by Roberta Kray
‘Really? I wouldn’t have thought it was top of the list.’
‘And what would you have thought?’
‘Oh, I don’t know – an understanding of the subtleties of the offside rule, a sense of humour, nakedness?’
He glanced back at her again, grinning. ‘Well, yeah, those too, of course, although not necessarily in that order.’
They reached the grave of Lucy Rivers and stopped. Maddie looked up at him and smiled. ‘Thanks again for coming to my rescue. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
‘Had a pee in private, perhaps?’
‘I was not having a pee.’
‘Whatever you say. Anyway, I’d better get back to work before Delia fires me for fraternising with the local grave tender.’ He gave her a wave and started walking off. ‘I’ll see you on Saturday. Don’t be late.’
19
Maddie kneeled by the grave, moving the cloth across the surface of the headstone in a series of small circular motions. Her gaze, however, was fixed firmly on the departing figure of Rick Mallory. She started from the bottom up: work boots, long legs in blue jeans, a neat butt, dark red shirt, tanned muscular arms, a powerful set of shoulders and dark blond silky hair. It was only when he went round the corner and disappeared from view that she turned her attention back to Lucy.
‘Well, what’s not to like?’ she murmured. ‘A dubious sense of humour, perhaps, but I can live with that.’
As she cleaned and polished, her thoughts shifted back to what Agnes had told her. Wasn’t there something odd, coincidental, about the fact that Lucy had drowned just like Greta? And at the same age too. Except she didn’t know for sure that Greta had drowned. Bo had been dead before he’d even hit the water and maybe her sister had been too. She hoped that this was the case. The thought of a slow watery death, of a struggle, of a panicked gasping for breath was too much to bear.
She pulled the slim cardboard box out of her rucksack, took out the roses and laid them gently on the white quartz stones. Would this be the last time she’d ever do this? Perhaps the next time she called by, there would be different flowers sitting here: carnations, lilies or chrysanthemums. She hoped that whoever took her place would feel something more than duty.
Maddie took the old blooms, wilted and drooping now, out of the urn and dropped them on the grass. She threw away the water and replaced it with fresh. The roses she had chosen were called Lady of Shalott. The cups of incurved petals were soft salmon-pink on the upper side and warm orange-gold on the reverse. They had a beautiful, pungent smell.
As she arranged the stems, she thought of the famous John William Waterhouse painting she had once seen at the Tate Gallery: the Lady of Shalott drifting along the river in a boat, yearning with unrequited love for the knight Sir Lancelot. Poor Lucy had known all about unrequited love, and Maddie wasn’t exactly a stranger to it either.
‘Men,’ she said, making a clicking noise with her tongue. Had Brendan Vasser been Lucy’s Lancelot? From what she’d heard, it seemed unlikely, but there was no accounting for why one person loved another. If Agnes was right, Lucy had been so full of despair that she’d preferred to end her own life rather than to go on living without him.
Maddie sat back, viewed the display and then reached into her pocket for the gold wedding band. She didn’t immediately bury it under the stones again, but laid it instead on the shelf in front of the headstone. She wanted a few minutes to think – about Greta, about Lucy – before she returned the ring to the place where she had found it.
She wrapped her arms around her knees and gazed solemnly at the grave. Doubts crept into her mind as to whether she was making a mistake in giving up the job. Hadn’t it always felt right to come here, to be here, to do for Lucy what she couldn’t do for Greta? But on the other hand, there was Cato to think about. Now there was a man who provoked strong emotions. His connection to Lucy was still a mystery to her, and perhaps it always would be. She didn’t want any more trouble in her life. Yes, the sensible thing to do was to walk away, to sever all ties. So why did she feel so bad about it?
Maddie closed her eyes, leaned back her head and let the morning sun fall across her face. She would sit here for a while and drink in the peace. Above her, high in the trees, she could hear the cooing of a wood pigeon. There was the soft buzz of bees and a rustling of leaves in the light breeze. And then another sound infiltrated her ears. It was faint at first, distant footsteps, but gradually they grew louder.
