Threats and Menaces

by Alan Scholefield

  ‘Eighty quid that cost him. And he said…’ Her eyes brimmed over and mascara streaked her cheeks. ‘He said he loved me. That he needed me. That I was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. And now look what’s happened!’

  ‘Listen, lassie, we’ll fix things up in the morning, but why don’t you get some — ’

  ‘My children! I must see my children!’

  ‘They’re asleep.’

  ‘No, we’re not,’ said a voice from the top landing.

  Mandy tottered up the stairs, went down on her knees and enfolded Margaret and Bobby in her arms.

  Frenchy watched sourly and said to Macrae, ‘I’ve seen that dozens of times on TV.’

  ‘I’ve come back to look after you,’ Mandy said.

  ‘When are we going home?’ Bobby asked.

  ‘You left us!’ Margaret said.

  ‘I know. Oh, I know. But I’ll make it up to you.’

  It took nearly an hour of drama, weeping, reconciliation, promises, drinks, arguments… before the kids were returned to the spare room and Mandy was on the sofa-bed in the sitting-room. In the bedroom Macrae began to get undressed.

  ‘How long’s she going to stay, George?’ Frenchy asked.

  ‘Jesus, I don’t know.’

  ‘If she’s not out by tomorrow night I’m off.’

  ‘How the hell can I throw her on to the street?’

  ‘That’s your affair. I’m not staying here with one of your exes. I don’t mind being here with the kids. But not the kids and their mum. It wouldn’t be proper.’

  ‘Proper! You?’

  ‘You may find that strange, George, but I was brought up different.’

  ‘Differently, for Christ’s sake. How many times do I have to tell you?’

  She stared at him for a moment and slowly shook her head. ‘You don’t know when you’re well off, George.’

  He went downstairs. ‘Have you got everything you want?’ he said to Mandy.

  ‘I like the gown, George.’

  ‘You gave it to me.’

  ‘I thought so. Listen… thanks for taking me in.’ She put out a hand, he took it, she held his tightly. He sat down on the edge of the sofa.

  She sighed. ‘You know something? It’s a long time since I spent a night in this house. You and I used to come down here when the kids were small so they wouldn’t hear us. Remember?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘The bed upstairs rattled like an old bike.’

  She leaned back, head on hands. The sheet slipped down exposing her large breasts with their hard, dark nipples. They had always played havoc with Macrae’s libido and he saw a look in her eyes he knew very well.

  ‘I always liked this house,’ she said. ‘I chose those curtains.’ ‘Aye.’

  ‘Habitat. We couldn’t really afford to shop there, but we did.’ ‘Well — ’

  He made to rise but she was still holding his hand.

  ‘You know, George, life’s funny. Here I am back where I started and it seems that all the years between have vanished. I feel… I dunno how to describe but it’s as though I’ve been on a long journey and finally come home. For the first time in years I feel I’m where I belong.’

  ‘Mandy — ’

  ‘No, don’t say anything. I feel more relaxed than I have for years. That’s how you affect me, George. I feel that whatever happens, big George Macrae will cope.’

  ‘Listen, I — ’

  ‘No, you listen. I’m paying you a hell of a compliment. You’re like the Rock of Gibraltar, George.’

  ‘You said that about Joe.’

  ‘I never did.’

  ‘You said he appreciated you and looked after you and I didn’t.’ ‘I would never have said that. Never. It’s always been you, really. Oh, I know I went to Joe. And there were others. And Roger of course. But deep down, right down inside, it was always you. And you know something else…?’

  She had risen on her elbows and her large and inviting breasts were not more than a few inches from his hand.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve always thought. No, not thought, known, that one day we’d get together again.’

  Macrae pulled his hand away and stood up. ‘I think you should get some sleep.’

  She ignored him. ‘I know you think I’m just saying this because I’m emotionally upset, but that’s not true. Deep down… deep down… I’ve known'

  ‘There’s no way,’ Macrae said.

  ‘Yes, there is. Just think about it. They’re your kids. You don’t want them growing up without a real father, do you?’

