by Pam Weaver
Izzie sighed and went on to tell Esther how she had found Mr Semadini in the café. She sobbed as she told her friend about their last moments together.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Esther. ‘You really loved him, didn’t you?’
Izzie nodded miserably. ‘I don’t think I realised just how much I did until the copper told me this would be a murder enquiry.’ She wiped her eyes and blew her nose again. ‘And it’s all too late now.’
They sat together in silence for a short while. Esther had her arm around Izzie as she rested her head on Esther’s shoulder. They heard someone going into the bathroom upstairs and Izzie sat up. ‘But I can’t dwell on my past mistakes,’ she went on stiffly. ‘I’ve got to find Linda.’
‘So you’re not convinced that she went of her own free will?’
Izzie shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know. But I can’t risk it, can I? And even if she did, she’s still my sister.’
‘Izzie, there’s something I have to tell you,’ Esther began cautiously. ‘You remember you wrote and asked me to find out about your father? Well, I talked to an old police sergeant and he remembered the case quite well.’
Izzie sat up straight. ‘Go on.’
‘You were right,’ said Esther. ‘Your father was involved with the black market.’
‘I had already pieced that together,’ said Izzie.
‘When those children were taken ill – when they ate those bad sausage rolls and Gary Sayers died – there was another lad, Raymond Perryman, who wasn’t expected to survive.’
Izzie gasped. ‘That’s the boy Linda likes.’
‘Looks like it.’
‘Do you think Raymond Perryman knows about my dad?’
‘Well, it’s possible, isn’t it,’ said Esther.
‘Then Linda could be in real danger.’ Izzie gasped.
‘There was something else which might throw light on why your parents’ marriage broke up,’ Esther continued. ‘When your dad was arrested, it was because of a police tip-off.’
‘I get the feeling you’re going to tell me it was one of the Perrymans,’ said Izzie.
‘No,’ said Esther. ‘The sergeant remembered the police informant.’ She paused and reached for her friend’s hand. ‘Izzie, it was your mother.’
‘What?’ Izzie frowned and something she’d overheard the night her mother ran away came back to her. ‘I didn’t realise it was so bad. I thought you’d just get a ticking off.’ A penny dropped. Her mother hadn’t dreamt for one minute that her father would have to go to prison but because he did, she couldn’t forget what he’d done and when he’d found out, he’d vowed never to forgive her.
‘Are you okay, Izzie?’
Izzie rubbed her forehead. ‘What am I going to do now?’
Esther rose to her feet. ‘I suggest you have a wash and change your clothes. After that, we’ll have some breakfast and then we’ll go and get some answers from John Middleton.’
‘Do you know where he lives then?’
‘No,’ said Esther, ‘but if his beating is as bad as you said, my guess is they’ll have kept him in hospital overnight. The doctor’s rounds aren’t until mid-morning so even if he’s well enough to be discharged, he won’t be sent home until this afternoon at the earliest.’
‘Don’t forget I have to find somewhere to live,’ Izzie said dully.
‘Nonsense!’ Esther cried. ‘You can sleep on the sofa until I go back to work and then you can have my room until you can find something more suitable.’
‘Oh I can’t …’ Izzie began.
Once again her friend waved away her protestation. ‘It’s all fixed with Mum,’ she said, ‘so let’s hear no more about it.’
*
Bill Baxter stared anxiously at the door. He had been in the emporium clearing out his stuff. There wasn’t much of it left but if the coppers came to question him about last night, the last thing he wanted was a load of stolen gear on the premises. He pushed a holdall into Mick’s hands.
‘As soon as it’s dark,’ he said, ‘chuck it off the pier.’
‘Don’t you want any of it?’
‘No,’ said Bill, ‘and if I ever take another piece of gear give me a kick up the backside.’
He watched Mick hurrying off and for the umpteenth time he wished he’d never let himself get talked into all this. It seemed that no matter what he did, on the fiddle or going straight, he always ended up falling down the pan. What was the world coming to? Now that he’d been robbed himself, he knew how it felt. Was there no honour even among thieves these days? That’s why he’d got so mad last night and it could have been a lot, lot worse. He’d been relieved when he’d heard someone in the pub say that John Middleton wasn’t dead. He was in hospital and rumour had it that he’d robbed the Café Bellissimo.
