Money Can Kill

by Wonny Lea

  As she approached the door she was becoming more and more certain that Susan was in the house and two possibilities entered her sleep-deprived mind that was probably well into the stage of malfunction. Either Susan had taken the car and was curled up in Dan’s bed, hiding from its owner, or Dan had made her take it for some illegal purpose and they had subsequently fallen out.

  Diane pictured her sister tied to the bed and in fear of her life, but it was not a well-formed idea and she made herself smile as she thought that it would take a large roll of duct tape to strap up Susan’s mouth. Nothing like that would be on the cards but nevertheless there was some element of serious concern amongst Diane’s mental ramblings.

  She pulled herself together and hammered on the door causing a small shower of brittle paint to fall to the floor. The door was painted dark brown, but the latest coat was years old and was peeling off to reveal layers of red and blue that were trying to make a comeback. Diane hadn’t noticed how shabby the place was until now, and she stopped knocking and looked through the letterbox.

  When she had shouted at Dan she had been hopping mad and hadn’t noticed that although the atmosphere inside was not fresh, there was something she instantly recognised. It was Susan’s perfume, and if her sister wasn’t there now she had been there much more recently than the couple of weeks Dan had suggested.

  For her sixteenth birthday Susan had been given a bottle of Christian Dior’s Poison and from that day it had been the only perfume she ever used. Even when she was skint she always found some poor sucker to buy it for her and it always took a couple of days for the scent to leave wherever Susan had been.

  Diane was now absolutely convinced that Susan was in the house and crashed the metal bar attached to the letterbox down hard several times. Then she knelt down to get a better look inside and listened for any sound but there was nothing.

  She was unaware that the only person inside who could have made a sound was Jason but there was no sign of life from him.

  Undeterred she thumped on the window and then went back to clashing metal against metal and shouting through the letterbox. ‘I know you’re in there, Susan, and I know you took my car so open the door. I’m going nowhere until you do so just open the fucking door.’

  There was still no response from Dan’s house but two of Dan’s neighbours flung open their doors and asked what the hell was going on.

  Diane instantly recognised one of the men who also worked the night shift at Asda and had probably been asleep. Before he could say anything Diane greeted him and apologised. ‘Hi Mark, I didn’t know you lived next to Dan, and look, I’m sorry if I’ve woken you, but I’m looking for my sister.’

  Because he knew her Mark Davies was prepared to listen, but the other neighbour was far less accommodating. ‘You’ve been hammering and shouting for ten minutes now and if you don’t shut up I’ll come out there and shut you up.’ He had partially closed his own front door and Diane could see that he was dressed in just a grubby string vest and a matching pair of Y-fronts. Although his words were threatening, his appearance was laughable and realising his predicament he went back inside and slammed his door.

  Mark, who wore a pair of black, crumpled jogging bottoms, was suddenly aware of his own lack of style and cursed the fact that Diane had caught him off-guard because he had been trying to get up the nerve to ask her out. Still, she was obviously in some sort of trouble and this could be a God-sent opportunity for him.

  ‘What are you doing here? Did you say you were looking for your sister? Why don’t I make you a cup of coffee and you can tell me what’s up.’

  Diane had already had her request for a coffee turned down and she didn’t really fancy sharing one with someone she wouldn’t normally give a second glance but she suddenly felt very tired and sitting down seemed like a very good idea. ‘OK,’ she nodded and followed Mark into his house.

  To call the properties ‘houses’ was pushing it a bit, she thought. It was more as if one building had been divided into four. Dan and Mark’s front doors were set in the middle and they occupied equal halves of the ground-floor space. At the back of the property were stone steps leading to two similarly placed front doors belonging to the people who lived on the first floor. There were ten such structures, making it possible to house forty single tenants or couples and Diane remembered that the development had been created to help first-time buyers get a foot on the property ladder, but that hadn’t worked and now the buildings were used for social housing.

  Mark lived alone and Diane was surprised to see how neat and tidy everything was as she plonked herself on a two-seater canvas sofa and closed her eyes. ‘Better make my coffee extra strong,’ she called out to Mark. ‘Lack of sleep is catching up with me fast and I just need enough of a boost to get me home and then I can crash out for a few hours. It looks as if I’ve been wasting my time here anyway.’

  She looked up as Mark put a mug of coffee on the small wooden table and even though she worked with the man she noticed him for the first time. She had always thought he was just a kid but actually he wasn’t as young as she had always imagined, and was probably only a couple of years younger than her. He was one of those people whose school photos and retirement photos would show very little changes and he had probably never even changed his hairstyle.

  He smiled at her and she realised that it was his silly lop-sided grin that made him look like a big kid, but through her droopy eyelids she saw a very likeable face and smiled back.

  ‘I thought that someone was being murdered when I heard all the banging and shouting. What’s going on? Are you in some sort of trouble?’

  ‘Not me,’ replied Diane. ‘It’s my sister who appears to have landed herself in some sort of mess, and I wanted to warn her that the police are looking for her.’

  Diane went on to explain about her car and the visits she had received from the police, and even as she told the tale it sounded more and more bizarre.

