Love Lies Bleeding

by Evans, Geraldine

  That hadn't been Rafferty's experience. But he felt he must attempt to offer some reassurance.

  ‘I'll make some enquiries,’ he promised. ‘I'll speak to Michael and Stephanie Raine, though I hope you and Michelle appreciate that it's unlikely Mrs Raine will think kindly of Mademoiselle Ginôt when she learns that she not only eavesdropped on her conversation, but then divulged its contents to you, my sergeant and me.’

  Michelle immediately demanded of Sandrine that she explain what Rafferty had said, thereby negating Sandrine's claim for the French girl's ability to understand more English than she could speak.

  Once she grasped what he had said, Michelle said, ‘Pouf — and for a second, Rafferty thought she had taken to sexist name-calling out of frustration — but then she added, ‘What do I care for Stephanie and the work that I do pour elle? Such jobs are twenty to a euro. The agency they will find me another.’

  ‘The agency may not find you something else immediately, Mademoiselle Ginôt, especially if Stephanie contacts them and gives you a poor reference.

  ‘Obviously, as Mademoiselle Ginôt's a witness in this case, I do not want her leaving the country should Mrs Raine ask her to pack her bags,’ Rafferty advised Sandrine Agnew.

  ‘Don't worry, inspector. It's not a problem. Michelle can always come and stay with me.’

  Michelle didn't look too thrilled at the prospect, thought Rafferty. ‘Just as long as we're kept informed of her whereabouts.’

  To his surprise, Sandrine Agnew seemed satisfied with his response, for she got up, gathered her bag and Michelle together and said thank you to Rafferty and Llewellyn, and ‘We'll wait to hear from you,’ and left without further ado.

  ‘What do you make of that, sir- Joseph?’ Llewellyn asked.

  Rafferty shrugged. ‘God knows. Though it struck me as unlikely that little Mademoiselle from Armantières, with her less-than-wonderful grasp of the lingo, took in all that late-night conversation and was able to report it to Sandrine Agnew verbatim.’

  Llewellyn nodded. ‘Exactly what I thought myself. Didn't you say that the first time you spoke to Mademoiselle Ginôt she got her yesterdays confused with her other days?’

  ‘Mm. It seems to me that either young Michelle's English is about to put mine to shame or she's been prompted, encouraged and had words put in her mouth by Ms Agnew -presumably she's hoping this evidence will help get Felicity released and that Felicity will be suitably grateful.’

  Llewellyn nodded sagely. ‘Love, they say, does the strangest things to a person's ability to reason.’

  Aint that the truth, thought Rafferty, whose reasoning ability since Abra had taken off for points west had dipped way below that expected of a detective inspector, as the Super hadn't been slow to tell him.

  He had seen more than enough of Stephanie Raine and her determined spite to last him a lifetime, but he supposed he had no choice but to face the music again. He sighed, sure Mrs Raine Senior could be relied upon not only to take umbrage that he had come to question her on the word of her own au pair, but, of course, to also deny any conspiracy against Felicity.

  ‘I suppose we'd better get over there and hear what Madam Stephanie's got to say for herself. We'll speak to Mike Raine afterwards.’ No doubt, he thought, with a similar result.

  Stephanie Raine turned out to have plenty to say for herself, none of it helpful, unfortunately.

  ‘Of course I deny saying such things. And I shall continue to deny it, as it's not true. What that girl thought she was doing, sneaking about the house in the middle of the night, spying on me—’

  ‘I believe she suffers from insomnia,’ Rafferty put in on behalf of the absent Michelle, who, he learned, had yet to return. He didn't envy her reception when she did so.

  ‘Well she can suffer from insomnia elsewhere from now on. I'll not tolerate someone spying on me in my own home and then lying about what I said, as I shall tell her the minute she returns.’

  Just then, the front door banged. Stephanie immediately strode to the drawing-room door. ‘So it's you. Come in here this instant.’

  A sulky-looking Michelle trailed into the room after Stephanie.

  After haranguing the unfortunate Michelle for five minutes, Stephanie told her she could take her things and leave. ‘And you needn't expect a reference from me. I'll explain exactly why to that agency when I speak to them.’ Stephanie stared hard at Michelle, who had made no move. ‘Well? What are you waiting for? I told you to pack. I meant now, not tomorrow or next week. I want you out of my home immediately since you've proved you can't be trusted.’

