The Anna McColl Mysteries Box Set 1

by Penny Kline

  Suddenly I felt starving hungry. It was far too late to cook anything so I stuck a piece of bread in the toaster. It didn’t work. A piece of burnt crust had jammed against the wire. I unplugged the toaster, turned it upside down and banged the bottom of it till it slipped from my hand and a shower of crumbs fell to the ground, crunching under my feet as I moved away. It was too late at night to get out the vacuum cleaner. On the other hand, it would only take a few minutes to suck up the mess and the alternative was to walk toast crumbs all over the kitchen floor.

  As I vacuumed I thought about the diary. My soft, gentle approach to Jenny had been worse than useless, whereas Rob seemed to have gained her confidence almost immediately. But perhaps I was being too hard on myself. Rob was nearer in age, not an authority figure who might report back to her mother or Dr Ingram. I wondered where Jenny’s father was staying. Had he gone home with Jenny, taking advantage of the fact that Val was in hospital?

  The noise of the vacuum cleaner buzzed in my head. As I approached the table I turned a page of Jenny’s diary with my free hand and read a few sentences.

  Mum says she’s found out lots of things about A. She used to live with a married man so that makes her like the whore who got her claws into Dad. Actually it’s funny really but A. lives in the flat where the Knights used to live and Mum used to feed the cat while they were away on holiday.

  I bent down to move some crumbs away from the skirting board and it was only then that the full implication of what I had just read penetrated my tired, befuddled brain.

  At the same moment the light went off. For a split second I thought something had fallen off a shelf. The blow to the back of my head knocked me forward and I slid to the ground, catching my ribs on the handle of the cleaner, twisting round and crying out with the pain.

  Through bleary eyes I caught a glimpse of a figure holding a black rubber torch. Then the figure was astride my chest. As I struggled to sit up I felt my arms being pinned to the ground. Something soft descended on my face and I began kicking violently, trying to free my arms, turn my head. I shouted but no sound came out. My chest was bursting, my ears, my throat. Then one of my knees jerked up and I heard an angry squeal of pain. My left arm came free and I snatched at whatever I could find. Clothes, hair, the soft skin of a face. My nail tore down the forehead and cheeks, and, at the same moment, the cushion slipped off my face and I rolled over on my side gasping in air as I struggled onto my knees.

  I could just make out a figure backing away, then running down the passage towards the front door. A raincoat several sizes too small, a flapping nightdress, black lace-up shoes. Then I heard the door being wrenched open, shouting, the sound of voices on the steps leading down to the garden. I tried to stand but I was too dizzy and by the time I had crawled half-way towards the front door the noise had subsided.

  Unable to stand I continued on my hands and knees, cutting myself on the metal frame where the doormat was sunk into the tiled floor. The outside light was still on and I could see Rob at the bottom of the steps. He was breathing hard, standing over Val, who sat slumped against the wall with a trickle of blood running down her cheek. She tried to speak but it was difficult to make out what she was saying.

  ‘She’s mine. Mine! They poisoned her mind. They wanted to take her away.’

  I raised myself up to a sitting position and tried to call out although my throat hurt and the sound I produced was barely audible.

  I could hear Rob calling, ‘Are you all right? Say if you’re all right.’

  ‘I’m all right.’

  I heard him let out a sigh of relief. ‘Stay where you are. Try and get some help.’

  I stood up, still shaky but able to remain upright provided I had the wall to lean against. Then I went back into the flat to call the police.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rob was sitting at my kitchen table, rolling a cigarette. He licked the paper, trimmed the ends, then poured out the dregs from his third can of light ale.

  ‘You thought I’d been nosing about this place?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘How was I supposed to have got in?’ In spite of everything that had happened the previous evening, just being in my flat was making him giggle.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, ‘with a credit card?’

  ‘Like they do in the movies?’ He grinned. ‘You say Jen’s mum had a key?’

  He struck a match, letting it burn almost to the end, then holding the blackened head until the whole thing had burned right through. ‘What did she do it for? Nick anything, did she?’

  I shook my head. ‘I suppose she just wanted to frighten me.’

  ‘Nuts. Well out of order. I did warn you, that day at the tip.’

  ‘Yes you did, but you didn’t tell me who you were talking about. Anyway, it’s over now.’

  We had spent most of the day at the police station, in separate interview rooms. Inspector Fry and Sergeant Whittle had gone over the events of the past few weeks in exhaustive detail. The post cards, the intruder into my flat, my visit to Jenny’s house, the meeting with Val in the park.

  Rob, no doubt, had described things from a rather different angle.

  He was staring at me, then he pushed back his hair and leaned forward on his elbows. ‘When was the first time you knew someone had been in your flat?’

  ‘Knew for certain? I’m not sure. I found a tissue pushed down between the mattress and the headboard.’

  He grinned. ‘So? Just a tissue?’

  ‘It wasn’t mine. I thought … ’

  ‘And that was the first clue Val left?’

