by Edie Baylis
Running briskly around the side of the house, Robert brushed the sweat from his brow. Reaching the garage, the large double shutters were down, but there was a side door... Despite his eagerness to locate his bitch of a sister, he felt strangely reticent. He had a bad feeling about this.
Reaching the door, Robert tried the handle, finding it unlocked. He pushed it open with trepidation, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. ‘Helen? James? You in here? Hello?’
Stepping into the garage, he fumbled for the light switch and clicked it on. Rooted to the spot, he blinked several times as his brain processed the crumpled mess of James’ body on the floor in front of him.
He didn’t want to look at it, but found he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the unholy sight of his brother-in-law’s caved in skull – the cranium visibly dented. And, oh Christ! A piece of it was missing... There was actually a piece missing!
Robert dragged his eyes away from the ghastly sight, spotting clods of bloody tissue-like flesh near the body, surrounded by thick purple blood. James Shepherd’s eyes stared sightlessly at the garage ceiling, his mouth twisted in a horrible grimace.
Who had done this? Had Helen been butchered too?
Heart pounding, Robert moved towards the door leading from the garage into the house. His leg was poised, raised to step over James’ body, when he stopped.
It was Helen. Helen had done this. Jesus Christ! And she wasn’t here?
Robert’s mind whirred frantically, panic spiralling. No! She’d said on the phone earlier that she was planning on spending the evening at Footlights with their mother.
Robert shook as a horrible concept dawned. Helen had killed her husband and now she was going to kill their mother?
Nausea rushed over him and doubling over, he vomited violently over the concrete floor.
Forty Five
HEATH CASUALLY GLANCED AT HIS WATCH. Almost 10.30. Helen should have had a good look around by now. Had she got them yet?
His heart raced with the prospect of her having located the diamonds. He was this close to getting his hands on them, he could almost smell it.
His father had wanted him to remain whilst Helen searched – convinced she might be tempted to run off if she found them, leaving them in the lurch, but Heath believed this a bad idea. Firstly, how would he justify his presence with Teagan there? Teagan would understandably want to know why and furthermore, she needed to be out of the way, so it would have never worked.
As he’d explained to his father several times before now, there was no way Helen could shift the jewels, and that was something else he’d need to look into now they all but had their hands on them.
He glanced at Teagan. The evening had been a bit tricky in places when she’d talked about more stuff from the ‘old days’, but he didn’t think she’d suspected anything. But the conversation hadn’t been as easy as the last couple of times he’d spent with her and he hoped this would be the last time he spent an evening with the girl because it was apparent she was reading a lot more into what was between them than there was.
‘Fancy another drink?’ Heath asked, for want of something to say. Maybe if she had a couple more she’d loosen up a bit – make the conversation flow.
‘I’d better not. I’ve already had a fair few,’ As much as Teagan had been looking forward to the unexpected evening out, Darren seemed preoccupied – on edge. She got the niggling feeling he didn’t want to be here, yet she couldn’t put her finger on why. He’d done and said all the right things – there was just something that felt stilted.
No matter how much she tried to relax, she was on edge. She wasn’t comfortable leaving Dulcie alone – even if it had only been for a very short time before Helen arrived. Since then she’d felt consistently compelled to glance at her phone just to make sure she hadn’t missed any calls.
In the two weeks she’d been at Footlights – despite the troubles, she’d grown to love Dulcie dearly. The thought of not being around after next week was playing on her mind more than she’d realised and hoped this specialist place Dulcie was moving to allowed visitors, because she’d very much like to remain in contact.
A frown crossed her face. What if Dulcie blamed her? If Helen told her the decision had been made primarily because of what she’d reported regarding her deteriorating behaviour, then it stood very likely that Dulcie would hold her responsible.
Despite herself, Teagan felt the beginnings of tears burning at the back of her eyes. Although it was most unprofessional of her and a big no-no to get emotionally attached to clients, she just couldn’t help it where Dulcie Adams was concerned.
‘Are you alright?’