But what of his girl? What of Linda? Perhaps Linda was in on it too? No, she wouldn’t, would she? He was well aware that she was shop lifting. All those pretty dresses she had couldn’t have come out of her wage packet. He should have said something long ago but how could he? What sort of an example had he set her?
Izzie was the only one who had stayed squeaky clean. That was probably why they fought so bad. She looked just like her mother. He shouldn’t have let that get to him, but it did. Izzie had not only inherited her mother’s good looks but she had the same pluck. In fact, she was turning out to be a girl to be reckoned with. Lord knows he tried not to let her prissy ways rile him but she always did.
His thoughts drifted back to Linda. What if Mav was right and that Perryman boy meant to do her harm? He shuddered. He’d never forgive himself if that happened. And where was his little girl now? The only person who was likely to know was John Middleton. He glanced up at the clock. What time were visiting hours? Perhaps a bunch of flowers for appearances sake – and, when no-one was looking, the threat of a fist – might encourage him to tell. It was the only way he might find out where his thieving mates had gone with Linda and with a bit of luck he’d get the rest of his stuff back as well.
*
John Middleton was on the men’s ward. The sister told them it wasn’t possible for him to go home just yet as he had sustained a rather nasty injury. She also told Izzie and Esther they were far too early for visiting but when Esther told the sister that she was a WPC and that Izzie had been the one who had saved John’s life, she let them go in. John was at the very end of the ward behind some screens. They found him propped up in bed with four pillows on the back rest. His arm was in a sling and his face a mass of cuts and bruises. There was also a bandage over his right ear. He looked a sorry sight.
‘Hello John,’ said Izzie, and when Esther introduced herself she was at great pains to make sure he knew she was a WPC.
Izzie drew up a chair. Esther was already seated in the one next to the bed.
‘They tell me I owe you my life,’ said John, looking at Izzie as she sat down. ‘I hear you tried to stop that maniac from beating me to death.’
Izzie felt her face colour. He obviously had no idea his first attacker was her own father.
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ John whispered.
‘Well I’m sure you’ll understand that we’re very anxious to find out where Izzie’s sister Linda is,’ said Esther, sounding very official. ‘Any information you can give us will be most helpful.’
John turned his head away and said nothing.
Esther pursed her lips irritably. ‘You could save yourself a lot of trouble if you help us now.’
‘I’m no grass,’ said John.
‘Please John,’ said Izzie. ‘You like Linda, I know you do. Help me find her before she gets herself into even more trouble.’
‘She wasn’t part of it,’ said John. ‘I didn’t even know she was coming.’
‘She told me she was meeting you in town for the celebrations,’ said Izzie.
‘I only said that,’ John admitted. ‘I had no intention of meeting her.’
‘Because you and those boys planned to
rob the Café Bellissimo,’ said Esther.
John nodded and Izzie gasped. Somehow she hadn’t put the two together but of course, it was perfectly obvious now.
‘You do know the police are treating this as a murder enquiry, don’t you?’ said Esther.
John winced as he sat upright. ‘We heard someone coming downstairs but we legged it. There was no murder.’
‘I found him,’ said Izzie. ‘He’d been shot.’
John’s face paled. ‘Shot?’ He looked from one to the other of them. ‘Well, it wasn’t me!’ he cried desperately. ‘I didn’t fire the gun. Ray was the only one with a gun.’
‘Ray?’ said Izzie.
‘Ray Perryman.’
‘I don’t know that name,’ Izzie said innocently. ‘Does he live in Worthing?’
John shook his head. ‘He comes from London but he’s staying with his auntie. That’s where he got the gun from. It was in her attic. Look, if that guy got shot, it was nothing to do with me!’
‘That won’t make a lot of difference,’ said Esther. ‘You were there. You were part of it.’
John’s eyes had filled with tears.
Izzie went to say something more but Esther tugged at her arm. ‘Tell us where you were going so that we can rescue Linda.’
