by Maynard Sims
‘What I don’t understand–’ Pulford began.
‘There is plenty I don’t understand,’ Priestley cut in, ‘but I may be able to shed some light on one or two of your questions.’
‘You don’t know what they are yet.’
‘Indulge me,’ Priestley said. ‘If I omit anything, by all means ask away.’
‘I will. The discrepancies in the story seem to stand out, or they do to me.’
‘And I. Let me tell you that, and this is confirmed by the estate agent, Clive Jenkins, the cottage had been in Randolph’s possession for several years. He had bought it as a holiday retreat for he and Clarabel, and they had stayed there quite often in the past. Once the balloon went up, it was the place that was agreed could be his and where he could escape to lick his wounds.’
‘But he seemed to believe he had only just bought it.’
‘Quite so. The estate agent was able to show the dates when the purchase went through. Not at all recent. That was why, of course, that all his clothes and belongings were there when he arrived that last time.’
‘And the car?’
‘The same. He had owned it from new. The agent had sourced it locally as a favour and garaged it for him at the cottage for when he was down. He’d been driving it for years – well, since new at any rate. Before that, he had another car that he used.’
Pulford filled his port glass and savoured some on his tongue. ‘I found the episode with the cat quite disturbing.’
‘It was. The cleaning lady who came in once a week found the poor creature thrown in the bath, and it seemed Randolph had been showering with it at his feet. The cleaning woman quit there and then.’ Priestley waved his cigar airily, and when he spoke it was with a true sadness. ‘It can only be assumed that at the end, when he took it all into account, that he was deeply depressed.’
Pulford leaned forward. ‘So, did he take his own life?’
Priestley shook his head. ‘There’s more. The agent, Rachel, did go down and see him, on more than one occasion. The last time, she said, the decline was pitiful. His face was unshaved, his clothes dishevelled, his face cut and scratched; she said it was as if he had been pulled through a rose bush backwards. He was barely coherent and kept looking sharply over his shoulder as if there was someone following him.’
‘It did sound as if he was being… I suppose harassed is the wrong word, but the people on the train, staring at him.’
‘Very likely didn’t happen,’ Priestley said. ‘Villagers who saw him towards the end reported that he would scurry along a few yards and then stop and stare back where he walked, long and hard, as if certain there was someone behind him. There never was, of course. He was shunned by the locals, nearly as avidly as he was by those from his former life.’
The grey beast of dusk was creeping in from the edges of the gardens, and both men were feeling a chill that hadn’t been there before.
‘I heard,’ Pulford said. ‘And forgive me if this part is gossip or rumour, but I heard that the cottage had been pulled down, or at least searched thoroughly and invasively by the authorities when he disappeared. Any truth in that?’
Priestley sighed. ‘When he hadn’t been seen or heard from for, well, it must have been weeks, questions were asked. The police entered the place and they found blood, not just from a dead cat. There was a lot of blood, some of it in bottles in the fridge…’
‘What? In the…’
Priestley held up his hand. ‘There was clear indication of foul play, of a crime having been committed. Specialists were brought in. You may have seen programmes on television? They can sweep a room and find traces of blood, of any bodily fluid.’
‘And they found… what, in heaven’s name?’
‘They found the walls, cavities and openings, filled with small bones. Possibly animal, but some most likely to be human. The bathroom floor, when it was lifted, revealed traces of skin, again both animal and human. On the walls of the bedroom, when the thin layer of plaster was removed and the thick stone walls of the original building were revealed, were markings that I had to delve deeply to hear about.’
‘Go on.’
‘Pentagrams. Diagrams and daubing that was found to be centuries old, but which had been added to quite recently, and the most recent additions could only have been perpetrated by Randolph.’
‘You think he…’
Priestley put down his cigar, and laid his glass on the table top. ‘I don’t have any theories, none that I wish to express. I can only confirm that his body has never been found. In the garden were marks, that were at first thought to be those made by the hooves of a horse, though that theory was later discredited, but the grass and much of the earth in the flower beds was churned up by something heavy, and judging by the damage caused, by something that was very angry.’
