A Crushing Blow (Anna McColl Mystery Book 3)

by Penny Kline

  ‘Pleased to see you?’

  ‘She asked when we were going home.’ She smiled for the first time, picking up her mug of coffee and holding it in both hands. ‘D’you know why I’m sitting here, Anna? It’s because I’m so feeble, no backbone, can’t face Bryan and Helen.’

  ‘They’ll understand,’ I said. ‘If you like I’ll walk back to the house with you.’

  ‘No, that’s very kind, but I have to do it on my own.’

  ‘All right then, I’ll go as far as the Suspension Bridge and on the way I’ll tell you about Lynsey, only you must promise to keep it to yourself.’

  She nodded. ‘Poor Lynsey, I knew I could trust her. We got off to a bad start, then we were both too proud to make it up. So stupid, all so stupid.’

  *

  Geraldine was waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Anna, how are you?’ She made it sound as though I was a long-lost friend, not someone she had seen almost every day for the last two weeks.

  ‘I’m fine.’ I stepped forward, putting out an arm to catch her as she stumbled, knocking her elbow on the wall. ‘I came to tell you about Rona.’

  ‘Rona,’ she said vaguely.

  ‘She’s back. I found her sitting in a cafe in Clifton Village. She went to visit her sister.’

  ‘Her sister? Oh, that’s nice.’

  ‘Did she tell you about Biddy? Look, I think it’ll be easier if I explain to you and Sandy, then she won’t have to tell you herself. I think that’s what she’d prefer.’

  We were still standing in the hallway. Geraldine had her back to the living-room door. On the stairs leading up to Thomas’s bedroom someone had propped up the penguin with the chewed beak. To greet him when he returned home?

  ‘I’m worried about Sandy,’ said Geraldine.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, he’s still ill in bed, is he, shouldn’t you call the doctor?’

  She stared at me as though I was talking gibberish. ‘The doctor?’

  ‘You said he had an attack of migraine.’

  ‘Did I? I had a friend who suffered from migraine. She couldn’t eat chocolate or cheese, and some other foods — I forget. You see he didn’t come back last night, only I’m sure there’s some very simple explanation.’

  ‘Sandy didn’t come home?’

  ‘I expect he told me where he was going and it slipped my mind. Sometimes he calls in on a friend in Portishead and decides to stay over. They have a few drinks, you know how it is. It’s someone he was in business with years ago. Dennis, he’s called Dennis. I had a friend once, Denise Hulme, she had an affair with her boss and got herself into a terrible tangle. It’s no good, it’s never any good.’

  ‘Have you phoned this Dennis?’

  ‘What? Oh, yes, but Sandy’s not there. He hasn’t seen him for months. I felt a bit of a fool checking up.’ She ran her eyes down my body, starting with my hair and ending with my feet. ‘You’ve never been married, have you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I know hardly anything about you, apart from what Sandy’s told me, and you’re not supposed to ask, are you, not if you’re having treatment.’

  ‘What did you want to know?’ It seemed an odd time to start answering questions about my life, but Geraldine was acting so oddly I decided it was better to follow her lead.

  ‘Oh, nothing in particular,’ she said. ‘I suppose I was wondering if you lived with someone.’

  ‘Not at the moment.’

  ‘But you have done, you know what it’s like?’

  ‘Yes, I know what it’s like.’

  ‘So you’ve been fond of someone, in love.’

  ‘They’re not quite the same thing.’

  ‘No.’ She thought about this, running her fingers backwards and forwards across her chin. ‘I’ve never been a very sexual person, I suppose I’m more interested in the meeting of minds.’ Her body started to sway and she reached out to steady herself, pressing the palm of her hand against one of the shelves of china birds. ‘Anna?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She opened her mouth as though she was going to tell me something important, then seemed to think better of it. ‘I’m just so thankful Thomas isn’t here,’ she said. ‘Poor Thomas, he’s such a sensitive little boy, over-sensitive like me, I’m afraid I’ve been too protective.’

  ‘He’s fine,’ I said. ‘A little shy maybe but he’ll grow out of it, people usually do.’

