Hollow Vengeance

by Anne Morice

  ‘That’s enough, Millie, no need to exaggerate,’ Elsa warned her. There’s probably just been some silly mix-up and we shall find there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ I told her, ‘and when you find it, do let me be the first to know, will you? We’re certainly going to need a good one for Miss Wendy Bright tomorrow morning.’

  WEDNESDAY A.M.

  The explanation, in my opinion, was neither perfect nor simple, but at least it came promptly. Diane’s younger sister, Marigold, telephoned at nine o’clock on Wednesday morning, to pass on a message, of which the gist was as follows:

  Diane was most dreadfully sorry but, in all the confusion, she had picked up my camera by mistake. She had not discovered this curious oversight until she was inside the shop and, unfortunately, with all the last minute preparations for an early departure to Bexhill, there had been no time to return it. She had therefore thought it best to leave it in the safe keeping of Mrs Parkinson until it could be collected.

  ‘She sounded relatively sane,’ I remarked, having passed on the news to Elsa and Millie. ‘A lot less twee and simpering than Diane, at any rate.’

  ‘That’s only because she hasn’t grown to woman’s estate yet. She’s not a bad kid, but fairly wonky in her own way. The whole family is.’

  ‘And I must confess that this is just about the wonkiest excuse I ever heard. In all what confusion, I’d like to know? I didn’t notice any confusion, did you? And she must have popped it into her shopping bag, otherwise wouldn’t we have noticed she was carrying it when she got out of the car?’

  ‘Probably had every intention of pinching it and then lost her nerve,’ Millie muttered, with a defiant glance at her mother, who ignored it and said in her peacemaking voice:

  ‘Never mind! The great thing is that we know where it is now, which is all that really matters.’

  ‘Yes, and I’d better get down there right now and retrieve it. If Wendy Bright should be punctual, there isn’t a moment to lose.’

  ‘Whatever shall I do, if she turns up before you get back?’ Millie asked in a scared voice.

  ‘Give her some banana cake and ask her a lot of questions about herself and her fascinating career. Interviewers have a secret yearning to become interviewees. Besides, I shan’t be long.’

  It was a rash promise, though, and it cannot be denied that in my determination not to let her down, I may have driven with something less than my usual staid deliberation. Nevertheless, I apportion the blame for what followed equally between Diane and Mrs Trelawney.

  All went swimmingly until I came to the outskirts of the village, where the road straightened out, about a hundred yards short of a fork junction with the Dedley-Storhampton road. Naturally, the traffic on this, and it was normally quite heavy, had right of way and I reduced my fairly considerable speed, in preparation for coming to a complete stop, possibly for half a minute or more, before launching myself into the mainstream. At this point I glanced automatically in the rear mirror and was puzzled and somewhat alarmed to see a powerful white monster of a car, which had been pressed up rather uncomfortably on my back bumper for the past mile or so, now giving signs of intending to overtake me. The headlights were switched on and the right indicator was also flashing its message. There was scarcely enough width at this point to contain two cars and certainly not half the necessary distance ahead for the driver to cut in, in time to stop at the junction. Presuming her, therefore, to be a stranger in these parts, as well as raving mad, I too flashed a warning with my indicator.

  This had no effect at all and, with horror and amazement, I saw that the monster had pulled right out and was coming alongside at top speed. I wrenched the steering wheel to the left, towards the sloping grass verge, heard the tearing sound of twigs scratching along the nearside window and got a brief sideways glimpse of a furious female face glaring into mine, just a second before I felt the car tilting over and was obliged to give my whole attention to bracing myself for it to topple sideways into the road. It righted itself in the nick of time and I came to a dead stop at last, although still at a somewhat precarious angle, half on and half off the bank.

  I was so shocked and frightened that I knew that if I attempted to climb out it would be I who toppled over and, furthermore, that by opening my door, or even clambering across to the nearside one, I could well upset the delicate balance and precipitate the very disaster I had so far managed to avert. So I stayed where I was and waited for the Samaritan to arrive.

