by K T Findlay
Sally took another sip of her gin. ‘Yep, but it worked. Now, the question is, what do you want to do about it? Do you want to hit back, or do you want to let it slide?’
‘Hit back of course, but I don’t want to go to jail!’ said Emma firmly.
Sally nodded. ‘Me neither, so unless we’re positive we’re going to get away with it, we do nothing. Agreed?’
Emma nodded again.
‘Our second problem,’ Sally continued, ‘is how to catch them.’ She took another sip and smiled at Emma. ‘That’s going to be a lot harder than actually killing them.’
Emma screwed up her face. ‘Do we have to kill them? It sounds awfully extreme.’
‘And throwing Bob’s mangled body down a hole so you can watch it rot isn’t?’ laughed Sally.
‘But that was just fantasy Sally! You’re talking about actually doing it!’ cried Emma.
Sally pursed her lips as if in thought. ‘Well I guess we could leave them alive, but it’ll massively increase the chances of getting caught if they can talk about it afterwards.’
Emma held both her hands up in front of her. ‘You’re moving too fast for me Sally, I can’t commit to this. I need more time to think.’
Sally nodded. ‘That’s no trouble. It’s going to take a while to plan things out anyway, and we need to let a bit of time go by to let everyone else believe that we’ve moved on. We can have loads of fun figuring out how to pull it off, and you can call a halt whenever you want to. Perhaps knowing you could kill them whenever you felt like it might be enough for you, to hold that power but not use it. How does that sound?’
Emma nodded in relief. ‘That sounds much better! So it’ll be like playing a game then?’
Sally laughed. ‘Exactly!’
Emma raised her glass. ‘Sounds great to me! When do we start?’
Sally clinked her own glass against Emma’s. ‘We already have!’
◆◆◆
‘Hello Perry! You’re home early.’ said Hilary. ‘Quiet day?’
Peregrin McEwan slid open the kitchen ranch slider and stepped out onto the deck. ‘Greetings beloved wife. Sort of quiet I guess. Hello Alison, did you two enjoy your golf this afternoon?’
Alison Falconer, friend, neighbour and landlord raised her martini. ‘Well I certainly did. I won for a change!’
‘You deserved it.’ admitted Hilary. ‘You’ve never been so good off the tee before. Do anything interesting today Perry?’ she asked, pouring him a brandy and ginger ale.
Peregrin eased himself down into his deckchair recliner and gratefully accepted his drink. ‘Ta muchly. I spent the morning in court, observing a drunk driver case.’
‘Observing?’ asked Hilary. ‘I thought you lot were short handed as usual? How’d you get the time off to observe a trivial thing like that?’
Peregrin took a long, slow sip. ‘It wasn’t so trivial. It was Bob Harland’s trial.’
‘Was Sally there?’ asked Alison instantly.
‘My, you’re quick! You should be a police officer with a mind like that. Yes, Sally was there.’ He took another thoughtful sip.
‘That’s a pity. I thought she’d managed to let Graham’s death go.’ said Alison sadly.
‘Be fair Alison. Dick Harland is Bob’s father. It’s not surprising she’d be interested.’ said Peregrin. ‘It was a bit surreal to be honest, because Holmes and Thomlinson were both involved as well.’
‘Ah. So that’s who you were observing.’ said Hilary, nodding gently. ‘And?’
‘I think we might have him this time. He’s been a bit careless.’ replied Peregrin.
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Alison.
Peregrin looked at her over the top of his glass. ‘I can’t really say much more than that I’m afraid.’
Alison rolled her eyes. ‘Oh come on! Holmes is my solicitor! I need to know if he’s been up to no good.’
‘It isn’t Holmes I’m talking about.’ said Peregrin quickly, before trying to divert Alison’s focus. ‘After the not guilty verdict, Bob Harland made a couple of smart arse comments to the victim’s widow, and her two sons just went for him. Inside the court!’
Hilary laughed. ‘What! Did they get him?’
‘Nah. Security got between them and calmed it all down. Tell you what though, it shook the Harlands to the core. I reckon they’ll both be checking their doors and windows for a while!’