She blinked open her eyes and looked to her right. A tall, striking blonde was approaching from the direction of the thoroughfare. The woman was in her thirties, slender and elegant, with her long hair swept up and gathered at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a pale grey dress with matching high heels and handbag. The attire, although stylish, seemed out of place in this wilder, dustier part of the cemetery.
Maddie watched, expecting her to turn off the path at any moment and make her way across the grass towards one of the other graves. It was rare to see anyone else round here; in fact, the only other person she had come across before was Rick Mallory. But the woman didn’t change course. She kept on walking in a straight line until twenty seconds later she was standing right in front of her.
Maddie unwrapped her arms from around her legs, looked up and smiled. ‘Hello,’ she said.
There was no return greeting and not even the semblance of a smile. The blonde looked down, her gaze cold and imperious. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Maddie frowned, the curt question taking her by surprise. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘You heard.’
Maddie didn’t like the hard edge of her tone or the way that the blonde was staring at her. Usually, even when provoked, she would try and maintain a veneer of politeness, but she sensed that on this occasion it would only be seen as weakness. Instead, she gestured with a loose flap of her hand towards the headstone and the flowers. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Don’t play games with me, sweetheart. I’m not in the mood.’
‘No one’s playing games.’
The woman gave a snort. ‘I know all about you and Cato. And I know what you’re trying to do. But it stops right now. Do you understand me?’
Maddie, feeling herself at a disadvantage down on the ground, quickly scrambled to her feet. She was still a few inches smaller than the woman, but at least they were on more of a level footing. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I don’t know what you think is going on, but I’m paid to tend this grave, nothing else.’
‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you? You probably think you can trust him, but believe me, you can’t. The man’s a compulsive liar. He’s also a murderer, in case you’d forgotten. I don’t know what he promised you, but —’
‘He didn’t promise me anything.’
‘Sure he did. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. But he’s only using you, Maddie. You do realise that, don’t you? You’re not so stupid that you actually think he’ll stick to his side of the bargain?’
Maddie frowned, utterly bemused by the exchange – and by the fact the woman knew her name. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I don’t even know who you are.’
The woman’s eyes narrowed as if she’d been deliberately insulted. ‘I’m Lena Gissing,’ she hissed. ‘Who the fuck do you think I am?’
Maddie, remembering what Solomon had told her, felt her stomach sink. So this was Brendan Vasser’s widow, the woman for whom Cato had allegedly killed. ‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Oh? Is that all you’ve got to say? You must have been expecting me. It can’t be that big a surprise. I mean, isn’t that why you’re doing all this – to get my attention?’
Maddie stared back at her. ‘And why should I want to do that?’
But Lena Gissing ignored the question. ‘It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And this ridiculous farce – it’s over, right? You tell him that from me. And you stay away from this grave. It has nothing to do with yo
u, nothing at all. You come near it again and you’ll be sorry.’
‘Is that a threat?’
Lena blatantly looked her up and down, her nose wrinkling with distaste, as if Maddie was something nasty she’d picked up on the bottom of her shoe. ‘Call it what you like. Just don’t mess with me, darlin’. I’ve had enough of Cato, and I’ve had enough of you.’
Maddie gave a small shake of her head. The whole conversation was both scary and surreal, as if she was inside one of those senseless dreams from which she couldn’t wake. ‘I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding,’ she said. Lena had got her back up – no one liked being bullied – but she tried to keep her voice calm and collected. ‘Like I said, I’m only paid to come here and tend the grave. Whatever your argument with Jay Cato, it’s nothing to do with me.’
Lena gave a snarl, her eyes flicking towards the headstone. It was then that her expression suddenly changed, her mouth opening slightly, her face visibly paling. ‘What?’ she murmured.