  ‘It was before I’d met Jenny.’ I paused, wondering if the tissue had been left there quite innocently, by me or David. But I knew it hadn’t. ‘Of course by then Val knew Jenny would be coming to see me. She’d put her off keeping the first appointment, but I suppose with Dr Ingram breathing down her neck — ’

  ‘But how did she know where you lived?’

  ‘She was a friend of the previous owners of this flat. Fed their cat when they were away. I suppose they told her who was buying it. Later she put two and two together.’

  ‘Right. If I bought a place I’d have the locks changed. There could be old keys going back generations. I never thought of that before.’

  ‘Nor did I.’

  ‘And yesterday evening she discharged herself from the hospital.’

  ‘I imagine it’s not too difficult to slip away.’

  ‘So she’d planned it all, didn’t have stomach pains or — ’

  I yawned. I felt exhausted but Rob wanted to talk. ‘I dare say the pains were genuine enough.’

  ‘I still don’t see why she hated you so much.’

  ‘She hated what I stood for.’

  He smiled. ‘Oh, sure, it was nothing personal.’

  ‘The Harlot’s Progress,' I said, ‘the first post card — it was pushed through my front door the same day as Jenny’s first appointment. I remember picking it up, thinking about Jenny … Of course the two events never connected in my — ’

  ‘And then when she discovered you had an interest in Karen Plant … ’

  ‘Oh, she didn’t know anything about that.’ I broke off, suddenly remembering the day of the seminar, the day I visited Fleur Peythieu in the hall of residence. The tall figure climbing into a white car outside the Student Counselling building.

  ‘D’you suppose she saw me at the university, near the Computer Science building, when I was looking for Karen Plant’s flat-mate?’

  But Rob had stopped listening. He was rolling another cigarette. He looked up and gave me a funny look. ‘Did you tell the cops about me hanging about outside this place?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why should I? It wasn’t relevant.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He pulled the ashtray towards him and began to rearrange the dead ends. ‘Bit risky, your job, I’d say. Feel like employing a bodyguard?’

  I f
orced a smile. ‘Rob, there was something I meant to ask you. How did you know Val would come round here yesterday evening?’

  ‘I didn’t. Just happened to be passing by.’

  ‘Bit of a coincidence, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Not really, you know me, I like taking a detour.’

  ‘And you saw her running down the steps?’

  ‘Didn’t recognize her at first. Thought she was tucked up safe in a hospital bed. The stomach pains — I reckon she knew Jen’s dad had come to see her.’

  ‘Perhaps. You’d met Val, had you?’

  ‘Course not. Jen pointed her out one time. She walked past when we were in a caff up the Gloucester Road.’

  He emptied his glass. I opened the fridge door and handed him another can.

  ‘D’you reckon Val sent the cards?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I thought about the harlot dead in her coffin, the dissected arm, Picasso’s wild, abandoned woman.

  ‘Then she came and took them away again.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He was enjoying himself. He wanted our debriefing session to last as long as possible.

  ‘The police think she did in that Karen Plant? Just ’cos she made Jen have an abortion?’

  ‘No social worker would have made Jenny do something she didn’t — ’

  ‘No, it was what Jen wanted but her mum couldn’t see it that way. She thought if Jenny had a kid she’d have to stay at home. Then they could live happily ever after, all three of them.’

  ‘Val’s not responsible for her actions.’

  ‘Oh, come on that’s bloody psychology talk. She’s a killer, deserves to be put away for the rest of her life.’

  ‘She was afraid. Afraid of Jenny growing up. Afraid of being on her own. I expect she thought, sooner or later, Jenny would start telling me what had been going on.’

  ‘And that’s an excuse for killing people.’

  ‘No, of course not. She’s a sad, disturbed woman — ’

  ‘She’s a weirdo, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘You know the real irony?’

  ‘Eh?’ He rubbed at the stubbly growth on his chin.

  ‘All the time it wasn’t me Jenny was confiding in, it was you.’

  He thought about that for a moment. ‘Ah, but if it hadn’t been for you me and Jen would never have met up.’

  ‘Thanks, Rob.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ He stood up and stretched his arms above his head. Then he sat down again and opened another can.

  ‘I’m worried about Jenny,’ I said.

  ‘No need, she’s with her dad.’

  ‘Yes, but — ’

  ‘She’ll go and live with him and his bird, I reckon.’

  ‘Rob? You and Jenny … ’

  ‘Eh? You must be joking. I felt sorry for her. Poor kid, she hadn’t a chance.’ And then, when I looked slightly sceptical. ‘Oh, come on, you know me, I’ve got this thing, haven’t I — about older women.’

  The phone started ringing. I went into the next room and picked it up. I hoped it would be Jenny or her father. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is that Anna?’

  ‘Yes, who’s — ’

  ‘Look, I’ve been having a think about your research. I’ve one or two ideas that might or might not be useful. Maybe we could discuss them some time.’

  ‘Yes, I’d like that.’

  ‘You’re busy I know, but what about Thursday lunchtime?’

  ‘Yes, I think that would be all right.’

  ‘Good. I’ll look forward to it. Any time after twelve-thirty. We could have a snack at the Staff Club. See how you feel.’

  ‘Fine. Thanks.’

