When Night Closes in

by Iris Gower

  ‘But an affair between them is a possibility, don’t you agree?’

  ‘Yes, of course it’s a possibility. Jon was not the faithful kind, that much has become abundantly clear to me.’

  She sounded hurt rather than angry. This Jon Brandon must have been one hell of a con man. He noticed that he had been thinking in the past tense. The possibility that Brandon was dead was a good one. Maybe he had fallen foul of his accomplices, because it was a certainty that the man had been mixed up in something dangerous.

  If he was alive, he had probably gone into hiding, though whether from the police or his own colleagues, it was difficult to decide. It was a rare puzzle, a very unusual case, and Lainey felt a rush of adrenalin. He would get to the bottom of it if it killed him.

  ‘Anything else?’ Lowri’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked across the desk at her and saw the shadows under her eyes and the lack of colour in her face. He felt sorry for her; as she said, she was not very good at choosing her men. One by one they seemed to let her down.

  There was more than pity in his feelings, if he was honest. There was the strong desire to kiss her soft lips, to take her to bed. He caught himself up sharply.

  ‘I can’t think of anything, not right now.’

  ‘You sound unsure. I haven’t been able to tell you very much, have I?’

  ‘What’s new?’ Lainey said. ‘All right, you can go.’

  Lowri rose quickly to her feet. She was still very pale but the light was back in her eyes. She had guts, this one. Guts enough to kill someone?

  ‘Are you having me watched, Mr Lainey?’

  He spun his chair so that he was looking away from her and out of the window. ‘No.’ He hated lying to her.

  She hesitated. She moved closer and he smelt her perfume. He closed his eyes, willing her to go.

  ‘I think you are.’

  He sighed. ‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss police procedure with you, Miss Richards.’ He sounded like a pompous arse. That was becoming a habit where Lowri was concerned. He heard the rustle of her clothes as she walked to the door but he did not look at her.

  When she left his office, he stood at the window and watched as she walked towards the police car. He saw Brown open the door for her and anger tore at his guts. Lowri, with a last look towards the building, climbed into the back seat.

  Lainey waited until the car drove out of the yard and then returned to his desk. He looked down at the file before him. None of it made much sense. But Lowri was up to her neck in it all, that was certain. Well, he could not wait around doing nothing; it was time he made a move.

  ‘I hope you realize that I’m left with all the work when you go jaunting off all the time.’ Mrs Jenkins’s tone was icy and Lowri sighed.

  ‘I’ve apologized, what else can I do? And seeing the police isn’t exactly “jaunting off”, is it?’

  The receptionist did not answer. She resumed her work, her hands flying over the keyboard with the speed of a trained typist. She was a clever woman, far too skilled to be wasting herself in a small office. Lowri stared at her back, wondering why she did not aim for a job in London where the wages were three times higher than those in Jersey Marine.

  She watched as Mrs Jenkins slipped a disk into the slot in the computer and called up a block of text on the screen. Lowri envied her, her easy confidence with all things technical. Lowri herself was becoming more proficient on the computer, but it would take years for her to come anywhere near Mrs Jenkins’s standards.

  The intercom buzzed and the receptionist pressed a button. The voice of Mr Watson came over the line and she looked up, a frown of disapproval on her face.

  ‘You’re wanted.’ She jerked her head in the direction of Mr Watson’s office. ‘Don’t be all day, will you? I’m trying to be receptionist, clerk and general dogsbody round here as it is.’

  Lowri made a face behind Mrs Jenkins’s stiff shoulders and immediately felt ashamed of the childish response.

  She knocked on the door of Mr Watson’s office and entered the room, her notebook in her hand. There was a man with Mr Watson; he was standing in front of the desk. He was thickset, his hair longish and streaked with white. Lowri’s stomach lurched as he turned to face her.

  ‘Charles! What are you doing here?’

  He looked at her with his usual disapproving stare. ‘I came up to London to see your mother.’ He half smiled. ‘Don’t you know she’s moved out, left me?’

  Lowri shook her head. ‘You could have told me this before! No wonder I haven’t been able to get any answer on the phone in the evenings. I expect you’re too busy with your latest woman to answer phone calls!’