Teagan looked up sharply. ‘Yes... No... Oh, I don’t know... I’m sorry... I know I haven’t been much company tonight.’ She smiled weakly. ‘Do you mind if we go back?’
‘Go back?’ Heath yelped. ‘What? Already?’ Shit. He’d been hoping to drag this out until the best part of midnight. ‘Shall we just have a couple more? It seems a shame not to take full advantage of an evening off, being as you don’t get that many.’
Teagan finished her wine. ‘I’ll be having a lot more evenings free now Dulcie’s leaving,’ she said sadly. ‘But I would like to go back. I-I just want to make sure everything’s alright.’
Heath frowned. God, she was like an old woman. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
Teagan shrugged. ‘No reason. Oh, I don’t know. I’m sorry.’ She got to her feet and pulled her jacket on, leaving Heath little choice but to do likewise.
‘GO ON THEN. SMASH THE PLACE UP!’ Dulcie screeched. ‘You’re a joke, Helen. A joke!’ She waved the newspaper clipping of Michael Pointer in front of Helen, her face screwed up with rage. This is who I should have married, not that worm who somehow had it in him to father you.’
With tears of anger and frustration, Helen swiped one of the many higgledy-piggledy collections of ornaments from the top of the sideboard, the splintering and crashing noise as glass, pottery and crystal shattered into a thousand pieces over the polished floor of the sitting room, loud.
‘You should be dead you evil, lying old witch!’ she screamed. ‘I wish those pills had killed you!’
Dulcie laughed. ‘But you couldn’t even manage that, could you? Now get out of my house. Go on – GET OUT!’
Helen breathed heavily, her chest heaving. Snatching the newspaper cutting out of her mother’s hand, she screwed it into a ball and threw it onto the floor. ‘You vindictive slag. At least your lover had the sense to disappear, rather than hang around. I’m going to find those diamonds. You know – the ones you and your lover stole and I’m taking them with me. You won’t be able to do a thing about it because you’ll be locked away with all the other demented old crones.’
Turning on her heels, Helen pushed past Dulcie and stormed out of the room.
Dulcie stared at the scrunched up newspaper cutting on the floor as Helen pounded up the stairs, before quickly rushing after her.
With surprising agility, Dulcie rushed up the stairs, catching up with Helen as she ran into the pink bedroom, shutting the door in Dulcie’s face.
Pushing the door back into Helen, Dulcie stormed into the room. ‘Get out of this room, do you hear me?’ she roared, her eyes icy. ‘I said, GET OUT!’
Helen’s eyes lit up. ‘Ah, so this is where they are? I thought as much. The infamous pink bedroom that you never wanted anyone going in. All throughout my childhood you didn’t like us coming in here and now I know why.’ She pulled at the drawers in the dressing table, yanking out perfectly folded, but very old lacy negligees. ‘Wear these for him, did you?’
With eyes like slits, Dulcie grabbed Helen’s arm, her bony fingers digging into her skin. ‘You vile creature!’ she screamed. ‘I never wanted you. Never. I wanted rid the minute I found out I was pregnant. I’ve never stopped hating you!’
Twisting around, Helen shook her mother’s arm off. ‘The feeling’s mutual. Now get the hell off me so I can find what I want
in peace. You’re a pathetic excuse for a woman and even more of an embarrassment as a mother.’
Raising her hand, she backhanded Dulcie around the face, the force splitting her lip and sending her flying backwards into a cheval mirror. Hitting her head on the corner of the wooden surround, Dulcie slumped to the floor.
Helen glanced over her shoulder at her mother lying unconscious and smiled serenely. Pulling out an array of boxes from under the bed, she tipped the contents on the floor. ‘I’ve already killed my husband tonight, mother, so killing you too will be no skin off my nose.’
THE CAR PULLED UP OUTSIDE the big old house and Jonah glanced out at the ramshackle façade and overgrown garden. ‘This is it? Are you sure?’
‘Definitely - we’ve been here enough,’ Keith said.
