by Liz Evans
‘It’s never long enough, Terry.’
‘D’ya miss me?’
‘Unfortunately. But I think my aim’s improving.’
‘So who’s your friend? Morning, darling.’
‘Hello,’ Rainwing murmured. The voice was sexily husky, the glint beneath the eyelashes a definite come-on.
Terry went up a few more notches in his own estimation. ‘The name’s Rosco. Terry Rosco.’
‘Licensed to bore,’ I murmured.
‘Call me Raine,’ Rainwing invited, tossing her hair in a flirtatious gesture.
‘That’s nice. Classy.’
‘Thank you. Terence is a lovely name too.’ Rainwing pushed her chair back and crossed her legs.
‘So maybe we could get together sometime? A few drinks? A club? And then who knows, eh, Raine?’
‘Oh, I think we do know, don’t we, Terence?’ The lashes and sexy purr were brought into play again.
The self-satisfied smirk on his square jaw was wonderful. I bit the inside of my mouth to stop myself from laughing.
Rainwing drew one finger lightly up Terry’s arm. ‘Grace has my number. Promise me you’ll call, Terence. I’ll be waiting.’
‘You won’t be disappointed, darlin’, I promise.’
‘And I do so hope you won’t be, Terence.’
‘Dad!’
Terry came down from his self-made pedestal with a bump as his oldest mutant appeared in the doorway with a tray.
‘Mum says you’re to come pay. And one of the twins has done a poo again. He don’t ’alf stink.’
Rainwing rose from her seat with a graceful fluidity. ‘I think we should be going too, Grace.’ She ruffled Terry’s arm hairs again. ‘Don’t forget, Terence.’
As we left, Linda Rosco was struggling to manoeuvre a double buggy, full of the two screaming latest additions to the Rosco tribe, down the self-service counter. Her second oldest was throwing a tantrum because his shake had tipped over and was flooding the tray with luridly pink milk, and the eldest had climbed on the metal rails and was being shouted at by the counter assistant.
‘Poor cow,’ Rainwing said. ‘That’s one aspect of being a woman I’m never going to regret missing out on.’
‘Kids?’
‘Being stuck with some big-headed God’s gift. I’ve always wished I had the courage to whip my wig off when they start coming on to me like that. Ah well, someday, perhaps. Let me tell you about Luke’s mysterious visitor
He put his arm through mine. And this time I didn’t flinch.
‘He’s a poseur, of course,’ Rainwing asserted. He smoothed down the buckskin skirt that was riding up in the car’s low-slung seats. It was annoying to realise he had better legs than me.
We’d had something of a row over Luke’s car. Rainwing had insisted that Luke would have had no problems with his closest friend driving it. Which I could just about swallow even if it did technically belong to Luke’s estate now. However, it then turned out that Rainwing didn’t have any insurance.
‘I have no car,’ he’d shrugged.
I just couldn’t help myself. ‘What? No silver Audi?’
‘No. That is Daniel Sholto’s preferred mode of transport. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be mine too. But I can’t afford it. Or any other model, if it comes to that.’
‘How come? I mean, your background isn’t exactly DSS, is it?’
‘The family money isn’t mine. My parents’ money is their own and my grandfather’s is - or will be - my sisters’. If you were hoping to party with the rich and famous, Grace, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I’m not rich and I’m certainly not famous. What you see is what you get.’
‘Well, not quite,’ I’d grinned.
In the end, I drove. I’d somewhat over-optimistically taken out a comprehensive policy on my own car which should cover me in this little beauty for third-party risks.
‘And a fake,’ Rainwing continued as we sped in the direction of St Biddy’s.
‘What’s fake about him?’
‘That title, for a start. “Professor” Purbrick bought his degrees from a mail-order college. Got some impressive certificates with big waxy seals and lots of long words. Esther is the real McCoy, but Wyn is a fraud.’
‘Win?’ Something his mum had said rang bells. ‘Someone called Win introduced your mum to that commune you lived in. I’d assumed it was a she. As in Winifred.’
‘Nope, it was our Selwyn.’
‘But your mum said he taught you when you were a kid.’
