When Night Closes in

by Iris Gower

  She finished her drink and ordered another glass of wine, staring at the group of people coming through the door. A tall figure of a man detached himself from the crowd; the cow of a barmaid had lied. Sally began to smile.

  ‘Well, Matthew, if you are taking me home tonight then I’m a very happy girl!’

  Lowri sat at her desk and rubbed her temples. It was so stuffy in the office that she could feel a headache coming on. She thought of opening a window but she knew Sally would protest at the draught. It was either too cold or too hot in the office; there seemed no happy medium, and the air-conditioning had finally given out.

  She rested her head in her hands and thought of Lainey’s visit. He had raised her hopes, claiming he had something to tell her. He had sat in her little room and talked about Jon, about false passports, about the possibility of someone posing as Jon. It became clear that the police were no nearer to finding him than they had been before.

  Lowri picked up her bag and rummaged in its untidy depths, hoping to find some painkillers. She was unlucky. ‘Damn! No pills, just when I’ve got the mother of all headaches coming on.’

  ‘I’ve got some,’ Sally looked up from her computer screen, ‘in my bag there. Hang on, I’ll get them for you.’

  Lowri took the tablets and thanked her. ‘I’ll just pop in the Ladies and get some water,’ she said. It was cooler in the rest room, as it was euphemistically called. The windows were open and Lowri breathed in the cold air gratefully. She helped herself to water and swallowed the pills before sinking onto the one seat that had been provided for the comfort of women employees.

  She would have to talk to Mr Watson again, ask his advice. He was wise and cool-headed and would offer an objective viewpoint on the whole sorry mess. He might even be able to get something out of the police. First Ken Major and then Lainey had raised her hopes, only to dash them again.

  But she could not speak to Mr Watson today. He was away, in the country, a trip he did every few weeks or so. Sally claimed he had a girlfriend tucked away somewhere. Lowri’s face softened. Even old Mr Watson had the right to his private life, his own secrets.

  Sally looked up as Lowri returned to the office, her face grim. ‘There’s been a phone call for you, your mum I think. She wants you to ring her back as soon as poss.’

  ‘Thanks, Sally.’ Lowri picked up the phone and dialled the number of the house in Summer’s Dean. It was Charles who answered. Lowri asked to speak to her mother.

  ‘Your mother is out for the day, I haven’t seen her since breakfast-time.’ The phone went dead.

  ‘She’s out,’ Lowri said and Sally shrugged.

  ‘Then she couldn’t have been ringing from home, could she?’ She paused and examined her nails. ‘Want to go out tonight?’

  ‘Why, have you fixed me up with Ken again?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.’

  ‘All right, I’d love to come.’ It would give her the opportunity to ask Ken what exactly he knew about Jon. ‘Can you pick me up?’

  ‘Sorry, my car’s sick,’ Sally said, ‘I hoped you’d drive.’

  ‘No problem,’ Lowri said.

  ‘That’s settled then.’

  Later, as Lowri drove home through the evening traffic, she wondered if she should tackle Sally as well as Ken. It was becoming increasingly clear that Sally knew more about Jon than she was letting on. It seemed quite possible that she had stayed at the Swan Hotel with him at some time. It was a mystery what Jon would see in Sally, though, she was hardly the big-business tycoon, she had little money and even less brainpower. Or was the dumb-blonde routine simply an act?

  ‘Lowri my girl,’ she said out loud, ‘you are becoming a bitter and twisted woman!’ She showered and put on her dressing-gown, made a cup of tea and some toast and sat in front of the gas fire.

  It was colder now, with a bite of winter in the air, but the hot tea and the warmth of the fire cheered her. She was even looking forward to the challenge of a night out with Sally and the boys. Lowri wondered what to wear. Should she be the vamp with the hope of coaxing some information out of Ken or Matthew or should she simply be businesslike and tough? She shrugged; it was a gamble either way.

  The phone rang and Lowri rose in one supple movement, half expecting the call to be from Sally, but it was Timmy’s voice that came over the wire.

  ‘Hi, what can I do for you?’ Lowri said. There was a long silence and then she heard Timmy clear his throat. It sounded as if he had been crying.

