by Roberta Kray
36
Having managed to acquire some writing paper and envelopes from Mrs Gillan, Judith spent the next hour composing a couple of letters, one to Charlotte and one to Annie. Even at this point, when the most terrible things had happened, she was still unable to tell the whole truth. She informed them both that she was in London, and mentioned Elsa’s death, but decided it was better, safer, that neither of them knew about Ivor Doyle. Now that she had lied to the police, there was no going back. She had to stick to her story and hope her duplicity never came to light.
Although she wanted to go home, longed for it, she couldn’t forget about Elsa. She had to find out why she’d been killed and who had done it. In her head she went over and over the conversations they’d had, looking for clues, trying to read between the lines, but nothing more than pure bewilderment came from these attempts to ferret out the truth. If Elsa had inadvertently given her a clue, she had no idea of what it had been.
At midday, she went downstairs with the letters. She darted past the lounge before she could become the focus of attention again, and hurried out of the front door. Here she took a right and headed for the high street, where she remembered seeing a pillar box.
Once the letters had been dispatched, she wondered what to do next. She couldn’t stop brooding on Elsa’s murder – it was still too fresh, too raw – and if such horrors couldn’t be expelled from her mind, she preferred to endure them in the fresh air rather than the confines of the boarding house. She would go for a walk, she decided, and try to get her thoughts in order.
Without any clear idea of where she was going, Judith set off towards the south side of Kellston, a part she hadn’t explored before. The day was hot, the sun shining brightly. With little traffic on the roads and few people about, everything seemed oddly quiet. She walked slowly, only taking in her surroundings in a vague sort of fashion, and had covered less than a hundred yards when she heard footsteps. Glancing over her shoulder, her heart leaped into her mouth when she saw Ivor Doyle right behind her.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, flustered.
He drew alongside and gave a casual nod as though there was nothing out of the ordinary in him showing up like this. ‘I heard what happened. Are you all right? I’ve been worried about you.’
‘Why’s that?’ she snapped. ‘I’m not your concern any more.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. If she wanted the truth, if she wanted to find out if he’d had any part in the killing, she had to be less confrontational. Despite her suspicions, she didn’t feel afraid of him. Wary, yes, but not fearful. A part of her still couldn’t believe he was capable of murder, and she wasn’t sure if this made her an optimist or an idiot. ‘Sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s all been such a nightmare.’
‘Don’t apologise. I get it. It’s a godawful thing to have to go through.’
‘How did you know? I mean, who told you I found her?’
‘Oh, this place is full of gossips. I heard your name mentioned and figured there couldn’t be that many Judith Jonsons in Kellston.’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Are you on your way somewhere, or …?’
‘No, I just came out for a walk.’
‘Do you mind if I come along? I could do with stretching my legs.’
Judith gave a light shrug, feigning indifference. ‘If you like.’ She was under no illusion that he was here out of concern for her well-being, but was prepared to play along in the hope that he’d inadvertently reveal more than he meant to.
‘So,’ he said as they set off down the road again, ‘do the law have any idea who did it yet?’
‘If they do, they haven’t told me. But then I don’t suppose they would.’
‘You’ve got an idea of what they’re thinking, though.’
‘Thinking?’ she echoed.
‘Whether it was just a burglary that she walked in on, or …’ He gazed off into the middle distance. ‘Or if it was deliberate.’
‘Who’d want to kill Elsa?’
‘I’ve no idea. Were you close friends, the two of you?’
Judith gave him a sidelong glance, deciding to keep her cards close to her chest. ‘Close enough.’
‘How did you meet?’
‘What does that matter?’
‘It doesn’t. I’m just curious.’
But Judith didn’t elaborate. Instead she asked, ‘Did you know her?’
‘No.’
‘By sight, though. You must have seen her in Connolly’s.’
‘I haven’t been in Connolly’s for years. I don’t spend much time in Kellston these days.’
‘Long enough for you to hear my name mentioned.’
He smiled briefly, raised a hand in a kind of acknowledgement and then let it fall back down to his side. ‘I was passing through. I had to see someone.’
Judith wondered if he knew about Elsa being an informant. ‘What else did you hear?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing much. Well, there’s a whisper it could have been something to do with the killing of Lennie Hull, but that doesn’t make any sense. Did she ever mention him to you?’
‘That’s the man you had the trouble with, isn’t it?’ Judith said, playing for time while she wondered how he knew about the Hull connection. If Saul was to be believed, it had only come to light this morning, so either Doyle’s contacts penetrated deep into the police ranks or he was more involved than he was letting on.
‘The same,’ he said.
‘No, Elsa never talked about him.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I think I’d remember.’
They walked on in silence for a while. An old grey brick wall, too tall to see over, flanked the pavement to their left, and this eventually gave way to a pair of wrought-iron gates, one of which was open. Judith stopped to gaze along the path. A graveyard stretched out before her, still and quiet and enticingly peaceful. ‘Let’s go in here.’
Doyle drew back, pulling a face. ‘What do you want to go in there for?’
