by Colin Davy
Maria shook her head slowly. “No,” she said. “No, that’s not possible, she must have been forced to take it.”
“Ms Kowalcyk …”
“No,” Maria shook her head again. “She would never take it deliberately.” Shaking off Riya’s hand, she rose to her feet. “She would never take something like heroin.” Her breathing quickened. “It must be murder.”
Riya’s face showed no emotion. “We don’t know anything for sure,” she said. “We’re working on the basis she died sometime on the late evening of Sunday. When was the last time you saw your sister?”
Maria’s face flushed and she began to look irritated. “Sunday,” she said quickly. “Midday Sunday, she was meant to ring me in the evening. But she didn’t. Gail … her friend, Gail, she took her back to these flats. She must have seen her last.”
“Have you her contact details?”
“Yes, yes.” Leaning forward, she dictated them eagerly while Riya wrote them down. “Have you the details of Deborah’s GP’s, please?” the policewoman asked.
Maria nodded and gave them. “She’ll tell you Deb’s would never do drugs.”
“Have you checked Deb’s neighbour?” Gary asked. “He might know about the comings and goings-on that Sunday evening, he seems a curious person.”
Riya looked up. “You mean he’s curious in the sense of wanting to know what goes on, or curious as in strange?”
“Both.”
She gave a tight smile. “I think you’ll find we’ve spoken to the neighbours and anyone else of interest,” she said. “We’ve done this sort of thing before, you know.”
Oops. “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean …”
“That’s alright, but why do you mention him?”
When her eyes focussed on him, he felt the full force of her stare. “He seemed very nosey yesterday.”
A small smile appeared on her face. “You’ll find that’s not unusual,” she said. “Sometimes, it’s a genuine desire to help …” She peered up when Maria moved away to stand against the hatch to the kitchen alcove.
“You’re wrong, you know,” Maria said softly. “It’s not what it seems.”
Riya rose to her feet with a sigh. “I understand how upsetting this is, Maria, but if you know something of relevance, please let us know. You have my number, haven’t you?”
She nodded.
“If you remember anything that might be relevant, no matter how insignificant, you’ll be in touch?”
He held his breath for a few seconds. Would she tell the policewoman about the diary?
“I will,” Maria whispered before turning away.
Moving over, Riya took her hand, giving it another squeeze. “I’ll be in touch regularly,” she said. “We’ll keep you informed of anything we discover, and if there’s something you want to know, or you just want to talk, contact me at any time.”
After Maria’s whispered thanks, she moved to the door and let herself out.
They listened to her feet on the steps and as soon as they faded, Maria joined him on the settee. “It’s not possible,” she said firmly.
Feeling her tremble, he put his arm softly around her. It was not only possible, it was the likely explanation, but now wasn’t the time to tell her. “What can we do?” she whispered. “I can’t just wait.”
Hmm … although Mrs Logic had just left town, he felt her distress and couldn’t blame her. Suggesting she left it to the police wouldn’t win him any prizes now.
“I know she was killed,” she said. “And not by accident.” Wriggling free, she stood before him. “Who has a motive?” she asked.
Perhaps he’d underestimated her, he thought, perhaps a logical discussion was possible? After walking behind the hatch, she sat on the tall stool before looking out at him expectantly. “It’s someone from the congregation,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”
“Your premonition?” he said.
“No, my logical side. They need a motive, remember.”
“It’s not just motive,” he said. “Real or imagined. You need to consider opportunity and the means too. In that case, I’m someone who has all three.”
When her brow contracted, he saw the faintest of frown lines appear on her forehead. “It’s not you,” she said.
“I know it’s not, but if drugs are involved, I could have the means. I don’t, because we don’t sell that opiate. In fact, I seldom carry any of our products, but I certainly had the opportunity as I lived only one floor below.”
“What about motive?”
