Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1)

by Richard Harrington

  ‘Okay, I’ll have the case checked out, but first, tell me about the cradle.’

  ‘What, the maintenance cradle?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right.’

  ‘Well it’s nothing special, it just runs along on guide rails under the rain guttering, it goes all round the house and we use it for window cleaning and the odd repair.’

  Frank thought, and not to mention photographing top secret documents.

  ‘Okay, I’ve got the idea. So what was the deal? What was in it for you?’

  Anderton sighed, ‘Not much, just ten grand in cash, and a few goes with the girl.’

  He frowned, ‘Goes? With the girl?’

  ‘Yeah, the Goodwin tart, they told the stupid little cow I was a suspect in a crime and she had to drop her pants to see if I’d talk.’

  Anderton grinned, but forgot himself as vivid thoughts came back into his mind.

  ‘And she sure did drop ‘em. Yeah, she’s a tasty bit of fresh meat, that Tara Goodwin, and boy did she grunt when I shoved it up her arse. Yeah, a good little fuck she was.’

  He laughed again, but stopped when he saw Frank staring hard, straight into his eyes.

  ‘Anderton. Come outside. Come out onto the balcony.’

  2 5

  Wandering around her apartment, Evelyn looked out through the French windows and saw Anderton walk out onto the next balcony, and couldn’t help wondering why Lewis had wanted him brought up.

  Looking around the balcony, she noticed a tall broom lying against the balustrade, but Lewis had stood up close with his back shielding it as he looked up over the house, and for some reason, they seemed to be looking along the edge of the roof tiles.

  ‘Alright, Anderton, so where are the guide rails?’

  ‘They’re up there, under the guttering.’

  Frank shielded his eyes from the sun, and looking up along the eves, suddenly pointed.

  ‘Well I’m damned. Look at that. So that’s how they did it.’

  Anderton stared up, ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  Frank sighed, ‘Well I can see now, just how easy it was to trap you.’

  Anderton looked more closely, ‘But I can’t see anything.’

  He pointed, ‘Look, there’s a small camera up there, so they must have filmed you when you were taking the photos.’

  Anderton strained to see, ‘But we didn’t put a camera up there, and I should know.’

  ‘Well there’s one up there now, just under that ledge, see?’

  Anderton tried to think back, ‘The bastards.’

  ‘Yeah. Well you’d better get it down and we’ll check it for prints.’

  ‘Right. I could get it down with the cradle, but I just can’t see it.’

  ‘Well I don’t suppose you can from here, and especially with the state of your eyes. So hop up on the balustrade and I’ll hold you while you pin point it.’

  ‘Hop up? Christ, that’s dangerous. I’d rather use the cradle.’

  ‘Anderton, I’m trying to help you, so don’t fuck me about. Now get up there.’

  He looked into Frank’s eyes, and sweating, climbed up and stood swaying on the smooth, round topped balustrade, his body slightly jiggling as he looked up.

  ‘I still can’t see it.’

  Frank reached round, and grasping the end of the handle, lifted the broom and pushed the bristles hard into Anderton’s chest, ‘Here. Hold this.’

  Anderton jerked, and swaying back, frantically grasped the head of the broom.

  ‘Christ Almighty. Go easy. You nearly had me off.’

  Frank watched the nylon twine straining into tension under Anderton’s weight, and looking up into his eyes, took his hands off the broom handle.

  Anderton gasped in disbelief as he stared at the broom handle, now sticking out and pointing away across the balcony, and he just couldn’t understand how the broom he was clinging onto, seemed to be just laying straight out in the still air, and his eyes became filled with terror when he realised the broom was attached to nothing, it was just there, laying suspended in space.

  Wobbling on the balustrade, a breeze came to tug at his filthy matted clothes, and he began to shiver when he remembered that below him lay only the concrete yard.

  Looking into his eyes, Frank raised his hand and plucked at the transparent twine.

  ‘Nylon. Strong, isn’t it? But don’t move, I’m not that good with knots.’

  Anderton stared as he held on tightly to the broom handle suspended in mid-air.