‘Room for a small one?’ came a woman’s voice from inside the house.
‘We’re out on the deck Fliss! Bring a glass!’ Hilary called back.
‘I’m way ahead of you.’ laughed a pretty redhead as she walked onto the deck with a large glass of Chablis.
Hilary’s eyes widened. ‘I was going to use that in tonight’s dinner!’
Felicity shook her head. ‘No you weren’t. I saw the recipe on the bench so I opened a new bottle.’
Peregrin laughed. ‘Doctor Coutts! How nice to see that your pathologist’s knack for detail remains intact.’
Felicity put her glass down on the table and beckoned him back to the kitchen. ‘Speaking of which, I have news. Sorry ladies, police business, but we’ll only be a second.’
Peregrin slid the door closed behind them. ‘The blood test?’
Felicity nodded. ‘It could be from Bob Harland. It’s his type. Where did you say you found it again?’
‘Jeff Bloom picked it up as part of the Rotary Club’s litter drive along the road to the rubbish dump. He recognised it as a medical sample and asked me if there was anything special he needed to do with it or if he could just chuck it. The label had been removed so I asked him if he’d seen anything where he picked it up that might identify the owner. He said he thought there were some envelopes nearby with Edgar Thomlinson written on them but they’d already been fed into the recycler by the time he approached me.’
‘Well the blood does have a relatively high alcohol level so it could have been a police sample, but we can’t be sure.’
‘Fingerprints?’ asked Peregrin.
Felicity shook her head. ‘None. I take it Jeff was wearing gloves when he found it?’
‘Yep, standard procedure on litter pick up. He gave it to me in a plastic bag too, so mine wouldn’t be there either.’
‘Well I don’t trust those new DNA tests yet, and because you’ve only got Jeff’s word about the envelopes, while you might be able to frighten him, I don’t think you’ll be able to make it stick.’
Peregrin twisted his mouth in frustration. ‘You’re probably right, damn it. This is going to require a bit more thought than I’d hoped. Oh well, if you fill that glass bowl with crisps, I’ll get the cheese and crackers. Dinner’s over an hour away yet.’
◆◆◆
‘We’d like to see Mr Andrew Holmes.’ said Freddy simply when the lawyer’s front door opened.
The man looked past them to the Ford Transit. ‘Mr Holmes doesn’t usually do business with tradesmen at this time of night, but I’ll ask if he’ll see you.’
James gave his most crocodilian of smiles. ‘Just tell him that James Alpers would appreciate a word about the Walker case. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see us.’
The man nodded. ‘Certainly sir. There’s a seat to the left if you’d like to use it in the meantime.’ and without betraying any emotion at all, he closed the door and went in search of his master.
‘Pompous twit!’ growled James under his breath. ‘Somebody should tell him the Edwardian age is well and truly over!’
Freddy laughed. ‘Oh I don’t know, it’s kind of nice seeing a period drama brought to life. My, that was quick!’
There was a rapid tap-tap-tap of leather on wood as the servant hurried back to open the door. ‘Mr Holmes would be delighted to see you Mr Alpers, and your friend. He’s in the lounge, second door on the left. If you’d like to see yourselves in I’ll go and get the drinks.’
‘Mr Alpers, how nice to see you again.’ said Holmes, rising from his chair to greet them.
> ‘And you Mr Holmes. This is my colleague Freddy Sommers.’
‘Pleased to meet you Mr Sommers, please, both of you, take a seat.’ bowed Holmes. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’
James plopped himself down into the plush leather chair. ‘It’s about the Walker case.’
‘Ah yes.’ said Holmes, clasping his hands. ‘Do you mean his disappearance, the unfortunate business with his wife, or both?’
‘Both.’ said Freddy, earning himself a look from his colleague.
‘It’s recently come to light,’ began James, ‘that Terry Walker wrote certain things down that ought not to have been written down…’ he paused to let it sink in. ‘Things that could affect all of us in this room.’
Holmes’s face betrayed nothing. ‘Indeed? Do you know the specifics of this, document?’
‘Some of it. Enough to know how dangerous it could be were it to be found.’ continued James.