  I was talking about Thomas but thinking about Lynsey. After she told Sandy about the baby had he used the knowledge to blackmail her into sleeping with him? Lynsey could be with him even now. But I was speculating again, imagining. Not long ago I had thought he was having an affair with Helen Sealey.

  Geraldine was clasping and unclasping her hands.

  ‘About Sandy,’ I said, ‘perhaps you should call the police.’

  She jumped. ‘Oh no, I’d never do that. Sandy hates a fuss, he’d never forgive me. He’ll turn up soon, it’s just that I don’t feel I can tell you very much this morning.’

  ‘It’s Saturday, I only came up to tell you about Rona.’

  ‘Oh.’ She closed her eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘I’ll make a few enquiries, ask if anyone’s seen him. Perhaps he said something to Bryan or Helen. If not I’ll go round to the cottage, he might have worked late and decided to stay there for the night. You’re sure he didn’t say that’s what he intended to do? There’s an old mattress and I think I saw some blankets.’

  She hadn’t heard a word.

  ‘Anna? The young man who broke into the ground-floor flat — d’you know what’s happened to him? Sandy said he was still in custody, pending further enquiries, surely they don’t think he had anything to do with the murder.’

  ‘What did Sandy tell you?’

  ‘Oh, I forget exactly, I just thought you might know something. All he did was break a window.’

  ‘And the lock inside it. He’d have needed some kind of heavy tool to do that.’

  The colour had drained from her face. She pushed open the living-room door and collapsed into the nearest chair with her head tipped back and her knuckles pressed against her eyes. Then all of a sudden she sat up straight. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Nothing to be sorry about, Geraldine,’ I said, ‘I’ll see you in about an hour.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Just as I had decided there was no one at home a broadly built man, with a shock of untidy yellow hair, yanked open the front door and stood there, wrapped in a blanket, his eyes half closed with sleep.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m looking for Lynsey Wills,’ I said, ignoring the scowl on his face.

  ‘Why ring our bell, then?’ I expected him to slam the front door in my face. Instead he took a packet of cigarettes from under the blanket and flicked it open. ‘You’re a friend of Lynsey’s?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She’s out. Was last time I looked. Her room’s empty, bed hasn’t been slept in. I wanted to borrow some milk.’ He took a cigarette out of the packet, then pushed it back in. ‘Why d’you want her?’

  ‘You know her quite well, do you?’

  He shrugged. ‘She drops in for a chat now and again. Hates men but tolerates me and Greg. Seems to have got involved with some guy who gave her a hard time.’

  ‘Look, d’you mind if I come inside?’

  ‘S’pose you’d better. This blanket’s bringing me out in a rash.’ He stepped back, holding open the front door. ‘Told you most of what I know but you could ask Greg if you like. What are you? Not one of them, I hope, not from the Benefit Office?’

  ‘Do I look like it?’

  ‘No, you look too worried.’

  I followed him into a ground-floor room that stretched from the front of the house to the back, with dividing doors that had been folded back and held in place by a chest of drawers and a battered armchair. Through a half-open door at the far end I could hear children quarrelling in a neighbouring garden, an ex
asperated adult voice intervening to sort out the dispute.

  The man who had answered the door was pulling on a pair of white jeans. ‘What time is?’ he asked. ‘Christ, if my watch’s right … ’ He pointed in the direction of a double bed where a black foot stuck out from under a brown and red duvet. ‘I’m Hal and that’s Greg.’

  ‘Anna,’ I said, ‘Anna McColl. Look, it’s a long story but Lynsey ran off last night and I need to talk to her. I didn’t expect her to come back here but I couldn’t think where else to start.’

  ‘How d’you mean ran off? I could check her room again if you like. She never locks the door. Greg and I nag her about it — all kinds of people come in and out of the house, you can’t be too careful.’ He started up the stairs and when I caught up with him he was banging on the door of a room at the back of the house.

  ‘She’s not there,’ shouted a voice from the next floor up, and an old woman descended the stairs, clutching at the rail to steady herself although the screws that held it in place were coming away from the wall. She was wearing a maroon dressing-gown, held together by a white plastic belt. Her face looked familiar and I guessed she must be the woman in the hat, the one Lynsey and I had passed when we were walking along the Gorge.