There was something about his reluctance, an unwillingness she didn’t understand, that made her more determined. ‘Why not? It looks nice. It’s better than walking along the road.’
‘There’s nothing nice about graveyards.’
‘I’ve always found them quite restful.’
‘They’re full of dead people.’
‘Well, the dead can’t hurt you.’
Doyle’s mouth twisted. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’
Judith stared at him for a moment, wondering what he meant. She could have asked him to explain, but she didn’t want to give the impression that she was even moderately interested in what he felt or why. Instead, ignoring his obvious dislike of the place, she strode forward through the gate and started along the main path. She was in no doubt that he’d follow, and she was right. Putting aside his reservations, he soon caught up and fell into step beside her.
‘You don’t have to come with me,’ she said.
‘It’s too lonely here. It’s not safe to walk on your own.’
As if he was doing her favour, or maybe just trying to scare her. Refusing to be manipulated, she gave a snort. ‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll be perfectly all right.’
‘That’s what this lot thought,’ he said, gazing around at the graves, ‘and look what happened to them.’
Judith suppressed a smile, clamping her lips together. She’d almost forgotten about that dry sense of humour. Keep your guard up, she told herself. Don’t relax, not for a minute. He wasn’t with her because he wanted to be. He was after something and she had to stay alert if she was going to find out what it was.
They came to a tall weeping willow, its branches cascading down like a waterfall. It was here that a narrow path veered off to the left, leading to a wilder, less manicured part of the cemetery. She decided to take this route, partly because it looked more interesting and partly because she suspected he wouldn’t want her to. And she was
right about the latter.
‘We should stick to the main path,’ he said.
Judith ignored him. Knowing he was already ill at ease, it gave her a small advantage, she thought, to take him in a direction he wasn’t comfortable with. The Victorian cemetery was full of towering plinths, grand monuments and mausoleums, with smaller graves scattered in between. As they proceeded along the path, the grass either side became longer, laced with ivy and wild flowers. It had a sad kind of beauty, a haunting quality.
She stopped occasionally to read an inscription, a lament to a lost mother or father or child. He hovered by her shoulder like an impatient man in a queue, shuffling his feet and sighing.
‘Have you thought any more about going home?’ he asked.
Judith rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not a good time.’
‘I’d have thought it was the ideal time.’
‘The police might want to talk to me again.’
‘Why should they? You’ve told them everything you can, haven’t you?’
He was fishing again, trying to get inside her head. She decided to throw him a bone. ‘If it helps put your mind at rest, I haven’t told them about us.’
‘I wasn’t worried. I never worry about things I can’t do anything about. But thank you anyway.’
‘I didn’t do it for you.’
He left a short pause before he said, ‘I know you think I’m just trying to get rid of you, but Kellston really isn’t a safe place right now. If Pat Hull gets to hear the rumours about Elsa knowing something about his brother’s murder, he’s going to come looking for answers. And seeing as Elsa isn’t around …’
Judith frowned. ‘What are you saying exactly?’
‘You’re Elsa’s friend, you were staying with her, you found her body and you’ve been talking to the law. Where do you reckon will be his first port of call?’
Judith suspected he was using scare tactics again, or at least she hoped so. She didn’t fancy being on the receiving end of an interrogation by Pat Hull, especially if he was anything like Lennie. Home was growing more appealing by the minute, but she refused to give in to the easy option: to take to her heels and run away. For Elsa’s sake, she was going to stay no matter what the consequences. ‘If he comes to talk to me, I’ll tell him exactly what I told the police.’
‘Good luck with that. Pat isn’t what you’d call a reasonable man. If he thinks you’re holding out on him …’
‘Then we’ll just have to hope he doesn’t,’ she said, with more bravado than she felt.
But Doyle hadn’t finished yet. ‘Pat’s got the same vicious streak as his brother. And he hasn’t got any qualms when it comes to women; from what I’ve heard, he takes pleasure in hurting them. The man’s an out-and-out bastard, a sadist. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of him.’
Judith wondered what the odds were of Pat Hull remaining in ignorance, and wasn’t optimistic. If the news had reached Doyle this quickly, it was only a matter of time before it reached Hull too. The thought didn’t do much for her peace of mind.
‘Do you know who killed Lennie?’ she asked.
He was, perhaps, prepared for the question, for his face remained impassive. ‘Me? I’ve no idea. I’ve already told you: I wasn’t in London when it happened.’
‘But you heard rumours?’
‘Have you?’ he asked, batting the question back.
‘No,’ she lied, recalling Saul’s shortlist and the position Ivor Doyle held on it. ‘No, nothing.’
He gave her a querying look, as if he didn’t quite believe her. ‘Elsa must have heard them, though.’
‘If she did, she didn’t tell me.’
They wandered on along the path. The sun beat down, creating shadows all around. A light breeze rustled through the trees and bushes. Suddenly, from behind, a crow cawed loudly, making Judith jump. Then, beating its wings, it took off from the ground and rose high up into the sky. A chill ran through her. There were superstitions about crows, about them being omens of evil. In an attempt to disguise her agitation, she followed its trajectory, raising her face and shielding her eyes against the glare.