  I replaced the receiver. Rob had followed me into the living room.

  ‘Your boyfriend, was it? The guy with the green Citroen?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, a new one.’ He took a comb from his pocket and started running his nail along the teeth.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rob.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I mean, I’m sorry you got involved in all this.’

  He shrugged. ‘Oh, that. Didn’t have much else going on. Helped to pass the time.’

  ‘You’ll be starting your course in electronics soon.’

  ‘I might.’

  ‘Oh, come on, give it a try. I tell you what, why don’t you come and see me next week and we can talk about it.’

  ‘In your office? Nice and safe, everything under control? By the way, how d’you like the picture? That big one, stuck on the wall over my bed. The Temptress, that’s what I call her. Quite a good likeness, I thought.’

  ‘You draw very well,’ I said wearily. It was the best I could manage.

  FEELING BAD

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

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  18

  1

  They say you can have a pizza delivered to your home faster than you can summon an ambulance. In America, that is, but I dare say it’s the same in this country. Still, a delay, if there was one, would have made no difference to Paula. She must have been killed almost instantly. Scooped up into the air like a heap of old clothes before she struck the road and skidded head first towards the oncoming traffic.

  *

  The phone rang just before midnight. Luke’s landlady, Elaine, her voice controlled, almost matter of fact, but underneath the tell-tale signs of shock.

  ‘Anna? Can you come? There’s been an accident. Luke’s friend.’

  ‘What happened? Is Luke … ’

  ‘Unharmed, but Paula — I’m afraid she’s … ’

  ‘Dead?’ But I already knew from her tone of voice that the accident had been fatal.

  ‘The police,’ she said flatly. ‘They wanted Luke to make a statement but … He won’t speak. Not a word.’

  ‘Fifteen minutes,’ I said. ‘Tell him I’m on my way.’

  Outside the air was heavy, oppressive. Petrol fumes drifted up from Hotwells Road. I could taste them on my tongue. In the grounds of the student flats at the top of the hill a cat let out a series of eerie high-pitched yowls.

  Across the road a figure emerged from the basement and paused for breath, leaning against the iron railings. Janos taking his dog for its final evening outing. He saw me and called out softly.

  ‘Anna? Everything all right?’

  ‘Yes. No. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

  Half running, half walking, I set off in the direction of Cliftonwood Road. My car was parked opposite the children’s adventure playground, or was that where I had left it the previous day? My brain buzzed with half-remembered words. Luke’s words. ‘I see people walking towards me. Ordinary people. Women and children. Supposing I … I wanted to hurt … I wanted to … ’

  Breathe deeply. Keep calm. But my heart continued to thump painfully. There’s been an accident. Luke’s friend, Paula. There’s been an accident. But was it an accident?

  Forcing my hand to stay steady I fitted the key into the car door, then switched on the engine and sat quite still, staring at the lights of the town houses reflected in the floating harbour, recalling Luke’s words when he came for his Tuesday morning session. ‘But how do you know I won’t harm someone? I think about it all the time — when I pass people in the street. A boy in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt, a woman in a yellow top. Supposing I touched … Supposing I … ’

  Luke, looking more like a seventeen-year-old than his chronological age of twenty-two, dressed in jeans and a blue and white sweater, his straight fair hair falling over his face, his long thin fingers reaching up to push it back. Had I misjudged him completely, encouraging him to bring his anxieties out into the open when he should have been receiving heavy doses of sedating drug
s? ‘Supposing I touched their skin with a lighted cigarette. Supposing I didn’t know what I was doing, supposing I couldn’t stop myself. Supposing … ’

  And my calm, reassuring words. ‘Look, it won’t happen, Luke. The thoughts are just a symptom of your general anxiety. You suppress all your normal aggression — the kind everyone has. For you it’s too frightening to express it in an ordinary way. Huge, overwhelming fears of the kind you’re telling me about — they prevent you from becoming aware of your real anxieties. In a way they’re protecting you. When you feel confident enough to talk, then it’ll start to change. In the meantime … You won’t actually harm anyone, I promise you won’t.’

  He had looked up for a moment, then returned to staring at his feet, clenching and unclenching his fists. Winding one leg round the other, he had moved his head from side to side, unwilling to be reassured, certain I had failed to understand the strength of his violent fantasies.

  *

  Elaine and Doug Hargreaves lived in one of the streets off Cold-harbour Road in an area of Bristol just east of the Downs. Their house was identical to its neighbour on either side. Grey pebble-dash walls, red-tiled roof, cream paint on the window frames and drainpipes. A low wall marked the boundary between the tiny front garden and the cracked, uneven pavement. A small glass porch — one of Doug’s home improvements, constructed during the six months since he received his redundancy notice — obscured the green front door.

  The first time Luke and I visited the house the porch had just been delivered and was still in a flat pack in the garden shed. That was where Elaine had hoped it would stay. Doug’s ‘early retirement’ was proving to be more than just a financial problem. I had the feeling Elaine was nearing the end of her tether and having Luke as a lodger would be a way of bringing fresh life into the house and dissipating Doug’s constant demands for attention.