  ‘Don’t get shirty with me, Lowri! I have business up in London and I thought I’d call in on an old friend. Isn’t that right, Terence?’

  Mr Watson glanced at her and shook his head. ‘Don’t worry, Lowri, everything is going to be all right.’

  ‘Is Mother OK?’ She glared at Charles. ‘Where is she staying?’

  The two men looked at each other. ‘That’s her business,’ Charles said. ‘Your mother will talk to you when she is good and ready.’ He spoke indifferently, but why should she be surprised? There had been very little love and affection between her parents for as long as Lowri could remember.

  ‘Still making pots of money, Father?’

  Mr Watson looked up, his expression grave. ‘Sit down, Lowri,’ he said, ‘we have to talk.’

  ‘Why, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Your father – that is, Charles – is trying to blackmail me.’

  Lowri looked from one to the other. Charles was composed, his hands thrust into the pockets of his greatcoat, his collar crisp and clean. He smelled of aftershave and he looked every inch the successful businessman.

  Lowri sat. ‘How, why?’

  Charles gestured to Mr Watson. ‘Go on, Terence, tell her, if you dare.’

  Mr Watson shook his head again before opening a drawer and taking out a faded photograph, pushing it towards Lowri. She picked it up and saw her mother, young, vibrant, full of life, with a baby held tenderly in her arms. Beside her was a man, but it was not Charles. She stared at it for a long time.

  ‘So?’ She glared at Charles. ‘Mr Watson knew Mother, what’s the big deal?’

  His laugh was heavy with irony. ‘He knew her all right, in the carnal sense!’

  ‘Charles!’ Mr Watson sounded agitated. ‘Do you have to be so damn crude?’

  ‘So, what are you saying?’ Lowri did not look at Charles. She sensed what was coming and was not sure she wanted to hear it.

  ‘You are my daughter, Lowri,’ Mr Watson said quietly. ‘Your stepfather has been silent about this for years but now, for reasons of his own, he is choosing to speak.’

  Lowri was silent, digesting the facts. Was she shocked? She just did not know how she felt. She looked at the photograph and saw something in her mother’s face that she had rarely seen before. Happiness.

  So her mother and Mr Watson were lovers once and she was the result. She looked up at the man who had always made her life hell and all she felt was relief that she knew who her real father was at last.

  ‘How much does he want?’ she asked Mr Watson. ‘Whatever it is, don’t give it to him, he’s not worth it.’

  ‘It’s not money, Lowri.’ Mr Watson sighed. ‘He wants me to help him with what he calls his business dealings.’

  Charles leaned forward, a pugnacious expression on his face. ‘And if you hadn’t been poking around into what doesn’t concern you, Terence, none of this would have been necessary.’

  Lowri stared at them both. The implications of what had been said were striking home. She was the daughter of a humble urban solicitor. And all she felt was a sense of release.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She turned away from him and smiled at Mr Watson. ‘Tell him to go to hell!’ she said firmly. ‘You don’t owe him a thing and neither do I.’

  ‘It’s not that simple.�
� Mr Watson sank back in his chair. ‘As Charles indicated, I have been snooping around, more to protect you and your mother than to land him in trouble.’ He dismissed Charles with a flick of the wrist.

  ‘What’s going on? Mr Watson, just tell me!’

  ‘Charles is still working the same old scams he always enjoyed, blackmail being the least of it.’ He looked at Charles. ‘When I split up the partnership years ago it was because you were too stupid to handle things properly. Who is pulling your strings now, Charles, because you haven’t got the brains to manage alone?’

  ‘Just don’t worry about him,’ Lowri said forcefully. ‘Let him go to hell his own way.’ The venom with which Charles stared at her, his eyes narrow, the cold blueness glittering at her, made her shiver, despite her brave facade.

  ‘I can’t do that,’ Mr Watson said. ‘He intends to hurt your mother if I don’t help him.’

  Lowri felt a frisson of fear. ‘Haven’t you hurt Mother enough? I always knew you were no good but I didn’t realize you were such a sick bastard!’ She paused, staring at his set features, the nose large with deep lines on either side, the mouth narrow, cruel beneath a thin moustache. ‘What if I tell the police about all this?’