  ‘It’s Sally, I think she’s had enough of me, we’ve had an awful row.’ Lowri could almost feel his unhappiness.

  ‘She’s probably just in a mood. She’ll come round.’

  ‘I’ve tried to get hold of her but she’s not answering her phone. And I know she’s had her eye on another chap for some time.’

  ‘She didn’t say anything about you at work today,’ Lowri said.

  ‘She’s probably keeping it for tonight, you know the sort of thing, women enjoy complaining about how awful we men are,’ he said woefully.

  ‘Maybe,’ Lowri said, making a face at herself in the small mirror hanging in the hall. She looked pale, she noticed, and there were shadows under her eyes.

  ‘What if I speak to her, see what she has to say about you. Is that any good?’ Lowri felt the cold of the floor beneath her feet and winced, rubbing one foot against her leg in an attempt to bring life back into her toes. ‘I’m picking her up later.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Oh, about seven thirty, eight o’clock, why?’

  ‘Just wondering. Right then, you’ve got my number haven’t you?’

  ‘Better give it to me again. Hang on, I’ll get a pen.’ Lowri scribbled the number on the corner of the TV magazine. ‘OK, I’ll speak to you later.’

  Back in the sitting-room she pulled a chair nearer the fire and put her make-up bag on it. She shivered, perhaps she was getting a cold. Or perhaps she was just becoming a nervous wreck.

  As she outlined her eyebrows and padded shadow onto her lids she tried to rehearse what she would say to Sally. How could she begin?

  Look, I know there’s something you’re hiding from me, Sally. No, that sounded like a jealous lover. How about: come clean, I know what’sgoing on here and I want you to tell me about it or I’ll go to the police. That sounded weak, pathetic, like a character in an old film. And if Matthew chanced to hear her, he would just laugh and remind her he was the police.

  She dressed warmly and comfortably in black trousers and a black polo-neck sweater and brushed her hair until it shone. At last she could procrastinate no longer, it was time to go and pick up Sally.

  It was cold in the Mazda. Lowri shivered as she settled herself in the driving seat and put the key into the ignition. She wondered why she felt such a reluctance to start the car, was she really so afraid of facing Sally? Or was she more afraid of what she might hear about Jon?

  The roads were clear as she drove away from the house. A light rain had begun to fall and cursing her luck Lowri turned on the wipers; she hated driving in the rain. The lights of the oncoming cars dazzled her and for a moment she panicked. She drew the car into the kerb and leaned on the wheel, wondering if she should simply turn around and go home.

  A woman walking a dog came towards the car and knocked on the window. Lowri wound it down.

  ‘Are you all right, dear?’ The woman had a scarf tied tightly around her head. She was plump and homely, her eyes crinkled in concern.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ Lowri forced a smile. ‘I just don’t like driving in the rain, stupid of me I know but there it is.’

  ‘Oh well, my late husband was the same, dear, mind you he had bad eyes. You got bad eyes, have you?’

  ‘No, no.’ Lowri began to wind up the window and hesitated. ‘Thank you for your concern but I’d better get on, I’m meeting my friend and I’m late already. Have you got the time by any chance?’

  The woman consulted the watch on her plu
mp wrist, holding up her arm to catch the light from the street lamp. ‘Just past eight. You take care then and next time it rains, take a taxi.’ The woman’s face broke into a broad smile. ‘You’re so nice and there’s me thinking all you modern young girls so brazen, frightened of nothing.’

  ‘Ah but I’m past twenty-five, not really so young any more,’ Lowri said, slipping the car into gear. The woman’s smile widened.

  ‘You’re just a little chick compared to me, now go on out and enjoy yourself, make the most of it, that’s my advice.’

  Lowri felt more cheerful as she joined the broken line of traffic heading along the rain-swept street. She squared her shoulders. She had never been a moral coward and she did not intend to start being one now. She would tackle Sally first; she would be alone and perhaps more ready to talk. ‘Nothing like hoping!’

  The sound of her own voice made Lowri feel lonely and she turned on the radio. Music filled the car, loud, with no melody, only an insistent head-throbbing beat. She switched it off impatiently.