‘He did. Very enthusiastically, if not very well. By the time I was ten, he assured my mother there was nothing else he could teach me. Personally I’d thought we’d reached that crossroads a couple of years earlier.’
The wind was whipping his hair all over the place like Medusa’s snakes. ‘Don’t worry,’ he shouted over the engine’s roar. ‘It doesn’t blow off. I’ve road-tested it in here before.’
‘Didn’t Selwyn recognise you? When you turned up in a skirt?’
‘I was a small, skinny ten-year-old boy the last time he saw me. Why should he associate that child with a twenty-plus woman?’
‘What about Esther? Didn’t she suspect during the girlie chats?’
‘She didn’t suspect I wasn’t a girlie, no. When I’m Rainwing, I am a woman. Luckily one positive effect of my Chinese genes is I have very little body hair.’
‘I noticed.’
‘So you did.’ He flexed himself into a more comfortable position in the seat before adding that there was never any danger of Esther recognising him as Peter Chang. ‘She arrived at the commune after my time.’
‘What about the others? Weren’t you taking a big risk going back?’
‘I’d have passed it off as role-playing for a potential acting part if anyone had recognised me. But I was pretty certain I could do it. Most of the originals - like Auntie Vi - had drifted away as the place became more commercially minded. That was when Selwyn discovered Indian crafts. When I was a kid, he was just a primary teacher who’d dropped out of the rat-race. They didn’t start the Native American studies until Esther joined them. It was a shock when I realised where the classes were based, but to tell the truth, after I got away with it the first time, it rather added to the thrill.’
‘So what makes you so sure that the woman having a row with Luke was Esther Purbrick?’
‘It just seems to make sense. Luke didn’t know that many people round St Biddy’s. It wasn’t as if he was planning to settle there. He was just keeping the place warm until his uncle’s estate was sorted out. Even I didn’t visit him there. Can you imagine if I’d decided to drop in when Mother was there?’
‘Vividly. Particularly if you were in a dress at the time. Why aren’t you in the exploded parrot today?’
‘Exploded ... Oh, yes, I see. That was one of my earlier efforts. Later, when I was feeling more secure in the role, I felt able to go for something subtler. Like teenage girls putting the full slap on at sixteen and toning it down at twenty-six. That particular visit, however, I was feeling elated ... sort of see me and weep, world - this is me. That make sense?’
‘I guess so. But getting back to Esther ... I hadn’t realised Luke knew the Purbricks. I don’t recall you mentioning it.’
‘Why should I? They gave Luke some technical advice - on his film script, keeping the Native American sections authentic. And Selwyn made an investment in the project. Esther wasn’t too pleased about that. I know she’d been giving Luke some hassle about it.’
‘You think she’s up to killing someone?’
‘I don’t really have a lot of experience of killers myself. I’d have thought that was more your field of expertise. Besides, according to that fat kid, she left hours before Luke died.’
‘True. But perhaps she saw something. Anyway, let’s face it, we’re a little short of other leads. Let’s hope the police aren’t - and that all clues lead to Harry Rouse.’
‘Who?’
‘Local far
mer. Now very dead.’
‘Why would he want to kill Luke?’
I told him about Luke’s habit of cruising the tracks and yard around the Rouse farm, and the possibility he’d seen something of the smuggling operation.
‘Wow. Poor old Luke. You think this Rouse character was up to ...’ He mimed a spear throw.
‘Not him personally, perhaps. But he had some very unpleasant associates. If he’d let slip to them - even quite innocently - that Luke was where he shouldn’t be ...’
‘Heavy,’ Rainwing murmured as we glided up to the entrance to the Purbricks’. An amateurishly painted board was tied to the side gate announcing: ‘Premises Closed Until Further Notice’. ‘What now?’ he asked.
‘It’s written into every PI assistant’s contract - thou shalt open the gate when the boss is driving.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He grinned, and for a second Peter looked out of Rainwing’s eyes at me.
The house was quiet, with none of the manic music or screaming kids that had been whooping it up during my last visit. Our voices echoed in the half-painted hall. Today, without any activity to add a bit of life to the place, its decay was fighting back with a vengeance. I could smell damp and see where the rust and rot had been hastily glossed over.