  Standing within the folds of the curtains, Evelyn could hardly believe her eyes as she stared across to the scene on the next balcony. Anderton was standing on the balustrade and holding tightly onto a broom handle as he leant back into space, but the broom was just lying there, suspended in mid-air while Lewis stared at him.

  Anderton’s heart began to pound, beads of stinging sweat trickling down into his eyes, his arms beginning to ache with the enormous weight of his bloated body.

  ‘Please. Oh for god’s sake, pull me in. I’m going to fall.’

  Slipping his hands into his pockets, Frank looked far away across the vast estate.

  ‘I know. That’s the whole idea.’

  Evelyn’s thoughts jumped, ‘Oh god. Surely not. He couldn’t just let him fall.’

  Anderton began to whimper, his chest heaving while his bloated body quivered.

  ‘But you can’t let me fall, it’s inhuman. All I did was take the pics.’

  Frank took out his cigarettes, ‘Anderton, as usual, you just don’t get it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What I mean, is, you’ve become a self-inflicted nemesis.’

  ‘And what the hell is that?’

  ‘You condemned yourself.’

  Anderton cried out in terror, ‘But why ..?’

  ‘You want reasons? Okay, I’ll give you reasons. Well first there’s that secret file, and as the government would never want all this to come out in open court, you’ve just got to have an accident. And then there’s poor old Dudley, who didn’t just abseil off the balcony and use his neck as a brake, because you killed him, I know you did.’

  Anderton swallowed, ‘But that wasn’t my idea. Hillsdown made me do it.’

  ‘Oh yeah, and what about that little lady, Tara Goodwin, did he force you to abuse her and all those school girls you and your grotty pals groomed for sex, and don’t bother lying because I know all about you. You’re on Stacey’s list.’

  Anderton gripped the broom head, ‘But you’re wrong, these young girls like it.’

  Frank flicked the cigarette away, ‘Emily didn’t.’

  ‘Who’s Emily?’

  ‘She was my best friend until she was raped by some pervert, and then died from Aids.’

  Evelyn gripped the curtains and watched as Anderton gaped, and now she knew that Lewis really was going to let him fall, and nothing in the world could save him.

  Frank plucked the twine, and looking up into Anderton’s crying eyes, saw that his fingers were slowly losing the battle, and there were only seconds left.

  A terrifying image came into Anderton’s mind, of him falling, his arms thrashing through the air as he fell headlong, and all the way down to the ugly waiting concrete.

  ‘Please.’

  Frank had heard that meaningless word so many times it had no consequence.

  ‘So long, Anderton. Give my regards to hell.’

  First one hand and then the other slipped off the broom, and as it twanged back across the balcony, Anderton’s terror filled eyes met Frank’s uncaring stare, and he was gone.

  Lounging his arms on the balustrade, Frank looked down and watched the bloated figure of Anderton as he fell in silence, his arms and legs spread out wide as he rushed in a spiral to the ground, but in the final few seconds, an eerie high pitched scream floated out over the estate, and then to be abruptly silenced as a shocking red stain suddenly and violently erupted out over the ugliness of the grey concrete.

&nb
sp; With a shrug, he walked thoughtfully back to the lounge and picked up the phone.

  ‘Sergeant Jenkins? This is Lewis.’

  ‘Yes sir, how can I help?’

  ‘Well there’s been a development with Anderton.’

  ‘A development, sir, in what way?’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘That’s right, he fell off Miss Goodwin’s balcony.’

  The Sergeant stood motionless, Oh god, not another one.

  ‘I see. So is there anything I should do?’

  ‘Yeah. Have a sheet thrown over the body, but leave it alone and I’ll have it collected tonight by my people, it’s better that way, and you can record it as an accident at work.’

  ‘Yes sir, anything else?’

  ‘Yes. Tell Hillsdown that Anderton has just died taking photographs.’

  ‘Taking photographs?’

  ‘That’s right, then give him half an hour to stew and bring him up to the house.’

  ‘As you wish, sir.’

  ‘Oh, and sarge, what height and weight would you say Hillsdown is?’

