Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama)

by Carole Williams

  Before leaving America Delia had booked two rooms at the Post House Hotel near to the airport and had great pleasure in explaining to a drowsy Rocky that as they were brother and sister, which was soon about to become common knowledge, it wouldn’t do to sleep together while they were in England. Little did he know they would never share a bed again.

  Delia wasn’t in need of food as she had eaten on the plane and Rocky only wanted a ham sandwich. Room service was quick and within minutes the sandwich was delivered, along with the pot of coffee Delia had ordered to keep herself awake. She surreptitiously placed another sleeping pill between the two slices of bread and handed it to Rocky. He ate it slowly, yawning widely.

  “I would love a shower but don’t think I can summon the energy,” he uttered. “I just want to sleep.”

  “Go on then. You can always shower in the morning. It’s the jetlag. I feel the same and will hop into my bed too as soon as I’ve been out and bought you some dope from my contact,” she encouraged. “Let’s get your clothes off and then you can drift off. The bed looks lovely and comfy.”

  “God, I’m tired,” he muttered as his head hit the pillow. “Don’t be long, Delia. I’m going to need something soon.”

  “I won’t be. Just stay in bed and sleep till I get back. Promise me.”

  “Okay, okay,” he yawned. “Just hurry up.”

  By the time Delia had drunk two cups of coffee, Rocky was snoring loudly and she decided it was safe to leave him alone and get cracking. He couldn’t be kept doped up with the tiny white tablets for much longer. She dashed to her room, praying he would remain as he was until she returned. She didn’t want anything jeopardising her plans now they had got this far and to have him out of her sight, even for a short while, was a gamble. He was so unpredictable when his cravings took control but then if the sleeping pill she had just given him worked as well as the one on the plane, there was nothing to worry about. She had time to get what she wanted, although she was beginning to feel weary herself. It had been a long day and even though there was only a five-hour time difference, it was four in the afternoon in Boston but nine in the evening here in London, which took a little getting used to and sitting for so long on the plane was exhausting and hadn’t helped. Delia hated to be idle and relished the thought of a chance to get outside and immerse herself in the bustle of London. However, just to make sure she was as alert as it was possible to be, she dived into her bag for her fresh bottle of bee pollen and swallowed four tablets quickly. It always worked when she needed to be on the ball mentally and it was natural, unlike all the substances Rocky and his fellow band members liked to poison their bodies with.

  She took a quick shower and changed. It was dark and cold outside and she was able to dress according to the weather, which would help keep her identity a secret. Putting on fresh jeans, polo-necked sweater and her navy duffle coat, identical to the one worn by Rocky, she tucked her hair into a short mousy-brown wig and placed the glasses bought especially for the occasion on her nose. A dark blue warm woollen scarf draped round her neck and across her mouth to keep out the chill of the night, was the final touch. A mirror check gave satisfaction. She looked nothing like Lady Delia Canleigh, or Delia Marshall come to that, and unless someone looked closely, it was unlikely they could guess her gender either. Whatever happened she mustn’t be recognised during the next couple of crucial hours, especially by anyone in the hotel or immediate vicinity.

  Leaving the hotel by a side exit, doing her best to walk like Rocky, Delia flagged down a taxi to take her to the nearest tube station, caught a train to Piccadilly Circus, and without too much difficulty found a bright red telephone kiosk. She made one quick call to Benny at his club and then rang Richard, having tried earlier from the hotel. He hadn’t been in his flat then but this time he was off duty and just about to retire for the night.

  “Hi,” sang Delia gaily when he answered. “Guess who? Have you missed me?”

  “Good grief … Delia … where have you sprung from?” asked Richard, shocked to hear the voice of his twin.

  “Yes, it’s me. Just back from the States. Listen, I can’t stay on here long as I haven’t any more ten pence coins,” pushing her last one into the slot. “I’m coming up to Oxford tomorrow. Can I come around to the flat? I’ve someone with me who I think you’d like to meet.”

  “Okay. I’m free in the morning … after eleven … but Delia, where the devil have you been? Are you all right? You’ve been gone so long … I was worried about you.”

  “Sorry, must go, Richard. Someone else wants to use the phone. See you tomorrow.”

  Delia replaced the receiver quickly, anxious to avoid any discourse, although his words rankled. Worried? He had cause to be … but for a very different reason.

  She had taken the scarf off to speak to Richard and didn’t wrap it around her face again as it was beginning to irritate her skin and in the crowded streets, it was doubtful she would be recognised and anyway, she still wore the glasses and the wig. Although disliking anything on her head, she pushed off the hood of the duffle coat as it was too warm. She flung the scarf around her shoulders, left the phone box and walked smartly past the brightly lit strip joints of Soho, ignoring the lewd suggestions thrown at her by seedy looking men hanging around outside, Turning a corner she came face to face with two burly bouncers leaning menacingly outside the Garden of Paradise club. They looked her up and down in disbelief as she approached them, wondering why such a nondescript female would want to enter the club. She was hardly escort material but then maybe she possessed hidden talents.

  “I’ve an appointment with Benny,” she stated firmly.