‘Anyone here?’
‘We’re closed. Oh, Rainwing ...’ We turned to find Esther standing in the door to the room she’d been using as an office last time I dropped in. You didn’t have to be a detective to guess all was not well here.
‘Esther, darling, whatever’s the matter?’ Rainwing walked swiftly over and put an arm around the other woman’s shoulder. Esther promptly burst into tears.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to ... Oh, hell, I’ve just had enough.’
‘Tea, gin, brandy,’ Rainwing called to me, steering Esther firmly back into the room and settling her in the desk chair.
He knelt on the floor massaging Esther’s hands as if they might be cold, whilst I rummaged. The best I could manage was a few inches of whisky and some more bottles of mineral water.
‘Scotch and a splash?’ I suggested.
Esther raised red-rimmed eyes and told me to hold the splash.
I stuck to water whilst they sipped from paper cups. (Driving with slightly dodgy insurance cover I might just about get away with, but let the likes of Terry Rosco get one whiff of malted barley and I would truly have made his day.)
‘Now, tell me,’ Rainwing said gently. ‘What’s the matter? Why’s the centre closed?’
‘Health and Safety made us shut. Somebody reported us for not having the right certificates. Which I know we didn’t,’ she hiccuped. ‘But I had to open to catch the school holidays. I thought we could get permits as we went along. Now they’re saying we’ll probably be prosecuted. God, I hate Luke Steadman.’
Rainwing knelt up slightly so he could draw Esther into his shoulder. He made soothing ‘there-there’-type sounds.
‘What’s Luke got to do with it?’ I asked bluntly.
Esther raised her head. ‘Did you know him?’
Her tone was suspicious, but before I could reply Rainwing intervened to admit that we both had. ‘In a professional sense. I act and Grace is in the nature of a technical adviser.’
Esther gave a sharp bark of laughter. ‘Technical adviser - oh, yes! He was very fond of those.’ She’d finished the whisky. An extension of the cup invited me to refill it. ‘Technical advice is the reason we had to move to this dump. His idea of advice comes with several noughts on the end.’
‘You invested money with his company?’ I asked (even though Rainwing had already told me the answer).
‘I didn’t. I wouldn’t be that bloody stupid.’ She drew in a deep breath and seemed to take visible control of herself. ‘You know how much work we’d done at Owerberry?’ she appealed to Rainwing.
‘The commune,’ Rainwing elaborated. ‘It was beautiful. Not the dump most people imagine when you say “commune”.’
‘It was an extended Jacobean manor,’ Esther explained. ‘We’d converted part of it for guest accommodation ...’
‘Single rooms, own facilities ... very private,’ Rainwing murmured for my benefit.
‘Yes,’ Esther agreed, unaware of his hidden agenda. ‘And we’d installed proper teaching areas. There were half a dozen disciplines there: Native American crafts, glass-making, organic gardening, metal-working. We’d intended it merely as a means to make a reasonable living, but it turned out to be far more popular than anyone could have imagined. We were making a good profit.’
‘And ...’ I prompted.
‘And then the owners offered us the chance to buy the freehold. We’d have run the place as a limited company, with each of us holding a share. It was a good deal. Or it would have been - if Selwyn hadn’t given our money away.’
‘To Luke?’
‘Who else? I never really liked him, but Selwyn was flattered when he asked him to be a consultant on his film script. I couldn’t see any harm in it... until I checked our account for the freehold money. And discovered Selwyn wasn’t just advising our precious Mr Steadman; he was now an investor in his film company.’
‘How much?’
‘Twenty five thousand pounds. I know that doesn’t sound like much these days ...’
It sounded like very much to me.
