by S FEATES
We both hung up and I switched off the mobile. I was shaking, the phone call had been an adrenaline rush and I was still buzzing. I was beginning to love the art of deception and looked forward to the weekend to continue the rush.
The next day I made contact with an old mate of mine who ran a second hand car dealership on London Road, Southend. Kevin Grimes owed me a favour, I had put a good few punters his way and he had benefitted by offloading a lot of dodgy motors, making him a fortune in the process. I knew he had an old Rolls Royce Silver Cloud stuck at the back of the lot, he couldn't shift it as it was a gas guzzler and expensive to run. I wanted to borrow it over the weekend and convinced him that it would benefit from a long run. The roller would be the perfect car to turn up in at Hillsdown Cattery, first impressions and all that. I had already liberated an old set of number plates from a scrap yard, I intended to swop the plates on the roller before I went to Kent, just as a precaution. The route I was taking avoided the Dartford crossing. There was a number plate recognition system on the crossing to identify cars that had not paid the toll so I opted for the Blackwall tunnel to cross the Thames. It was a longer way round but more cautious. I needed to remain invisible as much as I could. Kev was a smart man and asked no questions, I implied that I was taking a married woman out for the day and I wanted to impress her. He bought the story, called me a lucky bastard and asked if she had a sister. After talking about the old days over a couple of beers I told Kev that I would pick the car up on Sunday morning and have it back first thing Monday. He said no problem and even offered to fill it with petrol.
Everything was falling into place. I purchased a decent suit from a charity shop along with a tweed cap and some leather driving gloves. I put the whole ensemble on when I got home and studied myself in the mirror. You look like a proper country gent I thought to myself. Along with the clothes I had called in at a joke and novelty shop where I bought a false moustache and some gum Arabic to stick it on with. Wearing the tash and a pair of sunglasses was a subtle, yet perfect disguise. I had also done my homework and read up on cats and their welfare just in case. Abyssinian cats are short haired with a distinctive tabby coat. Named after the old empire, now called Ethiopia, they are one of the most popular breeds in the United States. I decided to use this knowledge and say that my American wife, who I had not long married and brought to England, bred them mainly for export to the US where she had a good reputation for supplying high quality, healthy cats. Although in my defence I would say that I had not much interest in the business as I was away a lot on business of my own and it was all my wife's expertise. By making her an American I could avoid any pitfalls as to why David Graham had no knowledge of her. Genius!
I was all ready to go, what was going to happen when I got there was still in abeyance, it would have to be a case of working on the fly, dependent on what I encountered there. It could all go horribly wrong or just fall into place like the Jackie Nolan hit. The uncertainty was part of the thrill.
4
It was Sunday morning. I woke early and showered. After feeding Jackie I had a couple of slices of toast and a cup of strong black coffee. I was too nervous to eat much. Nerves were a good thing, it gave you an edge and kept you focused. I put on my new outfit and sent Sylvie a text message telling her I was leaving shortly and that I had fed the cat so she probably wouldn't need anything else today. I left the apartment and went down to the underground garage where I kept my car. The car was an old Ford Focus, reliable and cheap to run. It would serve its purpose until I could afford a decent car that matched my ambition. I had a couple of German motors in mind but they would need some serious cash and as of now they were out of my league.
The journey down the A127 to Southend was uneventful and I soon arrived at Kevin's car lot. He came out with the keys for the Roller which was already parked out front. The car was clean and polished to within an inch of its life. I was genuinely surprised and pleased with the result.
''What do you think?'' Kev beamed as he handed me the keys.
''What can I say, I didn't expect this, it's perfect thanks mate.''
''No problem, can't have you making a crap impression on the lucky lady.'' He wiped a mark off the bonnet with his cuff as he spoke.
''I will make it worth your while Kev. I have big plans and I will soon be in the market for a new motor. You will be my first port of call. But I don't want any of the cut and shut shit that you offload on the muppets that come through your door.'' I laughed as I took the piss.