  At last she drew up outside the end house in the terrace where Sally lived. Lowri switched off the engine and climbed out of the Mazda. As she walked up the path she saw light spilling out from the open front door.

  Lowri knocked and waited. There was no sound from inside. Somewhere a dog barked; the noise was lonely, mournful on the still, misty air. She knocked again, louder this time. The door swung wider and she stepped inside.

  ‘Sally, are you in?’ There was no answer.

  ‘It’s me,’ Lowri called. She moved further into the hallway. ‘Are you there, Sal?’ She hesitated and then went towards the living-room. It was empty, though the lights were on, and the images on the mute television screen mouthed unintelligible words. Sally must have become tired of waiting for her. But there was an eerie, empty feel about the place.

  ‘Sally, where are you?’ Her voice was shaky – she was suddenly very frightened. She should pull herself together – she was falling apart, imagining things.

  She walked back into the hallway and looked around her, wondering what to do. Perhaps Sally had just slipped out for a moment, gone next door on some errand. Though even as she stood there, Lowri knew that was a remote possibility. Sally was always raring to go out – it was a wonder she had not been standing on the step waiting for Lowri to turn up.

  She headed for the door at the end of the hallway. It was closed and from inside, Lowri heard the sound of the kettle coming to the boil. She sighed in relief. Sally was in the kitchen, no doubt making one of her endless cups of coffee while she waited.

  ‘Sally, didn’t you hear me calling?’ Lowri pushed open the door just as the kettle clicked off. The room was empty, the back door swinging wide, letting in the cold. ‘Sally?’

  Lowri moved towards the back garden. ‘Sally!’ The garden was small, nowhere to hide, Sally was not out there.

  ‘Sally, where are you?’

  A dog began to bark in response to her voice and quickly, Lowri went inside and pulled the door shut. ‘Sally?’ She looked around, wondering what she should do next. Perhaps she should check upstairs.

  The bedrooms were in darkness but Lowri switched on the lights, all of them, and looked in each of the three small rooms. Everything seemed normal, nothing was out of place. In spite of the open doors, nothing in the house had been smashed or vandalized.

  Could Sally have gone out and forgotten to close the doors? It did not seem likely. She ran back downstairs into the living-room and noticed Sally’s coat and bag were on the chair. Sally would never go anywhere without her stock of make-up and it was far too cold to leave her coat behind.

  Back in the hall, Lowri picked up the phone. She got through to Lainey right away. ‘I think you should get over here,’ she said. ‘My friend Sally seems to have gone missing.’

  His reassuring voice asked for the address and she told him, her voice shaking. ‘Be as quick as you can,’ she said, ‘I’ve got a feeling something terrible has happened.’

  14

  ‘You’ve got to believe me, Jim, I’ve got nothing to do with Sally’s disappearance.’ Lowri sat in the interview room feeling as though she was in a recurring nightmare. She looked down at her hands without seeing the white of her knuckles.

  ‘I’m not accusing you of anything, we don’t even know where Sally’s gone. She might just have gone round the pub or something like that.’

  ‘And leave all the doors open? I don’t think so.’ Her eyes were burning and her headache had come back with a vengeance. ‘I was going to pick Sally up to take her out.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I wanted to challenge her, ask her what she really knew about Jon Brandon. I was late, I—’ Lowri only realized she was gabbling when Lainey held up his hand to stop her.

  ‘Look, Lowri, calm down.’ He touched her arm, smiling encouragingly. ‘You might know more than you’re letting on and there again, you might not.’

  ‘So I am suspected of something then?’

  ‘Perhaps. Even if it’s only polluting the scene of the crime. If there was a crime.’

  ‘What do you mean, polluting?’

  ‘It’s just a police expression. Witnesses, with the best intentions in the world, sometimes pollute the evidence. You know, fingerprints, fibres, that sort of thing.’

  Lowri smiled. ‘At least you are considering me as a witness, not a criminal.’

  Lainey was silent for a moment and Lowri watched him doodling on a pad. ‘What was the first thing you saw, Lowri? Think hard,’ he said at last. ‘Was there a car driving away or anyone walking away from the house?’