  ‘I went to work, I came home, I went to bed, and they seem to think that when I was sleeping my car was taken and driven to St Fagans. You don’t need to be the sharpest knife in the drawer to know they’re trying to link my car with this kid that’s been snatched but it’s too bloody ridiculous for words.

  ‘I came around earlier to warn my sister to get her act together but Dan told me he hasn’t seen her for a couple of weeks, but I know that’s not right.’

  Before Diane even had the chance to explain about the perfume Mark interrupted. ‘It’s not right, I know that for sure. It’s a big fat lie. I saw the two of them together yesterday morning.’

  Mark saw that he had captured Diane’s interest and took the opportunity of sitting next to her on the sofa and finished off his coffee before continuing. ‘Yes, it was definitely yesterday morning, about ten thirty because I didn’t come home straight from work and Dan’s car was parked outside his front door when I did get back.

  ‘I heard another car pull up and I didn’t take much notice but I know it only stopped for a couple of minutes as I heard it drive off again. Normally I’m out of it by nine o’clock if I’ve done a night shift, but I was late going to bed and just couldn’t get off to sleep. I was eating toast and walking around when I saw Dan walking past my window. He is not in the habit of walking anywhere and I watched him going up to his front door.

  ‘He didn’t even go inside because your sister must have also been looking out for him and she opened the door before he got there. I thought they must be going away because she had a holdall and a small case and went to put them in the boot but he shouted something at her and then took the bags from her and flung them onto the back seat.’

  ‘They seemed in an almighty rush to get away somewhere – maybe they had a plane or a train to catch?’

  Diane interrupted. ‘Well he hasn’t gone anywhere with Susan, has he? I spoke to him earlier and he looked like death warmed up and then when I decided to come back and have a go at him I saw him drive off – and he was on his own
.’

  ‘Well, all I know is that I saw your sister and Dan Painter together yesterday morning, so he’s lying if he told you he hasn’t seen her for weeks. But why would he do that?’ Mark offered Diane another cup of coffee but she refused.

  ‘I need to get to the bottom of this,’ she said. ‘I could quite clearly smell my sister’s perfume when I bent down to shout through the letterbox. That pair are up to something and normally I’d just let them get on with it but if my car has been involved in something they’ve schemed up then I’m going to make it my business to find out what it is.’

  Suddenly Diane looked more worried than annoyed and she shook her head. ‘Apart from that, she is my sister and even if most of the time she’s a total pain in the arse I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her. I keep getting this nagging feeling that she’s next door and just isn’t answering me. There was something when I listened through the letterbox. Not that I could really hear anything – it was more just a feeling that someone was in there.’

  Mark hesitated and then came out with a suggestion. ‘The layout of next door is a mirror image of this, so looking through the letterbox you can see most of the living space. There’s no way you can see into the bathroom but you can see through the bedroom window from the back of the building if you lean over the wall between my place and Dan’s.’

  It occurred to Mark that this knowledge could sound a bit kinky so he quickly explained. ‘It was Dan Painter’s daughter who was originally allocated next door, and I think her name is still on the rent book, but she moved in with her boyfriend and Dan took the opportunity of getting a place to himself. Anyway, when the daughter lived there her kids were always sticking their heads over the wall and looking into my bedroom, so I know it can be done.’

  ‘If she’s in there she’ll probably have drawn the curtains,’ suggested Diane. ‘Still, it’s worth a try, and at least we know that he isn’t at home.’

  Mark’s day was turning out to be very exciting by his standards, and he opened the back door that led to a small enclosed garden. It didn’t run the whole width of the house, as one-third was made into the path leading to the steps to the upstairs properties. Next door was a mirror image and there was a wall about four feet high dividing the two gardens.

  Diane was five feet six inches tall and she was starting to feel a bit stupid. ‘I can’t bloody well climb up there!’ she said. ‘Anyway, what if someone sees me?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Mark replied. ‘Most of the time people around here just mind their own business, and if you want I can climb onto the wall and take a look.’

  ‘No, I really want to see for myself – that’s the only way I’ll be satisfied.’

  ‘I can give you a leg-up,’ suggested Mark.

  Even though Diane was beginning to like her new friend, the idea of him fondling her bum was not yet on her agenda and she suggested he fetch one of his kitchen chairs for her to stand on.

  With the help of the chair she easily managed to get herself into a position on the wall where she could see into Dan Painter’s bedroom, but there was no sign of life. ‘All I can see is a small bundle on the bed covered in a blue blanket, but even if my sister tried to hide she would never get herself curled up that small.’

  Curiosity had got the better of him and Mark climbed onto the wall and jumped down into his neighbour’s garden. Throwing caution to the wind he pressed his face against the window and was able to see every corner of the room and confirmed what Diane had thought. ‘Your sister definitely isn’t in there, but what you said was a bundle on the bed isn’t just a pile of clothes – it’s a kid.’

  ‘A kid! Are you sure? Knock the window. Go on Mark, bang on the window. What’s a kid doing in Dan Painter’s bedroom?’

  To begin with Mark tapped gently on the window. He had younger brothers and sisters and he knew how easy it was to scare kids. Unable to contain herself Diane had now managed to scramble down the wall and stood next to Mark. The child’s face wasn’t visible to them but a small white freckled arm was lying still on top of the blue blanket.