  ‘You never thought about that when you decided to take them and bugger off.’

  ‘I took them for their own good then. That was a break-up. What I’m talking about is a coming together. And they’re older. Now’s the time they’re most impressionable. It would be the best thing for them.’

  Macrae loomed over her. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re saying we should live together again?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Lots of reasons. For a start the same ones that caused us to break up in the first place. But there’s one more. What about Frenchy?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She and I — ’

  ‘A couple? George, you know bloody well what would happen if the Met found you were living with a common prostitute.’ ‘Don’t say that!’

  ‘But it’s true. She is.’

  ‘I said don’t say it!’

  ‘She’s a tart, George. Face it.’

  ‘Christ, that’s bloody gratitude. We take you in. We give you a bed… then you foul-mouth Frenchy.’

  ‘George, don’t — ’

  ‘Just you hang on a sec. You’ve insulted her and I’m not having that. She may do it for money but at least she’s honest. What about you? You do it with anyone. You were unfaithful to me. You were unfaithful to Joe. You’ve only just been kicked out by the latest and you’re trying to get back into bed with me. Not only bed but back into my life. Well it’s not on, lassie. It’s not bloody well on.’

  She lay smiling up at him as though he had not spoken. ‘There’re some ciggies in my bag. Pass them, would you?’

  He picked up her bag and dropped it on the sofa-bed.

  ‘I’m off,’ he said.

  She blew him a kiss.

  He went upstairs. Frenchy was lying on her side with her legs crooked and her arm over her face to keep out the light.

  ‘Are you asleep?’ he said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you hear all that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Just my bloody luck,’ he said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Dory!’

  Her mother stood at the kitchen door.

  ‘Dory!’

  Dory was in her room at her word processor — or PCW as she called it. Personal computer word processor. Brilliant.

  ‘Dory!’

  She heard that special tone.

  ‘What?’ she yelled.

  ‘Please come here when I call you.’

  Dory came.

  ‘Why do you make me go on and on?’

  ‘I didn’t hear.’

  ‘Of course you heard. They could have heard in Rosemount. I want to know where the ratafias have gone. There was a whole tin here. And the fruit cake from Harrod’s.’

  Dory shrugged.

  ‘You don’t know?’

  Dory stared at her.

  ‘Well I didn’t take them. So that only leaves you.’

  ‘What about Max?’

  ‘For God’s sake stop calling him Max. Anyway, he doesn’t eat things like ratafias. If it was ice cream it would be different. But I’ll ask him.’

  Dory knew it was useless.

  ‘I didn’t say I didn't,’ she said. Which was strictly true. Indeed she hadn’t said anything.

  ‘Oh, so it was you! And the fruit cake too!’

  ‘Just a little.’

  ‘You took more than half. And that’s not all. The c
heese has gone. So has the milk. Dory, I want to know,’ Dory paused fractionally. ‘I gave it to charity.’ Her expression was solemn, caring.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I gave it to a lady. A nun.’

  ‘Dory, this is just —’

  ‘It’s true! You were at work and —’

  ‘I would have heard the doorbell.’

  ‘She was on the landing. I’d just come down from the roof.’ ‘That’s nonsense. Tulley would never allow anyone here who was begging.’

  ‘It wasn’t really begging. More collecting.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call me?’

  ‘You’ve always told me never to disturb you.’

  Adrienne stared at her daughter in silence. Then she said, ‘Do you mean to tell me a nun came to the door collecting for charity and you gave her some ratafias, half a fruit cake, some cheese and milk? I don’t believe a word —’

  ‘Except the milk. I drank that.’

  ‘A whole litre?’

  ‘With the bran cereal. Look.’ She held out the empty packet for her mother to see.

  Adrienne frowned. Somehow things were not as they seemed to be.

  The doorbell rang. Adrienne opened her mouth and started to say, ‘I don’t want to see —’

  But Dory had already opened the door. Macrae and Silver stepped into the flat.

  When she saw who they were, Adrienne said, ‘Not again!’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Macrae said.

  ‘I’d like to phone Mr Mavroulian.’

