Grace Smith Investigates

by Liz Evans

  One flexed his shoulders and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Take a hike, Black. And don’t try coming back. You’re banned.’

  ‘Who cares? Stuff your frigging programme. Let’s go, Grace.’

  I didn’t see why I had to be included in the ban. It wasn’t like I’d clocked the director. But the mood Jonathon was in, there was no telling what he’d do next and I felt a sort of moral obligation to Della to ensure her son didn’t go diving off the North Bay cliffs. Even if he was dressed for it. He’d only been wearing his boxer shorts under the bunny suit. ‘Where’d you leave your clothes?’ I asked, trying to keep up with him.

  ‘Wardrobe. Stuff them. Where’s your car?’

  If you want a surreal experience, try driving through Seatoun with a bloke wearing just underpants and socks, and with his face made up to look like a rabbit. ‘If you want to clean that off, there’s some tissues in the glove compartment.’

  ‘It needs proper cleaning cream. Take me home.’

  Where did he think I was taking him like that? A bunny bar?

  He stared bleakly through the windscreen, the neon lights from the arcades cutting bars of red, green and blue over his rabbit features. ‘I thought it was a chance. When Opal said she’d sort something out for me, I really thought this was my in. I’ve done auditions before for Shoreline. Tested for parts. They always said I wasn’t right for the role. But they’d keep me in mind when something suitable came up. This time, I thought, big chance — didn’t even need to read for it. Pivotal role, Opal said. We did lunch. You don’t get lunch with the executive producer unless you’re serious talent. Big joke, eh? Must have all had a real laugh at the production offices.’

  ‘Isn’t it an important part?’ I asked. ‘I thought the Easter Bunny was a serial killer. That’s a big role, isn’t it? The bad guys always get the best lines.’

  ‘They haven’t cast the killer yet. These are just a few outside scenes. Killer bunny stalking the camp. Any frigging extra could have done it.’

  I pulled into their road and parked by the house. ‘Maybe it was like an audition? See if you fitted the —’

  ‘What? The ears? The fluffy tail? Have you any idea how sodding humiliating it is to prance around dressed like a frigging seven-foot rabbit?’

  And how. But it wasn’t something I was about to share with Jonathon.

  He threw himself from the car and slammed the door hard enough to reverberate through my fillings. ‘I’m a loser,’ he yelled to the stars. ‘That’s my punishment. To have everything dangled in front of me and never quite reach it. Well, okay, I get the message and I’ll frigging show you!’

  He headed for the front door. I was figuring he didn’t have a key in that outfit. He attacked it with a socked foot. I briefly considered suggesting he try the rabbit flap. By the time I reached him, however, the door was opening.

  ‘Hello,’ Bianca’s beam turned to a frown. ‘You haven’t got any clothes on, Jonathon.’

  The first blow was so fast I didn’t have time to react. Bianca staggered back, her head collided with the wall. When he went to follow up the punch, I seized his left arm and pulled it up his back. He tried to struggle, but as soon as the pain hit him, he stopped. I held him for a few more seconds. ‘Okay?’

  He drew a harsh breath. ‘Okay. We’re cool.’

  I let go warily. Jonathon looked at Bianca. Her round face was pale with shock. I thought he was going to apologise. ‘Everything’s your fault, you freaking parasite. You can’t do anything right, can you?’

  He barged past her and ran up the stairs. Bianca stared at me. Her mouth crumpled. Tears spilled down her cheeks. There was a smear of blood on the wall where her head had made contact.

  ‘You’d better let me take a look at that.’

  I sat her down in the kitchen and checked out the wound. It was only a small cut, but Bianca was blubbering non-stop. Big drops plopped on to her blouse, which was heaving up and down as she drew noisy breaths. They also had the effect of jerking her head back and forth. ‘It wasn’t me. It wasn’t,’ she hiccupped.

  ‘What wasn’t you? The letters?’

  ‘No.’ Hic-hic-hic. ‘I can’t say. I wouldn’t.’ Hic-hic-hic.

  ‘Okay, but can you try and keep still, Bianca.’

  Overhead I could hear footsteps, doors banging and the shower running. If the racket stopped I’d go up and find out why. But just at present, it sounded like Jonathon was mad with life rather than planning to check out of it.

  A key in the front door announced Clemency’s arrival. ‘Jon, are you here?’ She came through to the kitchen and took in the scene. ‘What happened? Was it Jonathon?’

