‘So you go into action?’ asks Stephen.
Bogdan nods, and wonders about his bishop and whether Stephen might just have something up his sleeve. ‘I tell Gianni I need to speak to him. Don’t tell Tony, don’t tell the others. I say a friend works in Newhaven, at the port, and there might be some money for him, and is he interested? And he’s interested, so we meet at the port, about two a.m.’
‘And there’s no security?’
‘There’s security, but the security man is a cousin of my friend, Steve Georgiou. A good guy. He really does work at the port. Is easier to lie with the truth. So Steve comes along too. Steve knew Kaz. Steve liked Kaz like I did. So we walk across to harbour steps and get in a little boat and Gianni, he is stupid, he just think about money, and we chug, chug, chug, and it’s choppy and I’m telling him the plan and we use this boat to smuggle people and Steve’s cousin will turn a blind eye and think of all the money. Then I take out a gun and I tell him kneel down, which Gianni thinks is a joke, and I say you killed Kazimir, just so he knows why he’s there, so suddenly he thinks it’s not joke, and I shoot him.’
Bogdan finally moves his bishop and it is Stephen’s turn to scrunch his nose.
‘I take his keys and his cards. We weigh him down with bricks and throw him over, never to be seen. Back we go to Newhaven, we say thank you to Steve’s cousin, let’s not speak of this. Then me and Steve, we drive to Gianni’s house, we let ourselves in, we take his passport, we pack suitcase full of clothes, there is piles of money, you know, drugs money, and we take this too, and anything valuable we find. Some of the money is Tony’s, like a lot, so I was glad to take it.’
‘How much money?’ asks Stephen.
‘It was like hundred grand. I send fifty grand to Kazimir’s family.’
‘Good lad.’
‘The rest I give to Steve. He wanted to open a gym and I thought was good investment. He’s a good guy, no nonsense with him. Then I drive Steve to Gatwick, he take flight to Cyprus on Gianni’s passport, no one looks. Easy. Then Steve fly straight back to England on his own passport. I call the police, anonymous, but I know enough that they take me serious. I tell them Gianni killed Kaz, and they raid his house.’
‘And they find his passport gone and his clothes gone?’
‘Exactly.’
‘So they check the ports and airports and find he’s scarpered off to Cyprus?’ Stephen attacks Bogdan’s bishop with a pawn. Just as Bogdan had hoped.
‘And so they check and check for Gianni for a bit in Cyprus, but he’s disappeared, and they just leave to Cypriot police in the end. No evidence that Gianni killed anyone, no drug money in his house, so everyone just forget in the end. Just move on.’
‘Took your time with Curran though, eh?’
‘Always just waiting for the best time. Just planning. I didn’t want to get caught, you know?’
‘I should think that would be the last thing you’d want, yes,’ says Stephen.
‘Anyway, couple of months ago I installed his surveillance system, the cameras, the alarm system, all of this. And I fitted the whole thing wrong pretty much. Nothing recording.’
‘I see.’
‘And I thought, so, now is the time. I can get in house, I got keys made, no one can see me.’ Bogdan attacks Stephen’s pawn, opening up a front that Stephen does not want opened up.
Stephen nods. ‘Clever.’
‘Just after I did it there’s a ring, ring, ring at the door, but I stayed pretty calm, no worry.’
Stephen nods again and moves a pawn in quiet desperation. ‘Good for you. What if they catch you?’
Bogdan shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think they will.’
‘Elizabeth will work it out, old boy. If she hasn’t already.’
‘I know, but I think she will understand.’
‘I do too,’ agrees Stephen. ‘But the police would be a different matter. They are less easy to charm than Elizabeth.’
Bogdan nods. ‘If they catch me, they catch me. But I laid a pretty good false trail, I think.’
‘A false trail? And how did you do that?’
‘Well, when we went to Gianni’s house on that night, one of the things we took was a camera, so –’
Bogdan breaks off as they hear a key turn in the door. Elizabeth back late from something or other. Bogdan puts a finger to his lips and Stephen does the same in response. She walks in.
‘Hello, boys.’ She kisses Bogdan on the cheek and then holds Stephen in a tight embrace. As she does, Bogdan moves his queen and closes his trap.