It was clear from the look on his face that John was torn between two loyalties. He sank back down on the pillows as the tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘They’ll hang me, won’t they,’ he said quietly. ‘I swear to you, I didn’t know. I didn’t do it,’ he added in a more desperate tone.
They were interrupted by a commotion by the door. It started with a shout of ‘There he is,’ and was followed by a scuffle just before a man and two policemen came crashing through the wooden swing doors. A bunch of yellow chrysanthemums flew across the polished floor. The two policemen and another man fell. On the other side of the swing doors, before they closed again, they caught a glimpse of the ward sister charging up the corridor to complain about the noise as several nurses scurried past to answer the bells rung by anxious patients.
The man on the floor was shouting, ‘Get off me. Let me go!’
As Izzie rose to her feet she heard one policeman saying, ‘You’re nicked, sunshine.’ The policemen got to their feet and dragged the man away.
‘Izzie, tell them,’ he was shouting. ‘Tell them it wasn’t me.’
But Izzie couldn’t bear to look at him. She stared straight ahead, her face flaming. She’d recognised her father the minute he’d fallen to the floor. As Bill Baxter was being dragged away Esther leaned over John and Izzie heard her say, ‘Listen John, we have reason to believe Linda could be in imminent danger. Anything you can tell us would be most helpful.’
John looked down the ward anxiously. ‘Ray’s got an uncle in Portsmouth.’
‘Do you know the address?’
John shook his head. ‘But I know the car they’ve got. It’s a Ford Prefect, black, and the number plate is NNN 535.’ He paused. ‘No, hang on a minute. ONN 553.’ He put his hand to the bandage on his head. ‘Something like that.’ He winced again. ‘I’ve got a terrible headache.’
Izzie smiled grimly. ‘Thank you, John. I hope you get better soon.’
With a tired nod, John put his head back onto the pillows and closed his eyes.
Outside in the corridor Esther shook her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid that wasn’t much help. We still have no idea where Raymond Perryman could have taken Linda.’
‘We may not know,’ said Izzie, ‘but I think I know someone who might be able to tell us.’
Forty-One
First thing on Monday morning the bell on the shop door jangled as Esther walked into the Woolly Lamb on the Goring Road. Izzie, following close behind, closed the door, turned the sign to ‘closed’, and slid the bolt. Brenda Sayers looked up. She was busy restocking Paton and Baldwin wools in the purpose built square shelves behind the counter. ‘Can I help you?’
‘We hope you can,’ said Esther, introducing herself. ‘And of course you know Izzie.’
The two girls had driven to the shops in Esther’s dad’s car.
‘I do,’ Brenda said with a frown. ‘Why have you turned the sign on the door?’
Esther ignored her question. ‘Can you tell me where your nephew is?’
‘At home in his bed I should imagine.’
‘Are you sure?’ Esther asked. ‘I mean, did you actually see him this morning?’
Brenda hesitated and frowned. ‘As a matter of fact I didn’t,’ she said. ‘What’s this all about?’
Esther told her about the robbery and how Raymond had been seen driving away in a car.
Brenda put her hands to her throat. ‘That can’t be right,’ she said. ‘He went to the bonfire celebrations and then he planned to stay the night with his friends.’
‘And you haven’t actually seen him,’ Esther reminded her.
‘The thing is, Mrs Sayers,’ Izzie ventured. ‘We think my sister is with him and that she may have been taken forcibly.’
‘Forcibly?’ Brenda gasped. ‘Raymond may be many things but he’s certainly not a robber or a kidnapper.’
‘I don’t want to offend you, Mrs Sayers,’ Izzie blurted out, ‘but we are very worried.’
Mrs Sayers glared at Esther. ‘I can’t think why you’ve brought her here.’ Turning to Izzie she said malevolently, ‘You and your family have caused me nothing but trouble.’
‘We believe Raymond has an uncle in Portsmouth,’ Esther went on.
‘Silas?’ said Mrs Sayers. ‘What’s my brother got to do with it?’
‘Probably nothing at all,’ said Esther, ‘but Raymond’s friend John seemed to think he and the other lad might go there. Can you give us his address?’