  ‘Phyllis,’ said Hal, ‘she’s hard of hearing.’ He spoke close to her ear. ‘D’you know where she is?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Lynsey, d’you know where she’s gone?’

  She thought about it, bending down to pull her slipper over the back of her heel. ‘Hasn’t come back.’

  ‘Since when?’ I said. ‘When did you see her last? Did she say anything?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I wondered if Lynsey’d said anything, told you where she was going?’

  The old woman muttered something I couldn’t catch, then opened her mouth wider but put up her hand to cover the lack of teeth. ‘She’s a good girl. Why d’you want her?’

  Hal was watching me closely and I had a feeling he would ask me to leave unless I came up with a convincing explanation.

  ‘Look, the reason I’m here … Lynsey thinks she’s in trouble but — ’

  ‘What kind of trouble?’

  I hesitated. ‘That’s just it. It’s all a misunderstanding. I wanted to let her know.’

  Phyllis muttered something about snoopers and shuffled back up the stairs. Hal gestured towards the ground floor and I went down ahead of him and waited by the pile of junk mail lying on the floor beneath a pay-phone attached to the wall. Above the phone several numbers had been scrawled in green felt pen and someone had drawn a face with squinting eyes and its mouth turned down like a clown.

  ‘Come in if you’re coming,’ called Hal and I could tell by his tone of voice that he had decided to help. As I entered the room he gave the bedclothes a shake and the man called Greg pulled his foot under the duvet and turned over on his stomach.

  ‘Do you know if Lynsey has any friends,’ I said, ‘people who call round?’

  ‘Haven’t seen anyone. She used to live in Whitchurch.’

  ‘With Deb.’

  ‘Oh, you know her. Never heard her talk about anyone else. Names, plenty of names, but as far as we could tell they were mostly kids she went to school with, guys she knew in London.’

  Greg raised himself up on an elbow and smiled. ‘How you doing?’ Then he flopped back on to the pillow.

  ‘So you don’t really know anything about her,’ I said, remembering the rented video, wondering if he was holding back. ‘I got the impression you saw quite a lot of her. She told me the three of you watched videos together.’

  ‘Oh, she talks to us all right but you can never tell fact from fiction. To be honest I don’t listen all that carefully.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, ‘well, thanks. I’d better go.’

  ‘No, hang on, what did she tell you about the videos? Makes us laugh, sitting there watching all that blood and guts. Keeps shouting: “Kill the bastard!” — that’s if there’s some rapist bloke or it could be just a harmless bunch of guys fooling around.’ He grinned, holding a teaspoon over a jar of instant. ‘Coffee? It’ll have to be black, I’m afraid.’

  ‘No thanks. Sorry to get you out of bed. She’ll turn up sooner or later, I’m sure she will. If you see her tell her I called by.’

  As I turned to leave Greg propped himself up again, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  ‘Sandy,’ he said, ‘she mentioned some guy called Sandy. Is that any help?’

  My head was throbbing. I returned to the flat, drank two glasses of water, then realized it wasn’t going to do the trick and found a couple of aspirins. I knew where I had to go next. The drive would take less than half an hour, even allowing for traffic congestion near the Suspension Bridge. How long was it since my last visit to the cottage? Only ten days but it felt like much longer. It seemed so unlikely that Sandy would want to spend the night there but supposing he had injured himself, sawing wood or drilling holes in the brickwork? There was no phone and the nearest house was about a quarter of a mile away. He could be stranded, unable to call an ambulance. But there were other, more likely reasons to explain why he had failed to return home. He could have told Geraldine he had a business appointment, some loose end to tie up, a remnant of his property development days. The story was a cover. He was with another woman. I would have to go back to the flat and tell lies on his behalf. It was the last thing I wanted.

  When I ran down the outside steps a car was pulling up next to mine.

  ‘Hang on,’ I shouted, ‘don’t box me in, I’m just leaving.’

  The driver stopped reversing and wound down his window. It was Owen.