  He did so surprisingly quickly, for in a matter of seconds a station wagon drew up behind me and a man got out and walked up to my window. It was our second meeting in somewhat fraught circumstances and the twitch and the palm rubbing were both in action.

  ‘Oh, hallo!’ I said feebly. ‘How’s your dog?’

  ‘Not too good, I’m afraid. We’ll probably have to . . . but listen, what about you? Are you all right?’

  ‘Never less so. Would you mind propping up the car while I climb out?’

  ‘Yes, of course. You shouldn’t have any trouble, if you take it slowly. It’s probably not as bad as it feels.’

  ‘It could hardly be worse than it feels.’

  ‘That’s partly shock, you know, and I sympathise. I saw what happened.’

  ‘Oh, good! I may call on you to explain to Robin that those scratches weren’t my fault. You didn’t get that fiend’s number, by any chance?’

  ‘No need to. I can so easily find it out.’

  ‘I may have concussion,’ I told him, ‘because I don’t quite follow you.’

  ‘Quite simple; all too simple and familiar, in fact. I recognised the car, not to mention the driver. She had overtaken me a minute or two before.’

  ‘And you recognised her? Are you sure?’

  ‘Oh dear me, yes, no question about that!’ he said in his sour way, followed by a particularly violent spasm of the facial muscles.

  ‘How extraordinary!’

  ‘You wouldn’t say so, if you lived here. It’s the kind of behaviour we’ve come to expect. How are you feeling, by the way?’

  ‘Recovered, thanks. In a fighting mood, in fact. Do you think I should report her to the police?’

  ‘You could try, I suppose, but I wouldn’t recommend it personally.’

  ‘Why not? You saw what she did? If that doesn’t add up to driving without due care and attention, I’d like to know what does.’

  ‘Oh, admittedly, but I have to point out that apart from a few scratches, which could have been made anywhere and at any time, there’s no damage to show for it, so it would just be our word against hers and, unfortunately, I’m not what you’d call an impartial witness. The police might believe us, but I doubt if there’s much they could do about it.’

  ‘I expect you’re right,’ I agreed, ‘and, anyway, I haven’t time for vengeance now. There is much to be done and done fast, if I am not to let the side down. Could you be very kind and help me push the car on to the road, before I risk getting in again?’

  ‘Very well, I’ll push and you steer.’

  ‘Incidentally,’ I added, after thanking him, ‘you didn’t finish telling me about Daisy. How is she?’

  ‘In pretty bad shape. One leg’s completely paralysed and the vet doesn’t hold out much hope of her getting the use of it back.’

  ‘Oh, how rotten for you!’

  ‘Yes, it’s a bad blow. It wouldn’t matter so much if she wasn’t a sporting dog, but it wouldn’t be fair to let a game old creature like her drag out the rest of her life on three legs. It looks as though there’s nothing for it but to have her put down.’

  ‘I am sorry. And of course that’s something else to be laid at the door of the demon driver, isn’t it?’

  He looked puzzled, perhaps even faintly alarmed for a moment, then his expression cleared and he said, ‘Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, indeed; and another instance where the police appear to be powerless, moreover. No use relying on them, I fear, t
o rid us of this hellish persecution.’

  Having said this, Tim put his handkerchief over his mouth, as though he had received warning of a particularly violent muscular twitch, then turned away and walked back to his car, evidently too distressed even to wish me goodbye.

  It was past ten o’clock by the time I reached Mrs Parkinson’s combined shop and tea room, now open for morning coffee and homemade cakes, which meant more delay ahead.

  There were three customers squashed up round one of the little gate-legged oak tables and the proprietress, an imposing female, wearing a flowered overall and looking as though she had rather let herself go on her own pastries, was taking their order. So I had to wait until that was over and then go through all the business of explaining that I had not come to eat or drink, but simply to collect a camera.

  ‘Oh yes, of course, it’s safe and sound in my office. It’s Miss Crichton, isn’t it? Diane said you’d be calling for it. To tell you the truth, we weren’t sure whether she was having us on, but, naturally, I recognise you now. What an honour, though! I wonder if you’d mind sitting down for just a tick while I cope with this order and then I’ll fetch it for you? Shan’t be a mo, but I’m short-handed this morning.’