  ‘He hit me, Clemency. He hit me.’

  Kneeling in front of her friend, Clemency took her hands. ‘He’s really strung out, B. You know why.’

  ‘It’s not my fault, Clemency. It really isn’t.’

  ‘Well, that’s getting harder to believe.’

  ‘No! I promised, Clemency,’ she whispered. ‘I promised. I’d never let you down.’

  The third member of the dysfunctional family group chose that moment to slouch downstairs. The make-up had gone and he’d added a jumper and jeans to the ensemble. Once more he seemed to feel no necessity to apologise to Bianca. ‘I thought you were filming,’ he said to Clemency. ‘Or was the urgent call for a more personal performance?’

  ‘Jake wasn’t in any condition to direct after your little stunt, my darling.’

  ‘Did you hear what they wanted me to do?’

  ‘It was a job.’

  ‘No. It was a joke. But that’s my life, isn’t it? Just one big freaking joke. And now it’s getting ten times worse thanks to that fat, stupid, careless bitch.’

  ‘It wasn’t me, Jonathon,’ Bianca wailed.

  ‘That’s enough, Jon,’ Clemency said sharply. ‘Thanks for your help, Grace. I’ll deal with them both now.’

  Short of digging my nails into the woodwork, I couldn’t stop her showing me out of the front door.

  Chapter Thirty

  With a head full of the Jonathon problem, I got as far as my front door before my nose registered cooking smells. I only knew one person who broke into my home to cook. Either I moved flats — right now — or I brazened it out.

  He was standing at the cooker, stirring something that was sending up viscous bubbles. It had steamed up those cute sexy little gold rimmed spectacles. He peered at me over the top of them. ‘Evening duchy, hard day?’

  ‘Average. Broke into a house; spent three hours lying under a bed; witnessed an assault by the Easter Bunny; drove a nearly naked bloke home.’

  ‘Nothing special then. Supper will be about half an hour. Venison in red wine. With French bread.’

  He seemed normal, well as normal as he ever got. Maybe I’d imagined half of what I thought I’d said to him last night. Like the fact I loved him? And I did, but not in a want-to-grow-old-together type of way. I loved him in a life-seems-less-grey-when he’s-around kind of way.

  Once dinner was served, and O’Hara had still failed to mention my ambition to lick him all over, I started to relax. I’d probably been so incoherent he hadn’t even understood what I was saying. ‘So how was your day?’ I asked. ‘Annie said you were going round to the Walkinshaws’.’

  ‘I did. They were out. According to the galloping major, they’d taken Imogen and one of her friends out for the day.’

  ‘So they don’t know about the body at the caves?’

  ‘They probably do now.’ He filled my wine glass. ‘It’s been all over the news. I figured I’d try them again tomorrow. By which time, I imagine, the police will have told them that the body isn’t Heidi’s. You realise what this means? Higgins was always in the frame because of his cocky attitude when he was interviewed. They figured he’d got away with it. Well, he had, but not the murder they were trying to pin on him. The police are going to be under serious pressure to re-open this case.’

  ‘I thought it had never been closed
?’

  ‘Officially, no. But some cases are more open than others.’

  ‘So where does this leave you?’

  ‘Still looking I guess, duchy.’ He used a chunk of crusty bread to mop round his plate. ‘You want to come with me to the Walkinshaws’ tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Sure.’ Pushing my hand in a pocket, I extracted a paper hankie and Maria’s photo of her and Heidi at the amusement park. ‘I didn’t realise I’d hung on to this, I’ll have to get it back to her.’

  ‘May I see?’

  I passed it over. He studied it without speaking for several minutes. First with spectacles on. And then off. ‘Have you got any digital imaging software?’

  ‘Damn it. I knew there was something I meant to pick up.’

  ‘Apart from semi-naked blokes you mean? Don’t worry about it, I’ll sort something out. Are you ready for pudding?’

  ‘We have pudding?’ I looked round.

  He took something from the pocket of his leather jacket and put it on the table. It was a tub of chocolate body paint. ‘Where would you like to start licking, duchy?’

  *

  The police cars parked outside the Walkinshaws’ house was the first indication that something was seriously wrong. One car might have meant they’d sent someone to officially confirm the report in the morning news that the cave body wasn’t Heidi’s. But there were two marked vehicles drawn up by the kerb plus Jerry Jackson’s car. The front door was opened to us by a uniformed female officer I didn’t know.