  ‘In a hurry, are you?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’ There was no time to go into a long explanation and, besides, the last time — when I had needed his advice …

  ‘Just wanted a quick word,’ he said.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Another time’ll do.’ He looked uncomfortable, as though he had psyched himself up to tell me something I wouldn’t want to hear. ‘The girl with the baby,’ he said, ‘what happened?’

  ‘Nothing. She’s OK. I mean, I hope she is. She thinks she’s in trouble with the police.’

  ‘She is, isn’t she?’

  ‘No. No, it wasn’t her fault. It’s complicated. Look, just tell me why you came round.’

  ‘I wanted to explain. I think you may have got the wrong idea.’

  ‘Yes.’ I waited, as patiently as I could. Explain what? That he hoped we could stay friends but just at present he didn’t feel up to anything more. That he might have seemed unsympathetic when I called in at the Unit but he didn’t really want to be involved in my work problems, he just thought we could go out for the evening now and again.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, winding up the car window until it was only open a crack and I could barely hear what he was saying. ‘Now’s obviously not the right time. Incidentally, the man they found in Leigh Woods — I met someone in the French Department who taught him at an adult education class.’

  ‘A French class, was it?’ I shouted. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  He started up the engine, looking over his shoulder to check for on-coming traffic. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was of any great importance.’

  *

  The air was very still. As I joined the Clevedon Road a tractor, pulling a trailer that was empty apart from a rough-haired collie, came out from a farm entrance fifty yards ahead. I cursed, knowing I would probably have to follow it at a snail’s pace for the mile or so until I reached the turning to the lane. But what was the hurry? What difference did it make how soon I reached the cottage, apart from the wish to satisfy my curiosity? Lynsey could be up in London, or anywhere. If she really believed Chloe was her baby who could blame her if she wanted a few days on her own? As for Sandy, I felt certain he must have told Geraldine he was going to be away for the night. Finding herself alone in the flat, without even Thoma
s for company, she had worked herself up into a panic, then taken enough of her tablets to reduce herself to a state where she couldn’t even remember what day it was.

  The sky was cloudless and the tarmac shimmered in the sun. I wound down my window and leaned out, and the tractor slowed down even more then suddenly, without any warning signal, turned into a field on the right. I could see the thick woods at the top of the hill and realized if I didn’t turn off soon I would be in Clevedon. Just before the turning to the lane I remembered seeing a red bungalow with a weather cock on the roof. Had I passed it already? On my left was a field of stubble and to the right a stone building that might once have been a chapel or a school. The road had straightened. There was no signpost ahead but I was sure the lane was close by, within a hundred yards or so. The car behind me was revving up, desperate to pass. I waved it on, slowed down to a crawl, and spotted the red bungalow, just visible beyond a thick beech hedge.

  In the garden, very close to the road, a small boy was sitting on top of a step-ladder with a notebook balanced on his knees. I turned the corner and he swung round, nearly losing his balance. Then a man with a rake in his hand appeared, glaring at me angrily as though he thought the lane was reserved for the people who lived there, not holidaymakers who obviously didn’t know their way about.

  Steering from left and right I tried to avoid the worst of the potholes, which were deeper than I remembered, although Sandy’s car was large enough to have straddled most of the track. Once the Clevedon Road was out of sight the whole place seemed deserted and almost eerily quiet. No sounds of birdsong, dogs barking, not even a field of cows. I passed the cottage closest to Sandy’s a small chalet-like place — but there was no sign of life apart from a cat chewing at something in the long grass. A little further up the lane someone had left a bicycle lying in the ditch but, by the look of it, it could have been there for months.

  Sandy’s car was just inside the gateway. My hand tightened on the steering-wheel. So he was there after all. Concentrating on the surface of the lane I drove past until it widened a little, then parked as close to the hedge as possible, hoping no tractors came up that far. As I walked back to the cottage a helicopter passed overhead. On its way to the coast, searching for a missing yacht? But it didn’t look like Air-Sea Rescue. The edges of the lane had been left untrimmed and the pollen was making my eyes itch. I pushed back my sleeve but I had forgotten my watch and could only guess it must be between three and four, probably nearer four.