For a second, he thought she looked suspiciously at him, but looking closer, he decided it was a frown of impatience. “I could have been enraptured by her alluring lips and comely appearance,” he said. “And being enraged by her rejection, have taken my revenge.” He’d make a good pantomime villain, he thought. Captain Hook, perhaps? Or Cruella de Ville?
She snorted her contempt. “She rated you a risk to me,” she said. “Not to her. I know you’re only trying to muddy the waters with silly conjecture, Gary, but it won’t work. How about me? We argued a lot and I stand to inherit her share of our inheritance.”
“A share of what?”
“Our mother’s money,” she said. “Debbie’s share is in my care, but I have to grant her a large monthly allowance. Even then, she asks for more.”
That was news to him, but it made him feel better. Once this current drama was played out, he could leave with an easy conscience knowing she’d not be left penniless. Hopefully, not broken-hearted either, not when she discovered he couldn’t work the miracles she expected. Where was this relationship going anyway? He’d stayed, not wanting to hurt her, and fate had conspired to keep them together. But a brother and sister relationship would have a short life. “You inherit it all now?” he asked.
When she pursed her lips, he could almost see the cogs in her brain whirling. Suspicion? Did she wonder if it would make a difference?
But it worked both ways. If he were the suspicious sort, he might wonder if she and her sister not only dabbled in drugs, but also dealt in them. Using an inheritance as a cover for ill-gotten gains was unusual, but might work. It beats claiming a gambling win. Debbie’s death, the rapid mood changes of both sisters, the occasional paranoia. Hence Maria’s insistence that people were disappearing, and her sister’s view he was a sexual predator.
To be fair to Debbie, that wasn’t necessarily an unreasonable accusation, he was male after all. But it seemed they both had a reliable source of money. But as she stared at him, he saw anxiety not artifice. No, he may be an amateur at seeing truth behind layers of falsehood, but he’d swear she was genuine. It had been a silly thought, what did he think he was dealing with? A female version of the Krays? The Polish Mafia? Would he wake up with a horse’s head on his lap? Not much room on his short settee for that trick.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m surprised you live so frugally if you’re rich.”
“It’s by choice.”
“Not part of the Church rules?”
She shook her head. “We have freedom to err,” she said. “We’re not all loaded.”
“Some of you are?”
“I suppose so,” she said. “Debs could be a target. Although she’s useless with money, she believes she’s a financial genius. She might even get involved with unscrupulous people to prove that point to me.” She paused and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m relying on you to discover who they are.”
“How would I unmask these evil-doers?” he asked, suddenly aware he sounded like a pantomime actor again. But there was a good reason for that - he felt like he was one, and this was turning into a pantomime. Debbie was murdered. Oh no, she wasn’t. Oh yes, she was. How could he see through the lies and evasions? By looking at a goat’s entrails?
“You’ll recognise them,” she said firmly.
“Them?”
“Him, and now you’re aware of their potential for evil, you’ll see
the members of the congregation in a new light. Before, you saw them through the lens of your own disbelief. Trust in your instincts. It’s someone close to Debbie, and someone who might gain from her death.”
If she was hoping he’d begin a detective operation in pursuit of a phantom embezzler, she was badly mistaken. He didn’t know a balance sheet from a Toblerone,
She saw the doubt in his eyes. “You can do this, Gary.”
“A premonition again?”
“In a way,” she said. “Even though you lack faith in yourself, fate has brought you here, and you can’t escape your destiny. You have a gift, I sense it.”
More like having a gift for being gullible, he thought.
“But this gift puts you in danger,” she said.
“Eh?” Would this danger entail Maria having to stay close? Very convenient.
“You’ll recognise the culprit when you see them and they’ll sense your recognition.” She frowned at his expression. “I know you disbelieve, but your cynicism might help you.”
“Do you want to read my palm too?” he asked.
Her lips tightened. “I’m deadly serious.”
That’s what was worrying him. “I’ve lived so far without being particularly sensitive to anything but a punch in the face, what makes you think I’ve grown a magic power?”