  Frowning, the sergeant thoughtfully scratched his head.

  ‘Well I guess he’s about six foot one, and around fourteen, or maybe fifteen stone.’

  ‘Okay, that’s all I need.’

  Replacing the phone, Sergeant Jenkins pulled out the drawer of the filing cabinet, and taking a long swallow from his bottle of Grouse Whisky, couldn’t help wondering if life here at Thornley Manor would ever be the same again.

  Probably not.

  As Christiana drove away from Glastonbury, she had even more on her mind than when she’d first arrived, and it was all because of Dimi, and that cow, Felicity.

  Taking the road leading to the city of Bath, she knew from there she could head straight back to Sheverill’s Farm, and just maybe, the pad and alphabet.

  They had to be somewhere in the house, and at least knew what she was looking for now, but having said that, where would Robin Sheverill have hidden them?

  Then remembering Martha saying something about a priest hole, she relaxed a little.

  So maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

  Letting the Ferrari speed away, it didn’t seem long before she came to the ancient city of Bath, but the traffic was heavy and the narrow streets were clogged.

  Sitting in the gridlock, a high class dress shop caught her eye, and in the window was the cutest little outfit. It was red, clinging and low cut …

  She froze as two ladies stepped out, and instantly recognised the taller woman.

  The Passion, The Tempest and The Devil’s Angel, all wrapped up in one voluptuous, but insanely crazy woman. Lucinda Sheverill.

  Christiana watched them talking, but the traffic moved and blocked her view, and when she saw them again it was obvious Lucinda was annoyed, and leaning towards the other woman, her mouth worked fast while her hands gestured wildly - but the other woman stood unfazed in her immaculate grey suit, and while the colour of her light brown hair seemed to change with every fiery glint of the sun, her eyes stayed cool, and it soon became clear this woman was a mistress of herself, and she couldn’t help wondering just who the hell she was.

  The traffic began to move, and as the car crept forward, saw the women disappearing into the crowd, but Lucinda was still arguing and waggling her finger at the woman in grey.

  Cursing, she lit a cigarette, knowing this was not the time for more complications.

  So why was Lucinda in Bath? She hadn’t said anything, except to meet her publisher. Maybe the confident woman in grey, was her, and if she was, why was Lucinda so angry?

  But never mind, she might be away for hours, and this could be the golden opportunity to search for the secrets at Sheverill’s Farm.

  Reaching the open road, she gunned the motor straight back to Sherston, and as the Ferrari hurtled through the twisting roads, Dimi’s words came back to her.

  Pad and Alphabet British code Very good Very secret.

  It was a long shot but she had to try. Right now she was getting nowhere and Area 57 was just too dangerous to leave for much longer.

  Arthur was busy digging when he heard a fast car slue to a halt in the courtyard, and looking up, saw Christiana walk into view, and as she hurried along the meandering path he watched her bosom and soft bottom jiggling.

  I’ll have you yet, you bitch, just you see if I don’t, and you won’t like it, one little bit.

  Pushing the kitchen door open, Christiana saw Martha look up startled from the stove.

  ‘Hello Miss, you’re back early. But my lady isn’t here, she had to go out.’

  ‘Oh, did she? Well never mind, I’ll see her when she gets back.’

  Bending down to the oven dish, Martha basted the trussed chicken with hot garlic fat, and standing up, took care to keep the left side of her face turned away, but Christiana had already noticed her bruised and swollen eye.

  ‘Are you okay, Martha? You seem …’

  ‘I’m fine, Miss. It’s just that my lady, well, she had another of those phone calls, you know, from her publisher, and it will hurt her mind again, you mark my words.’

  As Martha walked self-consciously to the chopping board, Christiana glanced to the old fashioned Swiss clock, and knew that time was running away fast.

  ‘Oh Martha. Did you manage to look for any papers or books?’

  ‘No Miss, sorry. You see it was quite busy here, what with ma’am getting that call, and, well you know how she can be, ‘cos it hurts her mind, so it does.’

  Christiana thought crazy old Martha seemed even more emotional than usual.

