by CA Sole
‘How many people in it?’ I let the handbrake off, and the car rolled slowly forward until I could just see the front of Wiggins' Ford in the next street.
‘I can’t see.’ Juliet left the booth, opened her umbrella and strode off round the park in a clockwise direction. She stepped off the grass and waited for a car to pass before crossing the road to a coffee shop on the far side. The car stopped for her, however. She gave a brief wave of thanks as she hurried over the road.
My phone rang. ‘I think that was Sandra in the car that stopped for me.’
‘Damn! Keep your phone ready, in case you need to call me urgently.’ That was not good news. Maybe it was pure coincidence, their paths crossing like that, but with Sandra it was just as likely to be deliberate. She could not possibly have recognised Juliet dressed as she was, especially as she had never seen her before. Could they have picked on Juliet because she used the telephone directory?
It was now three minutes to four. Wiggins appeared on the main road to my left. He was dressed in old blue jeans and a black rain jacket. A pair of blue Adidas trainers were on his feet; I could see the three stripes. Were those the guilty shoes? His head was uncovered and getting wet. He pulled the hood of his jacket up, and immediately there was nothing that would distinguish him from any other man except for the orange Sainsbury’s bag in his left hand. He looked at his watch and went straight to the phone box. A church clock somewhere nearby confirmed it was four o’clock.
Inside the booth, he opened the directory, paged to “Jones” as instructed and ripped out the pink Post-It note that Juliet had left for him. He looked out across the park to the opposite side, then to the left and right before leaving. Striding out across the grass, he headed to the right of the small lake in the middle of the area before turning towards the far corner. The diversion he was going to be led would take about ten minutes.
Decision, Forbes, it’s decision time! Sandra was close to Juliet; there was no option. I picked up my phone and dialled. ‘Chief Inspector Carter,’ I said, ‘It’s Alastair Forbes here.’
‘Yes, Mr Forbes, what can I do for you?’
‘You’ll be looking for Tony Wiggins.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Elementary deduction, Inspector. Anyway, I’m looking at him right now. He’s crossing Trident Park towards the coffee shop on the corner. Oh, and his car is a silver Fiesta that’s parked in Tilbury Close on the opposite side of the park. It’s how I recognised him.’ I told Carter how Wiggins was dressed and hung up as he snapped orders before covering the microphone.
Wiggins had reached the five chestnut trees on the far side. He looked around each one before going on to the next, starting on the left. At the fourth tree, he reached down to pick up something, but had to tear it free, because the second instruction, safe out of the rain inside a clear sandwich bag and prevented from blowing away, was what I had nailed to the root.
I lowered the binoculars to cheek level for a moment and noticed an old lady progressing slowly downhill past my car. She turned and stared at me for a long time as I sat there with the glasses in my hands. She looked out at the park from under the brim of her dripping hat, trying to identify what I was watching, looked back at me again and then walked on.
Wiggins set off for the next corner of the park where the playing fields were; about four hundred yards away and some four minutes walk at his pace. I could just imagine his rising anger at the way he was being led around in the rain which was falling more heavily now and reducing the visibility. I put the wipers on and scanned the roads all around the edge as well as the parked vehicles, but could not see a head in any of the cars. Sandra might have been in the one that stopped for Juliet, but I hadn’t taken notice of what it was, so I didn’t know whether I could see it or not. One thing was certain, they would want to use as many eyes as they could to identify Alice. Mandy was probably in the Fiesta on this side, but where was Sandra? Most likely on the other side with some binoculars. Was she even in the coffee shop where Juliet was? Or was this activity beneath her, and she was leaving her brother to the dirty work?
Wiggins reached the football pitch. There was a rubbish bin at the end where he stopped. Good boy, I muttered to myself and watched him reach in for another waterproofed note. His actions were accentuated with fury at this run around by some bloody old woman who had the better of him, but that would change when he got hold of her. He was reading the note when I saw a police car approach the far edge of the park near the coffee shop. Wiggins yanked his phone out of his pocket, listened, and then looked towards it. Sandra had to be over there somewhere. He watched the patrol car as it cruised slowly in his direction, must have decided it was innocent after all and set off back towards the phone box below me; another three hundred yards or so.
A second police vehicle was approaching from my left. It stopped short of Tilbury Close where Wiggins’ car was parked. Mandy, if she was inside, could not have seen it, she was too far back behind the nearest hedge. Wiggins's phone must have rung again, because he stopped and listened while watching the new car. He was now directly off the end of the road where I was parked. The first car was still coming along behind him and had nearly drawn level. The second car in front of him moved forward and blocked Tilbury Close.