“Because I feel it, Gary, just as I felt danger in these buildings.”
A little unfair, he thought, that wasn’t something he could, or wanted to argue about. “We could always wait for the full post-mortem report,” he suggested.
“That will take weeks,” she said. “And you know that. The woman who murdered my sister could be long gone by then.”
“A woman then? Who do you suspect?”
“That’s for you to decide.”
“Perhaps we should wait for the next disappearance from the congregation?” He suddenly regretted his remark; she’d lost her twin sister and it was unfair and ill-timed. She might be illogical, but now wasn’t the time to make a joke. “Sorry,” he said. “That was unfair. I’ll help wherever I can, but I didn’t want you building up unrealistic hopes.”
It was if a dam had burst. Throwing her arms around him, she kissed him fully on the lips before beginning to cry. “You can do it,” she sobbed.
Feeling the warmth of her body and the pain of her heartache in the embrace, he felt conflicted. You’ve talked yourself into taking on an impossible task, he thought. But what else could he do?
The knock on the door was faint, but when it was repeated, she released him slowly. Moving across, to open it, the door, he saw William with a smile on his face. “I hope this isn’t a bad time to call,” he said. “I’ve heard about the tragedy and I want to offer my sympathy.” He’d dressed in a blue shirt with dark trousers that gave him a more formal look than the casual clothes he’d worn the day before. His striking blue eyes scanned the flat behind Gary, and he gave a wide smile when he saw Maria.
“Please come in,” she said, and in response, William stepped inside.
Although Maria’s eyes were cold and uninviting, William didn’t take the hint. “You must be devastated,” he said. “I knew your sister for only a few days, but she was a lovely girl.”
“Who told you about this?” Gary asked, not bothering to keep the dislike from his voice.
He seemed unconcerned. “The police,” he said, sitting down in the armchair without asking, before glancing around with a look of disdain. “They interviewed all the neighbours,” he said. Glancing down at his patent leather shoes, he gave a quick smile. “Much good it will do them.”
“Why do you say that?” Gary asked.
The man frowned for the first time. “Apart from mine, the neighbouring flats are empty. Number two-sixty always goes away for July and August and two-six-three is up for sale.” After brushing away an invisible speck of dust from his trousers, he glanced up at Gary. “Are you Maria’s partner?”
He sighed, why fight the inevitable. “I am,” he said.
“I’m William,” he said. “We missed out on formal introductions yesterday.”
“Yes, we did, didn’t we?”
“Never mind,” the man replied. “I saw you were busy.” Leaning back in the chair, he looked up at Maria. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”
She glanced at Gary before answering, and he took his chance. “You can help us,” he said. “Did you have anything informative to tell the police?”
The man shrugged. “What could I say? I could only apologise.”
Maria moved towards him. “For what?”
“Because I was busy on Sunday evening, too busy to keep an eye on your sister’s doings.”
“Why would you?” she asked with a frown.
“She’s new and interesting,” he said. “My partner found her fascinating.” He sighed. “He seemed quite taken with her, so much so I felt jealous. Between you and me, I’ve begun to wonder if he might be the slightest bit bi.” His eyes softened. “She was so full of life, it’s such a shame. A lovely girl.”
“She was,” Maria whispered.
Gary found himself growing impatient with his visitor. This was beginning to sound like the times and trials of Debbie’s poor, put-upon neighbour. Full of self-important prattle and little else. Debbie had certainly described him accurately in her diary. Unless it was an elaborate act to hide something more sinister.
“We hosted a small party on Sunday evening,” William continued. “I popped round to warn her about possible noise.” He sighed loudly. “A perfect neighbour.”
“She didn’t drop in later?” Gary asked.
William twisted his lips in a strange way. “I invited her, but I didn’t see her. It was rather crowded though.”
“You told the police about the party?” Maria asked.
