So it was back to Sergeant West, he thought, sadly. He shouldn’t have come; it was a situation he couldn’t possibly win. If he’d left her to find out about Offer from somebody else she’d have been annoyed he hadn’t told her. It was a case of damned if he didn’t and from the closed-off look on her face it was certainly a case of damned when he did.
When she finds out he’d told her the truth? Was it was going to make a difference? Was he being a fool? She’d been a suspect in a murder inquiry, a victim in the same one and he was the policeman who pursued her. Now she was connected, however loosely, to this case and he was, yet again, the investigating officer.
When the case was solved, she would, as before, stop being a victim or suspect and her connection to the case would dissolve like candyfloss but he would always be a policeman.
He could get past that. He just wasn’t sure she could.
‘I’d better go,’ he said quietly.
‘Well, fine.’ she said, her voice rising to a shout, ‘Get out.’ She turned her back on him, crossed her arms and stared out the window, her breath coming in short, gusty puffs. Looking up, she saw his reflection in the darkness, saw it hesitate, move a step closer and then turn and walk away.
30
She listened as the front door closed. Not slammed, she noticed and this irritated her further. He had closed it gently, as if he weren’t bothered by the whole situation. She was still standing as he had left her, arms wrapped around herself, protective, excluding everyone, including Mr Officious Garda Sergeant West.
She walked to the door when she heard the distant but definite sound of a car’s engine, wanted to go out and shout at him some more. How could he? He knew she had been through a lot. Didn’t he see that helping out with Offer was a way of getting back into the swing of things? Contrarily, it didn’t matter that she had decided to leave Offer. After all, he didn’t know that.
She didn’t give a moment’s credence to what he had told her. She had met Viveka. There was no way she was capable of what he was suggesting. She wondered how on earth they had come up with that idea, and whose idea it was. Not Mike’s, she decided, but she wouldn’t put it past that terrible desk sergeant, Blunt. He’d always disliked Offer. Yes, it would have been him.
So much for the relaxing evening she’d planned. Now, she couldn’t stay still, angry energy fizzing, making her restless. She had to do something. Running to her room, she grabbed a warm fleece and bounded back down the stairs. Normally, she left the lights on, didn’t like coming back to a dark house. But tonight, just in case West returned with an apology or excuse tripping from his lips, she turned the lights out. He could make of that what he wanted, she thought, recognising the thought and action as pure childishness, but not caring.
She thought about driving somewhere but changed her mind, walking would be safer. In the temper she was in, a car could be a lethal weapon. Muttering to herself she headed out her driveway and down Wilton Road onto the busier, but still quiet road that ran through Foxrock Village. She walked without any conscious sense of direction, just wanting to walk the irritation away, walking for a long time, starting to feel a little tired when she realised where her feet had taken her.
Holycross school. She stood for a moment, staring through the gates. ‘How could they think Offer could be responsible for such a wicked thing?’ she whispered, her throat clogging with unshed tears that still came far easier than they used to. Resting her head against the cold metal of the gate she gulped and then turned and leaned back tiredly, realising how far she had walked. And now she had a very long walk home.
A thought crossed her mind. If she’d been upset to hear the gardai were accusing Offer how much more upset would Heather be? The woman lived for Offer, worshipped the ground that Viveka walked on. She’d be devastated.
Kelly pushed away from the school gate and headed in the direction of Heather Goodbody’s house. She’d spit feathers when she found out, Kelly thought, if a woman of Heather’s calm demeanour could ever do anything so fierce. Or was it fierce to spit feathers? Really, it didn’t make sense when she came to think about it. Not that much made sense anymore, she thought resignedly, picking up her pace, eager to get there and get the story told now that she had made the decision.
It wasn’t too late, she decided as she approached Heather Goodbody’s house. There were lights on downstairs too. A good indicator that the woman wasn’t early to bed. She already knew she was early to rise.
