by Roberta Kray
Still, it might not be a wasted journey even if she failed to show. He’d call in on Lolly and see how things were going for her. She wasn’t on the phone so his visits were always hit-and-miss; it had been about three weeks since he’d last seen her. He sometimes wondered whether their friendship would survive if he left it up to her to make the effort and suspected not.
He liked to keep in touch, even if she didn’t give much away. When it came to her private life he was pretty much in the dark; he had no idea if she was seeing someone, if she was in love or going steady, and if he ever attempted to probe she’d deflect his questions with ones of her own until he eventually gave up.
By a quarter past seven Nick was pondering on how much longer he’d wait for Heather Grant when the door to the café opened and she walked in. He raised a hand and she smiled. She was as pretty as he’d remembered, maybe more so, an English rose with perfect features. Taller than he’d expected although some of that height was down to high heels. She was wearing a flimsy pale blue summer dress and he tried not to stare at her legs as she approached the table. The other customers, all men, turned their heads to look at her. She walked with an easy grace, like a dancer.
‘I’m late,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry. Thank you for waiting.’
‘It’s fine. Would you like a coffee?’
‘White, no sugar. Thanks.’
Nick went to the counter, got two coffees and carried them back. He settled into his chair opposite her and arched his brows as if inviting her to start.
Heather took a sip of coffee and looked at him over the rim of the mug. ‘I suppose you think I’m crazy following you around like that.’
‘I’ve known more conventional approaches.’
‘Yeah, I didn’t intend to . . . I just wanted to find a way of talking to you that wasn’t awkward.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I guess I blew that. I mean, I could have called you but then you might have hung up before you’d heard me out. And if I’d sent a letter, you could have ignored it. I wanted a chance to talk to you face to face, but then I kind of lost my nerve.’
‘Because I’m so scary?’
She smiled again. ‘Because I knew I was only going to get one chance and if I got it wrong . . . Well, I’d be kicking myself. So, I thought I’d wait for a suitable moment. Except that never really came along, and then you noticed me and that was that.’
‘Okay, so this is your chance. Fire away.’
Heather hesitated, took a deep breath and said, ‘Right, now please keep an open mind. I know what you’re going to think but . . . the thing is I’m doing some research into the abduction of Kay Fury.’
‘You said you weren’t a journalist.’
‘I’m not. Well, I was, once upon a time, but not now. I’m writing a book about Kay’s disappearance.’
‘Hasn’t that already been done?’
Heather gave a dismissive wave. ‘Not seriously. None of those writers had any direct contact with Mal or Esther Fury, or much interest in finding out the truth come to that. Those books are just exploitative rubbish, pure sensationalism. I want to get to the real story. And that’s where you can help if you’re prepared to.’
‘And why would I want to do that?’
‘Because your uncle spent years on the case. And you’ve still got his file, haven’t you?’
Nick was surprised that she knew this. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Are you saying it’s not true?’
‘I’m asking who told you.’
Heather pursed her lips. She inclined her head as if inwardly debating whether to tell him or not. Eventually, she nodded. ‘Esther Fury.’
Nick frowned. ‘You’ve talked to Esther?’
‘Of course. I can’t do this book without her cooperation. I wouldn’t want to. It took a while but I finally managed to convince her. What’s the point of another book full of lies and speculation? It’s time for some honesty. This one’s going to be different.’
Nick wondered what was in it for Esther, other than a good deal of publicity. For nineteen years she had refused to talk publicly about the abduction of her baby daughter. ‘How did you get her to agree?’
‘I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it.’
Nick believed her. There was, perhaps, a financial arrangement between them. ‘And you want access to my uncle’s file.’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘No,’ he said.
‘And that will be because?’
Nick placed his elbows on the table. ‘Because my uncle’s file was written for his employer’s eyes only. If Mal gives his permission, I’ll happily release the papers.’
‘And how likely is that?’
‘You’ll have to use your powers of persuasion.’
Heather seemed unfazed, her expression remaining placid. ‘Okay, I get it. I can see where you’re coming from, although it could be argued that Esther was Stanley’s employer too.’
‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘Esther couldn’t stand him.’
Interest flickered on Heather’s face. ‘And why was that, do you think?’
Nick shrugged, already regretting that he’d let slip that piece of information. ‘You’d need to talk to Esther about that.’
‘What do you think of her?’
‘I don’t think anything. I’ve only met her once and that was fleetingly. Not long enough, really, to form a judgement.’
‘But you still did.’
She was right, of course, but Nick wasn’t going to admit it. He’d met Esther Fury – or Esther Gray as she was known in film circles – at a party at the house in West Henby. It had been a warm summer’s evening and he’d gone there to talk to Mal about Stanley’s death. He remembered the garden, full of glitterati, their champagne glasses clinking. He had thought Esther beautiful but brittle, the kind of woman who needed constant admiration and couldn’t live without it.
Heather drank some more of her coffee. ‘Look, I don’t expect you to trust me, not right off, but I want you to know that I don’t intend to be Esther’s mouthpiece. Nor am I looking to screw anyone over or do a hatchet job. I’m going to make my own observations and draw my own conclusions. I do think, however, that your uncle deserves some recognition for all the hard work he did.’