Pulford stood. ‘I think we should go inside.’ He glanced at the burgeoning darkness that was approaching them. ‘We can leave all this.’ He indicated the coffee jug, the decanter and the ashtrays. ‘Leave it all until morning. You’ll stay over?’
Priestley walked quickly, beside Pulford, and didn’t reply until they were back in the drawing room, and the doors and windows were closed. ‘I think I shall.’
‘I need a brandy,’ Pulford said, and poured two glasses.
‘People thought doing the dirty on poor old Clarabel was his biggest mistake,’ Priestley said. ‘I do wonder if in fact he had made a greater error a long time before that.’
‘He paid a heavy price.’
Priestley raised his glass. ‘To Randolph.’
Pulford raised his. ‘Wherever he might be.’
THE WALTZER KING
‘…nine, ten, eleven o’clock, twelve o’clock rock. We’re gonna rock around the clock tonight,’ Bill Haley sang as the Waltzer picked up speed. Judd Harrison stepped onto the undulating roundabout with practiced ease, holding his hand out to collect the fares from the customers, and spinning the cars of the prettiest girls, making them squeal with delighted terror.
Elizabeth Cooper and Caitlyn Cooper stood in the doorway of their tent watching as the flashing coloured lights pulsed in time to the rock and roll, and reflected from the thin film of sweat that covered Judd’s well-muscled arms.
‘Of course, he’s a terrible flirt,’ Caitlyn said to her younger sister.
‘I blame those little tarts – the way they throw themselves at him,’ Elizabeth said.
‘You can’t blame them. He’s very good-looking.’
The evening was drawing to a close. It had been a good day for the fun fair. The weather had been kind this week – blazing hot sun during the days, and warm, sultry nights – keeping the passions high and the punters spending. The Cooper sisters, in particular, had reaped the benefits, with a number of people passing through their tent during the day to get out of the heat and to have their fortunes told while they cooled down. The Spirit Sisters, as the name on the billboard above the entrance to their tent proclaimed, had enjoyed a good day.
‘Are you still open?’ A small, elderly man, wearing the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows and a battered fawn trilby on his head, stuck his face into the entrance.
Elizabeth glanced at her wristwatch. ‘My sister can see you,’ she said, earning herself a look of disapproval from Caitlyn. Elizabeth ignored her and pulled back the curtain to their private area of the tent.
‘Actually, I’ve come to see the both of you.’ He pointed up at the sign. ‘The Spirit Sisters?’ he said. ‘I was told it was important to have a reading from you both.’
Elizabeth opened her mouth to refuse but Caitlyn spoke, cutting off her protest. ‘So someone recommended us?’
‘Oh yes,’ the man in the trilby said. ‘My sister, funnily enough, and she was very specific. ‘Make sure you see both of them,’ were her exact words.’
Caitlyn smiled at him while Elizabeth glowered.
‘Well in that case, do come and take
a seat,’ Caitlyn said.
Outside the tent, on the Waltzer, Bill Haley had rocked away into the night and Tommy Steele was Singing the Blues.
***
Judd moved between the cars, the top three buttons of his plaid shirt undone, exposing the coarse mat of black hair covering his chest, the gold hoops in the lobes of each ear glinting in the lights.
‘Are you a real gypsy?’ a girl with a blonde beehive and ample exposed cleavage said, as he spun her round.
‘Of course he is, Sonia,’ her partner in the car said. She was an altogether less appealing prospect, with her lank hair and horn-rimmed spectacles. ‘He’s got earrings and everything.’
Judd spun the car viciously, making Sonia yelp, and causing her friend to cover her mouth with her hand. ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ she said.
‘Wait till the ride stops,’ Judd growled. ‘Or I’ll make you clear it up.’
‘Charming,’ Spectacles said, as Judd moved on to the next car.
***
In the sisters’ tent, the old man was seated and was listening intently as Caitlyn peeled tarot cards from the deck in front of her and laid them out on the small, green baize-covered table. ‘I see a journey in your future,’ she said.