She scanned the door for a bell, didn’t see one and reached instead for a heavy door-knocker that sat dead centre of the old door. It fell with a resounding thump that Kelly thought must be heard in every room. Probably next door as well, she thought, eyeing the other half of the semi-d as if the answer to her knock would come from there.
She didn’t have to wait long before she saw, through the glass panels of the door, a darkness appearing in the light of the hallway. The darkness grew larger, consolidated into a woman shape and then Kelly heard the noise of latches being drawn, locks being unlocked. A lot of security for a small house. Difficult to get out of in a hurry, Kelly thought with a shiver.
Finally, the door opened, a security chain, still attached and Heather Goodbody peered through the opening, ‘Kelly?’ she cried, managing to fit puzzlement, curiosity and a minute amount of irritation into that one word.
Kelly stood, expecting Heather to open the door now that she had identified her as not being a threat to her safety, dignity or, at a stretch, her chastity. But, no, she continued to stand, holding the door as a shield against whatever it was the younger woman wanted to tell her.
‘Can I come in?’ Kelly asked. No way was she having this conversation on the doorstep.
There was a moment’s hesitation before the door was closed and the sound of the safety-chain was heard being slowly removed, and then the door opened fully and Heather stood back to let her in.
They went through to the same room they had sat in earlier, Heather moving to switch on a lamp in the corner of the room. ‘The main-light’s blown,’ she explained, looking up at the old fashioned fringed shade that surrounded the dead bulb that hung from the ceiling. ‘I don’t use this room much at night, you know. I usually sit next door, it’s warmer.’
Kelly hadn’t noticed earlier but there was a distinct lack of warmth in the room. She was glad of her fleece. She didn’t wonder why Heather hadn’t brought her into the other room. It was a division the older generation took more seriously, guests being brought into what would have been classified as the good room. Her mother had done much the same, would never have dreamt of bringing a stranger into the family room that was shabbily comfortable and warm. Instead strangers, guests, anyone not family sat in cold splendour among the bric brac and furniture that was considered good.
‘Please, sit down,’ Heather said, indicating the same seat Kelly had sat in earlier. She too sat in the same seat and looked across expectantly. ‘Now, what brings you here again, so late in the evening?’ She leaned forward suddenly, startling Kelly who leaned back in response. ‘Oh, you’ve reconsidered. You’re going to stay as a volunteer. Oh, I’m so pleased. And how kind of you to come to tell me in person.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Oh, this is wonderful. Viveka will be so pleased.’
Flustered by the woman’s obvious excitement, Kelly held up her hands, palm out, an unconscious stop gesture the other woman didn’t notice or chose to ignore. Instead Heather stood and did what almost amounted to a pirouette, saying in her breathy voice. ‘Wonderful, wonderful news.’
Kelly stood. This was too much. What on earth possessed her to come here. Honestly, she needed her damn head examined. ‘Heather,’ she said firmly, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. That’s not why I’ve come.’
Had she been in the mood to laugh, had she found any of this day remotely funny she would have laughed as the woman’s face went from radiant excitement to deep despair in a matter of seconds. Like one of those dolls she had as a ch
ild, a sad, tearful face one end, turn it upside-down and instead of feet under its long skirt there was another body, another face, this one grinning from ear to ear. She’d never liked it. It gave her the shivers. And as she looked at Heather’s face she felt the same sensation.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said gently, seeing the woman was genuinely upset, tears sparkling her eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’d gone out for a walk, gone much further than I’d expected and found myself near the school.’ She put a hand out, laid it tentatively on the older woman’s hand, felt a slight tremor and the instant guilt that comes when you know, through no fault of your own, you’ve caused another person pain. ‘I should go,’ she said, moving away, ‘I’m sorry to have upset you.’
Heather snuffled but put her own hand out, caught Kelly’s arm. ‘No, stay. Please. Tell me why you did come.’
Should she? Kelly wavered. Perhaps it would be better if she kept her mouth shut? Wait and see what happened? She looked at Heather, her big eyes all concern. She’d be devastated. If it were true. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. But that didn’t change the fact that they were investigating Offer.