  So I sat at one of the tables, seething with impatience, for another ten minutes, until at last she was able to give me her attention again.

  ‘Oh, thank you so much,’ I said, leaping up and practically seizing the camera out of her hand. ‘And now could you possibly direct me to the nearest call box?’

  ‘Well, let’s think now. Quite a long way, I’m afraid. I really believe the post office would be about your nearest. You know where the post office is?’

  ‘No, but I hope it’s not far? I’ve got rather an urgent call to make.’

  ‘In that case, Miss Crichton, why ever not use this one?’ she asked, pointing to the glass show case and counter. ‘I take it you’re not going to have a long chat with someone in Hollywood?’ she added archly.

  ‘No, no, just a local number.’

  ‘Then be my guest! I think that’s the expression, isn’t it?’

  ‘Absolutely! And thanks a million!’

  ‘This is me,’ I announced when Millie answered. ‘Has your friend arrived yet?’

  There was no way of telling whether the three customers were tourists or local people, and Mrs Parkinson was staring out of the window with that expression on her face which told the world that nothing was further from her mind than the desire to eavesdrop on other people’s telephone conversations, so I thought it prudent to keep it cryptic. Unfortunately, I was unable to explain this to Millie, who said dazedly, ‘What friend?’

  ‘Oh, you know, the one you were expecting at ten o’clock. Has she come yet?’

  ‘No, she hasn’t.’

  ‘Really? She’s late then. Still, that’s a bit of luck. This is just to let you know that I’ll be back in ten minutes.’

  ‘Don’t burst yourself. She’s not coming.’

  ‘What do you mean not coming?’

  ‘They rang up about five minutes after you left. It was the Editor’s secretary. She said I was to tell you that the appointment had to be cancelled. The reporter who was coming to see us has been called away on another job and they can’t spare anyone else.’

  ‘Didn’t she suggest another appointment?’

  ‘No, she said that was all she knew about it. Where are you, anyway?’

  ‘In a trance, actually. There’s been some dirty work here, you know, and we must find out what’s behind it. And since, after all, there’s no hurry, I’ll get started on it here and now. Expect me in half an hour.’

  The reason for this change of strategy was that, while talking, I had seen the morning coffee party signalling to Mrs Parkinson for their bill, which was not readily forthcoming, so absorbed was she in her own thoughts and the view down the High Street. However, as I had foreseen, she promptly returned to the everyday world as soon as I put the receiver back and, by making a drawn out business of searching for some imaginary object in my bag, I contrived matters so that she and I had the place to ourselves.

  ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Parkinson. My mind is now at rest and it turned out not to be so urgent, after all. In fact, I really believe I’ve time for a cup of coffee. Would that be possible?’

  ‘It certainly would. How about some scones and jam to help it go down?’

  ‘No thanks, just coffee would be lovely.’

  ‘Of course, you might know there wouldn’t be a cat in the place the one time we have a celebrity on view,’ she remarked, setting the tray down a few minutes later.

  Fervently hoping that all the cats would stay away for just a little longer, I said, ‘How very kind of you, but in fact I feel rather silly sitting here all alone. Won’t you join me?’

  ‘I’m tempted, sorely tempted, but better not, thanks ever so much. It wouldn’t look too good if anyone should come in. Not that we ever get more than a handful, as a rule, on Wednesdays. For one thing, it’s early closing, you see. That’s why Shirley, my assistant, has that as her day off. Not really enough for two of us to do.’

  ‘But she was here yesterday, when Diane brought my camera in?’

  ‘Oh, she was and she was thrilled to bits. I can’t think what she’s going to say when I tell her you were in this morning, go through the roof, I shouldn’t wonder. She’d seen you on the box only the other week, you see. But perhaps you’ll be back? How long are you stopping in these parts, if it’s not a rude question?’

  ‘About a week, probably. I’m staying with Mrs Carrington at Pettits Grange.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Diane told us that too.’

  ‘Did she?’ I asked idly. ‘What else did she tell you?’