Jonah glanced at Keith, the tone of impatience in the man’s voice not going unnoticed. He’d pick him up about that later. Pulling the keys from his inside pocket, he opened the car door. ‘I’m going in. Stay here - you know the drill. If anyone who shouldn’t come back, does, call my mobile – let it ring just the once. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.’
Nero glanced at Keith. ‘We’ll be here.’
Slamming the door, Jonah raced up the overgrown front steps. Whatever Dulcie Adams had done with the spoils from Pointer’s thieving, she hadn’t spent it on this house.
His heart pounded in his ears as he risked a glance in the front bay window. The curtains were shut, but there was enough of a chink to see the light was on behind the heavy maroon drapes. It didn’t look like anyone was in there, but they could be out of sight.
Hoping he’d picked the right key from the two on the keyring, Jonah pushed it into the lock of the outer door. Stiff as copied keys are initially, his heart was in his mouth as he waited to see if it turned the barrel.
And it did.
This was it – he was about to come face to face with the woman who had helped turn his father over and had been the bane of his life since he could remember.
Jonah opened the door and winced as the old hinges creaked loudly. Slotting the second key into the inner door, he opened that, quickly shutting both doors behind him. All the lights were on, but it was very quiet. Too quiet. Perhaps the old bag was asleep?
Treading softly along the hallway, Jonah stuck his head around the door of the first room and froze, his hackles bristling as he surveyed the pile of smashed ornaments across the floor. Who had been in here and done this?
Ears alert for any sound, the big old house was completely silent, except for the sound of his own breathing.
Jonah glanced warily around the rest of the space, clocking the plentiful framed photographs – many of which contained pictures taken at The Feathers – his father’s club. His club.
Aside from the pile of smashed and broken ornaments on the floor, the drawers from a chest in the corner were open, their contents scattered over the floor too. His eyes then darted to a mahogany bureau, the writing flap pulled down with a jumble of paperwork and odds and ends littered over it, but the rest of the room was intact, including several pieces of antiques that he could see straight away were valuable. This was not a burglary.
A wave of cold rushed over him. Whoever had done this hadn’t come to trash or burgle the place, they’d come looking for something... And he suspected he knew exactly what that was. And he was damned if they would beat him to it! Over his dead body. But who the fuck was it?
Pulling the Glock from his inside pocket, Jonah moved to start checking the rest of the house for intruders.
Forty Six
KEITH OPENED HIS SECOND MARS BAR and crammed it into his mouth.
Nero looked at Keith in disgust. ‘How can you possibly be hungry? You ate half the fucking buffet!’
Keith shrugged and stared out of the car window. He’d have preferred to still be at the party. He’d had his eye on a tasty little redhead, who if she did a good a job in the sack as she did on the stage, he’d have had a fine time. Yeah, judging by the looks she’d been giving him he would have been on to a winner had he hung around, rather than having to come back to fucking Maidenhead.
This could have been done and dusted ages ago. If it had been up to him, the minute they’d confirmed where the old trout lived, he’d have been straight in there, turned the place upside-down, retrieved the goods and removed Dulcie-fucking-Adams from the face of the planet, the thieving cunt.
Keith’s face screwed into a scowl. Instead, they’d been fannying around for what seemed like months with dickheads like that stoner and that ponce estate agent bloke.
He was of the ilk to go straight after Adams’ bastard son - the one with the gambling problems – the one the suit had mentioned. As well as getting another client for a lucrative loan on the books, he had the distinct feeling the man in question was Pointer’s kid. From what he’d learnt over the years, Pointer had got his mistress up the duff, but the woman – Helen Shepherd, wasn’t Pointer’s - that much was obvious by looking at her. But Jonah had only wanted that to happen if the stoner failed to come up with the keys.
Keith shook his head. He’d have done things a lot differently to Jonah. For a start, had he been around when all of this had happened, he’d have sorted the rest of those O’Hara wankers out too.
Ok, so Saul had finished Sean O’Hara, but he would have had the wanker’s brother Ron and his fucking wife, Noeleen, whilst he was at it too. He wouldn’t have given a fuck if that Ron prick was in the loony bin – he’d have dragged him out of his straitjacket and finished him off all the same. He certainly wouldn’t have let him walk away. And Saul wouldn’t have either, had he not got banged up.