  ‘Not that I noticed,’ Lowri said honestly. ‘First thing that struck me was that the front door was open. That wasn’t like Sally, she moaned about the cold in the office often enough.’ Lowri glanced quickly at Lainey, realizing she was speaking of Sally in the past tense. He did not seem to notice.

  Lainey scratched his head and his hair lifted from his brow, giving him the look of a lost schoolboy. ‘We’ve searched the house and the gardens round about, but there’s no sign of any disturbance.’ He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his hands supporting his jaw as if he was very tired.

  ‘Is that significant?’ Lowri asked.

  ‘It could be if anyone tidied up the scene.’

  ‘Is that a question, Jim?’ Lowri asked.

  He shook his head. ‘The boys did a bit of a house-to-house in the vicinity. Major spoke to a woman who had seen you, the one who told you the time. She remembered you looked tired and she mentioned the colour of the car.’ He smiled. ‘She thought it was burgundy, the lamplight fooled her I expect.’

  Lowri nodded. ‘Does that prove anything, that I was seen coming towards Sally’s house I mean?’

  ‘No. As I said, we don’t even know if Sally is really missing.’ His eyes met hers. ‘But I think you might have been right all along, you might have been set up by someone.’

  ‘But how would anyone know I was going to her house? It was on impulse. I just made arrangements by phone.’

  ‘Someone could have overheard the arrangements.’

  Lowri regarded him steadily. ‘Are you saying Sally’s phone was tapped?’ She paused. ‘Or that my phone was tapped?’

  ‘It’s a possibility.’

  ‘But why bother?’

  ‘Come on, now, Lowri!’ He sounded impatient. ‘You are not stupid. You are at the centre of all this, whether knowingly or unknowingly. What’s more,’ he paused, ‘you suspected Sally of being involved with Jon Brandon. Why?’

  She rubbed her face. ‘I don’t know, intangibles, coincidences, it’s like grasping at straws.’

  ‘That’s very often the way police work is done, believe it or not.’

  ‘Look, all I know is that Sally stayed at the Swan Hotel some weeks ago with a good-looking man who answered Jon’s description. The girl on the reception described Sally to a T.’

  ‘Any other reason to think she knew Brandon?’

  ‘Sarah – Mrs Brandon – s
uspected Sally of sleeping with Jon.’ Lowri sighed. ‘It’s not much, is it? I just thought it funny that Sally denied knowing him. She wasn’t always very clever, the things she said gave the impression she was hiding something from me.’ She looked at him. ‘I told you it was not much.’

  ‘You’re holding something back.’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a uniform cop, isn’t it? She was going out with one of the boys. Which one?’ he said quietly. Lowri glanced out of the window.

  ‘Matthew Brown, I think. From the little I’ve seen of him and Sally together I don’t think they were an item as such, just friends.’

  His eyes met hers and it was Lowri who looked away first, embarrassed and warmed by the way he was staring at her.

  ‘Try to work with me, Lowri,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me every little detail of anything you turn up.’ His eyes crinkled. ‘It’s trite but true to say big oaks from little acorns grow.’ He looked down at the desk and picked up a piece of paper from the file.

  ‘Someone used Brandon’s credit card to withdraw cash a few days ago. Would Sally have had access to his pin number?’

  Lowri shook her head, bewildered by the abrupt change of tack. ‘It’s possible, I suppose, but wouldn’t it be more likely that Sarah Brandon withdrew cash from the account?’

  ‘Hardly, there was just fifty pounds with drawn.’

  ‘Does that rule out Sarah?’

  ‘Not rule out, it just makes it less likely. Mrs Brandon seems to be too well-heeled to bother with such a small amount.’

  Lainey was silent for a long moment, tapping his pen on his desk, his eyes hooded by incredibly long lashes. ‘So many questions,’ he said, ‘and never any answers.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I told you that a man calling himself Jon Brandon came into the country through Heathrow, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘What I didn’t tell you was that he didn’t answer to the description of anyone we know, at least, anyone I know. He was tall, well-built, balding, that’s all we have. Any ideas?’