‘ .. but it represented over half of our savings. There was no way we could afford a stake in the freehold with that gone. And Luke refused to give it back. He said we’d get twenty times that amount once the film went on release - but what bloody good was that!’ She glared angrily between us as if we were personally responsible. ‘The others asked us to leave. They moved some jewellery-makers in to take our share. And we ended up ...’ She made a floppy wrist-sweep of the room. ‘Short lease. Council didn’t want it empty. Took most of the rest of the savings account. I knew it wouldn’t work, but Selwyn was determined. Our own place ... let’s not be beholden to some commune mafia . .. make our own living ... finance our own research ... until the film’s a success ... after which, of course, it’s first class all the way. God, how could a grown man be so ... so ...’
‘Stupid?’ asked a voice behind us.
‘I was going to say gullible,’ Esther informed her husband. ‘How did you get on at the council offices?’
‘They were closed. Public holiday’
‘And you’ve only just noticed that, have you, Selwyn?’
A pout protruded Selwyn’s chiselled lips as self-pity clouded his blue eyes. ‘I hardly think sarcasm is going to help. I’ll sort matters out tomorrow. It’s just a temporary hitch, that’s all. Must you be so negative?’
Esther stood up, crushed her paper cup, and flung it straight at her husband’s head. ‘It is not a temporary hitch. Practically all our money is gone. We are saddled with this ... slum, which is never going to work, and I am sick and tired of trying to keep everything afloat. So I am going to pack my cases and leave. Is that positive enough for you, Selwyn?’
‘Leave? But how ... where will you go?’
‘I’ll stay with friends until I get something sorted out. I’m sorry, Rainwing, the centre is closed. Permanently.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me, Esther. I’ll be fine. I’m so sorry things have ended like this.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Selwyn protested. ‘Of course it hasn’t ended. We can soon get things set up again. Once I get our money back from Luke ...’
‘You know he’s dead?’ I asked.
‘Naturally. We do read the papers. His film company will have to be wound up. I’m an investor in that company. I have papers to prove it. It will take a while, Esther, but we’ll get the money back.’
‘There isn’t any money, you idiot. He spent it. And do you know what? He didn’t even know what he’d spent it on.’ Sweeping her hand through an arc in that dismissive gesture again, she said in a fair imitation of Luke’s mid-Atlantic drawl: ‘Well, I don’t know, honey. It just melts away, doesn’t it, li
ke snow when the sun comes out. Twenty five thousand pounds, and he hadn’t a clue where it had gone! Can you believe that?’
Recalling the restoration of the car, plus the designer gear and expensive array of electronic gadgets at the cottage, I reckoned I could come up with a pretty good guess. ‘Did he tell you this last Friday?’
‘Friday before last,’ Rainwing murmured. ‘Time flies when you’re having fun.’
‘We haven’t seen Luke for some time,’ Selwyn informed us.
‘You may not have, but I think Esther has. Someone saw you at Brick Cottage that afternoon,’ I lied ever-so-slightly.
Esther gave an indifferent raise of her shoulders. ‘So I was there.’
Selwyn beat me to the punchline: ‘Why?’
‘I went to beg him for our money back. Failing that, I had an extremely sharp Iroquois hunting knife with me. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Wyn, I wasn’t intending to use it on him. Although heaven knows, I was very tempted after he’d stood there with that superior smirk, telling me I didn’t understand the media business and the kind of sacrifices it demanded.’
‘What were you planning to do with the knife?’ I enquired.
‘As much damage as I possibly could to that precious car of his. Unfortunately the garage door was jammed. I got it open a couple of inches and then it wouldn’t budge. In the end I left.’ She looked defiantly around the three of us. ‘I’m glad he’s dead. I’m sorry if he was a friend of yours, but as far as I’m concerned, he was a parasite. I’m glad somebody swatted him.’
‘Skewered, actually.’
‘Even better. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some packing to do. Here.’ She flicked a ring of keys at her husband. He caught them one-handed and stepped into her path.
‘Esther, please. Don’t go. I need you. You know I do.’
‘No you don’t, Selwyn. You just need a mother. So you can go on being a little boy and let someone else take all the nasty responsibilities. Well, I’m afraid my maternal instincts are all used up. Now get out of my way.’ She dodged to the left. He blocked her again. They swayed right. Then left again. The dance ended with Esther bringing her knee up sharply.
With a gasp of pain, Selwyn collapsed.