  Charles smiled. ‘The police? Oh, I know you’ve bedded half the force. You are a trollop just like your mother. But it won’t do you any good – the police have been well paid. In any case, where’s your proof?’ He smiled thinly. ‘They might listen to you but then they will do absolutely nothing.’

  He looked triumphantly from Lowri to Mr Watson. ‘And don’t bother about any rough stuff, my personal security boys are watching out for me.’

  Lowri faced her stepfather, her gaze unwavering. She was trying to understand how this man, whom her mother must have loved once, could be so cold-blooded. ‘So what are you mixed up in, I would like to know?’ A thought struck her. ‘It wasn’t you who sent some thug to break into my house, was it?’

  He laughed without humour. ‘You are so stupid, Lowri, and your mother thinks you will benefit most from her money, money that I have a right to and my son too. My advice to you is marry money because you won’t have any of mine.’

  ‘It’s you who are the stupid one,’ Lowri said calmly. ‘You underestimate Mother and you underestimate me. How do you know what I can achieve? You don’t even know me properly.’

  She put her head on one side. ‘You’re the one behind Jon Brandon, aren’t you? You set me up.’

  He moved closer, his face pushed towards hers. ‘Your mother has kept her eyes shut all these years and it would pay you to follow her lead.’

  Lowri was suddenly very angry. ‘You’ve knocked the spirit out of my mother with your temper tantrums and your constant string of women friends. Well, I’m not Mother and I’m not afraid of you.’

  ‘Perhaps I’d better explain my methods.’ Charles sat on the edge of the desk. ‘I’m not above having those who cross me rubbed out. Killed. Is that clear enough for you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, very clear.’

  ‘As for your mother, I put up with her and her little peccadillo with this loser.’ He looked meaningfully at Mr Watson. ‘She provided a good front for me, you see, beautiful, apparently respectable. She would never protest whatever I did.’

  He jabbed his finger towards Mr Watson. ‘She always was spineless, she must have been, to sleep with him. So, what you do is shut your mouth and your precious father there does a little bit of work for me.’

  ‘What sort of work?’

  ‘That’s between me and him.’

  ‘What if I go to the police in spite of what you say?’

  ‘Just remember, my arms are long, they reach everywhere. Your acquaintance with your new-found father won’t last long if you go to the police.’

  Lowri stared at him long and hard. ‘Now I know why I’ve always disliked you. You are a cold-hearted, crooked, no-good bastard!’ There was a wealth of scorn in her voice. Charles appeared unaffected.

  ‘It’s you who are the bastard,’ he said calmly. He addressed Terence Watson. ‘I’ll be in touch and you’ll be ready to do what I want, do you get that?’ He smiled. ‘It’s time I paid you back for the wrong you did me all those years ago. My best friend had an affair with the woman I loved. You’re such a loser. I never did understand it.’

  With a last scathing look in Lowri’s direction, he walked out leaving the door open. Lowri watched through the window as he left the building and then turned to look at Mr Watson. If she had been expecting him to be distressed, she was wrong.

  ‘Your mother is all right, I’m taking care of her. I’m sorry about this, Lowri.’ He took her hands. ‘Not because you are my daughter but because I didn’t want you to learn the truth in such a brutal way.’

  ‘It’s difficult to take it all in,’ Lowri said, ‘but be careful, Charles will do all he can to spite us, the three of us.’

  ‘No, no. Don’t let Charles worry you, Lowri. I’m not the idiot he thinks I am and he isn’t as clever as he would like us to believe.’

  Lowri’s fingers closed around his. ‘Look, he’s made you tell me the truth. He’s a spiteful man, aren’t you at all concerned he might . . .?’

  Mr Watson shook his head and his wispy hair stood up on end. ‘You don’t know him like I do, he’s all bluster. I repeat, you are not to worry, I have everything under control.’

  Lowri doubted it. Mr Watson seemed like an innocent abroad compared to Charles Richards. ‘What does he want you to do?’

  ‘He wants me to be a front man for him. To travel abroad to Europe, the Caribbean. He has ordered me to extort money from some very rich men. If they call my bluff and bring the police in, I’ll be the one to carry the can.’ He smiled without humour. ‘Charles always was such a fool.’

