‘God says we must not kill,’ she pointed out.
‘And what if you do not believe in God?’
It was a concept she found difficult to grasp. ‘That’s plain silly!’
‘Not to some of these people,’ he explained. ‘They do not believe in our God. They do not abide by the teachings of our Bible, so to them it is not wrong. But it was right by their gods, by their beliefs.’
‘So if someone does not believe in God it is alright for them to kill?’ It was a logical conclusion for a child to make.
‘It is never as simple as that,’ he said. ‘There are times, even when we believe in God, when there is no option but to kill. At times of war, for instance. Or if someone is seeking to harm us.’
Laura Leach shook away the childhood memories, as best as she could because they seemed to hover around her head like a smoky cloud. She went over to his desk, sat in his chair. She looked at the short line of three framed photographs facing her. There was one of her mother. One each of Laura’s dead sisters. But there wasn’t a photograph of Laura on the desk.
Her father had taken every image of Laura from the house and put them in a pile in the garden and burned them.
* * * *
27
Granite Cold
He hadn’t expected to feel jealousy. But Vince felt something cold scrape his stomach as he walked down the stairs with an empty waste-paper bin in his hand. He stepped down into the foyer, and he saw Edith chatting away with a young man. She had been busy re-stacking the sweets in the kiosk but was obviously finding the young man’s attention infinitely more rewarding.
Vince recognised him – Leonard Kimble had been to the Empire a few times, trying to secure free cinema tickets so he could write a movie review for the Langbridge gazette in return. Caldwell didn’t give out tickets that easily, but Vince reckoned the old place could do with all the publicity it could get so he’d give Kimble one or two of his own freebies. But in the end the reviews weren’t well written, and in fact were perhaps the worst thing he’d ever read in the Gazette and that said something. Leonard Kimble, Vince heard later, had only managed to land the job because his mother was related to the paper’s editor. Everyone in Langbridge was related to everyone else, he thought, in one way or another.
‘Hello, Vince,’ said Edith. ‘This is Leonard. He’s a reporter now. How exciting!’
‘We know each other already,’ said Vince unexcitedly.
‘Lenny was in the year above me at school, isn’t that right, Lenny? He was spotty then.’
Kimble’s face said he would have preferred to have kept that to himself. ‘Hello, Vince. How are things?’ he greeted.
‘On the scrounge for tickets again?’ said Vince.
‘Not today,’ he returned. ‘I need a bit of information.’
‘He’s writing an important article for the Gazette,’ said Edith, quite enthralled.
‘Important, huh? Have more chickens gone missing?’ said Vince. ‘Wait, don’t tell me – the swimming baths in Glastonbury will be having a change of water? Mercy me, whatever next?’
‘Very droll,’ said Kimble, brushing off the swipe. ‘There’s more to the job of Gazette reporter than reporting on missing chickens. Like there’s more to being a projectionist at the Empire than changing light-bulbs and emptying bins.’ He looked down at the bin in Vince’s hand.
Edith looked from one to the other of them. ‘I thought you two were friends.’
‘Acquaintances,’ Vince informed. He didn’t like the way Leonard Kimble had been eyeing-up Edith, staring at her chest, small though that might be. ‘What do you want, Leonard? We’re very busy here.’
‘What do you know about Monica’s disappearance? I talked to Caldwell and he’s not saying much.’
‘That horrible woman?’ said Edith. ‘Why do you want to write something about her?’
‘She may not have been your cup of tea,’ he said, ‘but she’s missing. I’d like to help find her, write something for the Gazette to jog people’s memories, that kind of thing.’
‘Well she can stay missing for all I care,’ said Vince.
‘That’s not very nice, Vince? Did you have something against her?’
He said bluntly, ‘I didn’t like her. End of story.’
‘Is that so?’ he raised an eyebrow.
‘She was going to try and get rid of Vince, get him sacked,’ interjected Edith. ‘She was a nasty woman. No one is sad that she’s gone.’
‘Had it in for you, did she, Vince?’ said Kimble.
‘Monica had it in for everyone, not just me.’