Telling someone the truth wasn’t easy. Suddenly, with a piercing pain, she wondered if she had done Mike an injustice. Wasn’t he just looking out for her? As he had so many times before? She closed her eyes, trying to close out the memory of her behaviour, and his unrelenting calm. And if she did tell Heather, was she breaking a confidence. Because, it came to her suddenly, he probably wasn’t supposed to have told her details of active investigations. As before, he’d put himself out to protect her.
But she couldn’t not tell Heather, the woman had only ever been kind to her. Being forewarned would ease the trauma of the situation.
Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I had Sergeant West around at my house earlier. That’s why I went walking, to be honest. I was upset.’
‘Oh my dear,’ Heather said, patting her arm kindly, ‘sit down please.’ She waited while Kelly sat back down in the same seat before sitting herself. ‘Honestly,’ she said, ‘why was he around upsetting you?’ Then before Kelly had a chance to answer she continued, ‘I think I will go and have a long, hard talk with Inspector Morrison about Sergeant West and Sergeant Blunt. Classic bullies. Both of them.’ Her voice took on a conspiratorial tone. ‘Perhaps we should go together. Make a formal complaint about their manner and their obstructiveness. The Inspector is a firm friend to Offer. He recognises our worth.’
If Kelly had had a brick in her hand she would have hit herself over the head with it. What on earth had possessed her to come here? After this afternoon. ‘I don’t think that’s really necessary, Heather,’ she said quietly. ‘I think Sergeant West was trying to be kind, actually.’ She hesitated, and with a sigh carried on. ‘He knows I am involved with Offer. He wanted to let me know...please, don’t be upset, Heather...he wanted to let me know that Offer is under investigation. They have this crazy idea that someone in Offer may have deliberately caused some of the incidents they subsequently went to help with.’
The silence was deafening. Heather sat unmoving, her eyes fixed and focused on Kelly’s face.
Unnerved, Kelly broke her gaze and looked around the room. The lamp had thrown eerie shadows on the walls and forced darkness into the edges. A notion crossed her mind that she found hard to dismiss, for some unaccountable reason she found the darkness threatening. She tried to dismiss it as melodramatic whimsy, tried to laugh. But the laugh wouldn’t come, and the feeling remained sending a shiver down her back that had nothing to do with the increasing coldness of the room.
Finally, just when she was going to get up and leave, Heather spoke. ‘Evil.’
Kelly thought she must have misheard, ‘Sorry?’
Heather turned her head and fixed her with a cold stare. ‘That man, Sergeant West. He is evil. All Offer has done is support the needy, the deserving.’
‘Please,’ Kelly tried to calm the situation, ‘don’t get upset. It’s not Offer as such that’s the problem. I think they are looking at Viveka Larsson, actually.’
If Kelly thought this would be an improvement she quickly learnt her mistake. Heather’s nostrils flared, her voice came through narrowed lips, lower and more breathy than ever forcing Kelly to lean forward to catch her next words. ‘Our foundress? Viveka is an angel. Above reproach. A kinder more philanthropic woman doesn’t exist.’ She stopped, took a deep breath and then spat out, ‘We are being vilified, hounded. Evil, I tell you.’ She reached for Kelly’s hand, caught it, held it tightly, ignored her wince of pain. ‘We will go to the press,’ she continued, spittle forming at the corner of her mouth, ‘tell them of their infamy. Expose them for their corruption. To think that Viveka could be involved. The sheer and utter stupidity.’
‘They’re just investigating, Heather,’ Kelly said, trying to downgrade the issue. ‘And you have to admit, there have been some very odd incidents.’ Just then something occurred to Kelly. ‘In fact, this morning’s incident was odd,’ she said with a frown. ‘There weren’t any explosions, you know, just smoke-bombs and fire-crackers.’
Heather said nothing as Kelly stared at her.
