Grace Smith Investigates

by Liz Evans

  ‘I know that. And you’re sure as hell not a gardener.’

  Her eyes twinkled and her lips twitched. I couldn’t help it. I grinned back. ‘Sorry about that. I expect most of it will grow back.’

  ‘Who cares? I followed you, you know? To your office. Bet it gave you and O’Hara quite a fright when I turned up outside the other day. Is he a private investigator too?’

  ‘No. He’s a friend. Who knows I was coming up here,’ I lied. ‘Can I ask you something? How did you know I was here?’

  ‘I figured if you knew Jon had crashed out and B and I were away, you wouldn’t be able to resist coming back for another snoop round. Let’s face it, that’s what you do, isn’t it? Hope it wasn’t too dusty under my bed. Did you enjoy my performance?’

  ‘Lovely delivery, crap script.’

  ‘I couldn’t figure out why you were sniffing around me at first, until you asked Bianca about the missing paper girl.’

  It had been a casual enquiry when I’d given her a lift out to River End. I hadn’t given it a second thought after she’d told me she hadn’t known Heidi.

  ‘How did you find out?’ Clemency asked.

  ‘I didn’t. It was a separate case. Your mother-in-law hired me to locate the sender of the anonymous letters Jonathon was receiving. She was scared his mental problems had returned. That he was threatening himself and it could lead him to …’ And then two things hit me simultaneously. The pink plastic framed spectacles had looked familiar because they were identical to the ones Heidi was wearing in her school photograph. And Jonathon wasn’t the only one with access to this computer. ‘It was you wasn’t it? You’ve been sending the letters. And the spectacles. And that newspaper. You want him to kill himself?’

  ‘I told you, I do love him. After all we’ve been through together — the death, and then years of being infested by Bianca, how could I not be close to him? I couldn’t kill him, but …’

  ‘But he has to die before you can move on.’

  ‘He was going to do it anyway one day. I couldn’t pull him back from the hell he’d dug for himself — and believe it or not, I did try — so better he gets it over with when I can control the situation. I never did say thanks to you for stopping him going over that balcony, did I? It never occurred to me he’d try anything other than the drugs. You were quite right, having him paralysed would have been a total disaster.’

  Yep, helpful was my middle name. ‘Why the newspaper? What’s your birthday got to do with it?’

  ‘It wasn’t my birthday. At least it had been my seventeenth birthday on the Saturday. But that Monday was the date we … well you know what we did.’

  I hadn’t checked the exact day of Heidi’s disappearance. I’d had no reason to; O’Hara was calling the shots and directing that investigation. Nevertheless, it was a mistake that proved I didn’t deserve to be called an investigator. Although in my present circumstances, it sounded a lot more attractive than ‘the deceased’.

  ‘It’s your motorbike, isn’t it? You’re the one who tried to run me down!’

  ‘Sorry. It was an impulse. I was riding back and there you were. And I was pissed off with your snooping. I wasn’t really going to hit you.’

  ‘That makes me feel so much better.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she repeated. ‘Oh sod it, I’m starting to sound like B.’

  We stared at each other. ‘Jonathon isn’t going to wake up this time, is he?’

  ‘No. I’m afraid prancing around in that silly Easter Bunny suit when he thought he was going to be given a chance to write for the series was the last straw. He’s left a note. Unfortunately, he left a copy of that damn script as well, but I’ve burnt that. I guess I’ll have to destroy the computer, just in case. Smashed by the failed author in a fit of self-loathing. I think I’d get away with that, don’t you?’

  ‘Probably. Won’t Bianca be somewhat pissed off to discover one half of her baby-making scheme has checked out?’

  ‘She’ll be too busy comforting me. I shall be devastated, naturally. And once the initial shock has worn off, I daresay we’ll discuss other options; sperm donation perhaps.’

  ‘In fact, Bianca will be perfectly content, right up to the moment she has her accident. She is going to have an accident, isn’t she, now you know where to look for Heidi’s body?’

  She sounded genuinely impressed as she said, ‘You are good. I could hardly start digging at random. I couldn’t even get rid of Bianca and buy the house from her executors thanks to that damn trust leaving it to the hospital. So Plan B, lots of hints in the letters that someone else knew, and finally the finishing touch …’ She twirled the discarded pink spectacles. ‘Convince her someone had excavated our little secret.’