‘And its whereabouts are unknown at this juncture?’
‘Precisely. And we’d like to find them. You had a rather special relationship with him, so we thought we’d start by asking if he gave you anything to look after?’
Holmes noted that while James’s voice was polite and matter of fact, there was something in the eyes that brooked no nonsense. He shook his head solemnly. ‘No, I’m afraid not. I represented him at the time of his trial, but my firm did not look after his will nor his affairs. You’re welcome to look over the trial materials. I can have them here tomorrow if you wish?’
James shook his head. ‘Not unless they contain anything written by Terry himself. Perhaps you could tell Freddy here exactly what arrangements you and Terry made for his trial?’
Holmes raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you seeking just the salient facts, or all the special details?’ he fixed James with a meaningful eye.
‘Particularly the special details.’ said James.
‘Very well.’ Holmes cupped his hand to his ear and listened. ‘Algy’s still making the tea and coffee, so we have a few moments I think. Well, Mr Walker came to me, now when was it, oh yes, the ninth of February 1984, the day after his wife so sadly fell down that cliff.’ He looked serious. ‘Mr Walker explained to me the situation, and intimated there was a witness who might have got the wrong end of the stick and that it would be unfortunate should the man come forward during the trial. Mr Walker asked me if it were possible to take steps that would ensure this other person’s nonappearance in court. I replied that most things were possible should the appropriate rewards be offered in exchange and we came to terms.’
‘What specifically did you do?’ asked Freddy.
James spotted the expression on Holmes’s face. ‘It’s okay Mr Holmes, Freddy really is one of my colleagues, someone who worked with Terry occasionally.’
Holmes nodded gravely. ‘Very well, I discussed matters with a police fixer friend of mine, Sergeant Edgar Thomlinson, a man who can usually be relied upon to see things the way they should be seen.’
‘For an appropriate reward?’ asked James.
‘Quite. Beautifully put if I may say so. In this case he undertook to take whatever steps became necessary to smooth the investigative waters, after the deed had been done. I then talked with an old customer of mine, Dick Harland. He’s neither particularly bright, nor particularly stupid, but he does get things done and he keeps his mouth shut. Two admirable qualities I always find. He thought a car accident might be the best way of fixing matters and I was able to inform him that the gentleman concerned had a regular Sunday evening Dungeons and Dragons session, whatever that is, in Little Dimpton. That enabled Dick to work out exactly where and when he could arrange the crash.’
‘But it didn’t go quite right did it?’ asked Freddy.
Holmes frowned. ‘No, it didn’t. Dick hadn’t ever done anything like that before and he got a bit flustered and took a few swigs of brandy while he was waiting for the witness’s car to appear. His breath reeked of the stuff when the police arrived. Fortunately for him, Thomlinson used it to his advantage. He supervised Dick’s blood test and put the sample with the rest of the evidence. He then conveniently mislaid it overnight, which required Dick to have another test the following morning after the loss was discovered. By then of course he was back under the legal limit so there was no actual evidence to convict him. In fact the drink thing actually distracted everyone else away from the possibility that it might have been a deliberate crash. I encouraged the judge to think that it was oil on the wet road and he accepted that. Job done, happy clients all round! Ah, welcome Algy, that’s first class timing. Just pop the tray down here will you? Excellent. Why don’t you have the rest of the night off? I don’t think I’ll need you anymore tonight.’
‘Very good Mr Holmes. I’ll see you in the morning.’ bowed Algy.
Holmes leant over the table. ‘If you gentlemen would like to pour your own tea or coffee, I’ll see to the stronger stuff. A single malt perhaps? I have an excellent Highland Park if you’d care to try it?’
While Holmes busied himself pouring the glasses, James asked a further question. ‘So how did you get Terry off his own charge?’
There was a loud squeak as Holmes punched the cork back onto the bottle. ‘Young Thomlinson was very useful there too. He managed to “lose” all the photographs of the footprints at the top of the cliff, and then went one better by losing two key affidavits from an expert who died just before the trial.’
‘Another one of your arrangements?’ asked Freddy.
‘No,’ laughed Holmes, handing over the glass, ‘Terry could thank the good lord for that one. The man died in his sleep.’