‘Checkmate.’
Elizabeth lets Stephen go and he smiles at the board and at Bogdan. He reaches out and shakes his hand.
‘He’s a crafty bugger, this one, Elizabeth. A grade-A crafty bugger.’
Elizabeth looks down at the board. ‘Well played, Bogdan.’
‘Thank you,’ says Bogdan, and starts to set the pieces back up again.
‘Well, I have quite a story for you both,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Can I make you a cup of tea, Bogdan?’
‘Yes please,’ says Bogdan. ‘Milk, six sugars.’
‘A coffee for me, love,’ says Stephen. ‘If it’s not too much trouble?’
Elizabeth walks into the kitchen. She thinks about Penny, surely dead by now? That was how it ended, in an act of love. Then she thinks about John, settling down to a final sleep. He had taken care of Penny, but at what cost? Is he at peace? Is he out of his misery? She thinks of Annie Madeley and everything she has missed. Everyone has to leave the game. Once you’re in, there is no other door but the exit. She reaches for Stephen’s temazepam, then pauses and puts them back in the cupboard.
Elizabeth walks back to her husband. She takes his hand in hers and kisses him on the lips. ‘I think it might be time to cut down on the coffee, Stephen. All that caffeine. It can’t be good for you.’
‘Quite so,’ says Stephen. ‘Whatever you think is for the best.’
Stephen and Bogdan begin another game. Elizabeth turns back to the kitchen and neither man sees her tears.
115
Joyce
Sorry I haven’t written for a while, it’s been very busy around here. But I have a gooseberry crumble on the go and I thought there might be a few things you’d want to know.
They buried Penny and John the Tuesday before last. It was quite a quiet one, and it rained, which seemed about right. There were a few old colleagues of Penny’s there. In fact, more than you would think, considering. It had been in the papers, Penny and John. They hadn’t got the whole story straight, but they were near enough. The news had got wind that Penny was a friend of Ron, too. He was interviewed on Kent Today and they even showed it on the normal news later. Someone came down from the Sun to talk to him, but Ron was having none of that. He told them to park outside Larkin Court and then had them clamped.
Elizabeth wasn’t at the funeral. We haven’t discussed it, so that’s that, I’m afraid. I wonder if she had already said her goodbyes? She must have, mustn’t she?
I don’t even know if Elizabeth has forgiven Penny. I’m afraid I take the Old Testament view that what Penny did was right. That’s just me, and it’s not something I would say out loud, but I’m glad she did what she did. I hope Peter Mercer was alive long enough to know what was happening to him.
Elizabeth is a good deal cleverer than me, and will have thought about it more, but I can’t see that she could really blame Penny for what she did. Would Elizabeth have done the same? I think so. I think Elizabeth would have got away with it though.
But I do think Elizabeth must be sad at the secret. There were the two girls, Elizabeth and Penny, and their mysteries, and all the while Penny was the biggest mystery of all. That must hurt Elizabeth. Perhaps one day we’ll talk about it.
Penny killed Peter Mercer and she kept it from John all her life. Until dementia broke her. And once John knew, he had to protect her. That’s love, isn’t it? That’s what Gerry would have done for me. Because Peter Merce
r murdered Annie Madeley, Penny murdered Peter Mercer. Because Penny murdered Peter Mercer, John murdered Ian Ventham. So it goes, I suppose. And at least now it’s done. I wish peace on Penny and John, and I wish peace on poor Annie Madeley. For Peter Mercer, and for everything he caused, I wish nothing but torment.
The police have yet to find Turkish Gianni by the way, but they’re looking. Chris and Donna have popped over here a couple of times. Chris has a new lady friend, but is being coy about it for now, and we can’t get Donna to talk. Chris says they’ll catch up with Gianni eventually, but Bogdan was round to fix my power shower the other day and he says Gianni is too smart for that.
If you really want my view, Gianni is far too convenient. Gianni came over and killed Tony for informing on him all those years ago? Why would Tony have informed on him? For his part in clearing up a murder that Tony committed? That makes no sense to me.
