Warning at One

by Ann Purser

  Darkness fell, and slowly the room was full of shadows, lit only by a solitary lamp halfway up the footpath. Susie was cold, in pain from her bonds, and thirsty. But most of all she was scared, and knew that she must stay awake at all costs.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  DOUGLAS SET OFF AGAIN, TRAILING AROUND TRESHAM, UNTIL he realised he was looking in areas where there was absolutely no reason for Susie to go. He had no idea what to do, except to go back home and ring the police. But Susie was an adult, and he knew she found life at home difficult. She could have decided, as Mum had said, to stand him up and go out with someone else, or sleep over at a girlfriend's house. She wouldn't thank him for alerting the police, he was sure of that. So long as he didn't have to talk to her father again, he reckoned it would be up to Tony to act. He was slightly ashamed at ducking out of responsibility for her, but in the end decided to go home and see what happened next.

  Gordon Street was quiet, and though Douglas had even resorted to prayer on the way home, Susie was not there. He let himself in through the front door and opened a can of beer, slumping down in an armchair by the electric fire. His concentration was at nil, and not even the sports pages interested him. Eventually he got up and walked backwards and forwards across the room. On the one hand, he could not help imagining the worst, and on the other he knew that a perfectly satisfactory explanation was possible. But on the other hand . . .

  He noticed the cupboard door by the fireside was ajar, and he moved to shut it. But as he did so, he heard a sound. He opened the door wide, and put his ear to the wall. Nothing. But he was sure he had heard something. What was it people did to listen through a barrier? A glass held tight against it? Galvanised into action now, he rushed into the kitchen and found a tumbler. Good God! He heard it again, and it sounded like a woman's muffled cry, very faint, so that he could hardly hear it.

  His heart racing, he rushed out of his house and into Clem's yard. He put his shoulder to the door and with the strength of a young man in a panic he burst inside, shouting as he went, "Susie! Susie! Where are you?"

  And then he found her, bound and gagged, sobbing and shivering. He picked her up as if she were a swaddled newborn babe and made for home.

  AT LAST SUSIE WAS FREE, WRAPPED IN A RUG, SITTING WITH A MUG of hot chocolate in her hands and smiling weakly at Douglas. He had been amazed at the intricate way she had been bound, and had noticed a swelling on the back of her head.

  "Susie, you poor darling," he said over and over again. "What hurts most?"

  Finally she rubbed the bruise, and said her head throbbed. "He hit me there." She winced and added that she supposed it had been a man. She hadn't heard or seen him coming. Her arms were bound so she could not see her watch and could only guess at the time from when it got dark.

  The telephone rang, and Douglas said, "That'll be your dad. Shall I talk to him?"

  Susie shook her head, and made to get up.

  "Stay there!" Douglas ordered. "I'll do it."

  She shook her head. "No, bring me the phone and I'll set him straight," she said.

  "He was going to send for the police," Douglas warned, and added that she was very welcome to stay the night. He would make her quite safe from marauders, including himself. They stared at each other, and the telephone continued to ring. Douglas finally picked it up and brought it to her.

  "Hello? Yes, Dad, it's me. And for goodness' sake, calm down." Susie held the phone away from her ear, and Douglas could hear the loud ranting clearly. She frowned, took a deep breath, and said into the phone, "Listen, Dad, I'm quite safe. Just got held up. I'm fine, and staying here with a girlfriend. Yes, in Douglas's house. That'll be three of us. Safety in numbers! I'll see you tomorrow after work. 'Bye. Love to Mum. And Dad, I'm a big girl now."

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  NEXT MORNING, DOUGLAS GOT UP EARLY AND MADE breakfast. He took a tray into the small back bedroom where he had settled Susie, who was wearing a pair of his pyjamas, into a narrow single bed.

  She smiled at him. "Cool! Breakfast in bed!" She was feeling much better, she assured him, and patted the bed for him to sit down. "What's the time?" she asked.