It occurred to her, somewhat belatedly, that roaming through the most deserted part of the graveyard with a possible murderer probably wasn’t the smartest move in the world. His show of reluctance to come this way could have been a ploy, knowing she would do the very opposite of what he wanted. What if he was just waiting for the right moment, for the opportunity to put his hands around her throat and squeeze the very life out of her? No one would hear anything. No one even knew she was here. As creeping panic spread inside her, she tried her best to hide it. She turned and said through dry lips, ‘We’d better be getting back.’
The path was only wide enough for them to go in single file, and so, as she walked ahead, she had to endure the thought that he was right behind her, waiting to pounce. Her senses seemed heightened as she listened to his every step. She felt the warmth of the sun on her arms, saw the ground ahead with peculiar clarity – the earth, the tiny stones, the straggle of weeds – and discerned a bitterness in her mouth, something that might have been the taste of fear.
She heard him light a cigarette and was glad of it. People didn’t smoke when they were just about to strangle someone, did they? You needed both hands free to commit an act like that. Unless he had a knife. Her back arched a little as if anticipating the cold metal of the blade. Then, unable to bear the tension, she glanced back over her shoulder.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘You look like you just saw a ghost.’
She shook her head as though she didn’t understand. ‘Do I?’
‘Still, you’re in the right place for it. More ghosts here than you can shake a stick at.’
Judith forced a smile and walked on. It wasn’t until they reached the main thoroughfare that she finally relaxed. She could see other people now: an elderly lady carrying a posy, a couple with a pram, a middle-aged woman clearing dead flowers from a grave. Her pulse began to slow, her heart to take on a more regular rhythm. It was time, she decided, to do some probing of her own. ‘Elsa’s flat was ransacked. They turned it upside down. What do you think they were looking for?’
He didn’t answer straight away. There was a short hesitation, which he tried to cover by taking a drag on his cigarette. ‘Money, jewellery, the usual stuff, I suppose.’
‘If it was just a burglary. But what if it wasn’t? What if the rumours are right?’
‘Then your guess is as good as mine.’
‘What could she have had that her killer would have wanted so much?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
As they approached the gates, they passed a young woman, attractive and smartly dressed, perhaps on her way home from church. Judith noticed how her gaze brazenly focused on Doyle, weighing him up, taking him in, her eyes resting for too long on his face. She felt a knee-jerk spurt of irritation, almost proprietorial in nature. The girl didn’t know they weren’t a couple, and clearly didn’t care one way or the other. Judith, of course, shouldn’t have cared either, but it was the rudeness she objected to – or at least that was what she told herself.
Doyle threw his cigarette butt on the ground and asked, ‘Did Elsa have a gun?’
Judith was still quietly seething over the girl, and it took a moment for his question to register. When it did, she was both surprised and puzzled. ‘Why on earth would she have a gun?’
‘People do,’ he said. ‘To protect themselves.’
From what? she almost asked, but the answer to that was self-evident. ‘No, I never saw a gun.’
‘I was just wondering if she seemed worried or anxious about anything. Did she give that impression?’
‘No. not at all.’ In fact, Elsa had seemed the very opposite, glad to be leaving, looking forward to a new life in Morocco. Judith didn’t share this information with Doyle. She wanted to press him further on the issue of the gun – why he’d ask
ed, what had put it in his head – but didn’t want to come across as being too suspicious.
‘Maybe it was just a burglary,’ he said.
‘Except the flat wasn’t broken into. The lock wasn’t forced or anything. She either let them in or went out for a while and left the door open.’
‘Would she be likely to do that?’
‘I don’t know. I wouldn’t have thought so.’
‘Well then,’ he said.
They were quiet again until they reached the street. As they walked towards Silverstone Road, Doyle kept glancing back, his head quickly twisting like a nervous twitch he couldn’t control.
‘Why do you keep doing that?’
‘I thought I saw someone.’
‘Who?’
‘No one. It’s nothing.’
Judith stopped and stared back the way they’d come. The street was empty. Had there really been someone there or was he just trying to put the wind up her? It was another of his games, perhaps, designed to put her on edge. And if it was, it was working. When they began to walk again, she had that prickle on the back of her neck, the feeling they were being watched. Real or imaginary? She couldn’t tell.
Doyle stuck by her side until they reached the boarding house. ‘Think about what I said. Kellston’s not a safe place to be at the moment.’
‘Thank you for your concern,’ she said drily.
‘I mean it. You know where I am if you need me.’
‘Why would I need you?’
Oddly, the retort seemed to wound him. ‘Of course, why would you? I can’t expect …’ He gave her a long, almost wistful look. ‘Take care of yourself, Judith.’
She followed his departure, standing at the foot of the drive with his words echoing in her ears. Once upon a time she had known the tall, blond man strolling away from her, had believed she understood him, but now she had no idea who he was or what made him tick. He was not a friend, that was for sure, but was he the enemy? She still hadn’t figured out the answer to that.