‘Didn’t the police get a bit upset with your careless cop?’ asked James.
‘Oh yes, oh yes indeed. It quite put a dent in Thomlinson’s promotion prospects, but then he was amply compensated for it. I think he was happy with his end of the deal.’
‘He can’t be too worried about it because you two have just pulled exactly the same stunt with Bob Harland today. Surely that’s going to raise even more suspicions?’ asked James.
Holmes twisted his face in annoyance. ‘It very well might. I’m most displeased about that. When Bob Harland crashed, killing the other driver, Thomlinson saw an opportunity to make some money. He oversaw the blood sample being taken and then went that night to have a chat with daddy Dick. He suggested that if Dick paid him a certain sum, then that sample could be “lost” as well. Given the seriousness of the charges Bob was likely to face, Dick paid up and Thomlinson “mislaid” the phial as promised. Only then did he come to see me! It was a stupid idea that put both of us in danger but I didn’t have a choice by that stage.’
‘How high’s the risk do you think?’ asked James.
‘To Thomlinson, pretty high I suspect, which is why he asked Dick for almost the same amount I paid Dick to kill Mellors in the first place. There was a Detective Inspector in court today who had no reason to be there. I assume he was watching Thomlinson to see how things played out. It could make things a little warm for me too of course, but there’s absolutely no paper trail to link me to anything. It would all be circumstantial, their word against mine.’
‘So if Thomlinson’s a bit too impulsive, do you think he had anything to do with Terry’s disappearance?’ asked Freddy.
‘What? Oh dear me no. He had no motivation along those lines at all. And in any case, he was in the police station the whole day when Terry vanished.’
‘How about Dick Harland?’ Freddy continued.
Holmes shook his head. ‘No. He never knew why he was killing Mellors. He doesn’t know to this day that it had anything to do with the Walker case. As far as I know Mellors never even mentioned Carol’s accident to anyone except to say he was at the beach when it happened. If he’d tried blackmail I’m sure that Terry would have mentioned it.’
‘So what actually happened to Terry?’ James asked.
Holmes sipped his drink. ‘Nobody knows, not me, not the police, nobody. All w
e know is that he was last seen going for a ride on his bicycle and he simply vanished. The police did an extensive check and nothing was ever found of either him or the bike.’ He looked up. ‘I don’t know exactly what your line of work is gentlemen, but it strikes me as one that’s likely to make you a few enemies from time to time. Perhaps one of them made an appearance?’
James maintained a neutral expression. ‘It’s possible, but if so, where’s the document? We’d expect to be seeing some consequences by now if its fallen into someone’s hands.’
◆◆◆
At that very moment Ted Malcolm and Mark Evans were slipping in through a lounge window in Beattie Close.
‘Man!’ giggled Ted. ‘It feels so cool to burgle a place just three blocks from the Throcking police station!’
‘Keep your voice down you muppet.’ hissed Mark. ‘Boy, look at all the dust in here. Anyone would think there’d been nobody living here for years.’
‘That’s because they haven’t.’ grinned Ted. ‘This is old man Walker’s place, you know, the guy who did a bunk a few years back? This is one time we’re not going to be worried about the owners coming home early!’
The teenagers went through each room thoroughly, bagging the jewellery, the CDs and the television.
‘Leave the videos and the player.’ said Mark. ‘Nobody’ll want that old rubbish.’
‘How about the painting?’ asked Ted, pointing to a large oil painting of a woman in a bikini sitting on the beach.
‘Nice!’ said Mark.
‘Not to keep you idiot, to sell!’ snapped Ted. ‘It’s an original, of the wife. I remember her photo in the papers. Nah, on second thoughts, let’s leave it. It’s too easily traced.’
‘Seems a pity.’ murmured Mark. ‘I wonder how heavy it is.’
He took hold of the bottom corners of the frame and lifted. The painting came away easily from the wall and rested lightly in his hands. Ted shook his head in dismay at his friend’s stupidity but in doing so spotted a flaw on the wall where the picture had been. The street light coming in the window highlighted a number of very shallow shadows in the plaster.