No, the only person too smart to be caught around here is Bogdan.
Don’t you think he killed Tony Curran? I do. I’m sure he had a good reason, and I look forward to asking him. But not until he’s fitted my new replacement window, because what if he takes offence? I wonder if Elizabeth suspects him too? She certainly hasn’t mentioned chasing down Gianni recently, so perhaps she does.
I will have to check the crumble in a bit. Shall we get on to more pleasant tidings?
Hillcrest is already up and running, there are cranes and diggers up on the hill. They say Gordon Playfair got £4.2m for his land, and by ‘they’ I mean Elizabeth, so you can take it as gospel. He said goodbye to the house he’d lived in for seventy years and packed his belongings into a Land Rover and trailer. Then he drove the 400-odd yards down the hill and unpacked it all at a nice two-bed in Larkin Court.
Bramley Holdings gave him the flat as part of the deal. Which brings us on to another bit of news.
‘Bramley Holdings’? It wasn’t about apples, after all. I told you, though, that the name had rung a bell? Well, here’s why.
When she was very small, Joanna had a little toy elephant, pink with white ears, and she would never let me wash it. I can’t imagine the germs it carried, but I think that’s not necessarily a bad thing with children. And the name of that elephant? Bramley. I had quite forgotten. She had so many toys and I’m a terrible mother.
Perhaps you see where this is going, though?
You remember we had taken Ventham’s accounts to Joanna, of course, back when Elizabeth wondered if Ian Ventham had murdered Tony Curran?
Anyway, Joanna and Cornelius had looked through the accounts for us and they’d reported back, and that was the end of the matter.
But for Joanna it hadn’t been the end of the matter at all. Not a bit of it.
Joanna and Cornelius had liked what they saw in the accounts. And they had liked what they read about Hillcrest. So Joanna had made a presentation to the other board members – this scene, in my head, is around the aeroplane-wing table – and then they bought the company. She was planning to buy it from Ian Ventham, but, of course, ended up buying it from Gemma Ventham. So isn’t that a turn-up?
Joanna owns the whole place. Or Joanna’s company, but that’s the same thing, isn’t it?
Now, this leads me on to Bernard, and you’ll see why.
Joanna and I had never talked about Bernard, but she came down to be with me at the funeral, so had Elizabeth told her perhaps? Or did she just know? I think she just knew. So she came down and she held my hand, and in a weaker moment I put my head on her shoulder and that was nice. After the funeral she told me about Bramley Holdings. I pretended I had known all along, because I felt guilty about forgetting the elephant, but Joanna sees straight through me.
But we talked, and I told her I didn’t think this was the sort of business they bought, and she agreed, but said it was ‘a sector we have been keen to get into’, but I see straight through her too and she admitted that was a lie. She did say there was plenty of money to be made, but she told me she had another reason too. Which I’ll tell you now.
She sat on the lounger that she bought me, that would have been a tenth the price in IKEA, right beside the laptop she bought me that will never be carried anywhere, and here is what she said.
‘Remember when you moved in here, and I told you it was a mistake? I told you it would be the end of you? Sitting in your chair, surrounded by other people just waiting out their days? I was wrong. It was the beginning of you, Mum. I thought I would never see you happy again after Dad died.’
(We had never talked about this. Both our faults.)
‘Your eyes are alive, your laugh is back and it’s thanks to Coopers Chase and to Elizabeth and to Ron and Ibrahim and to Bernard, God rest his soul. And so I bought it, the company, the land, the whole development. And I bought it to say thank you, Mum. Though I know what you’re going to say next, and I promise I will also make millions out of it, so don’t panic.’
Well, I wasn’t panicking, but that was what I was going to say next.
And so a couple of things you will want to know. The Garden of Eternal Rest is staying exactly where it is. Joanna says they’ll make quite enough money out of Hillcrest, so The Woodlands has been quietly shelved. The graveyard is now protected, even if Coopers Chase is sold again (Joanna says they will sell it again one day, that’s their job). But just you try and buy it, you’ll see there are all sorts of covenants in place. It’s going nowhere.
By the way. Just now, when I said it was both our faults that we hadn’t talked about Gerry? Of course it wasn’t both our faults. It was my fault. Sorry, Joanna.