‘Would that be Australia?’ the old man said. ‘My sister keeps on about us emigrating. I mean, it’s only ten pounds.’
‘It could be,’ Elizabeth said, wishing the old man would hurry off there now so she could go back to watching Judd on the Waltzer.
‘The cards say that Australia would be a fine choice,’ Caitlyn said, ignoring her sister’s impatience. She never turned customers away, but she was becoming aware of the fact that Elizabeth really couldn’t be bothered these days and, given the chance, would spend all her time watching Judd’s buttocks dance under the denim of his skin-tight jeans. Her sister’s attitude annoyed her, so the old man in the trilby was a welcome distraction.
‘Well, there’s nothing more to be said.’ The old man grinned. ‘My sister was right. You two are good. Australia House, here we come. Do I cross your palms with silver now?’
‘A shilling will do,’ Caitlyn said.
The old man reached into the pocket of his baggy trousers and produced a coin that he pressed into Caitlyn’s hand. ‘Worth every penny,’ he said. ‘You’ve made up my mind for me. Thank you.’
‘I hope you and your sister will be very happy in Australia.’
‘Oh, I’m sure we will,’ the old man said and ducked out of the tent.
Elizabeth followed him to the opening, turned her attention to the Waltzer and then jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of an old woman at her side.
‘He’s a wrong’un, that Judd Harrison.’
‘Go on, Gran. You gave me a turn.’
The old woman was frail and wizened, her white hair coiled at the back of her head in a bun, the skin of her face deeply wrinkled and leathery, but her blue eyes were crystal clear and sharply alert. ‘He reminds me of your grandfather. He was a wrong’un, too.’ She pushed past Elizabeth into the tent.
‘Have you finished for the night?’ Caitlyn said, at the sight of her grandmother.
‘Yes, I’m done,’ Gloria Cooper said, lowering herself gingerly into the recently vacated chair at the table. ‘No one wants to win a goldfish this late in the day.’
‘I’m surprised that anyone would want to win one at any time of day. Bloody things are more trouble than they’re worth – spending all their time swimming round and around their bowls, never getting anywhere,’ Caitlyn said.
‘A bit like the rest of us,’ Elizabeth said from the doorway, without taking her eyes from Judd’s undulating bottom.
Gloria glared at her granddaughter’s back. ‘I suppose you think there’s a better world out there, away from the fair.’
‘There’s certainly a bigger one. Take that old geezer who was just in here. This time next year, he’ll be sunning himself on a beach in Australia and we’ll still be stuck here, giving phoney predictions to the marks, and fleecing them for a shilling a time.’
Gloria turned to Caitlyn. ‘And I suppose you feel the same as your sister?’
Caitlyn shook her head. ‘I’ve no complaints, Gran. The fair’s been good to us. It’s given us a life.’
‘Yes,’ Gloria said. ‘And your sister would do well to remember that.’
‘Well, I’m closing up for the night,’ Elizabeth said, letting down the flap of the tent and switching off the illuminated billboard.
‘Thank you and goodnight,’ Caitlyn said.
‘I’m going back to the caravan to change,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Judd will be closing up soon. I might persuade him to take me for a drink.’
‘Good luck with that,’ her sister said. ‘I saw the way he was eying that little redhead earlier. He certainly marked her card. You don’t stand a chance.’
Elizabeth glared at her sister and then tossed her blonde curls petulantly and walked from the tent.
‘What would you do with her?’ Caitlyn said to her grandmother.
‘She’s young. She’ll learn. Besides, the kiddies love them.’
‘What?’
‘Goldfish,’ Gloria said. ‘The kiddies love goldfish.’
Caitlyn raised her eyes heavenwards and started putting their props away.
***
Judd reached into the pouch secured around his waist, took out a red light bulb, and screwed it into the display above the ride.
‘My hubby used to say that replacing the bulbs every week was the same as giving ten punters a free ride,’ Gloria said as she watched him from the slatted wooden walkway that ran around the perimeter of the Waltzer.
Judd glanced down at her. ‘Well, he would know,’ he said. ‘How long did he run it for?’