  After directing a vituperative volley of what sounded like French swear words at Stephanie, Michelle turned on her heel and flung out of the room.

  After that, they made their excuses and left, though as they were about to turn out of the drive, Rafferty said, ‘Hang on. I've just remembered a couple of things I think Stephanie and Michelle might be able to provide answers to. In private,’ he added as Llewellyn made to follow him. ‘I think I'm more likely to get truthful answers if there aren't any witnesses. Wait for me here. I doubt it will take long.’

  After questioning Stephanie again about the barbecue she had held in July, he went looking for Michelle. He found her in her flat over the garage. It took only a few minutes to get the truth out of her, less to retrieve the expensive trinket she admitted stealing.

  Satisfied that his theory was now advancing better than he had dared hope, Rafferty resolved, as he still felt he had some ground to make up on the case-resolution front, to keep his thoughts to himself for a while longer. And even if several more supportive elements had been added to the pattern he had discerned, he was painfully aware that it still lacked that one essential, additional ingredient to round it all off perfectly. So when Llewellyn questioned him on his return to the car, he revealed nothing of his conversation with either Stephanie or Michelle.

  Instead, when Llewellyn showed signs of tight-lipped annoyance at Rafferty's uncharacteristic discretion, he changed the subject and said, ‘I wonder if there's much point in speaking to Mike Raine. Stephanie will have got on the blower to him as soon as the front door shut behind us and he'll have his story ready.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ was Llewellyn's stiff comment. ‘Perhaps not. But as Ms Agnew said she thought he wasn't as ready to fall in with Stephanie Raine's plans as she might like, it's possible he'll share what he knows.’

  ‘Unlike some people’ was the implication Rafferty had no difficulty in discerning behind Llewellyn's frosty demeanour.

  ‘In any case, it will surely be instructive to hear what he has to say for himself,’ Llewellyn added, in the manner of one teaching Granny to suck eggs.

  But Llewellyn was wrong. Their conversation with Mike Raine wasn't instructive at all. Although Mike, unlike Stephanie, was perfectly polite, he simply backed up what she had said.

  ‘I have to say that your willingness to investigate the misheard evidence of the linguistically challenged Michelle indicates a certain desperation, inspector,’ was Mike's comment. T hope it doesn't mean that my cousin's killer will remain unconvicted for the foreseeable future.’

  So did Rafferty.

  Rafferty's mobile rang ten minutes after their return to the station. He was thankful that Llewellyn, still in something of a huff, had taken himself off when he saw that the caller was Abra. Now what? he wondered as he snatched the mobile up.

  ‘Abra. How are things? What's the news on the Gloria front? I suppose she's been charged now?’

  ‘No. That's what's so weird. I don't know what that horrible DI Jones is waiting for, but he told me in very lofty tones that there had been a delay in charging her. This delay's obviously not down to him, as from what you said it sounded as if he couldn't wait to make sure Dafyd's mum had a criminal conviction.’

  ‘How is she?’ he asked.

  He heard Abra sigh. ‘Not any better for this delay,’ she said. ‘I think she just wants it all to be over. And now, to go with the lack of
sleep, she's hardly eating. Ironic that it should have been two tins of peaches the supermarket security staff found in her shopping bag.’

  ‘That's all she took? Two tins of peaches are what's caused all this upset and misery?’

  ‘That's all. And she doesn't even like bloody peaches, which shows how forgetful she's become. God, Joe, I feel so angry about it all. Anyone with an ounce of common sense and a smidgin of humanity would have seen that, rather than being a habitual thief, she's unwell. I feel like punching that sanctimonious DI Jones in the nose.’

  ‘The law can be an ass, Abra. God knows I see enough examples of mulish stupidity every working day to make me despair. But why not encourage her to do something to help herself while she's waiting for this business to be over? Getting her GP to put her on HRT might be a good place to start. Otherwise she might have this — or something very like it — to be gone through again.’

