Muff purred louder. She, at any rate, knew how to behave and what to do. No problem: you simply made yourself comfortable and let yourself be happy.
‘Not seen in life, puss, if you understand me, but with what my grandmother used to call my mind’s eye. Three criminal processes going on in this town at the same time: the stolen babies, the murders, and the enterprise in which my Gang of Girls is engaged. I see that there is a loose connection between the first two, puss. I am going to seek out Dolly Barstow. She was looking for Dr Rivers, and I want to know more about that. Might be a link there.’ She was getting more and more drowsy. ‘Perhaps link is too tight a word, something looser, more casual, but somehow, somewhere there is a point where those two crimes touch, and at that point is Kate, so Kate must be found … The other affair is a different case, though, puss. That must be quite apart.’
And she turned over in bed and went to sleep. Muff, dislodged, gave a gentle protest, and sorted out a good spot on the pillow where she breathed gently into her mistress’s face.
Charmian, exhausted, had gone to bed early, but the girls were still up and around. They were meeting in Betty and Elsie’s flat, because it was nice and central, Laraine had said. What she did not say was that she did not want them at her place. Their group photograph was being passed from hand to hand.
‘I’m glad we had it done. Even though she didn’t come.’ Everyone knew who ‘she’ was, you didn’t have to name Charmian. Yvonne studied it happily. ‘I’ve never had it done before.’
‘The police do one for you,’ said Nix.
‘Oh well, that’s different.’
‘I’ll say it is; I looked like an escaped lunatic. Not that I’m much better in this. Laraine’s come out the best.’
‘I’ve always been photogenic.’ Laraine was studying the picture. ‘Still, I’m not sure if we did right. Wonder why she really wants it?’
Yvonne looked surprised. ‘Like she said: for her thesis.’
If you believe that you’ll believe anything. But she did not say this aloud because to do this might provoke other doubts that she did not want to arouse.
‘I wonder how this other business will affect us?’ she went on.
‘Nothing to do with us,’ said Nix.
‘I never said it was, did I? But it means more pigs hanging around the place. I don’t like it.’
Nix shrugged. ‘Give them something else to think about. Keep their minds off us.’
Laraine looked pleased. ‘Good girl, Nix. You’re right.’ She got up and seized the wine bottle. ‘Let’s all have a drop more.’
Yvonne broke in: ‘I thought they were meant to see us.’
‘You’ll be the death of me, ’Von,’ said Nix.
‘But if they don’t see us, what are we doing?’
Becky said: ‘There’s some truth in that.’
Laraine put down the wine carefully, already a tiny stain marked her pleated silk shirt. ‘Only at the right time,’ she said, regretting, and not for the first time, the crew she was stuck with and who were so vital to her plan. Yvonne more than anyone.
Yvonne tried her patience once again. ‘What a group we are,’ she said with an admiring look at their photograph.
‘We’re not a group.’ Laraine reacted swiftly. She would not be a group with that lot, she was different.
‘We are a group,’ said Yvonne with simplicity. ‘Look at us. You can see it in our faces. They match. We’re a set,’ she added dreamily.
Laraine turned the photograph on its face as if she was putting the cover over a birdcage.
She was angry with Yvonne, she was angry with the photograph, and she didn’t trust that policewoman Daniels. Who was using whom?
‘Anyone seen Baby lately?’
‘She hasn’t been around,’ murmured Nix. ‘Why?’
Laraine shrugged. ‘Just asked. Seemed a question worth asking. Is she part of your matching set, Yvonne?’
‘She’s not in the picture, so she can’t be. She’s different.’
‘She’s as clever as a wagon-load of monkeys,’ said Laraine. ‘I know that.’
Baby looked so small and delicate, so innocent that you forgot how sharp she was. No one better at looking after herself. Any hint of trouble and she disappeared. The ground kind of opened up and swallowed her.