  “Who shall we say, lady?” asked the tallest, nonchalantly chewing gum and looking her up and down. She had to be joking if she thought she could find employment here. Benny only wanted sexy looking women with long bouncy hair and certainly not wearing glasses.

  “Just tell him it’s his old friend. I’ve just phoned so he’s expecting me.”

  Five minutes later she was in his office, two stories up from the street. The club was in the basement but the gyrating music was loud and it was possible to feel the beat through the soles of her boots. She looked at Benny and smiled.

  “Well, well,” Benny said slowly, leaning back in his chair behind his enormous desk and staring at her with surprise. “It’s certainly nice to see you again. Where have you been hiding and what on earth have you been doing to yourself? What on earth has happened to that head of gorgeous hair and surely the glasses aren’t necessary. You look like a school teacher.”

  Delia came straight to the point. As much as she would have liked to renew their short but explosive affair she was worried about Rocky and wanted to get back to the hotel quickly.

  “Sorry, Benny but I haven’t time to explain. I need a gun … and it must be a revolver … and I need it now.”

  Benny put his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on clasped hands. He was as handsome as she remembered and for a second her resolve wavered. Sex had always been pretty good with him and having suffered Rocky’s immature fumblings for the past year, to have a real man with his hands on her bare skin would be luxury indeed. She tossed the desire away rapidly. It would have been good to dally but there was the niggling worry that Rocky might wake up and kick up a fuss if she wasn’t in her room.

  “Blimey, Delia,” said Benny slowly, not taking his eyes from her face. “You’ve changed … in more ways than appearance. A gun. Now, what would you want that for? And why a revolver? That would appear to be a pretty serious shooting you have in mind.”

  “The less you know the better. Look, Benny, I’m in a hell of a hurry. Have you got something I can use or not?” she snapped.

  Benny was worried. The Delia he had known for that short brief period months ago was ready for a good screw and a few laughs, although he had guessed that beneath all the outer veneer was a woman suffering heartbreak of some kind. She never told and he never asked but for the life of h
im, he couldn’t have foreseen her asking him to give her a gun of all things. She must have gotten herself into some really hot water and he really didn’t want to get involved in whatever mess she was in. He looked at her coldly.

  “I’m not sure. Tell me what you want it for first.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, stop messing me around. I can’t tell you and that’s that.”

  “If you think I’m handing over a weapon without knowing why and what you’re involved in, you must be joking. It’s too much of a risk.”

  Delia’s laugh was hollow. “That’s rich. You, who are taking risks all the time. You forget, Benny. In those few weeks we were together I saw and heard a few things I am sure the authorities would be very interested in. I’ve written down everything I know and left it in my hotel room so … if you don’t play ball or try to hurt me in any way, the nice big white envelope I have left by my bed will wend its way to Scotland Yard pretty damned quickly in the morning.”

  He stared at her for a moment, wondering whether she was bluffing and trying desperately to think what it was she could have seen or heard but all he could remember were the antics in the bedroom. She had been a tremendous lay, one of the best and he had been quite sorry when she ended it but even so, he didn’t discuss business with his women so what she knew, if anything, was a mystery. However, he couldn’t take the risk. If the law discovered how deeply he was involved in one or two things he could go down for a hell of a long time.

  He stood up and took some keys out of his jacket pocket. “Okay, okay. You win … but Christ, Delia, you’ve changed,” he said. “Guns don’t come cheap though,” he warned. “It’s going to cost.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Delia firmly. “Think of it as a departing present. Just remember I could destroy your little empire in a flash and I really don’t want to do that … and while you’re at it, throw in at least four bullets and enough cocaine and marijuana to keep someone happy for a couple of days.”

  Without another word Benny left the room, leaving Delia to glance at her hands which were shaking. She had been so frightened he wouldn’t buckle under and had no idea what she would have done if he hadn’t. She took a few deep breaths and calmed herself before he re-entered the room carrying a handgun.

  He passed it to her. “You’re in luck. This is a Smith and Wesson. A popular little gun. It’s been around since the 1950’s and used all over the world. The serial number has been erased and it hasn’t been used for around five years so it should be okay and not linked to other crimes. It takes five bullets so I’ve given you that amount … and here are the drugs … but I tell you this, if you ever breathe a word to anyone that I provided this little lot for you, you will deeply regret ever crossing my path.”

  Delia took the gun, bullets and drugs he handed her and placed them deep into the pocket of her duffle coat, covering them over with tissues and her purse.

  “Thanks, Benny. I’m sorry I had to do this and although you’ll soon hear what I’m going to use the gun for I promise I’ll never mention you were involved.”

  “That’s a promise you better keep, my girl,” he warned. “Have you ever used a gun before?”

  “Don’t worry about that. Let’s just say I’ve had a bit of practice.” With the addiction to guns in the States, it was easy to find a shooting range and Delia had perfected her shot during the few afternoons it was possible to escape from the claustrophobia of Rocky’s ghastly house. There was no way she was going to miss her intended targets.