  ‘God forbid. Though she was on HRT before. She only came off it because of all these journalistic scaremongers spreading the gospel that HRT increases the risk of breast cancer and other health problems. Better, to my mind, to deal with the health problems you have got than start worrying about the ones you don't have and likely never will. If it wasn't for them, she'd still be the Gloria of old and not a soon-to-be convicted criminal.’

  While Rafferty felt sorry for Gloria, whom he liked, he also wanted Abra home. He missed her terribly.

  ‘Persuade her back on the HRT, Abs. You'll never get home otherwise.’

  Rafferty became conscious of an awkward silence on the other end.

  ‘Abra? Did you hear me?’

  ‘Yes. I just wish I could obey, oh my lord and master. Only Gloria's taking a bit of persuading. I'm sure I'll talk her round to returning to the medication before long. Only even if — when — I manage to persuade her of its benefits, it'll take a few weeks to kick in.’

  Rafferty was dismayed. ‘A few weeksl But—’

  ‘Keep your hair on, Joe. It may not be as bad as that. Hopefully I'll be able to get home next week, as Mum and Dad should be back from their holiday in the Algarve. Joe? Are you OK with that?’

  I'm going to have to be, he thought. But he was just being selfish. Abra was right: Gloria's need of her was, at the moment, greater than his own.

  ‘I'm fine, Abs. Just promise me you won't stay there a day longer than you can help?’

  ‘Scout's honour.’

  ‘And can you let me have the phone number of Gloria's neighbour so I can at least get in touch?’

  ‘I've bought a new charger for my mobile,’ Abra assured him. ‘I did tell you.’

  ‘I know. Even so, I'll feel happier if I have a back-up number. You know what you're like for forgetting to charge your phone up.’

  ‘Rather better than you are, if the truth be told.’

  As this was undeniable, he said nothing further on the subject.

  Nor did Abra. She simply provided the neighbour's number as he had requested and told him to cheer up.

  ‘After all,’ she added, with a hint of her normal mischief, ‘as we both know that it's pretty unlikely that Dafyd won't find out about Gloria's pending conviction one way or another, you can always look forward to being the first to rub his nose in the fact that his mum's a super-criminal. Just imagine how much fun you're going to have with that little titbit.’

  ‘I wouldn't dream of it,’ Rafferty protested.

  But perhaps his protest was a bit too quick, a bit too vehement, for Abra teased, ‘Oh yeah? Come on, Joe. After all the times Davy's high moral principles have put you on the spot with regard to your mum. Not to mention most of the rest of your family.’

  Rafferty decided a change of subject was way overdue.

  ‘Just you look after yourself,’ he ordered. ‘And tell Gloria I'm still working on getting in contact with Dai Jones. Love you,’ he added.

  ‘Ditto.’

  But, he admitted to himself as he came off the phone, Abra was right about one thing. He would find it a temptation to just blurt out the truth to Llewellyn. Especially when he was being crabby, like now. And even though he felt genuinely sorry for Gloria, he suspected it was inevitable that Llewellyn would learn about her conviction from someone, and that probably sooner rather than later.

  And as it was likely to be the only chance he would ever have to come over all superior with his high-moral-ground sergeant he wasn't sure he would be able to resist the temptation — especially the next time Llewellyn dissected one of his theories with that infuriating logic of his.It wasn't as if his record for resisting temptation was exactly up there with Jesus H. Hadn't he sworn only two cases ago that he would abandon wild theorising? He hadn't taken long to fall from grace and fail to resist that particular vice, after all …

  But now, he thought, he'd better have another go at getting hold of the ex-DI Dai Jones. He'd come up with what he thought a very cunning plan to persuade one of his Welsh opposite numbers to give him the information: ringing the Welsh police station and pretending to be a Welshman, one of 'us', as opposed to one of ‘them’, the hated English.

  He found the slip of paper that Abra had given him on which she had scribbled the police station's telephone number. And after five minutes spent practising his accent, his ‘boyos’ and his ‘isn't it?'s, he picked up the phone and tapped out the number.

  He didn't recognise the voice at the other end. It certainly wasn't the cocky young copper who was so determinedly Welsh that he probably had a coal mine buried deep in his valley. It wasn't DI Jones either — not that he'd struck Rafferty as the sort to lower himself to answer the phone in reception.