Wiggins ran. Not across the park, but up the close towards me. Car doors slammed. The police were after him, but they were not as fast. I unlatched my door. He was almost level. I kicked the door open hard. It hit him with a solid thump and he staggered back. I was out of my seat and landed a hard kick to his chest as he scrambled to his feet. He grunted and fell backwards. The police were close and could see, but it still took all I had to resist having another go at him. He looked up with pure hatred, ‘You!’ was all he managed to spit out before the first officer pounced.
The constables were most grateful for my help. I said it was an absolute pleasure and meant it. They asked me how I had stopped him. I said it was an accident, he had run into the door when I opened it and must have hurt himself. They nodded and one grinned.
I called Juliet and asked her if Sandra was there. She said no. Still, I wanted her out of Sandra’s reach as quickly as possible, and we knew the woman was somewhere on that side of the park. ‘Come back here along the outside pavement. I’ll pick you up along the way.’
As Juliet walked back beside the road, a car slowed on the opposite side. I saw her turn and talk to the driver and then walk on. The car accelerated away.
‘I’ll bet that was Sandra,’ Juliet said coldly as she struggled to shed her raincoat inside the car. ‘She offered me a lift out of the rain. She’s certainly beautiful.’
‘So she knows you. I don’t like that. I wonder if you would have ever come back if you had got in that car.’
Carter rang about two hours later. ‘Mr Forbes, thank you for the information leading to the apprehension of Mr Wiggins. I strongly suspect that it was you who so ably assisted my officers in arresting him. Is that the case?’
There was no point in denying that. ‘Yes, it was me.’
‘Thank you again. Wiggins was originally in some pain, however, and is claiming that one of the officers assaulted him. Could you clarify what happened, please?’
Was this a trap, was Carter trying to trick me into admitting I kicked Wiggins? Surely not, he had better things to do, but he might be trying to protect his men from a false accusation. ‘Your officers did not use any violence whatsoever, at least not while I was present, Chief Inspector.’
‘Thank you, I thought as much, but I should warn you that should he suffer from any lasting damage you might have to answer for it. By the way, he was carrying a Sainsbury’s shopping bag full of stacked newspaper tied up with a rubber band. Rather like a wad of notes, only worthless. Odd, do you have any ideas on that?’
Time to lie. ‘That is odd. No, no ideas at all, sorry.’
Half an hour later, while Juliet was heating some soup, Carter rang again. ‘I’m embarrassed,
Mr Forbes, very embarrassed, because I have to tell you that Anthony Wiggins escaped from custody a little earlier. I’ve just been informed.’
‘Bloody Hell!’
‘Exactly. I can only apologise and assure you that we will do all we can to rearrest him. However, as you well know, he’s a violent man and he may try to take revenge on you. I would put a watch on your farm tonight, but I’m completely out of manpower - these cuts have made our work very difficult.’
‘That’s all right, Chief Inspector, we’ll take precautions and I’ll have the dog sleep close by. She’ll warn us if anything unusual happens.’
Except for the confirmation that the Wiggins were involved, our attempt to take the initiative from Sandra had been nullified. Instead of being on the run as the guilty party, she remained an invisible menace who had us putting out fires as they occurred.
Around two in the morning, Tina started barking. My senses were acute after Carter’s warning. I went out onto the landing, listening for anything unusual. Tina went quiet. Juliet, in her claret silk pyjamas, answered my knocking immediately.
‘You should spend the rest of the night in my room,’ I ordered her, ‘I’ll sleep on the floor and get Tina in with us.’
‘I’ll be fine where I am,’ was the terse reply.
‘Please Jules, don’t be silly. This is not a time for sticking to your guns, it’s a time for common sense.’
So she slept in my bed and I slept on the floor, and the night remained peaceful with no sign of what had excited Tina.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Conversation with Juliet was becoming increasingly strained. The distance between us seemed to be widening. If something was funny, she might laugh, but it would be as if she was sitting in an audience with no close connection to the act, she wasn’t sharing her amusement with me. If I said something pertinent to our crisis, she might nod her agreement or simply shake her head. She did not want to talk unless it was necessary. She was remote and becoming more so. Previously, one of us would have made breakfast for two, but she settled for a slice of toast and cheese which she made for herself. I had a bowl of porridge.
We watched the morning news in silence, coffees (made by me) in hand. Carter did not appear on camera, but the news reader said that the police were interviewing another person in connection with the case. They were obviously not going to admit that they had let Wiggins escape just yet.
