with two other girls, till she finds somewhere permanent.”

  Marnie frowned.

  “What was your conclusion about the Anthony business?” Anne asked.

  “Not as conclusive as I thought, perhaps.”

  “You were going to say we should drop it, weren’t you? Let Anthony make a public statement. Put it all behind him, make a fresh start.”

  “Something like that.”

  “And now?” said Ralph.

  “I’d overlooked Marlene. Not forgotten. I just didn’t think we’d ever hear from her again. How was she ... apart from hysterical?”

  “More hysterical,” said Anne.

  “Figures.”

  “At least she got in touch, and we know where she is.”

  “What’s the good news?” said Marnie. “Seriously, I don’t know whether to be glad or sad. I just wanted to draw a line and get on with life, encourage Anthony to do the same. But Marlene ...”

  “Not easy to abandon her,” said Anne. “And she said she wanted to help sort out Anthony.”

  “Oh well ...” Marnie soun
ded weary. “Can you ring her again and say we’ll contact her tomorrow with a plan.”

  “You’ve got a plan?” said Ralph.

  “I’ll think of something.”

  37

  “Is it really Saturday?” Anne said, clearing the breakfast table on Thyrsis.

  The days since Marnie left hospital had passed in a surreal atmosphere of heightened emotion, as people learned that Anne had not perished. Several had made the trek down to Glebe Farm where, with varied outpourings of feeling – tearful, embarrassed, exultant – they grasped her to their bosom, so that by Friday evening she had complained that if she had to endure any more displays of affection, she would need a neck support collar.

  The only one not to give her the bear-hug treatment was Ronny who, struggling with self-control, recounted his part in the action while they walked together by the canal. It had been his testimony that had spread the news of Anne’s death, and the combination of confusion and heartache he had brought about, added to his own turmoil at confronting her loss, had overwhelmed him. All this was balanced by a return to normality as Marnie applied herself to working up designs for her clients, supported by Anne between scenes straight out of Lassie Come Home.

  Marnie looked up from writing a list of phone calls. “I know how you feel. Do you realise there are people out there looking forward to going shopping, walking the dog, enjoying a spring weekend?”

  Anne smiled ruefully. “Sounds good to me, compared with my journey to the morgue in London and visiting you in hospital after we’d both nearly been shot.”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard to improve on that,” said Ralph. “How would you like to spend the day, Anne?”

  “Best of all, I’d just like a tootle on Sally, and perhaps Ronny could come with us?”

  *

  Anne fed Dolly who purred her way through a generous bowl of salmon and shrimp in jelly, with no apparent after-effects from coming under fire. Next, Anne jogged through the spinney to check for faxes and e-mails in the office. As usual, she carried Marnie’s mobile to use as an intercom, and before she reached the office barn it began to ring in her pocket.