  Ellie Walkinshaw’s voice called out. ‘What is it?’ The door was ripped from the officer’s hand and dragged wide. Ellie’s expression said we weren’t who she was hoping to see. ‘Someone’s taken Immy.’

  ‘Mrs Walkinshaw, we don’t know that …’ The hapless officer was trying to wrestle Ellie back and shut the door.

  Before she could manage it, O’Hara and I did a synchronised step over the hall mat. Just as Jerry appeared from the lounge. ‘Grace. Mr O’Hara. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Visiting friends,’ O’Hara said. ‘Is it true the kid’s been snatched?’

  ‘We have no reason to believe so at this moment. She’s probably wandered off.’

  ‘Bit of an over-response for a wandering child, isn’t it? Or are you overcompensating for the cock-up with Heidi’s disappearance?’

  ‘I don’t think the allocation of police resources are really your concern, are they, Mr O’Hara?’ There was that edge again. Jerry wasn’t just being formal. He was definitely Mr Frosty when it came to dealing with O’Hara. ‘I think it would be best if you both left.’

  Ellie protested. ‘No, I want them to stay. This is my house, not yours.’

  ‘Why don’t I make another cup of tea?’ the female officer suggested brightly.

  ‘Because I don’t want a cup of tea,’ Ellie snarled. ‘What is it with you people and tea? Do you think tannin causes brain rot or something? Are you hoping we won’t notice how useless you are? Why are you here? Why aren’t you out looking for her?’ She whirled round and ran into the kitchen. The door slammed with enough force to shake a picture from the hall wall.

  The four of us looked at each other. ‘I guess we should go see Ellie is okay, unless you want us to help with the search?’

  ‘I think we can handle that, thank you, Grace.’

  ‘Sure?’ O’Hara enquired. ‘I mean you didn’t do such a great job of finding Winnie Higgins. If you need a hand, you only have to say.’

  ‘As I said, Mr O’Hara. We can manage.’

  ‘How does Jerry know you anyway? He seemed to at the caves, but you’ve never met, have you?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge. My fame must have gone before me. Shall we join Ellie?’

  Her flight had taken her through the kitchen and out into the back garden. She was sitting on the swing, her arms wrapped round the chains as she swung awkwardly. Her fair hair was hanging in clumps rather than the normal sleek blow-dried bob.

  ‘How long has she been gone?’ I asked.

  She took O’Hara’s wrist between her thumb and forefinger, twisting it to read his watch. ‘Two hours, four minutes.’

  That made it quarter past eight this morning. It wasn’t a long time for a seven-year-old to be missing. But for this particular seven-year-old, whose mother would have breathed her air to warm it if she could … ‘Where was Imogen? Out here?’

  ‘Oh no, she was safe. In the house.’ Her tone was hard to classify. It wasn’t hysterical, or frightened. It sounded almost cold. Graham Walkinshaw came through the back door. Her posture stiffened; her eyes searching for some clue in his face.

  ‘They’re still looking. I came to see how you were. They’ll find her, love.’

  ‘You know that for certain do you, Graham?’ The iciness in her voice had increased.

  He hung his head. ‘I’m sorry. It’s my fault.’

  ‘Of course it’s your fault.’ Her eyes flashed. She spoke to us rather than her husband. ‘I went to take a shower. I left Immy downstairs having her breakfast. Her daddy was going to look after her. Not hard is it, watching one seven-year-old?’

  ‘She wanted to watch her Little Mermaid video.’ He looked for understanding in our faces. ‘I left her watching it while I did the washing-up. When I looked in and she wasn’t there, I thought she’d gone up to her room or to use the toilet.’

  ‘Are you sure she’s not hiding in the house?’ O’Hara said. ‘Kids do.’

  ‘The police looked. And so have we. She’s vanished.’

  Ellie leapt to her feet and launched herself at her husband, slapping, punching and kicking with a hysterical fury. ‘It’s your fault. Yours. Yours.’

  Graham cowered, protecting his hands with his forearms. She kept coming, blows landing on his arms and shins. He sunk down on his knees, curling into a foetal position on the grass. O’Hara stepped behind Ellie and grabbed the top of her arms. She struggled in his grip for a few seconds and then went limp. ‘Let me go,’ she said quietly. As soon as O’Hara did, she ran for the house.