  ‘It was you upstairs at Pinchman’s Cottage this morning, not one of the tenants.’

  ‘Spare keys, had them cut years ago. I was watching out the back bedroom window. I’d always imagined she’d buried it by one of the outhouses. But it’s in the cellar, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not “it”. Heidi Walkinshaw. Aged fourteen. She liked music and clothes and hanging around the arcades with her mates. She’d never had a proper boyfriend, but she was getting there.’

  ‘You can’t make me feel worse than I do already do. I’m not a completely heartless bitch. I’d do anything to go back to that morning and not get in that car. But I can’t. All I can do now is go on and make something of my life.’ She knelt up and took a roll of parcel tape and scissors from the desk drawer. ‘This is going to sound weird, but I like you. If all this hadn’t happened, I think we might have been friends.’ Downstairs the front door slammed. Six inches of tape was cut from the roll and slapped over my mouth.

  ‘I found it,’ Bianca announced. ‘In Ethelbert Road. What should I do now?’

  ‘Nothing. When it gets darker, we’ll take her out to River End. You’ll have to help me again, Bianca. Like you did last time?’

  Bianca’s voice dropped to a confidential hush. Perhaps the rabbit was eavesdropping outside. ‘Before there was just me and Gran. But she was in hospital. Now there’s all the tenants. They’ll be home when it’s dark. I think Piri was in her bedroom when Grace drove me up there earlier. I could give them all notice if you like, Clemency.’

  ‘I don’t think we can wait for a month, B. It will be getting kind of ripe around here by then. I’ll tell you what, we’ll ring the house, and if no one answers, we’ll go immediately. Help me get her downstairs.’

  It was frightening the way they’d started to speak about me. I was ceasing to be a person to them and becoming just a problem to be disposed of. They man-handled me down to the kitchen and dumped me on the floor. Clemency brought down several scarves and lashed my wrists to a water-pipe. ‘That should stop you doing anything stupid while I’m gone.’ She patted down my pockets and found my car keys. ‘I won’t be long, B. Don’t touch her.’

  As soon as she was gone, I fixed my eyes on Bianca and made Mmm-mmmm-mmm noises.

  ‘Don’t. Please don’t do that. I’m really really sorry. I like you honestly. But Clemency’s family.’

  No she’s not, you stupid lump. She’s your future killer. It came out as ‘Mmmm-mm-mmmmm-mmmm.’

  ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ Bianca put her hands over her ears. I continued to Mmmm at full volume. If I could just get her to take the bloody gag off … ‘Stop it!’ Still with her hands over her ears she ran from the kitchen. From the noise of running water and cistern flushing, I guessed she’d shut herself in the loo by the front door.

  Clemency would go through with it; her mind had been made up when she made the decision to lure me in here. She had the last piece of the jigsaw; the location of the body. All her efforts now were directed towards eliminating any possible witnesses. I threw my weight forward, twisting and squirming, and trying to wrench the pipe from its fixings. Back-forward, back-forward. The metal shook and small fragments of ceiling plaster drifted down into my face. Back-forward, back-forward. Crash!

  It wasn�
�t the pipe, it was the rabbit flap. Cappuccino hopped through. His ears, nose, and finally his eyes, turned in my direction. Squeak.

  Don’t even think about it, you sex-mad rodent. I squirmed, trying to brace my feet against the wall while I heaved at the pipe. More plaster sprinkled my clothes. It was too late. Clemency was back, trailing a sheepish looking Bianca behind her.

  ‘I’m just getting something from upstairs, B. You take some of those big green rubbish sacks and go outside. Put garden rubbish in them.’

  ‘What kind of rubbish?’

  ‘For heaven’s sake …’ Clemency took an audible breath. ‘It doesn’t matter. Anything. But leave a couple of sacks empty. Understand?’ When Clemency came back she was carrying a small plastic bag. It looked like the ones I’d seen her brother dealing. She’d also changed her clothes. She’d gone out of here wearing her black trousers and slip-ons. Now she was in blue jeans and trainers. She tipped the tablets inside into a china bowl, frowned, and then added the contents of another bag. Putting the bowl on the unit top, she crushed the tablets into a powder with the back of a tablespoon. Taking a full bottle of whisky from another cupboard, she used a funnel to add the powder. It swam like diaphanous scarves in the cinnamon liquid and then gradually settled to the bottom. She gave it a brisk swirl. I had a fair idea of its next destination. Bianca dragged in two full sacks of branches. ‘Is this all right, Clemency?’