  He took off his glasses and rubbed them against his waistcoat. ‘I thought I had got away from his bumbling methods long ago but I was wrong. He keeps meddling in my life, trying to pay me back for what happened in the past. I don’t blame him, I suppose, but he could be a little more intelligent in his dealings.’

  ‘He kept silent about you and Mother all these years,’ Lowri said. ‘He was biding his time until he was ready to punish you. And me. I hate him!’ She leaned against the desk.

  ‘How has he got away with it for so long?’ she asked. ‘All his dirty little schemes, why has no-one caught him out?’

  ‘So far he’s only dealt in petty crime, now he hopes to enter the big league. As I said, he’s a fool.’

  ‘But he must have aroused suspicion over the years? Hasn’t anyone ever checked him out? He doesn’t exactly live like a poor man and his wealth can’t have gone unnoticed, can it? Surely the pose of respectable businessman hasn’t fooled everyone?’

  ‘It fooled your mother, once.’ Mr Watson held up his hand. ‘Since then he’s made use of whatever of her money he can lay his hands on. Now, don’t ask any more, Lowri, it’s much better that you don’t know too much.’

  ‘You are going to do what he wants, then?’

  Mr Watson smiled at her. ‘Forget all that. What’s more important now is what you think of me. I hope I’m not too much of a disappointment to you, my dear, as a father I mean.’

  Lowri saw a mist of tears behind his spectacles and, after a moment’s hesitation, she put her hand on his arm. ‘I’m glad he’s not my real father!’ She resisted the urge to smooth Mr Watson’s hair into place. ‘I knew he was my stepfather and that I’d been conceived before the marriage but I didn’t know Charles was a crook.’

  Unable to speak, Mr Watson squeezed her hand. He took out a spotless handkerchief and mopped his eyes.

  ‘Look,’ Lowri said, ‘why not talk to me, tell me everything, perhaps between us we can sort it all out.’

  Mr Watson shook his head. ‘No.’ He looked up at her. ‘I said I don’t want you to worry, Lowri. I might appear weak but I have everything under control, I promise you.’ He seemed to have grown in stature; there was a new light in his eyes. He returned
to his desk and smiled at her.

  ‘You go back to work, my dear, and we’ll keep all this to ourselves for now, shall we?’

  Lowri nodded but as she left the room, she knew she could not let the matter rest there. She would see Charles Richards, have it all out with him, tell him to back off or she would expose him, threaten to go to the press as well as the police. Then she thought of her mother, tearful, begging her not to expose the family to ridicule, and she knew that Charles had them all, herself included, in his power.

  The warehouse smelled of damp and decay and Lainey thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat as he followed the customs men to the back of the building. There, a door opened into a small room, well ventilated. Here the case addressed to Justin Richards had been stored out of sight.

  ‘So, George, what do you think is here, then?’ He stood beside the excise man and watched as the case was prised open.

  ‘Says computer parts here,’ George said. ‘Can’t be perishables or it would be stinking to high heaven by now and it’s not drugs, the dogs would have sniffed them out.’

  Lainey heard the crunch of the crowbar against wood and then the tearing sound of the timber splitting. The lid was forced open and George stepped forward, pushing aside the packing material. He fished out a shrink-wrapped black box and looked at it doubtfully.

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘It’s a fax modem, sir,’ one of his men said quietly.

  ‘Right. Empty the lot, let the dog see the rabbit.’

  The contents of the case were tipped onto the concrete floor; packages spilled everywhere. It all appeared innocent enough.

  ‘The business this is addressed to, Justin Richards, is a firm that deals in wines and spirits.’ George opened a Jiffy bag containing slim plastic envelopes. ‘This is just a pack of CDs,’ he said. ‘I suppose the company needs to run a network of computers so there’s nothing of any significance here.’

  Lainey picked up a CD and studied it. He took out another one, turning it over.

  ‘Kids’ games, by the look,’ George said. ‘All harmless rubbish if you ask me. I suppose this stuff just got overlooked when your man disappeared.’ He grinned. ‘No-one to make a fuss, see?’