  No, this one sounded early-middle-aged and spoke politely to Rafferty — though that, of course, might just be the influence of the accent.

  But, Welsh accent or no, he still didn't get anywhere. What was it about this Dai Jones that had everybody so keen to keep any information about him under wraps? he wondered.

  He spun his chair round to face the desk and replace the receiver — and met Llewellyn's startled gaze.

  Had he heard any of his conversation? Rafferty wondered uneasily. He certainly couldn't have heard the first bit when he'd mentioned Dai Jones's name as he'd been facing front at the time and knew Llewellyn was out of the room, so he decided to bluff it out.

  ‘I was just having a competition with a friend to see who could do the worst Welsh accent,’ he explained weakly.

  ‘0h yes?’ Llewellyn raised an eyebrow. ‘I think you won.’ He hadn't, though, Rafferty knew. He was still no further forward on the Dai Jones front. But at least Gloria still hadn't been charged. Rafferty couldn't understand why there was such a delay in what was a routine shoplifting charge. But he was too glad of it to ponder further on the whys and wherefores. It gave him a bit more time to try to help her out of the hole she was in.

  Chapter Seventeen

  While he might not be making any advances in helping Gloria, Rafferty at least felt he was making progress in the Raine murder investigation. If only it didn't still contain that one fatal flaw, his latest theory would be nigh-on perfect.

  He had just relented and decided to share his thoughts about this theory with Llewellyn when the office phone rang. He sat up straight, suddenly alert, when he recognised the voice of the governor of the prison where Felicity Raine was being held on remand.

  He listened for a few seconds, asked some questions and then replaced the receiver. ‘That was Mrs Collins, the prison governor,’ he told Llewellyn. ‘Apparently Mrs Raine has collapsed. She's been rushed to hospital. The Accident & Emergency here in Elmhurst. We'd better get over there.’

  As he walked towards A&E reception, from the corner of his eye, Rafferty caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowded waiting room. He stopped. Then he saw that the familiar face of Sandrine Agnew was accompanied by Michelle Ginôt. What were they doing here? he wondered.

  But then, as he got closer and saw they were wearing matching expressions of anxiety, it struck him tha
t they must know about Felicity Raine's admission.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Rafferty immediately demanded as he reached their seats. ‘I take it you've heard the news?’

  ‘About Felicity? Yes,’ Sandrine Agnew confirmed.

  ‘Who told you?’

  Sandrine Agnew hesitated, then blurted out, ‘I'm a volunteer at the hospital and have a friend who works in A&E. She recognised Felicity, was aware of her present circumstances and that she's a friend of mine.’ Sandrine raised her plump chins in defiance of Rafferty's clear disapproval. ‘I hope I haven't got her in any trouble, but I thought Felicity might be glad of my support since she's unwell.’

  Rafferty glanced around him. Suddenly he noticed they had a fascinated audience among the other waiting patients and he lowered his voice. ‘I'm sure. But I hope you understand that she's still a prisoner?’

  Sandrine Agnew nodded. ‘But not for much longer now, I think, inspector.’

  Rafferty raised his eyebrows at this. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘You have only to look at the other suspects this investigation has thrown up — each of whom has motives for wishing Raymond dead and far more to gain than has Felicity from his death. Michelle and I have already told you about her overhearing Stephanie and Michael colluding to make sure Felicity is convicted and—’

  ‘A collusion they both deny,’ Rafferty interrupted to tell her.

  Sandrine shrugged this aside as if it was no more than she had expected. ‘To quote one of the parties in a previous court case — “They would say that, wouldn't they?” They have everything to gain and nothing to lose by making such a denial.’

  She paused, then asked, ‘Inspector? May I see Felicity? I need to know for myself that she's all right. None of the other hospital staff will tell me anything and my friend's gone off shift now.

  ‘I'm not a relative, of course,’ she remarked with a trace of bitterness. ‘As if any of Felicity's relatives ever cared enough about her to even turn up here, as I—’ she hesitated, glanced at Michelle with a frown, as though unwilling to acknowledge her presence and shared concern for Felicity, and murmured, ‘and Michelle, have done.