  ‘Perfect. Now come over here.’ Clemency tweaked the corner of the tape gag up. ‘When I say rip, pull that off fast.’ She took a fierce pinch on my nostrils cutting off the air. ‘Now rip!’

  I didn’t even have time to take a breath, much less tell Bianca that Jon was dying upstairs and she was next in line. The whisky poured in in a burning tide. I coughed and choked, desperate for air. Some of the liquid spurted out between my teeth and more spilt down my chin. I bent backwards, throwing my head around in a futile attempt to get away. Clemency hung on grimly. I felt a desperate need to gag. I was suffocating in whisky. The blood roared in my ears and grey mist was closing across my eyes.

  Then sudden blissful air. I gulped greedily. The restriction had gone from my nostrils. I sucked oxygen in. And then the gag was sealing my mouth again. This time though, Clemency twisted another tea-towel into a rope and tied that over the top of the tape. I wanted to heave but I didn’t dare, I’d choke. My stomach was rolling. The walls of the kitchen were already swirling round, the floor was undulating like an ocean swell. I could feel my heart rate increasing and my mouth drying. The world was receding and rushing back in a crazy pattern. I was aware of pain in the top of my arms and knew I was slumping forward. And then it stopped. They’d untied me from the pipes. Now they were undoing my wrists. Good. Maybe I could jump them. Except nothing would move where I wanted it to.

  ‘Get her sweater off, B.’

  Why did they want my sweater? It wasn’t a great sweater. It was my slopping around sweater. It had pink, green and white stripes and the sleeves dangled to my knees. I’d got it for twenty pence in the Oxfam bargain bin. I would have liked to tell them all this, but they seemed a very long way away. I was vaguely aware of the sweater being dragged over my head and my wrists being re-tied.

  ‘My jeans and trainers are close enough to hers to pass.’

  Through the grey mist, I watched Clemency pull on my sweater and put on a large pair of sunglasses. She left the kitchen and front doors open as she carried the rubbish sacks outside. I could see the roof of my Micra parked beyond the gate. If someone walked past now and looked this way, would they see me lying here? I wanted to scream, but I felt so bloody tired. My eyes were closing. I forced them open. Mustn’t go to sleep. No hope if I passed out.

  There was a sound far away. I thought it was my car horn. Clemency was back in the kitchen and I hadn’t seen her come in. Must have slept for a few seconds. Desperately I tried to keep my mind occupied; recite poetry; count backwards. Just wanted to sleep.

  They were pushing my legs into one of the spare rubbish sacks. I tried to kick.

  ‘Clemency, she’s not dead.’

  ‘She will be by the time we get there.’

  ‘It won’t hurt, will it?’

  ‘No. She’ll just go to sleep and not wake up. Now listen, once we’ve got her in the car I’m going to drive away. I’ll hit the horn a couple more times. It’s important she’s seen to be driving away from here by herself. Give me a few minutes then go round to the road at the back. Take Cappy, like you’re just taking him for a walk. I’ll pick you up there. Lift her shoulders up.’

  The light went out. The sharp smell of plastic filled my nostrils. Wrapped in the two sacks, I felt myself hoisted up between them. I was swaying. And then being lifted up and set down.

  ‘Thanks for helping me, Bianca.’

  It was my voice. But I hadn’t spoken. Had I? I was so very tired.

  ‘That’s all right, Grace. See you soon. ’Bye.’