  ‘Are you afraid to answer a few questions? If you are you’d do better to get a lawyer than your ex-husband.’

  ‘Well —’

  ‘I’m not going to ask you anything that might incriminate you in the Brinks-Mat job or the Great Train Robbery. OK?’

  ‘Very amusing, Inspector.’

  They had reached the drawing-room by a kind of concerted shuffling. ‘Well, I suppose it’s all right,’ Adrienne said. ‘You’d better sit down.’

  Dory sat in a chair against a side wall out of her mother’s line of sight. In this way she hoped she might be able to stay.

  ‘Mrs Mavroulian…’ Macrae began. ‘It is Mrs Mavroulian, isn’t it?’

  ‘No it isn’t, it’s Adrienne Marvell. You can call me Ms Marvell.’ ‘There was a Captain Marvel once,’ Leo said. ‘A kind of superman figure in the comic strips.’

  Everyone ignored him.

  ‘Right then,’ Macrae said. ‘Ms Marvell it is. We don’t have you on a list of suspects for anything. But things have got a lot more complicated. A man’s been murdered.’

  ‘I read about it.’

  ‘We think we know who killed him but we need to eliminate certain people.’

  ‘Those who were burgled?’

  ‘No, no, you’re the victims. But it may be linked to the burglaries. That may be the common factor.’

  ‘The papers said a woman had been living in the house,’ Adrienne said. ‘A maid. They said you were looking for her. Did she do it?’

  ‘I can’t comment on that,’ Macrae said. ‘But, aye, we’d like to interview her. You haven’t seen her, have you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘I have,’ Dory said, quietly.

  Her mother and the two detectives turned towards her.

  ‘What did you say?’ Adrienne said with irritation.

  ‘I saw the lady from the house,’ Dory said.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said her mother.

  ‘Please, ma’am,’ Macrae began.

  But Adrienne interrupted him. ‘Dory, please go to your room.’ ‘But I did!’

  ‘She makes up stories,’ Adrienne said to Macrae.

  ‘I think we’d like to hear this story,’ Leo said.

  ‘She’s only a child. I don’t want her involved.’

  ‘Children see things too,’ Macrae said. He turned to Dory. ‘Tell us what you saw, Dory.’

  ‘Well,’ Dory said. ‘I was up on the roof —’

  ‘Was that the day we saw you?’ Leo said. ‘You were going up to play with — sorry, not play with but have tea with your dolls. Remember? We’d just been to see Mr Pargeter and you were on the lan —’

  ‘I remember it quite well, thank you,’ Dory said.

  ‘Tell us what you saw,’ Macrae said, impatiently.

  ‘I saw her come out of the house.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She went in the direction of Paddington Station.’ Dory pointed in the opposite direction to the park.

  ‘Can you remember what she was wearing?’ Leo had his notebook out and was writing furiously.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘A track suit. A kind of… it was purple and green.’

  ‘Right… right… When was this?’

  ‘After the fight.’

  ‘Dory!’ Adrienne said. ‘You’re making this up as you go along!’ ‘Please, Ms Marvell!’ Macrae was angry. ‘Go on, Dory. What fight?’

  ‘The fight between the two men.’

  ‘Which two men?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘How did you see it?’ Leo said. ‘Was it outside, on the pavement?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Dory was scathing. ‘It was in the house. You can see in the windows when the curtains are open.’

  ‘Show me,’ Macrae said, half-rising.

  ‘Not from here. From the roof garden.’

  ‘There’s a garden on the roof?’ Leo said, his interest quickening. ‘We’ll go up later and check it,’ Macrae said. ‘But for the moment, Dory, just tell us. How did you see? I mean, how could you be certain? It’s a long way down.’

  Dory got up, padded off and was back in a few moments. She held out her binoculars to Macrae.

  ‘Whose are these?’

  ‘Mine.’

  ‘They’re a good pair.’

  ‘Her father gave them to her,’ Adrienne said.

  ‘Let me get this straight, Dory, you were up on the roof playing with your dolls and —’

  ‘Not playing!’ Dory was getting sick of that phrase.