  Diane banged the window much harder and called out. ‘Hello there, are you alright? Are you there on your own? Don’t be frightened, we only want to help.’

  She squashed her face hard against the glass looking for some sort of response from the child but there was nothing. No sign of movement, and now she stared really hard to see if there were any signs of life.

  Although she was very tired Diane had never been more wide awake in her life and the level of adrenaline that was charging through her was more effective than a dozen shots of espresso. She stared in disbelief at Mark. ‘I think the kid’s dead – I really think the kid’s dead. What the hell is going on here? If Susan’s mixed up with this I’ll kill her myself. What the bloody hell do we do now?’

  Mark pressed his own face next to Diane and followed her line of vision to the small limb that lay lifeless and he agreed. He didn’t feel pumped up by nature’s ‘fight or flight’ mechanism – he just felt sick. A few minutes ago he had been thinking how exciting today was but that feeling had now turned to one of absolute terror. Climbing over the wall had been easy but now his knees seemed to have turned to jelly and getting back was more difficult.

  It wasn’t until he was back in his own garden that he realised that Diane was still next door and without a chair to help her get up the wall. He stood on the chair himself and leaned back over so that she could grab hold of his arms and he could lift her up. In a mixture of panic and fear, she climbed over the top but they both lost their balance and ended up falling off the chair and crashing into Mark’s rubbish bin.

  They both swore and Diane quickly got to her feet but Mark was not able to as he had twisted his ankle badly and was in considerable pain when he attempted to walk on it. Diane offered her help and they hobbled back to the kitchen.

  ‘We need to phone for an ambulance for that kid.’ said Mark looking around for his mobile phone.

  ‘I think he’s past needing an ambulance,’ responded Diane. ‘What we should do is ring the police, but what in the name of hell do we tell them? We climbed over your neighbour’s wall looking for my sister and instead found a dead child? They already think Susan is in some way involved with that kid that’s gone missing from St Fagans.’ As soon as she spoke the words Diane froze and from his expression it was obvious that Mark had read her mind.

  ‘Jesus Christ. Oh bloody Jesus Christ, it’s him isn’t it? It’s the boy that went missing yesterday,’ said Mark as he punched 999 into his phone.

  When asked what service he required Mark just blurted out that he had found the kid that the police were looking for and was instantly transferred to Martin’s team in Goleudy. Even whilst he was still on the phone giving the address he could hear voices in the background ordering immediate police and medical response. He reluctantly gave his own name and contact details. ‘I live in the house next door,’ he told the officer. ‘You won’t need an ambulance though, the kid’s had it – he’s dead.’

  It was the news that the team had been dreading and Martin and Matt rushed to the car park and within minutes they were following the patrol car driven by Tom Coleman, one of the unit’s designated drivers, with flashing blue lights and sirens wailing at top volume. Sergeant Evans and two of his officers were in the leading car and a further three officers in the car behind.

  The traffic was heavy but the trained skills of PC Coleman ensured that ordinary motorists were soon made aware of his need to overtake and without exception they moved to accommodate the police convoy.

  Having made the phone call and waiting for the consequences Mark and Diane stood on the doorstep and waited. Diane’s thoughts were not so much on wondering about the boy but pondering on her sister’s involvement in this drama. Surely to God she hadn’t got herself mixed up with kidnapping and ransom. The ransom part would fit because sadly she reflected that there was little Susan wouldn’t do to get her hands on ready cash. S
he loved money and all her life had been attracted to any low life that could provide her with the means to live without having to work for it.

  The kidnapping was a different story. Diane knew that her sister and kids didn’t mix well and Susan had been on the pill since she was fifteen. Kids in her view were a pain in the arse and there was no way she was going to have such a millstone around her neck. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body, and if she had been involved in the kidnapping then there was little wonder that the boy had ended up dead.

  But where was she? It was obvious that she and Dan Painter must have been involved, but where were they now? Diane had heard on the news that there was a ransom involved and although this information had been leaked to the press, it hadn’t been denied. Had Dan and her sister picked up the ransom and got away with it? Had they killed the boy and left his body on the bed? The thought made her feel physically sick and she leant against Mark who, in spite of the circumstances, didn’t miss the opportunity of holding her close.

  The screaming siren of an emergency response unit heralded the first vehicle to arrive and even before it had come to a stop the paramedic had opened one of the doors and was jumping out.

  ‘Where’s the lad?’ he shouted.

  Mark stepped forward and pointed to Dan’s door. ‘He’s in there but we don’t have a key – we just saw him through the back window. He’s on the bed.’

  The ambulance crew were in a quandary and the three members of the team considered their options. They had no authority to go breaking down doors, but if there was a little boy in there with even the faintest chance of benefitting from their expertise then they had to do something.

  If they had been praying for divine intervention their prayers were answered and the police sirens could be heard just seconds ahead of their arrival. Sgt Evans didn’t need to be appraised of the situation, as years of experience told him that the medical team needed help to get through that door, and he signalled to two of his officers who within seconds had splintered the lock.