‘Have another drink.’ Laraine went round with the bottle, pouring with a careful hand. Nix could take any amount without showing it except for a glitter in the eye. Betty was a sponge, but Elsie and Rebecca had to be watched. Yvonne usually went to sleep.
‘Now let’s get down to business. Nix, did you do the shopping?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you got the large size?’
‘Jumbo. They don’t come any bigger. Feed an army, I should think. Had to go to London, though.’
Probably safer, thought Laraine. ‘And you paid cash?’
‘Sure. And I’ve got the receipt to prove it.’
Laraine held out her hand: J. Doubleday and Co., Oxford St: one thermos flask.
‘Good. Things in hand with you, Elsie?’
Elsie nodded. ‘ If that’s what you call it. I’ll manage what you want. Fancy a rehearsal?’
Laraine drew her lips in tightly. ‘No thanks.’ She was a squeamish woman and would not face certain things till she had to. A lot of people were sick at the sight of blood, she told herself. ‘ Leave it.’
‘Suit yourself.’ Elsie smiled, she had no blood sickness.
Nix broke in. ‘What I want to know is: when do we get the invitation?’
Laraine looked at Yvonne. ‘ Well?’
Yvonne was vague. ‘I dunno. I have to wait. Be patient. It’s manners.’
‘But we will get it?’ Laraine tried to keep the tension out of her voice. It was terrible to be dependent on a half-wit like Yvonne. God, if they fell down on this point.
‘Oh yes. I can see she means to give it.’
‘But do we have to wait? Do we have to have it? Not like Buckingham Palace, is it?’ Nix was impatient.
‘You won’t get in without,’ said Yvonne, with what seemed like pride.
Nix drew in an irritated breath and started to say something. ‘Yvonne, drat you …’
Laraine moved in to cool it. ‘Don’t push. Leave it. She’s doing her best.’ Which she hoped was true, but a badgered Yvonne grew stupid and sullen and worse than useless.
The party broke up soon after this. Laraine had acquired a small car and was obliging about ferrying around those who required it. Perhaps she felt safer if she had personally taken them where she knew they ought to be. Not that she was distrustful exactly, but she felt a check was wise.
Other checks were being run too. A quiet watcher in a car outside saw the departures. Laraine first with Nix and Yvonne, leaving Becky to go on foot. After all, for her it was just around the corner.
A quiet almost tender surveillance was being kept on them; they must not be alarmed. The man on duty tonight reported to Harold English: Charmian had never met him although he knew her by sight and a fair amount about her. Since she was indirectly responsible for causing him a deal of extra work, his feelings towards her were not always friendly. They were not friendly now. It was late, it was raining again, and anyway chill for the time of year, and he was tired.
‘Going to be a wet Ascot,’ he said. ‘Bet you.’
There was no one around to take the bet, but it was one way of voiding irritation. Ascot was about ten days away and he would almost certainly be on duty owing to Charmian. Since he liked a race, his wife liked to dress up and he knew a horse he fancied, he regretted he would not be there at the meeting. Or not as a spectator.
‘That Daniels woman better be right.’
Just one more job for an overworked Force.
At this point Laraine got into her car, shut the door on Nix and Yvonne and drove off, forcing him to decide whether to follow her or Becky. He followed Laraine.
Her car was moving fast. A nippy driver, he de
cided as he followed discreetly, and not one he would trust to be careful. As he drove he thought.
No more babies had gone missing, that was good. He knew some mothers who never let their infants out of their sight. In his opinion they were wise and if more mothers were like them there would be less work in the end for people like him. He had a son of six months himself, he had instructed his wife to be on the alert. With weirdos you could never tell.
But they still had a double murderer to track down, and although he himself was not involved with this case, the extra work washed over everyone and he was due for leave in Ascot week. He could just see that going. Trust his luck.
He ran over the pattern of events. First they had had the limbs, then it had been a hunt. They had got the cases, then the rest of the bodies. The process of establishing the identities had to be got under way. And they were looking for Kate Cooper.
One hunt had ended and another begun.