''You wound me deeply Steve, all my cars are genuine low mileage, one, church going, lady owner and with full service histories. To suggest otherwise would have me calling my lawyers.'' Kevin had a job keeping a straight face as he tried to defend his reputation.
''Listen I'm only joking, I will look after this beauty and have her back in the same condition on Monday. Thanks a million.''
As they shook hands Kev couldn't resist one last remark, ''If there are any holes made by high heels in the roof lining or stains on the back seat when it comes back the next car you will be buying will be a Rolls Royce I promise you.''
I flicked a finger at him and climbed in the motor. The car purred into life and I slowly pulled out into the traffic to make my way towards London.
It took me nearly two hours to do the journey down to Maidstone, the Sunday Traffic was relatively sparse. It was a cold day and so many of the usual travellers had opted to stay at home rather than face a cold day on the beach with the kids.
Before I left Essex I had pulled over down a secluded country lane where I quickly changed the number plates and once I was back in the car I used the vanity mirror to apply the false moustache. I placed the tweed cap on my head, gloves on my hands and set off. I had put on the sunglasses although the gloomy weather didn't really justify them.
Once I had reached the outskirts of Maidstone I pulled into a lay-by to get my bearings. The Cattery was situated off Boxley Road down an unmade lane which served only the Cattery. I drove through Maidstone and headed west, I had to pass under the M20 as I made my way along Boxley Road searching for the entrance to the lane. I just about saw the faded sign, half hidden by an overgrown hedge, that read HILLSDOWN CATTERY 500YDS. Taking a sharp left I drove down the lane to the end where I was confronted by a white five bar gate and a sign which said PRIVATE - CALLERS BY APPOINTMENT ONLY. There was no sign of anyone so I bibbed the horn and got out to wait for David Graham to appear.
After about five minutes a man came up to the gate, he was walking slowly and hunched over as if in pain. I walked up to the gate with my gloved hand extended. As he pulled the gate towards him he shook my hand and welcomed me.
''Good day Mr Graham.'' I said as I helped him with the gate.
''Good day to you Mr Johnson, glad you could make it,'' he didn't look too well, ''you will have to forgive me but I have not been myself as of late. My what a fine looking car, a real classic.''
''Yes indeed, it was my father's car. Look if you want to postpone I will understand.'' I hoped he would be too much of a gentleman to accept my offer. I was right.
'' No, no. You have come a long way. I won't let a little thing like cancer screw up the chance of a deal. Bring the car through and I will close the gate.''
I was stunned at the revelation that he had cancer, I knew he was unwell but this sounded terminal. Perhaps there was a way to use it to my advantage. I parked the car out of sight of the lane and got out. David Graham was waiting by the front door to his house.
''Come in, I will make some tea. I am sorry to say that Sunday lunch is off, not up to it you see.'' He put on a brave face as he gave me the good news that we wouldn't be seen in public.
''Not a problem I assure you. I won't trouble you too long as you are not well. How long have you had it? if you don't mind me asking.'' I was genuinely interested.
''I knew I was ill but not why. I have been having tests for months at a private clinic. Yesterday I received a letter giving me the results in
black and white.'' He pointed to an open letter on the side.
I glanced at the letter from the Grantham Clinic. It confirmed that he had cancer of the pancreas and that it had spread to his liver.
''I am so sorry, is there anything they can do for you?''
David finished making the tea and passed me a cup across the kitchen table. ''No, I ignored the symptoms for too long and by the time I did do something it seems I was too late.''
''It's a bit harsh telling you in a letter.'' I was outraged on his behalf.
''No, they had told me before the letter arrived, I just wanted it written down so that I couldn't deny it to myself. The doctors were very good, sympathetic and explained everything. It seems I only have a matter of months to a year to live. That is why I am selling up. The money invested in this place will be split between a cat charity and a trust fund for my Nephew Simon.'' He winced as he took a sip of his tea.