‘But you’re glad she’s gone?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean, Leonard?’
He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t mean a thing. My gran tells me Monica and Caldwell had a thing going on. You hear anything like that?’
‘None of our business is it?’ said Vince. ‘He can do what he likes.’
‘Imagine if his wife found out. He wouldn’t want that to happen, would he?’
‘Leonard, who do you think you are – Dixon of Dock Green or something? Leave it to the police.’
‘But that’s what all investigative reporters do, isn’t it, Lenny? Snoop around,’ Edith enthused.
Vince gave a grunt. ‘Not for the Langbridge Gazette they don’t.’
‘Monica used to do some cleaning work for the Leach family at Devereux Towers,’ said Kimble unperturbed. ‘One of the cleaners said you had a crush on Laura Leach.’
‘What has that got to do with anything?’ said Vince, flashing a smouldering glare at Edith. He saw her shrink back to the Mars Bars she’d been stacking.
‘Just thought you might give me a few tips on how to approach her, that’s all. I hear she’s a bit strange.’ He laughed. ‘They used to say at school that she’d murdered her family and had them all walled-up somewhere. Maybe she’s done the same to Monica, who knows?’ He laughed again but no one was laughing with him and it petered-out into an embarrassed croak. ‘Just a joke,’ he said.
‘Well it’s not funny,’ Vince remarked caustically. ‘She’s a normal, nice woman, and I wish people would just leave her alone. Why do people always have to be so spiteful and vindictive?’
‘Where there’s smoke…’ said Kimble with a wink at Edith.
‘Meaning?’ said Vince.
‘She was closely involved with the death of a driving instructor years ago. That’s why she ended up in Bartholomew Place. You know what that is?’
‘Yes, I know!’ Vince snapped. ‘So she’s been ill, why must everyone assume the worst? A driving instructor’s death? That’s ludicrous! You don’t even know her – how can you say those kinds of things?’
‘I know her as much as you do, Moody,’ he returned. ‘You only know what you want to know. Anyhow, I managed to trace someone who actually worked there as a nurse. I’ll be speaking to her.’
‘I thought you were looking into Monica’s disappearance?’ said Vince. ‘Now you’re snooping into Laura’s past. What’s the connection?’
Leonard Kimble smiled. ‘One never knows what dirt one will dig up once one starts digging. You have to admit, it all sounds juicy, doesn’t it? Very Daily Mail.’ He deliberately turned his back on Vince and faced Edith. ‘Maybe we can go out for a drink together one night. Talk about old times.’ He made no attempt to hide the fact he was taking in the mound of her breasts.
‘Old times?’ scoffed Vince. ‘Like life in the nursery?’
Edith glanced at him. She turned to Kimble and said that would be nice and she’d think about it. Kimble left the Empire, whistling confidently to himself.
‘I really don’t like him,’ said Vince.
‘He’s harmless,’ Edith said. ‘He said he always fancied me at school. Said I looked pretty now, just before you came down the stairs. He didn’t know I was working here.’
‘You’re not falling for that, are you?’
‘’I never really liked him myself. He’s always been a bit
strange and creepy. He got expelled from school for a while for groping the girls. After that I avoided him. All the girls did.’
‘You’re not going to go out with him then, are you?’
‘I wasn’t going to, and certainly not if you don’t want me to, Vince,’ she said, her large eyes blinking.
Vince said, ‘He’s all talk. He’s no more an investigative journalist than I am manager of the Empire. He’s full of hot air and wind, is all. I’d avoid people like that.’
She reached out and touched his hand. ‘But you will be manager one day, Vince.’
‘I’m a nobody,’ he said, snatching his hand away and putting it in his pocket. ‘I’ll never be anything.’
‘You’ve never been a nobody to me, Vince. You’ll always be a somebody to me.’
Her words stirred strange emotions within him, and he swore he could still feel her hand on his, as if she’d left some kind of exquisite scorch mark there.
There was a heavy pounding at the door, which shattered the silence and made Laura start. Her heart crashed wildly as the noise continued. She closed the door to her father’s study and went into the grand entrance hall. The thump-thump-thump didn’t abate and echoed the sounds of her thumping heart.