  He said it was quite early, but he had to get to work, and he supposed she might want to, too. But there was something serious he had to say to her. She nodded, and he began.

  "We have to tell the police, Susie. I'll come with you, and we can ask for the cop Mum knows."

  She interrupted him at once. "No, Douglas! No, no, no! I'm scared enough as it is. If I tell the police, that man will know it. Them kind always know, and then he'll be after me. I can't face all of that. Please don't make me, Douglas. I'm fine now, but I might not be, next time."

  Douglas sighed. "Well, I'm not sure. That man is a violent criminal, whoever he is, and we'd be breaking the law not reporting him." He hesitated. "Look," he said, "will you agree to me telling my mother? She's had loads of experience with this sort of thing, and does have contact with her inspector friend. I know she'll be sympathetic and advise us what to do. Otherwise, I think I shall have to insist." He trailed off, looking pleadingly at her.

  Eventually she replied, "Couldn't we just tell her you saw a man next door to your house, going in and out? I can make a pretty good guess at the time. I'd just left work and had come down Gordon Street. Could we do that, just at first, anyway? Oh, and by the way, Granddad left me his house in his will. Did I tell you that? That's why I was there."

  Douglas shook his head, amazed. She spoke as if this was an unimportant afterthought, when it could be a vital piece of information. But now he wouldn't make too much of it. At least she'd agreed that he could tell Lois some of it. First things first.

  "That's a very small bed, Goldilocks," he said with a grin, leaning over and kissing the top of her head. "Next time, we'll try Father Bear's bed, shall we?"

  "You're joking!" she said. "Go away, you big idiot. I'm going to finish this and then get up." She realised now that she felt completely at ease with him. Must have been the bash on the head.

  LOIS WAS HAVING A COFFEE AFTER LUNCH IN HER OFFICE WHEN Douglas rang. "Oh, hi, Douglas. Did she turn up?" She could tell from his voice that there'd been a happy ending.

  He said that Susie had, and had given him a satisfactory explanation. "They always do," Lois said philosophically.

  Douglas was anxious to get Lois into serious listening mode, and said quickly, "But that's not the only reason I rang. Listen, Mum, I saw that recluse bloke yesterday. Soon after I got home. He looked very furtive and ran across Clem's yard and disappeared. I watched for quite a time, but he didn't come back again."

  Lois was instantly serious. "What d'you mean, you watched for quite a time? How long? Did you go and knock at the door? You know he's wanted by the police. Have you reported it?"

  Douglas said nothing for a few seconds, then muttered, "Um, no. Thought it was better to tell you."

  "Douglas Meade," Lois said firmly. "You are not telling me the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway. You'd better come round this evening and make a bit more sense of it. And bring Susie, if you like."

  "Yes, Mum," Douglas said, and rang off.

  Lois frowned and stared at the phone. Should she ring Cowgill straightaway? Douglas's story tied in with her sighting of the man driving towards Tresham. She decided reluctantly that she wouldn't. One day wasn't going to make much difference. Oh, yes, it was, her conscience told her, but she ignored it. After all, Douglas was her son.

  She looked at her watch. She had to go into Tresham to see Hazel, and wondered if a call at Braeside might be a good idea. She hadn't yet checked to see if Mrs. Blairgowrie was happy with Dot. Maybe the old lady had seen comings and goings out of her bedroom window.

  MRS. BLAIRGOWRIE HAD A VISITOR, AND IT WAS NOT LOIS. THE old lady sat in her chair facing the window where she watched birds. Opposite her, hidden by the curtain from outside view, though there was nobody in the garden, sat the skinny man. His face was pale and haggard, and he looked thinner than ever. "Oh, God
," he said, "what am I going to do?"

  The old lady's reaction was strange. She laughed. "We'll think of something," she said. "But what were you doing in the old man's house anyway? And why on earth did you wallop the girl, you fool? You could have hidden until she'd gone, couldn't you? Or gone back next door—you still have a key, don't you? Mind you, if I were you I'd be a hundred miles away by now."