‘My God,’ Kelly said looking horrified, ‘afterwards you told me that Viveka hoped I’d reconsider leaving.’ She stood, took two steps and then turned to face Heather again, wringing her hands together. ‘She engineered the whole thing to persuade me to stay? That doesn’t seem possible.’ Then she saw a strange look flit across Heather’s face. ‘You think she did too. You do, I can see it in your face. Oh, my God. We have to go to the police. I have to tell Mike he was right, she is involved.’
Suddenly Heather was the calm one. ‘Let’s just have a cup of tea,’ she said, ‘we’ll sit and discuss what to do.’
Kelly nodded without thinking. The last thing she wanted was a cup of tea but she needed some time to digest the idea that had come full-born into her head. Could the charismatic Viveka really be to blame? But Heather had her suspicions, the shadow of truth had crossed her face, Kelly had seen it.
Through the open door she heard the opening and closing of cupboard doors, the sound of the kettle coming to the boil, the clink of cups. Then more clinking and rattling. She wished she’d never come, really wished she had the courage to get up and leave. Then she thought of the long walk home and cursed under her breath. Perhaps a taxi. She’d have some tea, her head would stop spinning, and then she would ring for a taxi and go.
Tomorrow, she would ring Mike and apologise. And she’d tell him what Heather had said about Viveka and would leave it at that. He was the detective. She’d let him do his job and keep out of it. God almighty, the last thing she wanted was to be embroiled in anything like this.
It occurred to her that the house had gone silent. No more clinking. She was just about to stand when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard them going up.
‘I’ll just be a moment,’ Heather sang out, passing the doorway on her way back into the kitchen.
There was some more clinking and banging and finally, she came through carrying a tray with cups and saucers, tea already poured. The same lemon cake as before, Kelly noticed without interest.
‘I thought, perhaps, I would ring for a taxi,’ she said as Heather placed the tray down on the coffee-table and handed Kelly one of the cups.
‘Have your tea, we can talk about the situation with the gardai and then I’ll run you home,’ Heather said with a smile.
Frustrated, Kelly did as she was bid, realising she was thirsty anyway and drained her cup. Heather lifted the teapot, stretched across and poured her another without asking, added milk, again without asking. ‘Have another cup,’ she said, ‘long walks can be so dehydrating.
More to get the cup finished than because she really wanted it, Kelly drank, draining the cup.
‘Have some more,’ Heather said, lifting the pot again.
But Kelly was quicker this time and put her hand over the cup. �
��No, thanks, honestly, I’ve had enough.’
‘Some cake?’
Kelly shook her head and then regretted doing so. Her head spun. Curiously, when she stopped shaking her head, it still spun. Or was the room spinning? She opened her mouth to tell Heather she felt strange but she couldn’t seem to get the words together. All she could manage was a little laugh as she felt her body slump back in the chair. She closed her eyes because the room still spun, opening them quickly when she heard something.
Heather’s face was inches away; she could feel her warm breath brush her face. She tried to tell her again that she felt very strange but her tongue was thick in her mouth and she couldn’t speak.
The last thing she saw was a strange smile twisting Heather’s lips.
Then she didn’t see anything.
31
West hadn’t planned to go into the station on Saturday morning. There was nothing outstanding and nothing he could do about Offer until the warrant to search Viveka Larsson’s apartment was issued. Monday at the earliest. It was frustrating to be confined by bureaucracy but railing against it did nothing but give him a headache. And his head ached enough as it was.
He’d lost count of how many Jameson’s he’d had when he’d arrived home the previous night, cross and irritated. Enough to make him swear never again, when he opened his eyes this morning. Enough to make his brain bang painfully inside his skull at each movement. Definitely enough to make him stay just where he was for way too long, going over and over the conversation of the evening before. When he finally decided to crawl out of bed it was in surrender. He’d never be able to figure out women.
Regrets were a waste of time, an exercise in futility but still, he had them. Which regret was bigger, he wasn’t sure. That he’d gone to Kelly’s in the first place? That he’d told her they were investigating Offer and the Larsson woman in particular. Or that he’d been relegated to being just a garda, when he felt he was becoming much more. Stupid. It was all damn stupid.
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