''Are you on any medication? you are obviously in some discomfort.'' It would be handy to know for what I had in mind and where they were.
''Yes, I have strong pain relief and equally strong sleeping pills to get me through the night. Which reminds me I must take a couple of painkillers now.'' He rose from the table and went to a cupboard by the butler sink. Inside was an array of medications, he took down two boxes of pills and put them on the table.
''These are for the pain,'' he said, taking two from the plastic shrink-wrapped strip and swallowing them with a mouthful of tea, ''and these little marvels help me sleep like a baby.'' He pointed to the other box.
I didn't know what else to say so I suggested that we get straight to business so I could leave him in peace.
David Graham took great pride in showing me around his property. The cottage was about two hundred years old he reckoned. It was all low ceilings and oak beams, large open fireplaces were in all the downstairs rooms. The kitchen, which I had already seen, had a large AGA cooker, solid oak units with granite worktops and a large American style fridge freezer. The floor was original Welsh slate paving. Upstairs was equally impressive with three double bedrooms and a large bathroom which housed a Victorian style suite, possibly the genuine article by the looks of them. It was the kind of house I could easily live in.
After the tour inside we went to see the out buildings that provided the accommodation and breeding area for the cats. It was out here that David perked up as he discussed his passion for cats.
''Tell me more about your wife Mr Johnson, what's her name? I am sure I will know her.''
I gave him the spiel that I had memorised, she was an American, not been here too long and she was unknown outside of America blah, blah. He seemed happy enough with my explanation. I dodged any other awkward questions and gave him my limited knowledge of Abyssinians.
''Not my cup of tea Abyssinians, but I do understand that they are desired across the pond.''
''Yes indeed, they certainly are.'' I glanced at my watch.
''Shall we go back inside and I will make another pot of tea and we can discuss what you make of the place and you can tell me more about your wife's Abyssinians.''
I welcomed the suggestion, but I was all out of fake knowledge and wanted to get a wiggle on, it was getting late. ''That would be fine by me sir. By the way I forgot to mention, you were recommended to me by a friend of mine, Jackie Nolan.''
David stopped and pondered the name. ''Jackie Nolan...oh yes I remember her now, charming woman. Spent a small fortune on a top quality Siamese. That reminds me, I have still got the paperwork from the breeder confirming the pedigree and all the legal stuff. Thought I might have heard from her before now.''
''Perhaps I could save you the bother and deliver it for you. I am seeing her tomorrow, she is a great friend of my wife.'' He obviously had not heard anything about her suicide.
''That would be most helpful, thank you.''
We went back into the kitchen and I offered to help make the tea. David let me assist as he wanted to use the toilet.
''Have to dash to the loo, I don't look forward to it but I've no choice. Damn painful experience I can tell you, it's like pissing razor blades.'' He went off to climb the stairs chuckling at his own wit.
Now was my opportunity, I went over to the kitchen table and picked up the box of sleeping pills. Taking out all the plastic strips I quickly pushed out the pills and put the empty strips back in the box. I still had my driving gloves on which made hard work of the task but I wasn't leaving any evidence. I quickly ground up the pills between two desert spoons and dropped the powder into the steaming tea in David's cup. I was still stirring it when he came back.
''That's better, painful but better. I see you've made the tea well done.'' He pulled a chair out and sat at the table.
I made sure there were no telltale signs floating on the top of the tea and then handed him the cup. He started sipping it immediately. I had no idea how long it would be before the pills took effect.
''Now down to business, you say that you will pay the asking price, I am grateful for that. The last thing I wanted was time wasters. I have a small window of opportunity to sell and if that got out I would be at the mercy of every charlatan hoping to make a quick profit, so thank you.''
I waffled for a while buying time and hoping that the drugs would kick in. The tea had been finished at least fifteen minutes earlier and I was beginning to doubt their efficacy.