  "I had a job to do. One of them little books packages, as Al calls them, had been delivered that morning. I couldn't leave it in my house. Police would be in there as soon as they discovered I'd done a moonlight flit. I couldn't take it there and then, because the woman was yelling and screaming and I had to get her out of the way. So after that, and when I'd arranged Clem's resting place, I fetched the pack and hid it inside the box room in the old man's house. Reckoned nobody would turn out his things for a week or two. I meant to come back for it as soon as I'd sorted the black woman."

  "Not sorted her like you sorted Clem, I hope!"

  "No, no. She's safe with Al. But she'd been trouble and it was getting light, too late for me to go back for the package. Clem could have been found by then. And anyway, I reckoned I'd have a chance to get it before his family emptied his house."

  "Sounds a very stupid plan. You've excelled yourself!"

  "After that I couldn't screw up courage to go back. Cops around like flies. All of that. You know I get these panic attacks . . . Then Clem's daughter cleared his house much sooner than I expected. I was desperate. Thought they'd be sure to have found the package. I was terrified what Al would say, and knew I had to go back and check."

  "And had they found it?"

  "No. Blimey, what a relief! Still there where I'd put it, in a space behind a drawer. I was just reaching for it when I heard the girl. I shut the drawer with the pack still hidden. I was trapped then, so I made myself scarce as I heard her coming upstairs. She was opening every door in the house. What I did was impulse, Babs. She went into the box room, and I panicked. Put her out of action, not thinking what would happen to her. I took the package and spent the night sleeping rough. Well, not sleeping, just trying to think what to do next. I reckon it's all up with me."

  "Don't be ridiculous. Did she see you when you hit her?"

  "No, I'm sure she didn't. Went down an' out at once."

  "Then how would she know it was you? You got nothing to worry about, as far as I can see. Which is not very far, of course." She laughed again, and added, "Where are you going now?"

  "Well, I don't fancy another night with the down-an'-outs. I thought I might lie up with you for a few days until Al tells us what's happening. He needs what I've got for him, so he'll be around."

  IN THE SEBASTOPOL OFFICE, HAZEL GREETED LOIS WITH A BIG smile. "That Andrew's been in again," she said. "Asked anxiously if you'd made up your mind yet. Said he'd been thinking over your suggestion and still thought it was a great idea."

  "Did he mention money?" Lois said sharply.

  Hazel nodded. "Yep," she said. "Said he'd been counting his pennies and had a good bit to put into the business if a watertight arrangement could be made."

  "Get him on the phone, could you? I'll speak to him now. No point in delaying. I mentioned it to Derek."

  "What did he say?"

  "What he always says," Lois said, smiling.

  "' You make the decisions, me duck,'" said Hazel, in a very good imitation of Derek Meade. She looked up Andrew Young's number and dialled. "Hello, Andrew? I have Mrs. Meade for you." She got up and signalled Lois to come and sit at the desk. "Boss talk," she said, and disappeared to put on the kettle for coffee.

  After she had arranged for a time when Andrew, Josie, and she could get together, Lois told him to turn up at next Monday's team meeting, when he could meet the rest of the staff. "In the meantime," she said, "I need references. Do that pronto, can you? Sooner we get going, the better."

  "Decisive, very," said Hazel, when Lois put down the phone. "What did he say about refs?"

  "Said he had them all ready and waiting. Looks like we might be in luck there, Hazel. Now, I must get going. I shall call on Mrs. Blairgowrie on my way. Have you had any feedback from Dot?"

  Hazel shook her head. "Nope. But then, you know our Dot. A law unto herself, unless she gets herself into a pickle. I expect she's been all right. She's good with old ladies."

  Lois said she was sure she would find out. For a blind lady, Mrs. Blairgowrie seemed very observant.

  When she had gone, Hazel thought about that last remark. It was the way Mrs. M said it, with just a touch of acid in her voice.