Maddie, following her gaze, turned to see what she was looking at. At first, she thought it was the roses, but then quickly realised that it was the gold wedding band, still lying on the ledge where she had put it earlier.
Before she could stop her, Lena swooped down and snatched up the ring. She held it between her finger and thumb, reading the words that had been engraved on the inner rim. Her whole body seemed to tighten. She glanced from the ring to Maddie, her face contorting in a grimace of rage. ‘You bitch! You vile little bitch!’
Maddie jumped back in alarm. If she’d been afraid of the woman before, she was positively terrified of her now. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Lena raised her arm and for a second Maddie thought she was about to hit her. Instinctively, she lifted her hands to protect her face. But that wasn’t Lena’s plan. Instead, she hurled the ring with all her force and it arced through the air, landing in the long grass down by the Belvedere mausoleum.
Then she leaned in to Maddie and said, ‘You ever interfere in my business again, I’ll cut your fuckin’ throat and feed you to the pigs.’
Maddie, even if she could have spoken, was too shocked to do so. She stood and watched as Lena Gissing strode off towards the main path. And that might have been that if the woman hadn’t stopped suddenly and glanced over her shoulder. ‘You’re just the same as your bloody sister – and if you’re not careful, Maddie Layne, you’ll end up in the same place too.’
20
It took a moment for the words to sink in, but as they did, a cold jolt ran the length of Maddie’s spine. For a few seconds, immobilised by shock, she remained rooted to the spot, and then before she could think about the wisdom of what she was doing, she dashed along the path, caught up with Lena Gissing and grabbed hold of her arm.
‘What do you mean? What do you mean about my sister?’
Lena stared down at the hand. ‘Get your filthy mitt off my arm.’
But Maddie only tightened her hold. ‘Not until you tell me. What do you know about Greta?’
‘Only that she’s dead,’ said Lena. ‘And if she was anything like you, she probably got that way by poking her nose into someone else’s business.’
‘No,’ Maddie insisted. ‘You know something else. You know what happened, don’t you?’ She glared into the other woman’s eyes, her fear subdued now by anger. ‘You can’t just say that stuff and walk away.’
Lena prised Maddie’s fingers from her arm. ‘Watch me.’
But Maddie wasn’t giving up. She jumped in front of her, blocking her path. ‘You’re not going anywhere until you tell me. I’ve a right to know. I’m her goddamn sister.’
‘Yes, you’re that all right.’ Lena looked her up and down again. ‘You’ve got the same pea-sized brain. And just like her, you don’t know when to stop. You don’t know when to keep your big mouth shut.’
‘And what the hell does that mean?’
‘It means you should stay away from me. Didn’t Cato warn you? Oh, I’m sure he did. I’m sure he’s been whispering all sorts in your ear.’
Maddie didn’t deny it. She wasn’t about to reveal that all she knew of Cato came from a two-minute phone conversation and a few basic facts that Solomon Vale had passed on. ‘Are you saying he’s a liar?’
‘What do you think? He’s a murderer, love.’
‘And you’re whiter than white?’
‘I’m not the one who’s spent the last ten years banged up.’
Maddie could feel her frustration growing. She wanted to grab the woman again, take her by the shoulders and shake the truth out of her. ‘All I want is to find out what happened to Greta.’
‘Then go to the law. I’ve heard that’s their job.’ Lena gave a taunting kind of smirk. ‘Although they don’t seem very good at it.’
Five minutes ago, Maddie had been arranging flowers on Lucy Rivers’s grave, hoping that she’d made the right decision about severing the ties to Cato. Five minutes ago, she’d never even met Lena Gissing. But now everything had changed. Her stomach was churning, her thoughts spinning so fast she could barely contain them. It was as if she had been passed the end of a piece of string and if she tugged hard enough, the truth about Greta would start to unravel. ‘Maybe I will. Maybe they’ll be interested to hear that you’re withholding information about her death.’