Chapter Ten
CHARMIAN DANIELS said: ‘ I want to see Amanda Rivers’ body.’ A Windsor summer Sunday. A blue sky littered here and there with a few white clouds, the bells ringing, and the Royal Standard flying over the Castle. All quiet movement and light. Not so many tourists, the shops closed, and people going to church.
Charmian went to morning service in St George’s Chapel and listened to the choir sing a radiant anthem by Bach. No Majesty present, she was worshipping elsewhere, but there was a Cabinet Minister and a new young Admiral. Molly Oriel was there wearing a new hat of a brilliant violet.
Now she was pacing the Long Walk with Harold English who had his dog, a large spaniel, with him. This was his excuse to be out, otherwise Sunday morning was sacred to domestic routine. Mrs English had her rules, after all.
‘I want to see her body,’ she said again.
‘Is that really necessary?’ There was a shade of distaste in Harold English’s voice. No, something stronger, a deep reluctance showed itself.
‘I need to.’ I want to see her face. But she was not going to say that to him.
‘I suppose it can be arranged.’
‘I know it can be.’ She could push when she wanted to.
‘Will a photograph do?’ Even that seemed to be more than he wanted to offer.
‘No.’
‘It will have to be under the rose,’ he grumbled. ‘ Tom Bossey won’t like it.’
‘Oh come on. I’ll just go and look. You need not be there. Or if there, need not speak.’
This meeting between them had been prearranged. One of their carefully casual meetings. The secrecy was the ruling of Humphrey who conducted his life according to a set of silent rules in which the left hand was not allowed to know what the right hand was doing. Unnecessary, Charmian sometimes thought, but she obeyed. It was his game, after all. She was only one of the players, probably did not know all the team, either. Nor they her.
They walked in silence with the dog racing back and forth barking wildly. Not as well trained as he could be, thought Charmian, surprised that a dog belonging to Harold English should be out of control.
‘The kid’s dog,’ he said, half apologetically. ‘Just lent to me for the walk.’
The dog came and jumped up at her face, breathing heavily. He smelt of old meat.
‘What’s his name? Charmian pushed the dog away with a firm hand. He was like a young donkey. Goodness, she preferred cats.
‘Teddy.’
Teddy circled them and sped off into the distance where he could be seen molesting another dog.
Harold English watched him with a frown. ‘ Have you wondered why they talk to you? Your lot, I mean. Wondered why they bother?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She fixed her eyes on the horizon into which Teddy was rapidly disappearing. ‘ Be a fool not to. But I think I know why. It’s vanity. They like to talk about themselves. They’re flattered by my interest.’
‘I should think they’d mind.’
‘I’ve told them they won’t be named in any thesis. Or I wouldn’t use their real names. But I think they’d like it if they were. No one’s ever been so interested in them.’
‘Not what I’ve heard.’
‘Oh they’ve had lovers and enemies. But this is different. Makes them feel special. They always knew they were, now they think I know it too.’
‘You’re more cynical than I thought.’
‘No, not cynical.’ Charmian was surprised. ‘Just how it is. And, of course, they think they are being clever. Cleverer than me.
‘And are they?’
‘I hope not.’ She was thoughtful. ‘ Laraine might be being so. I’m watching it.’ She still had her eyes on the distance. ‘You know, you’re going to lose that dog.’
‘I think so.’ He didn’t seem worried.
‘Won’t your child mind?’
‘Be relieved, I think.’ He remained straight-faced.
Charmian laughed. At last a touch of humour in the English family.
Then she went back to the subject in hand. ‘ There is no reason to believe either Laraine or Nix has access to guns or to explosives of any sort?’
‘We think that Delaney may have passed a gun to Laraine. We have a photoshot of him handing something over.’ He added carefully: ‘ That’s new information. She made the contact with Delaney yesterday evening before going to a meeting with her friends.’
Charmian considered. ‘She can probably use it, too. She had a boyfriend who was in the SAS. They stayed together for almost a year, which is a long time for her, she must have been attached to him. I think she may have picked up quite a lot from him.’