  ‘Yes, I do understand. But I wonder, would you mind if I looked?’

  Martha suddenly became defensive, ‘Looked? Where?’

  ‘Oh, just in the priest hole.’

  ‘The priest hole ..? Oh Miss … No, sorry, I couldn’t let you do that.’

  Christiana felt her plans slipping away, ‘But why not?’

  ‘Well my lady’s very particular about that place, very particular indeed, and I don’t know what possessed me to go in there and bring out that diary for you …, and may the saints preserve us if she ever finds out.’

  ‘But she won’t, Martha, I promise, and I’ll only be a few minutes.’

  Hesitating, she laid the chopping knife down and gently touched her bruised eye.

  ‘No Miss, I can’t. The devil in her mind would surely find us out.’

  Christiana glanced to the clock, ‘Well if you’re sure, but something’s bothering Lucy and it sure does make her violent, so I reckon whatever it is, has to be in the priest-hole because we’ve looked everywhere else, and if it is, all our troubles could be over.’

  Martha winced as she touched her eye, ‘Really? But how long would you need?’

  ‘Only a few minutes.’

  She took a deep breath, ‘Alright. Well come on then, I’ll show you the way.’

  Leading her into the depths of the rambling old house, Martha opened a cupboard, switched on a pale light and began plodding up a flight of dark, musty old stairs, but about halfway up, she stopped on a small landing and began to fumble with a strange wooden carving set high up in the wall.

  Christiana heard a dull click, and right in front of her eyes, a hidden door in the panelling began to swing inwards, and as she stared in surprise, hot moist air swirled out of a murky room of shadows. Peering inside, she saw stairs leading up through the darkness to yet another door, and reaching inside, Martha switched on a light so dim she could hardly see.

  She blinked, ‘Martha, this is amazing. But what is this place?’

  ‘A priest hole, Miss, it’s from the old days of the persecutions when Roman Catholics hid their priests to save their lives. Now come on, there’s no time for chattering, so up you go and I’ll lock you in, but I’ll be back in five minutes, and no longer.’

  As Christiana stepped into the gloom, a sweet but foul stench came to fill her nostrils.
/>   ‘Oh my god. What is that smell?’

  Martha stared, stony faced, ‘Now that is none of your concern. So up you go.’

  Martha pulled the door tightly shut, and when it clicked, Christiana found herself alone, and in the gloom, felt for a handle, but there was nothing on this side, and then she heard Martha’s muffled footsteps fading away on the stairs.

  As her eyes became more accustomed to the half-light, she walked over to the tall stairs and began groping up the banister to the next door, but before she could reach up, she felt something crawl onto her hand.

  She stopped, and peering through the murky light, saw a huge, black, hairy spider beginning to crawl along her arm, its myriad eyes looking directly into hers.

  The spider was huge, fat and heavy and suspended on long, bent, hairy legs, and she knew instinctively it didn’t belong in this country, and as she watched, she felt something moving first on one ankle and then the other, and in that heart stopping moment, realised the priest hole was alive with enormous spiders.

  Her mind raced, but there was no point in going back down because she didn’t know how to open the door, and that bitch Martha had already gone away, so her only chance was to go up the stairs and open the other door, but what would she find in there?

  Taking a breath, she fixed her eyes on the spider as it crawled up past her elbow, and trying to ignore the creatures on her legs, glanced up to the handle above her, and with a swipe, brushed the spider from her arm, and lunging up the steps, wrenched at the handle and flung the door wide open.

  Christiana trembled and convulsed in the darkness, and finding the light switch, flicked it on and was suddenly stood panting in brilliant light, and slamming the door, began to frantically twist and thrash as she tried to brush the spiders from her body, and as they fell with a thud, cursed and stamped as they scuttled away, and thrashing in a frenzy, kicked and stomped until every one of them was dead.

  Slumping against the wall, her mind swirled while her heart pounded fit to burst.

  How could this be, these spiders belonged in a hot country, not here in England.

  So why did these lunatic people keep the god-damned things here in the priest hole?