‘Who is it?’ she asked.
The knocking stopped for a second or two at the sound of her voice. Then it cranked back up again, more furious than ever. Laura unbolted the heavy oak door and swung it open.
‘Where is he, you bitch?’ Katherine screamed. She looked positively manic, her hair plastered down by the rain, her clothes already soaked through. Her mascara had run, and coupled with her bright-red lipstick it gave the impression of a half-drowned clown. But her eyes were livid, wide, blazing orbs of sheer hatred. ‘What have you done to him?’ she cried.
Laura closed the door on her but Katherine stuck her foot in the gap, stopping her. ‘Get away from me!’ said Laura. ‘Leave me alone!’
‘Not until you tell me where he is!’
‘I don’t know and I don’t care,’ Laura said.
‘I know it was you who damaged my car, who broke into my house and slashed everything up. You’re stalking me, aren’t you? Trying to scare me off. And you left me this!’ She held up the blood-smeared jacket. ‘What have you done to Felix?’
‘Felix?’ she echoed. ‘I know that’s his real name,’ said Laura. ‘Just as I knew you weren’t his sister either. I knew that much when you first came to see me. You must both think me entirely stupid.’ Laura’s expression had hardened. ‘And you must think me totally helpless, too.’ Her tone was granite-cold.
‘You don’t scare me, you crazy bitch! I know you’ve done something terrible to Felix and you won’t frighten me away till I find out what you’ve done.’
‘He said he loved me,’ said Laura flatly. ‘He made me think he was telling the truth, and all along he used that to get money from me. I loved him, and I believe I would have done anything for him. How could you have been so cruel?’
‘Look at you, Laura,’ Katherine sneered, ‘do you really suppose a man like Felix could ever love a woman like you? He told me how he was glad he never had to sleep with you to get the money. He said he’d rather sleep with a pig!’
Laura screamed loudly and launched her full weight at Katherine, grabbing her by her slender throat, forcing her back so that she fell awkwardly onto the puddled gravel. Katherine’s eyes bulged; her tongue was forced slug-like from between her red lips as she struggled to breathe. She beat at Laura with her fists but could not dislodge her. Laura’s face was twisted with rage, her teeth bared as she squeezed her fingers around Katherine’s throat with all the strength she could muster.
But then she released her. She stood up, her chest heaving. Her hair wet and matted, her eyes fierce. Katherine gasped for breath, holding her throat and raising herself onto her elbow. ‘You’re fucking crazy!’ she said, the effort painful.
‘If I ever see you again,’ said Laura breathlessly, ‘I will kill you.’ She went to the door, was about to close it.
Katherine struggled to her feet. ‘What’s behind the blue door, you bitch?’
At this Laura grabbed one of her father’s walking-sticks from a stand by the door, a stout oak affair topped with a silver handle in the shape of a bull. She cried out shrilly and ran to Katherine, raising the stick high and swinging it down across Katherine’s face. Blood gushed from a long cut on her cheek. She raised it again, this time savagely hitting Katherine’s shoulder. The woman ran back to her car crying out in agony, Laura close behind her, swinging the walking-stick wildly, managing to land a couple of blows onto Katherine’s back as she swung open the car door. She flung herself inside and locked the door on Laura’s manic screaming. The walking-stick’s silver handle crashed against the side window, smashing it and showering Katherine’s bloodied face with glass. The car tyres threw up gravel as Katherine sought to get away as quickly as she could, the stick coming down on the car’s roof, denting it. Laura took one last swing at the speeding vehicle but missed. Laura cried out at the top of her voice till she could cry no more, watching Katherine’s car bouncing down the track in the distance. She threw the walking-stick away.
Sobbing, Laura turned and went inside. She thought she heard her father’s breathing again, close at her shoulder. Heard him say that sometimes it was alright to kill someone, especially if they sought to hurt you.