  TWENTY-NINE

  "SOD IT! WHO'S THAT, BABS?" THE SKINNY MAN HEARD THE knock at the door and shot to his feet, looking around wildly for a hiding place.

  "Don't panic! And don't call me Babs. Just go quietly out of the back door and you'll see an old washhouse on the right. Go in there and hide behind the pile of rubbish. I'll call you when it's safe."

  He vanished, moving quietly as always. There's nothing to him, thought Mrs. Blairgowrie as she put on her dark glasses and took up her stick. She knew what her son would say. A puff of wind would blow him away. But he wouldn't mean a puff of wind.

  She looked through the spy hole on the front door, and saw Mrs. Meade. She liked this woman, and opened the door.

  "Hello, Mrs. Blairgowrie, how are you? It's Mrs. Meade. I'm just making a routine call to see how you are getting on with Dot Nimmo." Lois noticed for the first time that the old lady's fingers were nicotine stained. Not exactly lavender and old lace.

  "Come in, my dear, come in. I'm glad to have company. I've been alone all day, so it's nice to see you."

  They sat down, and Lois offered to make Mrs. Blairgowrie a cup of coffee, but she declined, saying it was not long since she'd lunched. She answered Lois's questions positively, said she was more than satisfied with Dot, who certainly brightened up the house while she was here. "Once you get used to her, Mrs. Meade, she's a ray of sunshine in this gloomy old house."

  Lois remembered Dot's report about the man who'd come in and shouted at the old thing. And before that, a similar account from Bill. No wonder the poor woman was pleased to have a ray of sunshine in her life. A gloomy life, of necessity. She looked out of the window at the sunlit garden. "A pity you can't see the birds," she said. "It's obviously the best birds' caff in town! Do you manage to fill up the feeders by yourself?"

  Mrs. Blairgowrie assured her that she could do most things by touching and feeling with her stick. "So long as nobody moves anything without my knowing," she said, "I manage very well."

  Lois made a mental note to remind Dot to replace everything exactly where she found it, and took her leave. As she got into her car, she glanced across at the terrace. Nothing moved. She noticed a vase of flowers on Douglas's windowsill, and knew that it was the last thing he would think of. A woman's touch, as sure as eggs is eggs. She remembered that he and possibly Susie were coming over to Farnden later on, and sighed. How was she going to put it to Cowgill? She would certainly have to tell him anything important, whatever the young ones said.

  And another thing. She had noticed two dirty mugs on a side table in Mrs. Blairgowrie's sitting room. So she had had recent company. Cowgill would no doubt be interested in that, too.

  THE DISAGREEMENT BETWEEN SUSIE AND DOUGLAS ON THE WAY over to Long Farnden had turned into a full- scale row by the time they stopped outside the Meades' house. Lois saw them from the window, and walked quickly to the door. She was glad Susie had come, too, even though they looked grim. She watched them get out of the car and come up the drive, Susie lagging behind.

  "Hi, you two. Come along in. Go in the sitting room, Douglas, and I'll get Gran to make us some coffee." She offered food, but they said they had eaten. Then she remembered that Gran had gone to see Mrs. Pickering, cleaner Floss's mother. The two had become good friends, and now that the Pickerings were moving house, Gran spent a good deal of time there helping with sorting and packing.

  Lois left the do
ors open while she made coffee, and could hear no sounds of friendly chatting. She guessed what had caused the argument. There was something they had not told her, and they disagreed about whether they should now. She put some biscuits and mugs on a tray and went back to join them.

  "So how are you now, Susie?" she said, and they both looked alarmed. Lois was puzzled. What had she said? She knew that the girl had been very upset at the death of her grandfather. "It must have been such a shock for you," she continued.

  "How did you know, Mum?" Douglas said, frowning at Susie.

  "Well, of course I knew! What are you talking about? Poor old Clem. Naturally Susie was upset."