Nick suspected she was only saying this to try and get him on side. Esther’s opinion of Stanley Parrish had been a low one: she believed he’d actively encouraged Mal to keep on searching for Kay in order to line his own pockets. For every fraudster, every charlatan who came along, Stanley was able to put in a bill for the time spent disproving the claim. Although Nick hated to admit it, Esther could have had a point. Business at Stanley Parrish Investigations had never been what you’d call brisk. That didn’t mean his uncle had been entirely cynical, though. As the file proved, he’d put endless time and effort into the work.
‘So what got you interested in all this?’
Heather’s mouth slid back into that easy smile. ‘God, who wouldn’t be? It’s fascinating, don’t you think? Like one of those dark fairy tales where the baby’s snatched and nobody knows what’s actually happened to her.’
‘Except this is real life. No happy ending, so far as I can see.’
‘You don’t approve,’ she said. ‘I understand. But what if this book jogs someone’s memory, or makes a witness come forward with new information? Isn’t it worth writing it just for that?’
‘You don’t think Mal Fury has been through enough?’
‘I can’t see why he’d be unhappy about it, not if I tell the truth.’
Nick wondered if she really thought that or if it was just an easy way to justify what she was doing. ‘And what if there is no mystery? Everyone knows Teddy Heath abducted Kay. There’s every chance she died during the attempt, or shortly after.’
‘That isn’t what he told Mal Fury.’
‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he? Not if he was hoping to save his own skin. He had to claim she was still alive. He had to play the only hand h
e’d got and try to squeeze some money out of Mal while he was doing it.’
‘That didn’t work out so well.’
‘No,’ Nick agreed. ‘It didn’t.’
‘I’ve been looking into Teddy Heath.’
‘And what have you found out?’
‘That he was a third-rate actor with drink and gambling problems. That Esther had a brief affair with him. That he probably took Kay intending to hold her to ransom, but then didn’t dare go through with it after the death of the nanny.’
Nick pulled a face. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know, that the world didn’t know. The story had come out at the trial and had been all over the papers. Mal had confronted Teddy Heath a couple of years after Kay’s disappearance. By then the trail, at least as far as the police were concerned, had gone cold. There had been an altercation at Teddy’s flat where Mal had lost his temper and decked him. Teddy, unfortunately, had suffered a fatal heart attack. Mal’s first mistake had been to do a runner, his second to tell Esther what had happened.
‘And?’ he said.
‘Oh, there’s more. I’ve been doing a lot of digging.’
Nick waited but she didn’t elaborate. ‘You’re not going to tell me.’
Heather ran her fingers through her short blonde hair. ‘I thought you weren’t interested.’
‘I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.’
‘But you’re not prepared to share your information.’
‘I’ve already explained that to you.’
‘It’s a bit of a one-way street, then, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t mind pooling, but if you won’t let me see the file . . . ’
‘As I’ve already told you, I don’t feel it’s right to hand it over without having Mal’s permission.’
‘That’s bullshit,’ she said, ‘and you know it. I bet you’ve read that file from cover to cover. Did you ask permission before you did that?’
‘I’m not planning on publishing it.’
‘Nor am I. But another pair of eyes never does any harm, does it? There could be something that’s been missed.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ he said. Then, because his curiosity had been piqued, he added, ‘So what else have you found out about Teddy?’
Heather gave a light laugh and shook her head. ‘That’s not how this is going to work. Come on, give me some credit.’ She took a small white card from her bag and passed it across the table. ‘Why don’t you call me when you’ve thought it over?’
The card just had her name and number on it, nothing else. He looked at it briefly and put it in his jacket pocket. Anyone could have cards printed, using whatever name they liked. ‘Sure.’
‘Oh, and there was one other thing. Would you be able to put me in touch with Lita? I’m presuming you know where she lives.’
‘She won’t talk to you.’
‘Well, she might and she might not. That’s her decision, isn’t it? If you could give her my number, I’d appreciate it.’
Sensing that she was about to leave, Nick got in a question of his own. ‘Why do you think Esther waited all those years before telling the law what Mal had done?’
‘Because she was protecting him. She didn’t want him to go to jail. She thought he was worth saving back then.’
‘And then she changed her mind?’
‘A woman’s prerogative, apparently.’
‘You asked me earlier what I thought of her. What do you think of her?’
Heather took a moment to consider her answer. ‘I think she’s selfish, arrogant, spiteful, self-obsessed . . . and kind of tragic. I think she and Mal had a toxic marriage and that they brought out the worst in each other.’ She kept her gaze on his face. ‘And if I remember rightly, you never got around to telling me what you thought.’
‘Much the same,’ he said. ‘You’ve summed it up neatly.’
‘And Stanley? What was his opinion?’
‘I really couldn’t say.’
‘You mean you won’t. Aren’t you curious about what happened to Kay? I mean, she could still be out there somewhere. I think if there’s even the tiniest chance she’s still alive, we have to try and find her.’