  ‘Oh, all sorts of things and, of course, Shirl was egging her on. About how she’d met you, quite by chance, when you were taking photographs of the local beauty spots, and then you’d given her a lift into the village and there’d been this muddle about the camera and I don’t know what all. She goes on a bit, but she is a nice girl, that Diane, isn’t she? No side at all and always so considerate and polite. A bit scatty, of course, but then they all are, that family. I mean, who in the world except one of the Hearnes would walk off with someone else’s camera, without realising what they’d done? We all had a good laugh about that, after she’d gone.’

  ‘So no customers queueing up yesterday either? Well, I suppose it must have been getting towards closing time, by then?’

  ‘No, not quite, but yesterday was rather slack, as it happens, specially considering it’s August. We normally get quite a few hikers and such, this time of year, but there were only two customers here when Diane came in.’

  ‘Hikers?’

  ‘Oh no, local people they were, waiting for the Dedley bus. Going to the cinema, they said. Movies, as they call them now. Nice young couple and great fans of yours too, you’ll be glad to hear.’

  ‘Yes, I’m delighted. In fact, I’m doing one of those television panel games next month, and if you’ll give me their names I’ll send them some tickets for the recording, to show my appreciation.’

  ‘Would you really? Jim and Sue Baldwin, they’re called. He’s from the Midlands somewhere, but she’s been here all her life. Her mother works up at Mrs Trelawney’s, who bought Pettits Farm not so long ago. That’s the big house in these parts, as you probably know. Jim and Sue have got a bungalow on the new Carfax estate. Can’t remember the number offhand, but if you send the letter here I’ll make sure they get it. And coffee’s on the house, by the way. No, truly, I wouldn’t dream of charging you. I’ve enjoyed our little chat.’

  ‘So have I,’ I assured her, ‘very much indeed.’

  ‘Honestly, Tessa, you do have the most staggering luck! Imagine finding all that out in about a quarter of an hour; with a free cup of coffee thrown in.’

  ‘It wasn’t purely luck, as it happens, Millie,’ I replied, rather stung.

  ‘Well, I bet nothing like it would have c
ome my way, if I’d sat there gorging scones and cakes the whole morning.’

  ‘That’s partly because you’re not nosey and partly because neither are you an actress.’

  ‘You mean that people let their hair down with you because they know you are one?’

  ‘Yes, sometimes they do, I believe, but it isn’t only that. I’m sure nearly all actors acquire the habit of watching the way people walk and of listening to how they talk and so on. It becomes like second nature and you find yourself switching on almost as a matter of course. Mrs Parkinson is quite a character, in her way, and at the same time she belongs to a type which most people would recognise and place right away. In other words, first class material. So I was paying careful attention to everything she said.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  ‘I can’t remember the exact words, but the implication was quite clearly that she had not been alone in the shop when Diane brought the camera in. I remembered that as soon as you told me on the telephone that Wendy Bright hadn’t come, wouldn’t be coming and that the enterprise had been shelved, if not abandoned completely.’

  ‘Why? What’s that got to do with Mrs Parkinson not being alone in the shop?’

  ‘Well, don’t you see, Millie, we have to face the fact that our Editor has been nobbled. Word must have reached the enemy that we were planning this coup and immediate counter action has been taken. She probably threatened the poor man with some gigantic libel suit, if he dared to print a word of it. So the question was: whence came the leak? Naturally, when Mrs Parkinson was referring to “we” and “us”, I concluded she meant simply that Shirley, her assistant, had been there and I intended to concentrate on her and find out whether there was any link there with Mrs Trelawney, but before I even got started on that Mrs Parkinson gave me another clue and this time I do remember her exact words. She said: “We all had a good laugh about that after she”, meaning Diane, “had gone”. That was really much more promising because it opened up the field a lot and gave me something to work on. It wasn’t all that difficult either because, today being Wednesday, business was slack and she was quite keen to detain me for as long as possible. Anyway, it’s obvious that Jim or Sue must be the missing link. No doubt, one of them described the episode to Sue’s mother, who promptly passed it on to her employer.’