‘I don’t see why I should,’ said Mrs Sayers, tossing her head.
‘A man was shot,’ said Esther.
‘Shot?’
Esther nodded. ‘Did you know Raymond had a gun?’
‘He hasn’t,’ Brenda snapped. ‘For goodness sake, I won’t listen to this! Raymond is only a boy. He’s not even old enough for National Service yet!’ She waved her arm, accidentally knocking over a half filled cardboard box of Dewhurst cottons, which spilled on the counter and onto the floor. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do,’ she said irritably.
The three of them retrieved the cottons then Brenda said, ‘Look, I know Raymond is a bit of a handful but he’s a good boy really. You’ve got this all wrong. I’m telling you, my nephew wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
Somebody tried the door handle and they looked up to see a woman outside. At the same time, Izzie and Esther saw a police car drawing up beside the pavement.
‘Go and open that door,’ Mrs Sayers said crossly. ‘You’re losing me my customers.’
‘So if we could have that address?’ Esther said quickly.
‘Oh for goodness sake,’ Brenda snapped again. ‘42 Barrack Road.’
Izzie began to walk towards the door. ‘Thank you.’
‘And stay away from my shop,’ Brenda called after them.
Izzie paused and turned back. ‘Mrs Sayers, I know you’re upset but I did try to tell you that my mother still feels terrible about what happened all those years ago.’
‘So you say,’ Brenda said, her voice full of sarcasm. ‘I don’t suppose you know that your father never was a prisoner-of-war, like she told you. He was sent to prison for what he did.’
‘Actually I did know,’ said Izzie. ‘But what I never realised was that my mother was the one who put him there. She was the person who informed the police of what he’d done.’
Brenda’s jaw dropped.
As she opened the door to the shop, Izzie could see that she had completely taken the wind from Brenda’s sails, but she didn’t feel smug about it. It was all rather tragic and sad.
‘Hurry up,’ said Esther as they met on the pavement. ‘I could end up making the tea for the rest of my life for doing this.’ The two girls hurried towards
Esther’s dad’s car and got in.
‘I don’t want you losing your job,’ said Izzie, climbing in beside her.
‘I won’t,’ said Esther, starting the engine, ‘but I’m not in uniform and I’m not part of the case. It’s just that saying I’m a WPC gets doors open.’
‘Where are we going now?’ asked Izzie, as the car sped towards Goring Village. Esther turned her head. ‘Portsmouth, of course.’
*
Linda woke up to find a strange man leaning over her. Her head was pounding and her eye felt funny. She couldn’t open it properly. She tried to sit up but she couldn’t quite manage it. She shivered involuntarily.
‘What the devil’s been going on here?’ the man barked. ‘Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my caravan?’ He yanked at the bedclothes and she could do nothing to stop him. With the warmth gone from her body, Linda moaned.
‘Where’s Izzie?’ she murmured. ‘I want my sister.’
She heard him gasp in shocked surprise. There was blood. Lots of blood.
‘Leave her alone,’ said a woman’s voice behind him. ‘Can’t you see she’s in a bad way? Call an ambulance and while you’re about it, call the police. There’s a dead body by the fence.’
*
When Izzie and Esther arrived in Portsmouth a police car was already waiting outside 42 Barrack Road. ‘Drat and double drat,’ Esther murmured, ‘looks like they got here first.’
Wearily, the two girls climbed out of the car and Izzie stretched her back. It had taken them a good hour and a half to get here and as they stepped onto the pavement, a police sergeant climbed out of the police car.
The two girls walked towards them. ‘Can you give me your names please?’
‘Esther Jordan.’
‘Isobelle Baxter.’
‘What have you two young ladies been up to?’ he said crossly. ‘Impersonating a police officer is a criminal offence.’
‘Actually, I wasn’t, Sergeant,’ said Esther. ‘I am a WPC in London. It’s just that I forgot to mention that I’m off duty at the moment.’
The sergeant scowled. ‘You’d better tell me the name of your division,’ he said. ‘I shall be having a word with your superior.’