We had a ceremony the other day. Elizabeth invited Matthew Mackie for lunch and along he came, no dog collar this time. We broke the news to him that Maggie was safe and I thought he would cry, but he didn’t, he just asked to visit the grave. We walked up the hill with him, then we sat on Bernard and Asima’s bench while he pushed open the iron gates and knelt beside the grave. This is when the tears came, as we knew they would when he saw the headstone.
I had watched a couple of days ago as Bogdan had spent the best part of the morning gently cleaning up the inscription ‘Margaret Farrell, 1948–1971’, before carving underneath, ‘Patrick, 1971’. There really is nothing Bogdan can’t do.
When Father Mackie broke down at this, we sent Ron to hold him and the two of them stayed there quite some while. Elizabeth, Ibrahim and I stayed on the bench and took in the view. I like it when men cry. Not too much, but this was just right.
There are always plenty of flowers on Maggie’s grave now. I have added some of my own, and I’m sure you can guess where I got them from.
You’ll want to know about the bench, too. Well, busy Bogdan took to the concrete with a pneumatic drill, then dug down until he found the tiger tea caddy, which he gave to me.
In Bernard’s final letter there was rather a moving postscript, in which he had asked that his ashes be scattered off the pier in Fairhaven. I have it here.
‘Part of me and part of Asima will always be together, right here. But she is floating free in holy waters, so let me drift on the tide until one day I find her again,’ he had said. Very poetic Bernard, I’m sure.
Too poetic.
You and I know Bernard well enough to know that this was sentimental bunk. It was a message to me and it wasn’t exactly the Enigma code. I wonder if Bernard might have thought I was a little thick, but I suppose he wanted it spelled out, just in case. Anyway, I knew Bernard had given me my instructions.
Sufi and Majid had stayed at an airport hotel after the funeral, because that’s their way, and I had offered to keep Bernard’s ashes safe until they headed down to Fairhaven. When will these two learn?
I had Asima’s ashes in the tea caddy and I had Bernard’s ashes in a simple wooden urn. I took out my scales. Proper ones, because I don’t trust the electronic ones.
I was very careful tipping out the ashes, because, much as I liked Bernard, I didn’t want him all over my worktop. Within minutes, and with the help
of a couple of intermediary bits of Tupperware (I felt a bit guilty about that) the deed was done.
In the tiger tea caddy that they had both wanted to buy the other for Christmas was half Bernard and half Asima. The next day we buried the tea caddy back under the bench where it belonged. We asked Matthew Mackie to bless the site and I think he was touched to be asked and did a lovely job.
And in the urn, half Asima and half Bernard. And, unbeknownst to them, that’s what Sufi and Majid took to Fairhaven the following day, so Asima could finally float free, but still in the embrace of the man she loved. We didn’t join them, as we didn’t really want to interfere.
I honestly don’t know what to do with the Tupperware I used. If you’ve used two Tupperware containers to help mix the ashes of a dear friend and a woman he loved, without letting their children know, is it more disrespectful to keep them, or to throw them away? This is honestly not the sort of thing I had to worry about before I moved to Coopers Chase. Elizabeth will know what to do.
Talking of Elizabeth, she rang me earlier to tell me that someone had slid a very interesting note under her door. She wouldn’t say what it was, but she said she’d have to pay someone a little visit and then she could tell me. What a tease!
Well, it is Thursday, so I must be on my way. I worried that, after Penny, we might stop meeting, or perhaps it would feel different. But that’s not really how things work around here. Life goes on, until it doesn’t. The Thursday Murder Club goes on meeting, mysterious notes are pushed under doors and murderers fit replacement windows. Long may it continue.
After the meeting I will pop over and see how Gordon Playfair is settling in. Just being a good neighbour, before you ask.
And, right on time, there’s my crumble. I will let you know how everything goes.
Acknowledgements
Thank you so much for reading The Thursday Murder Club. Unless you haven’t read it yet, and have just turned straight to the acknowledgements, which I accept is a possibility. You must live your life as you choose.
The Thursday Murder Club Page 29