  Ellie’s actions were understandable. Graham’s were bizarre. We both stared at the curled figure, wondering where the heck to go from here.

  I put a hand on his back. He flinched.

  ‘Ellie’s gone. Are you okay? Can you sit up?’

  Slowly he uncurled. Using the frame for support, he pulled himself on to the swing seat. His thick muscular body barely fitted on the plastic seat. Tears were running down beside his broken nose. It was a disturbing sight on his big square face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I can’t stand it you see. I never could.’

  I didn’t get it. ‘Stand what?’

  ‘Being hit,’ O’Hara said. ‘You’re scared of pain?’

  Graham nodded. His shame was palpable. ‘When I was a kid I used to run and hide if a fight started. Other kids caught on; they used to beat me up for the fun of it. I moved down here where nobody knew me. I learnt to walk the walk and talk the talk. Act tough, you know? I got this,’ he tapped the badly set nose, ‘slipping in the bathroom would you believe? But it helped. Bloke looks like me, people think you can handle yourself. That’s what Ellie thought when she took up with me. First few years it was all right, you got a face like mine and trouble steers clear. Then, one night, we’re coming home and a couple of tossers catch us down a shortcut. They were just kids really. I can see Ellie’s expecting me to sort them out. And I can’t. I just freeze. They can see I’m terrified. Gives them a buzz. They start jabbing with a knife near my face.’ He made the movements with an invisible knife. ‘Laughing. And then one starts on Ellie. Feeling her. And still I can’t move. All I can think of is the pain.’ He made a sound that could have been a laugh. ‘Some other people came down the alley. Muggers took off. Ellie didn’t say anything. Just walked away. Left me there. When I got home she’d paid off the babysitter and gone to bed. I thought she’d leave me. I reckon she would have, if it hadn’t been for Heidi. We never talked about that night, but every time she looked
at me after, I could see she was remembering, thinking to herself, what use was a coward like me to her? Even in bed, she … it wasn’t the same. Like sex with a stranger. And then Heidi disappeared and we heard about Higgins.’

  ‘How?’ I asked. ‘The police showed you his picture, but I don’t believe they told you about his record. Or gave you his address?’

  ‘One of the blokes I worked with was dating a girl up the cop shop. Thought we should know.’ Graham seemed to become aware of the tears. Brushing them away with his fist, he said, ‘I wanted to kill him. Thinking about what he’d likely done to Heidi, I wanted to beat his face to a pulp. That’s what I planned to do, that night. I walked round to his house and all the time I’m thinking what I’m going to do to that bastard.’ His big hand closed into a fist. ‘And then, as I’m getting nearer, I start wondering how big he is and if he’ll fight back. I can feel myself walking slower and slower and I’m sick of myself. Disgusted inside, because even though I know what he’s done to Heidi, I’m still thinking of the pain. Do you understand?’

  I nodded. O’Hara didn’t.

  Graham continued. ‘I saw him, you know? Your brother. I crept round the back of Higgins’s house. I’m still thinking maybe I can do it, beat the truth out of Higgins. When I get there, the light’s on in the room and I can hear voices. Curtain wasn’t properly drawn, so I took a peek through and there’s Higgins on the floor and two guys taking it in turns to kick him. And then suddenly one of the men clutches his chest and falls down on his knees. Heart attack, I reckon. The other one gets him to his feet and helps him out through the French doors. They came right past me, didn’t see me in the dark. I stood out there a bit longer. Watched Higgins. He was still on the floor.’

  ‘Dead?’ I queried.

  ‘I don’t know. After a bit, when he hadn’t moved, I went inside. And I kicked him.’ He raised shamed eyes. ‘Couple of times. Then I went home. Next day, the word started going round that someone had done Higgins. When Ellie asked me where I’d been that night, I said I’d been up Higgins’s house. I never said I’d killed him, but I saw what she thought, and I saw something else in her eyes — respect. It was the same in prison. I was the man who’d killed his kid’s murderer; that made me someone in their eyes. Even the screws respected me. And Ellie waited for me. Waited because I was the man she thought she’d married all them years ago. Because she owed me for killing her daughter’s abductor. That were worth serving time for; to see that look back in Ellie’s eyes. And now she’s seen the truth again … and it wasn’t Heidi Higgins killed, was it?’