  She planted a kiss on Benny’s nose and smiled. He had helped her more than he could ever know, both when they first met when he gave her body and mind release from the pain she was enduring from all the rejection from Philip and her family and now, when he had given her the very tool she needed to secure her future. Although it wouldn’t have been so easy to get the gun if her time hadn’t been well spent on their sojourns, when she had kept her eyes and ears open and learned a great deal about his dealings in drugs, his call girl racket and involvement in hard porn. He’d not risk her spilling the beans.

  Pulling the hood of the duffle coat back over the wig, she left the club, ignoring the two bouncers outside, and hurried into the brightly lit, buzzing streets of Piccadilly to melt into the crowds for a little while. She didn’t think Benny would send anyone to follow her but she wanted to make sure before she jumped into a taxi and headed back to the hotel.

  Rocky was snoring heavily so Delia left him to it, leaving a note by his side to tell him which room she was in and that she had a present for him. That should keep him sane if he should wake up before her.

  Surprisingly, Delia slept well for a few hours. With such a lot on her mind, she had expected to stay awake but her eyes didn’t open until the dreary November daylight at seven thirty. She showered and dressed carefully in a smart black two-piece suit, a pale pink blouse, and black court shoes. Just a light dusting of powder, a touch of brown eyeshadow and mascara along with a rose-pink lipstick completed the impression she wanted to make that she was a respectable, law-abiding woman. It would look good when she was arrested later. She removed the gun and the drugs from the pocket of the duffle coat and along with the wig she had worn the night before, placed them deep down in her cavernous leather handbag, hiding their presence with her make-up bag, purse and tissues. The dreadful glasses which made her look like a school teacher, according to Benny, were washed carefully, wrapped in tissue paper to avoid leaving fingerprints and joined the rest of the illicit items. The duffle coat was placed in her suitcase.

  Satisfied she was able to cover her tracks from her visit to Benny, Delia dashed along to Rocky’s room to find he was still in bed, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling and shaking uncontrollably.

  “Oh, thank God,” he breathed when he saw her. “I feel so ill, Delia. I can’t get out of bed.”

  “I’ll soon fix that,” she said firmly, diving into her cavernous bag for the tiny packet of marijuana Benny had given her. “Here,” she said, passing it to him. “Enjoy.”

  While Rocky occupied himself rolling a joint, Delia dug in his suitcase for some clean clothes. He didn’t possess anything smart so jeans and a sweater it had to be but then it didn’t really matter what he wore. The only place he would be going after visiting Richard would be the morgue.

  Neither of them was particularly hungry, Delia because she was desperately nervous and Rocky’s only need was for the dope he was smoking, so they skipped breakfast. Allowing time for the drug to take effect on him, Delia walked down to reception, paid the bill and made sure the hire car she had requested for the next fortnight was waiting outside. The dark green Volvo saloon was in the car park with its delivery driver, who insisted Delia accompany him to spend a frustrating few minutes walking around every inch of the car to make sure it hadn’t any scratch marks or dents and the interior was spotless and well maintained. Then, after a lecture about returning it in the same condition as she received it, he allowed her to sign the necessary documentation and handed her the keys. Little did he know that he would have to collect it from Oxford later that day.

  Delia dashed back up to Rocky’s room, pleased to see his shaking had ceased and he looked fit enough to leave the hotel without blurting out anything inappropriate as to where they were going and what they were going to do. Delia had told him repeatedly before they left the States that he hadn’t to do anything and everything would fall into place and with that, he had to be content.

  The normal route from London to Oxford, which took just over an hour, was along the M4 and up through Maidenhead but Delia had things to get rid of and didn’t want anyone finding them on the roads they would have been expected to take. So, once clear of the hotel she turned the car east instead of north and headed towards Hounslow and Richmond. Rocky had no idea of how they would get to Oxford so never questioned her route. He just sat quietly beside her watching the scenery or closing his eyes and dozing. Delia found what she wanted in Richmond; a busy shopping centre with to
ilets. She left Rocky to roll up another joint in the car, removed the duffle coat from her suitcase in the boot, and dashed into the ladies carrying her leather handbag. She waited impatiently in a cubicle while two other women used the facilities but once she was alone, she removed the wig from her bag and stuffed it as far as she could into the bin by the entrance door. The duffle coat was hung on a hook in another cubicle. Hopefully, someone would take it but even if it was handed in as lost property, she couldn’t see how it could be linked to her. Walking back to the car park, she slid the glasses, still wrapped in tissue paper, out of her bag and threw them into another bin. With a smile on her face, she returned to the car and jumped in.

  “Right. Let’s head for Oxford then,” she said gaily, starting the Volvo and heading out of the car park.

  “I thought we already were,” said Rocky, puzzled by her words.

  Delia grinned. “Would you like some music to keep us company?” she asked, turning on the car radio which blasted out Roberta Flack’s ‘Killing me softly’. Delia grin widened. Richard wouldn’t be killed so softly.

  An hour and a half later they were wending their way through heavy Oxford traffic towards the Radcliffe Infirmary. The drive had calmed Delia’s nerves but as soon as they turned into Walton Street, she suddenly felt sick and faint and gripped the steering wheel tightly. What if something should go wrong? What if they were disturbed? What if Richard guessed what she was up to? The tension increased as she stopped the car in the street just down from the house where he resided in the ground floor flat.