Lena barked out a laugh. ‘You do that, sweetheart. As it happens, I have a few contacts at Cowan Road myself. Maybe I’ll pop in and have a word. And you know what I’ll tell them? That you’re doing Cato’s dirty work for him, that he’s paying you to harass me. Old Bill take a dim view of that kind of thing.’ She paused before adding, ‘And then there are social services to consider. Once that lot get their claws into you, they never let go. I mean, what kind of mother gets involved with a murderer? Although, of course, you’re not actually his mother, are you? Just his guardian… for now.’
Maddie felt a wave of fear sweep over her. How did she know about Zac? Jesus, how did she know about anything? And the answer came to her with startling clarity – because she’d made it her business to know. ‘You can’t…’
But Lena was already walking away. ‘Think on – that’s all I’m saying.’
This time Maddie didn’t try to stop her. She stood very still, with her heart thumping in her chest. Despite the warmth of the sun, she felt cold and shivery. And suddenly she realised that Jay Cato hadn’t chosen her by accident, hadn’t plucked her from a list of grave tenders by chance. No, this had all been carefully planned. He was using her as a way to get at Lena Gissing. The man had deliberately pulled her into a war and placed her directly in the line of fire.
Abruptly she turned and ran back towards the grave. She crouched down and rummaged in her rucksack for her phone. Snatching it up, she jabbed clumsily at the buttons until she found Cato’s number. It went directly to voicemail, but this time she didn’t hesitate in leaving a message. ‘It’s Maddie Layne. It’s urgent. You have to call me. We need to talk.’
Even after the line was disconnected, Maddie continued to grip the phone. Her breathing was fast and shallow as she gulped in the morning air. She was scared and angry and confused, but from deep within a tiny flower of hope blossomed too. Was it possible that after all this time she might finally find out why Greta had been killed? The truth was out there somewhere. That much was obvious. But how much would it cost her to find out what it was?
Quickly Maddie packed up the rucksack and jumped to her feet. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d be late for work. And then she considered ringing in sick. Maybe, instead of going to the garden centre, she should call Lena’s bluff, head down to Cowan Road and talk to the police about what had been said. But she knew, even as the thought crossed her mind, that she wouldn’t do it. She had no solid facts, no real evidence. Lena could easily deny it all. And what if the woman did have friends in high places? Rich, powerful people usually did. No, she’d better stay clear of the cops. She was in enough trouble already without adding to it.
Maddie felt sick. It was scary, terrifying, that she’d somehow become embroiled in a private war between two such dangerous characters. The smart thing, the wise thing, would be to keep away from both of them. But if she did that, she had no chance at all of uncovering the truth about her sister’s fate. And she owed her that much, didn’t she? Greta had been denied a decent burial, a grave, a place to rest in peace. The least she could do was to try and find out why.
As she started to walk towards the main path, Maddie remembered the ring. There wasn’t time to go and look for it; it would have to stay where it was for now. She recalled the look on Lena’s face as she’d read the inscription on the inside rim. For ever. Those words had meant something to her. The ring had meant something. What was the link between Lena and Lucy Rivers? She still couldn’t figure it out. But Cato knew. Cato knew everything. And now she only had to wait until he picked up that phone and called her back.
21
Adam Vasser was sitting in Connolly’s, drinking his second mug of tea while he tried to figure out what was going on. Last night, unwilling to spend the evening watching Louise shove yet another pile of shit up her nose, he’d retreated to the Heights. It was at breakfast, an hour ago, that his mother had received the call. She’d snatched up the phone as quickly as a nervy teenager hoping for a date.
‘Delia?’ A pause. ‘Is she?… Good. Okay, I’ll be right there.’
‘Where’s the fire?’ he’d asked, as she grabbed her bag and car keys and made for the door.
‘No fire. Just a bit of business.’
‘Since when did you do business with Delia Shields?’
‘Do I poke my nose into everything you do?’
‘Yes.’
His mother had given him one of her looks. ‘See you later. And clear up those plates before you leave.’