But then Jacky Powell did things differently and although Keith readily admitted he both liked and respected Jonah, the man had a very similar take on things to his father - ruthless, but a bit too fair, with definitely too many morals.
Whereas Saul... Saul thought the same way as him - that’s why they’d worked so well together. Had Saul been running the ship, as he should have been, had it not been for O’Hara, then things would have turned out a lot differently. Better. There would have been none of this dilly-dallying about.
Keith crammed the last bit of his Mars bar into his mouth and sucked his sticky fingers.
He’d do it though. He’d promised Saul he’d sort it if Jonah didn’t. If Jonah didn’t finish Dulcie Adams off, then he’d step in. Enough was enough.
Keith had received another VO from Saul only this morning for a couple of weeks’ time and it would be good to give his old pal the news he’d been waiting on for so long.
Sensing Nero stiffen, Keith glanced up seeing a Lexus coming down the road towards them. ‘This anything, do you reckon?’
Nero’s forehead furrowed, his eyes trained on where the car would stop. ‘Not sure, but if it is, then it will balls up everything. Jonah’s only been gone ten minutes.’
Keith raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. It would more than balls things up. If this Lexus was anyone returning to the house, then they’d have to warn Jonah. That meant any chance he had of getting in there and making sure the old girl was stone dead was down the bog too.
Gritting his teeth, he watched the car pull up a few doors down from Footlights.
TEAGAN COULD TELL Darren wasn’t happy. She was disappointed he’d made her feel bad about coming back. He’d tried several times to cajole her into having a couple more drinks before finally accepting defeat, acting almost annoyed when she’d stood her ground.
Her wish to return had really bothered him and she couldn’t understand why, but then again, she’d misread lots of things where Darren Harding was concerned. She didn’t need a control freak or a man with a yo-yoing personality in her life again.
Despite this, she still felt the need to apologise again and hated how she felt bestowed to justify and explain every single part of her existence all of the time. Shouldn’t the fact that she was worried about Dulcie and wanted to go back have been enough?
/>
‘I’m sorry about cutting the evening short, Darren,’ Teagan said. ‘Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?’
Heath glared at Teagan. Cup of tea? What was he? Sixty?
How fucking typical was this? It wasn’t even pub kicking out time. He dearly hoped returning early wouldn’t hinder anything. Hopefully by now Helen had done the business and found the stash. He had tried calling her while Teagan popped to the loos on the way out of The Sommelier. He’d wanted to give Helen the heads up they were on their way back, but she hadn’t picked up.
Heath frowned. He hadn’t left a message and wondered if he should have?
The nagging disquiet of whether there was any plausibility in his father’s paranoia of Helen doing a runner with the jewels filtered into his mind.
No. He was being daft. Helen was still here because he’d spotted her Merc as they’d driven down the street. It was parked well away from the house, but it was definitely her car. Stop panicking, Heath.
‘Darren? I said, did you want to come in for a cup of tea?’
Heath quickly remembered to drop his inner rage from being visible. ‘Oh, erm... no, I’d better not. I’ll leave you to it.’ He couldn’t go in. He might put Helen off and there was no way he wanted to arouse Teagan’s suspicions. On top of that, Dulcie Adams gave him the creeps and he’d rather not be around her.
Teagan swallowed her disappointment with Darren’s attitude for the second time that evening, which quickly turned into a third time when he leant over, depositing a chaste kiss on her cheek. That alone signified that whatever she thought she and Darren may have, they didn’t.
Forcing a smile, she grabbed her handbag from the footwell and opened the car door. ‘I’ll text you, ok?’
IT HAD TAKEN JONAH a lot longer than he would have liked to check every room on the ground floor was clear due to the combination of the size of the place and the maze-like layout. Several rooms he’d had to meticulously check, whilst simultaneously watching his back as well as the door to ensure no one slipped past while he was inside.