After frowning briefly, his smile reappeared. “Why would I? They only asked about Deborah’s activities and I could tell them very little.” He examined a mark on the armchair before continuing. “Our parties can be a touch naughty I suppose. Some enjoy the odd puff of weed, but it’s all very civilised. No need to worry the police.” His smile widened.” I’m sure they’re doing their best to clear up the circumstances behind your sister’s terrible accident.”
When Maria’s face flushed, Gary decided to take over. “Were there harder drugs at your party?”
William’s eyes hardened. “I hardly think that’s any business of yours.”
“And you’re intruding in something that’s none of your business.”
William rose to his feet, brushing off something from the back of his hand. “I see you’re both understandably upset,” he said. “I’ll leave you in peace.” With that, he walked slowly to the door and let himself out.
As his footsteps receded, Gary turned to Maria. “You can add William to your list of suspects,” he said.
She looked up, her eyes widening. “Why?” she asked. “Did you sense something?”
“No, I just don’t like him.”
She stared for a second.
“Alright,” he said. “There is something false about him.”
“You sense he’s lying?”
He shook his head. “I just don’t like supercilious busy-bodies, but if we want to start anywhere, I’d start with that party on Sunday.”
Chapter Eleven
If he were Sherlock Holmes, Gary thought, the Hound of the Baskervilles would still be barking his head off on Dartmoor, even if he’d be a very old dog by now.
It wasn’t that Tom Maddison was trying to be unhelpful, but either his memory was hazy, or he wasn’t asking him the right questions. Or perhaps the man was being cautious? After all, there was a police investigation going on. Even playing the Maddison to Maddison card prised little information from him.
“I wish I remembered more,” Tom said. “I understand how much it means to you and your lass, but …”
“That’s alright,” Gary said.
“Some strange face
s, and some familiar ones,” he said. “And those without cars would walk through without disturbing me. Sunday nights aren’t usually busy, but last Sunday was.”
“Hmm.”
Behind him, Maria showed signs of impatience and finally pulled his arm “He’s done his best,” she whispered. “Leave it, we need to get ready for our visitors.”
The frustration nagged at him, but she was right. A glance at his watch showed it was nearly seven, and a couple of sympathisers were on their way from Southport. God knows what Maria expected apart from oodles of sympathy and a series of platitudes. From him, she probably, she expected a miracle – after one look, he’d sense the villain immediately. “That man, Inspector, arrest him immediately.” Unfortunately, real life wasn’t like that.
“Thanks anyway, Tom,” he said, allowing Maria to pull him away.
It had been a fraught day for them both, not helped by a fitful sleep the night before. Maria favoured ignoring the neighbours completely to focus on the congregation, preferably those with a vagina, and whose first name began with a ‘G’. But he was less sure. “What advantage have we over the police?” he’d asked. “The advantage of not being the police,” he said before she could reply. “The neighbours will talk more openly and we can exploit that by asking about the party. We don’t pose a direct threat to the weed-smokers or smackheads.”
The last word made her grimace. “Debs would never go to that sort of party,” she said vehemently. “She wouldn’t. Anyway, you’ve not helped matters by alienating William.”
True, he thought, as they headed back for his flat, but she’d not exactly welcomed the man’s intrusion either. Reaching the door, he found it locked and he began searching in his pockets for the key. Calm down, he told himself, he’d had a fool-proof plan in place, even if the day’s events had conspired against it.
Firstly, he’d intended to interrogate Tom when he appeared for the late shift, the shift he’d have been on during Sunday evening. Find out from him who’d come into the docks. That that hadn’t gone well. Secondly, use his neighbourly status to quiz any familiar names Tom threw up. As for the Southport disappearances, the visitors tonight gave him the chance of going through the motions of reading their minds and finding nothing of interest. So far, so easy. Then if nothing worked, on to social media, where he hoped one or two of her missing people remained active - he doubted Maria had checked that avenue. With a clear conscience, he could say … “Sorry, Maria, I’ve done my absolute best but there’s no problem I can see with your congregation. Any financial irregularities are a job for a qualified accountant.”