Yes, she thought, tears stinging her eyes, sometimes it is the only way…
* * * *
28
As Frail as Feathers
The café – The Friendly Butty – had seen better days, thought Martin Caldwell, though he guessed the better days can’t have been up to much. He’d never seen this high-street café with any more than two or three people sat at the tables, and this morning he was the only one in the place apart from the surly-looking woman behind the counter, who had managed to serve him coffee and toast without uttering a single word. With nothing else to do she’d made herself a cup of tea and was sitting in a far corner of the café near the window, reading a dog-eared copy of Exchange and Mart.
He looked at his watch. She was late. She always used to be. It was one of the things he used to hate about her, used to get him all riled-up. His head hurt like the blazes and even the tink-tink of his spoon against his cup cut into his skull like a pick-axe. He knew he’d drunk too much yesterday. And the day before. And he shouldn’t have touched the bottle this morning either but he couldn’t help it. Things were getting out of control and if there were one thing he hated more than anyone being late it was losing control over anything. He felt his blood beginning to bubble with the thought.
The bell over the door tinkled loudly and he looked up to see Katherine walking towards him. Christ, he thought, she looked rough! She wasn’t wearing any make-up, her hair was a mess, and her clothes so creased that it looked like she might have been sleeping in them. But the thing he noticed straight off was the large sticking-plaster on her cheek and the significant area of bruising around it. Though he didn’t show it he was smiling inside as she pulled up a chair and sat opposite him. He saw how stiff her movements were and how she grimaced as she eased the chair closer to the table.
‘Morning, Kat. You look like shit.’
She glowered at him. ‘You look marginally better. Have you been at the Gordon’s again?’
‘Been in a fight with a bulldog?’ he said. ‘And lost, obviously.’
‘Fuck you,’ she said.
‘Can I get you a drink? Toasted teacake, maybe? You look like you haven’t eaten properly in ages. Anyone would think something was troubling you.’
‘Cut the crap, Martin. I’m not in the mood for it. I need you to help me.’
‘Ever thought I don’t want to help you?’
‘Ever thought you had a choice?’ she said. He noticed how her hand was trembling. She looked back over her shoulder to the woman in the corner. She wasn’t taking the slightest interest in them. ‘Why here?’ sai
d Katherine.
‘Not as easy for you to make a scene.’
‘Don’t bet on it, Martin. She’s going to kill me…’
His eyes widened. ‘Hang on, who’s going to kill you?’
‘She is. That fucking Laura Leach.’
He gave a low chuckle. ‘You’re off your rocker, Kat.’
‘She’s the one with a screw loose. She’s out to kill me, I know she is. The same way she killed Felix.’
He held up his hand for her to calm down. ‘Keep it low, Kat.’ He leant forward, over the tomato-sauce bottle. ‘Maybe you’re overreacting.’
‘She broke into my house in Glastonbury, slashed up all my clothes and then tampered with my car’s brakes so I’d have an accident. She almost beat me to a pulp – look at my fucking face! I don’t call that overreacting!’ She wiped her tired eyes with the back of her hand. ‘She’s done something to Felix, I know she has. She left me his jacket and it had his blood all over it. I thought she was going to kill me too last night. I think she would have if I hadn’t managed to get to my car in time.’ She pulled down the polo-neck of her jumper to reveal fierce red welts around her throat.
‘Laura did all that?’
‘The bitch is fucked-up, Martin. I need your help with two things.’
He sat back, arms folded. ‘Two things? Fuck that, Kat. I told you…’
‘The first thing is to help me find out what’s behind the blue door.’
Caldwell unfolded his arms and leant forward again. ‘Felix did mention that. What’s so special about that room?’
‘That’s just it, I don’t know, but I’m willing to bet there’s a connection between what’s in there and Felix’s disappearance. He was intent on finding out, and maybe that’s what went wrong. I’ve got to know, Martin. I love him. I’m going to fucking pieces without him!’
‘What makes you think I can help you on that score? And, like I say, maybe I don’t even want to help you.’ He lifted his cup to his lips. ‘You made this mess, Kat; you can get yourself out of it. I don’t give a damn about what happened to your precious Felix.’
MOUSE (a psychological thriller and murder-mystery) Page 17