  ‘Having a tea party,’ Leo intervened. ‘Remember the cheese, guv’nor?’

  Adrienne swung round and looked hard at Dory.

  ‘I was looking at birds,’ Dory said, hastily. ‘Mr Pargeter taught me. Except he looks at other things too.’

  ‘Never mind Mr Pargeter,’ Macrae said. ‘Tell us how it happened. You were looking at birds.’

  ‘And the Pavement People.’

  ‘The what people?’

  ‘I told you,’ Adrienne said. ‘She’s just making it up.’

  ‘No I’m not! The Pavement People live down there. We live up here. We’re the Sky Walkers. Mr P. understands.’

  Adrienne turned to the detectives. ‘She thinks she’s so clever but she’s really just a seven-year-old child.’

  ‘She seems clever to me,’ Leo said. Dory shot him a less hostile glance.

  ‘All right,’ Macrae said through clenched teeth, ‘You were bird watching and you looked down and you saw… tell us exactly what you saw.’

  ‘I told you. I saw two men fighting.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Adrienne said. ‘I’m only your mother.’ ‘You never believe me. You didn’t believe me about the fruit cake. You think I’m telling lies.’

  Dory’s voice had cracked and her eyes were filling with tears. The danger cones were hoisted.

  ‘Of course I believe you, darling. It’s just that —’

  Macrae, sensing they had a small volcano in their midst which was about to erupt, said, ‘You’re marvellous, Dory. You’re being a tremendous help. Now let’s get back to what you saw.’

  The tears receded, the hot flush on her cheeks faded.

  ‘I saw the men hitting each other.’

  ‘What with?’ Leo said. ‘Their fists or some kind of weapon?’

  ‘It was too far.’

  ‘Of course it was,’ Macrae said.

  ‘One had a long white sheet on.
I’ve seen him before. He lives in the house.’

  ‘Have you ever seen him get into that big silver Mercedes?’ ‘Yes. I think he’s an Arab gentleman.’

  ‘And the other man?’

  There was a charged silence while she thought.

  She said, ‘It was sort of blurry. But —’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I couldn’t see really well. Red. A red shirt. Only it wasn’t a shirt.’

  ‘But it was red.’

  ‘Well not really red.’

  ‘Not red. Not a shirt.’ Macrae said. ‘You were so good on the dress of the woman.’

  ‘She was outside.’

  ‘Of course she was. If it wasn’t red, what was it?’

  ‘A kind of browny red.’

  ‘Rust-coloured?’ Leo said.

  She nodded. ‘Rusty.’

  ‘Why wasn’t it a shirt?’ Macrae said.

  ‘It didn’t have sleeves.’ Dory said, as though dragging each word up from the depths of her memory.

  ‘A short-sleeved shirt?’ Leo said.

  ‘I can’t remember any sleeves.’

  ‘A singlet?’ Macrae said.

  ‘What’s a singlet?’

  ‘A vest. The kind that men wear.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Dory lowered her eyes.

  ‘A rust-coloured vest?’

  Adrienne gave a sharp intake of breath.

  ‘Does that mean something to you, Ms Marvell?’ Leo said. ‘Well…’

  Dory was staring at her with innocent eyes.

  ‘There is someone who sometimes dresses like that. The gardener, Ralph. He looks after the flowers in Selbourne.’

  ‘Flowers?’ Macrae was puzzled.

  ‘In the foyer and on the roof.’

  ‘I thought they were all plastic these days.’

  ‘Do these look plastic?’ Adrienne said, indicating her own flowers and indoor plants.

  ‘I don’t know much about flowers,’ Macrae said. Then to Leo, ‘Are you getting all this?’

  ‘Yes, guv’nor.’

  Macrae said to Dory: ‘The men you saw fighting — did one of them fall down?’

  ‘They moved away.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I couldn’t see any more.’

  ‘But nobody fell, or anything like that?’

  ‘I saw the man in the vest hitting the man in the sheet. Bang… bang… bang…’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Oh, Christ!’ Macrae caught himself and said hastily to Adrienne, ‘I beg your pardon. I shouldn’t — ’