‘Twenty years… up to the day he died. Are you planning on seeing my granddaughter?’ she said, switching tack sharply.
‘I might,’ Judd said, dipping his head to avoid the old woman’s penetrating gaze.
‘I’d think again if I were you,’ she said.
‘Lizzy likes me,’ Judd said defensively.
‘She also likes candy floss and hot dogs. If she indulged all of the things she liked, she’d be the size of a house. She has to learn to show restraint in her choice of food… and her men.’
‘Are you warning me off, Glo?’
‘Mrs Cooper to you,’ the old woman snapped. ‘Cooper, the same name that’s painted on the hoardings. Cooper’s Fair, Fun and Thrills For All The Family. Cooper, the same name as my granddaughter.’
‘So what are you saying? That I shouldn’t take Lizzy for a drink?’
Gloria reached out and patted Judd’s well-muscled arm with her leathery hand. ‘You catch on quick,’ she said.
‘What, don’t you think she’d be safe with me?’
She looked at him through narrowed eyes. ‘I think she’d be safer with a boa constrictor.’
Judd feigned a look of wounded innocence. ‘Ouch. You cut me to the quick,’ he said, playing up the mild Irish brogue that laced his words.
‘Yes, well, think on it. I don’t want my granddaughter hanging around you, or you around her, for that matter.’
Judd turned his back on her and reached up to replace another bulb. ‘It’s a free country,’ he muttered.
‘That it is,’ Gloria said. ‘But you’d do well to remember that this is my part of that country, and it’s anything but free. I feed you and put a roof over your head, and I pay you to work. If you want to flirt with the punters, fine – it helps business. But save your flirting for them. Keep it away from my granddaughter.’
Judd screwed the bulb into the socket. ‘I’m hearing you, Glo– sorry, Mrs Cooper.’
‘Good,’ Gloria said, and hobbled back to her caravan.
Judd worked while an older man emerged from the small cubicle housed in the centre of the ride. He was bigger and broader than Judd, and had a bushy black bea
rd that covered the lower part of his face, but the family resemblance was there in the startlingly blue eyes. ‘Is Gloria giving you a hard time, son?’ he said.
‘The old cow. Lizzy’s eighteen. What’s it to do with her grandmother who she sees?’
‘You don’t want to get into a fight with a Cooper, Judd,’ Patrick Harrison said to his son. ‘Especially not Gloria. I knew her old man… bought this ride from him… and he made the mistake of crossing her. It was the last thing he ever did. One minute he was walking through the fair, checking the takings, the next he was sitting in one of the dodgem cars as dead as a week-old halibut.’
‘But you’re not saying that she had something to do with him popping his clogs?’
‘I’m not saying anything,’ Patrick said. ‘People die all the time, but Ned Cooper was one of those types you thought would go on forever… until Gloria caught him at it behind the coconut shy with a barmaid from a pub in the village we’d stopped at. A week later, he was pushing up the daisies.’
‘A coincidence,’ Judd said.
Patrick chuckled. ‘Yeah, that’s what a lot of folk said… except those that knew Gloria. Now, I’m not saying she’s a witch or anything like that, but she’s got something about her… and it scares the bejesus out of me. So take the advice from one who knows, and stay clear. Lizzy Cooper’s a pretty girl, to be sure, but there are a lot of pretty girls out there, and many of them ride in the Waltzer cars. Save yourself the grief and go for one of those.’
Judd said nothing, but held his father’s gaze defiantly.
Eventually, the older man looked away. ‘That’s the trouble with you kids today. You think you know it all.’
‘It’s the 1950s, Dad. They stopped burning witches centuries ago.’
‘More’s the pity,’ Patrick said. He reached into the cubicle and scooped up a blue canvas bag of coins, the takings for the day. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
***
The saloon bar of the Red Lion was busy. Judd impatiently queued behind a man wearing a grimly brown suit who seemed to be ordering for a coach party – and a large one, at that. When he eventually got served, habit drew his eyes to the buxom cleavage of the barmaid. She responded as many girls seemed to around the roguishly handsome young man: she simpered.