''How shoon....how soon can yoo.....can you...,'' as he spoke David's words became slurred, ''I'm shlorry..I don't...'' His head slumped forward and he began snoring loudly.
I shook him a couple of times to make sure he was out for the count. He was not waking up anytime soon. Excellent!
Phase two. I went out to the garage that I had been shown earlier. Inside was a Range Rover that David had said was to be included in the sale. The keys were still in the ignition. I looked around the garage and soon found the items I needed. A length of one inch diameter hosepipe, some gaffer tape and an old cushion. I poked one end of the hose into the exhaust outlet on the vehicle and secured it with the tape, I then opened the rear side window on the driver's side and placed the other end of the hose through the gap. I filled the space next to the hose with the cushion and wound the window up to hold everything in place. All I needed now was to bring the sleeping Mr Graham out to the vehicle and position him behind the wheel.
David Graham wasn't a big man and due to his ill health not very fat. I managed to hoist him over my shoulder and carry him out to the garage. It was a bit awkward placing him behind the wheel in the driving seat but in the end I managed. Once I was satisfied with his positioning I leaned in and started the engine. There was, thankfully, a full tank of fuel so there was no chance of it running out prematurely. I quickly shut the door as the deadly fumes were already flooding the vehicle. For a brief while I stood and watched to make sure that he never woke up. Satisfied I went back into the house to set up the scene.
I washed the cup I had been using and put it away. Taking the letter from the clinic I placed it on the table next to the remaining cup and the empty packet of sleeping pills. Next I found the mobile phone that belonged to David and erased my call history and that of Jackie Nolan. On the side there was a laptop computer, it was on and the screen saver was busy blowing bubbles across the screen. I tapped the space bar with my gloved finger and the screen burst into life. It took only a minute to access the word processing program that came with the computer. I opened it and tapped out a brief suicide note.
IT IS GETTING TOO MUCH TO BEAR. THE PAIN IS BECOMING INTOLLERABLE AND I AM TOO MUCH OF A COWARD TO SEE IT THROUGH TO THE END. PLEASE FORGIVE ME BUT I HAVE MADE MY DECISION.
I didn't print the note out I thought that it would be better left on screen for the investigators to find. There was one last thing to do I had to find any record of the sale made to Jackie Nolan and destroy it. Also I had to find the pedigree certificate for the Siamese cat now known as Jackie.
It wasn't difficult, David Graham was a
meticulous record keeper and everything was filed neatly. I obtained the documents and put them in my coat pocket. I walked out of the cottage closing the door behind me. I walked back to the out buildings where the cats lived and made my way in. There were a lot of cats all at various stages of growth. I knew what I was looking for and it proved to be difficult. Out of all the cats in that building there was only one that was anywhere close to matching Jackie for age , size and markings. I took a chance and took the cat, there were plenty of transport cages lying about so I put the cat in one and placed it on the back seat of the Roller. As I turned around I nearly tripped over a kitten that had followed me out. The kitten was meowing and playing with the lace on my shoe. It was a pretty little thing, a Persian by the look of it and pure white. I decided to take it with me, it would make a nice gift for Sylvie.
One last check on the comatose David Graham and then I would be away. He had been in there for the best part of an hour so with any luck he was already dead. I closed the garage doors and got into the Rolls Royce and drove through the gate. Remembering to shut it and lock it I got back in the car and made my way back down the lane and towards London.
5
It was late by the time I got back to Brentwood so I parked the Roller in the garage, I would take it back to Kevin first thing. I had already changed the number plates back and disposed of the fakes along with the moustache and tweed cap. I would put the suit in a charity clothing bin at the local supermarket tomorrow to get shot of it. With any luck there would be a well dressed man wandering around some third world country by next week. I took the two kittens up to my apartment and hid them in the airing cupboard. I would give Sylvie her Persian tomorrow and arrange to meet Tony Nolan as soon as possible. Exhausted I went to bed but couldn't sleep, the events of that day were buzzing around my head like an annoying fly. It had once again been too easy.