  There was a crash and the darkness which had seemed so complete became even denser. Oil and petrol. Bits of metal and branches sticking in me. The floor lurched and moved. I was in the Micra boot. I knew I had to stay awake, but I couldn’t. I just wanted to slip down into the darkness. As it rushed up to enfold me, it hit me that this was it. The end. I was going to die.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, someone was drilling their way out of my skull, and I was desperate for a drink of water. Make that a bucket. Whatever party I’d been to last night, I must have had a belting good time. I guess I stayed over; this didn’t feel like my bed. This mattress was incredibly hard; it was grinding against the back of my skull, my shoulders and my butt, and the sheet was sticking to my skin. I shifted, trying to find a soft spot, and became aware of something heavy lying on my midriff. Also I was lying in an odd position. Normally I slept curled on my side, but today I was flat on my back with my legs neatly together and my arms folded across my chest. It was the way you’d lay out a …

  I sat upright, flailing out with my hands. The weight on my midriff slid off and hit the floor with a clunking sound. My knuckles crashed painfully into something solid on both sides. I scrabbled backwards using my heels to propel me; they kept skidding on the sticky sheets. There was no more than a few inches of room in this direction. They’d buried me alive!

  My emotions went into freefall; I was in danger of being swamped by an overwhelming panic that wanted me to shout, scream, claw my way out. But a tiny part of the sensation was indignation; how dare they not even bother to check whether I was dead before burying me!

  The anger saved me. It gave me something to hang on to until the crest of the panic had passed. Since I couldn’t see, I used my other senses. Cautiously I reached upwards. The space was higher than my sitting position. What else? It smelt of death and a fetid mustiness as if there was no fresh air reaching it. A scrabbling sound in the darkness ahead nearly unleashed the terror again. Not rats! I didn’t want rats feeding off my body if I died in here.

  I pushed myself harder against the wall behind my back, my ears straining for more movements. If the little sods tried to rush me I’d kick them to death. The scrape of rough brick against bare skin drew my attention to the fact I was still in my bra. Clemency had hung on to my striped sweater. I did a quick check of the rest of my wardrobe. I had my trainers on and my jeans. She’d taken the car keys, but had they thought to empty the rest of the pockets? I patted them down. A handkerchief, a couple of toffees, a receipt for something, purse, lock picks, and my flat keys. Hallelujah, there was a small torch attached to the keyring. I clicked it on and a beam of yellow light shot forward and reflected back off a pair of glittering eyes.

  ‘Squeak,’ Cappuccino said.

  My first thought was that I was in hell, and it was infested by gigantic randy rodents. The torch light slid beyond the furry ears and picked out something light coloured beyond and then the far wall. I directed the beam upwards, the roof was about six feet above me. I was pret
ty certain that Bianca had constructed a false wall at one end of the cellar. The space I was in was about two feet wide and twenty feet long. I became aware of a desperate need to pee. I had no choice, I had to squat and let it go.

  I tried to scramble to my feet. My head spun and my stomach heaved. I swallowed the nausea. It smelt bad enough in here already without my chucking up. On hands and knees, I crawled forward. The torchlight slid over what had been lying on my chest; it was a wooden and silver coloured cross. The sticky sheets proved to be the two plastic bags they’d transported me in. Cappuccino seemed pleased to see me, he pushed his furry head between my arms and tried to squeeze himself underneath me. I could feel him trembling under the fur. ‘What’s your problem? Don’t tell me you’re a bunny who’s scared of the dark? Pathetic.’

  Feeling superior to a rodent helped keep my own panic at bay. I crawled over him and down to the far end trying to find any gap in the bricks. The torch picked out the whiteness again and then a flash of orange. The floor felt greasy under my hands. I already knew what I was going to find, but I didn’t want it to be. The smell must have been foul when Bianca broke through the sealed wall.

  The first of the whiteness was directly under my nose; a phalange, the smallest of the toe bones. The shoes had rotted away but the rubberised soles were still there. I played the light reluctantly up the length of the leg bones, over her pelvis, and across the ribs to the grinning skull. The pink plastic frame spectacles were lying to one side of it; virtually intact. Most of her clothing had disintegrated, but the stained remains of the pink jacket Graham Walkinshaw had described was still recognizable, brown abstract patterns marking the location of her own and Clemency’s blood. The flattened sleeves lay over the ribs, the skeleton hands hanging from the cuffs. Bianca had laid her out properly too; with her arms crossed and enfolding a crucifix. The rusting metal cross had fallen inside the rib cage. It was a bizarre gesture, but I had cause to be grateful to Bianca’s weird ritual. She could have shoved me in here with my hands and legs still tied. Why hadn’t she noticed I was still alive when she’d unbound me? Or maybe she had, but had assumed Clemency’s promise that I’d ‘never wake up’ was true.