‘Did she tell you this?’
‘Not her. No, I found it out for myself. His name came up in the court records of her last conviction. I dug around.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘Took a job abroad. Oman, I think. He’s out of this.’
‘I think we can take it she’s armed, and knows what to do with it,’ said Harold English.
‘She’s dangerous all right, but I can’t quite see the picture. They’d never get a shot in. Laraine must know that. No, it has to be something else. Anyway, I don’t see the others helping with a shooting.’
‘If they knew what was going on.’
‘That’s true. They don’t know.’ Or not all Laraine could tell them. She was sure of that if she was sure of anything. Laraine was manipulating them all. ‘In some ways they are a nice lot, and not killers.’
‘You like them,’ he said accusingly.
She shook her head. ‘ We have a complicated relationship based on a balance of suspicion and trust. I prefer to think that I see them as they are.’
‘We could take them all in.’ He had wanted this for some time. ‘Find an excuse. Just till danger time is over.’
It might come to that, she could see, there was just so much security you could risk, and Laraine was pushing against the limits.
But if they did that then she would feel that she had failed the Girls somehow, let them down. Even Baby, who had initiated action by talking to Charmian in a rare burst of public spirit (or enlightened self-interest), wanted her friends protected. She had got that across.
Baby was still keeping a low profile, but Charmian was almost sure she had caught sight of her in the congregation at St George’s, singing vigorously and wearing a new hat. Baby’s prayers would be worth listening to.
‘If we knew for sure when danger time was.’
‘If we knew that, we’d be home,’ he said. ‘ That’s what you’ve got to work on. When. When. When.’
‘I have an idea. Give me a bit longer,’ she said. ‘Just a bit.’ She owed them that.
She was surprised to find this loyalty coming out in her so strong.
‘There’s one other thing,’ he said. ‘Laraine went shopping and was seen buying clothes for a cruise. Or anyway, a hot climate.’
‘I don’t know what to make of that. It says travel. Unless she’s hoping for a hot summer.’
‘You
could try asking her.’
‘I’m not supposed to know, am I?’
He did not answer this accurate taunt directly, having something else on his mind. ‘There’s something I ought to tell you: there’s a built-in time factor to deal with. Delaney bought two tickets for Martinique via New York for June 23.’
Charmian said: ‘ Could be a trick to deceive us.’
‘Yes. It could be.’
‘It’s interesting,’ said Charmian.
‘He’s a swine,’ said Harold English. ‘Whatever he’s up to, you can count on that.’
In the distance, the dog appeared, travelling at speed. He arrived and circled round them, barking enthusiastically.
‘You haven’t lost him.’
‘No such luck. Home it is then.’
‘When can I see the body?’
‘Are you sure you really want to?’
‘I am sure.’
Still reluctant, he said: ‘ I’ll fix it for tomorrow. Early. You can get it over.’ That was how he thought of it: an unpleasant experience that she need not have gone in for. He really did not approve of women police officers and unconsciously showed it. But it seemed as if there was something more than this. He went on talking as if his mind was on something else. ‘Well, one other thing. There is no real sign of the Cooper and Jackson pair. Any sightings that were reported have turned out to be nothing. And Jackson does not own a house that we know of, the family house was taken over by his former wife when the marriage collapsed. He had lodgings in Uxbridge, still does have, the rent is paid up for the next month.’ English paused, bending down to put the dog on the lead. ‘ But he did once own a kind of shack on Loch Tay, in Perthshire. His ex-wife let it out—there’s no love lost there, by the way. He may still have a key. She thinks so and I’d say she was a good judge. I’m not saying they are there, but it’s an idea.’
‘Is anyone going to look?’
‘The local police, of course. But it’s pretty remote. On the edge of a forestry plantation. If they wanted to be elusive they could do it.’
Charmian was thoughtful. ‘Any reason, apart from what the wife says, to think they might have gone there?’
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