Nick decided to play devil’s advocate. ‘And what if she doesn’t want to be found? What if she’s living a perfectly happy life in blissful ignorance of who her biological parents really are?’
‘Everyone has a right to the truth.’
‘Even if it causes damage?’
‘You don’t know what it’s going to cause. It’s not up to us to play God with someone else’s life.’
‘But that’s exactly what you could be doing.’
Heather raised a hand to her head again, twisting a short strand of hair between her fingers. ‘That’s a weird way of looking at things. Wouldn’t you want to know where you came from, who your real parents were? I know I would.’
‘Maybe. I’m not sure. Especially if those parents were Mal and Esther. You could be placing the poor girl in the middle of a minefield.’
‘Or giving her the chance to find out who she really is.’
‘But it’s not straightforward, is it, not black and white.’
‘Nothing ever is.’ Heather paused, glanced down at the table and then up again. ‘Did you know Teddy Heath had a girlfriend?’
‘I’m sure he had lots of them.’
‘No, I mean a girl he might have been seeing at the time Kay was taken.’
‘And who was that then?’
Heather gave a tiny shake of her head before pushing back her chair and rising to her feet. ‘Have a think about that file,’ she said. ‘You’ve got my number. Thanks for seeing me.’
Nick watched her walk out of the café. Well, she certainly knew how to leave a man hanging, but he wasn’t going to get pulled in. He was smarter than that, too smart to go chasing after ghosts. He still believed, like Stanley had before him, that Kay Fury was probably dead. No amount of wishful thinking was going to bring her back. And yet . . .
Nick quickly stood up and went over to the window at the front. The Mini was parked adjacent to the green. As Heather Grant was crossing the road, he scribbled down the car registration in his notebook. It wouldn’t do any harm to check it out, to see if she was really who she said she was. Not that he was going to change his mind. Not in a million years. He was just curious, that’s all.
6
Friday 16 September. Kellston
Lolly jumped when the bell rang. She’d been on edge all day, but with the murder, the visit from the law and the news about Mal, her nerves were frazzled. She hurried halfway down the stairs and then abruptly stopped, worried that Old Bill might be standing on her doorstep again. She couldn’t face another load of questions. But then it could be Stella or Mal or Nick. She dithered for a moment but then continued on, opening the door with a cautious expression on her face.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said with relief when she saw Nick Trent. ‘Thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure when you’d get my message.’
‘What message?’
‘I left it on your phone.’
‘I’ve not been home yet.’
‘So why are you . . . Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Come in, come in.’ She had a quick look along the street, left and right, before closing the door and following him up the stairs. ‘Have you heard about Mal? I had the police round earlier.’
Nick glanced over his shoulder. ‘What? No. What about him?’
‘He’s done a runner, apparently. Never went back to jail after work yesterday.’
‘You’re kidding. Why the hell would be do that? He’s only got—’
‘I know. It’s crazy. A few months, that’s all he’s got left. Something must have happened. I can’t figure it out. He’s not stupid so why would he do such a stupid thing?’
They went through to the living room, but neither of them sat down. Lolly went over to the window, turned her back on the street and leaned against the ledge. ‘He was fine the last time I saw
him. At least he seemed fine. Maybe he just snapped. Maybe he couldn’t take it any more.’
‘It’s weird.’
‘It’s that all right.’
Nick stood by the table, one hand in his jacket pocket. ‘No, I mean it’s weird because I was just talking to someone about Kay Fury. This girl approached me today, said she was a writer, that she was doing some research into Kay’s abduction. Heather Grant, that’s her name. Have you ever heard of her?’
Lolly shook her head. ‘No, never.’
‘She’s writing a book, apparently – with Esther’s approval. At least that’s what she claims. She wants to take a look at Stanley’s file.’
‘And are you going to let her?’
‘I shouldn’t think so.’
Lolly nodded. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. ‘Do you think there’s a connection between this Heather person and what Mal’s done? Did she say she’d been in touch with him?’
‘No, but then I didn’t specifically ask. It’s possible, I suppose. She told me she’d been doing some digging into Teddy Heath, that she’d discovered a girlfriend he had round about the time Kay was taken.’
‘Do you believe her?’
‘It could just be a ploy, a tasty bit of bait to reel us in.’
‘Us?’
‘She wants to talk to you too. But don’t worry, I haven’t told her where you live.’
‘Good,’ Lolly said. She thought for a while about what he’d said. There had been a theory that Teddy Heath couldn’t have been working alone, that someone must have helped him. He was the type of bloke who couldn’t take care of himself, never mind a baby. ‘If Mal thinks she’s got a lead, a good one, that might be why . . . but what’s with the urgency? I don’t see what can be so important that it’s worth an even longer jail sentence when he finally gets caught. I mean, it would make more sense to wait, wouldn’t it?’ She sighed and scratched her chin, unable to fathom Mal’s actions. ‘And what can he even do when he’s on the run? His picture was all over the papers during the trial. Someone’s going to recognise him.’