Carter rang before the news recording ended. He asked if I was going to be in, he needed to ask me some questions on detail. I replied that I had to come into town to buy some hardware and could stop past the station. I tried to persuade Juliet to come with me, but she had business to do on her computer, needed to speak to her colleagues at home, organise horses and perform other quasi-agricultural activities from afar. Time alone without me interfering would allow her to do that, I was told. I had the impression that she was annoyed at following my instructions to spend half the night in my room.
For my part, I was becoming annoyed by her antagonism. Yes, I was to blame, but why couldn’t she differentiate between an act of affection and another of raw lust? Not that it was an excuse, I knew that, but still, I felt she was being unnecessarily difficult when we were working to a common cause. Because I was a little irritated with her attitude, I brushed over the concerns I’d had during the night. ‘I don’t know what time I’ll be back, it depends on Carter.’
‘I’m quite capable of coping. Go and do what you have to do.’
On the way into town I pulled into a lay-by and did something I had been thinking about for a while and with some trepidation. Juliet’s sister Mary and I had always got on well. We had a joking and teasing relationship which amused both Juliet and David, Mary’s husband.
‘Mary, it’s Alastair,’ I shouted as a big truck roared past.
‘Oh, you,’ she answered without any of the usual warmth, not that I had expected any, ‘I wondered if you might ring.’
I opened up to her on a scale I had never intended. I told her how it pained me to see Juliet’s agony, how I knew we were right for each other if only she would forgive my stupid drunken crime. I expected Mary to tell me to stop being pathetic, to grow up and live with the hurt that I had created for both of us, but she didn’t. Instead, she told me quietly that David had had a brief affair once and that she had kicked him out. However, after a while she had missed him and realised that their future lay in forgiveness and reconciliation, not recrimination. She added that had he done it again, she would definitely have left him, but he hadn't and they were now happy, the episode long behind them. Compared with David’s affair, I had only had one regrettable night to which I had readily confessed. Juliet might eventually appreciate the difference and follow her sister’s example, but it would take time. Mary would do her best, she said, because she knew how Juliet had thrived on our relationship, but was making no promises.
‘Whether you succeed or not, I’ll be eternally grateful,’ I said. ‘Mary, you won’t tell her I called, will you?’
‘Alastair, sometimes you can be incredibly stupid. I promise I’ll only tell her if I think it will help. But,’ she added with no small measure of menace, ‘if you do this again, if you hurt her a second time for whatever reason, I personally will cut off your knackers!’ There would be no chance of it ever happening again, so I felt a bit more hopeful.
My mood changed abruptly though, when a red light stopped the traffic at some road works. The car three behind me was a silver Ford Fiesta. Yanking on the handbrake, I jumped out and strode quickly back down the queue, very ready for a confrontation. The reflection on the windscreen blocked my view of the driver. Not so the side window, but it was only a young man in paint spattered overalls and a baseball cap on back to front. He looked back nervously at my aggressive face. I was being ridiculous, on edge about a silver Fiesta; how many had Ford made, for heaven’s sake? I waved an apology at the poor chap and went back to my car breathing deeply. Pull yourself together, Sandra’s getting to you!
Armed with two teas, Carter ushered me into a different interview room that time. The same type of clock ticked loudly on the wall, but otherwise it was in a slightly better condition. Vale didn’t join us, but I saw him watching me go down the passage. Carter wanted to clarify some details about the first night I had spent with Sandra, he wanted precise timings. I gave them as best I could remember, and he told me that Anthony Wiggins answered the description of a man who had left another with some quite severe injuries in a bar fight the same night. ‘Interesting,’ I commented, ‘Sandra had said that both Mandy and Tony Wiggins had been with her all evening.’ He inclined his head, put a faint smile on his hawkish face and thanked me for my time. Vale was talking to other officers, but glanced over at me without acknowledgement as I left.
I called out that I was back as I went in the front door. No answer. I called Tina, but she didn’t come either. They must have gone for a walk, I concluded. I pottered about for a while, tidied up the kitchen and then my office, and made myself a cup of coffee. Debating whether to go out and find Juliet, I thought I’d better leave her alone and decided to take out the recycling as it would be collected the next day.
With an arm wrapped around a wad of paper and gripping a couple of bottles, I opened the back door. I couldn't even take a single step. Tina lay at my feet. Blood seeped over the paving from her head. I almost retched. My precious dog, my faithful friend who listened to all my moans and chats when we were alone. Then - Juliet, where’s Juliet? I forced down my panic and called her again. No answer. I ran through the house. Nothing. Both her raincoat and her sheepskin jacket were still hanging by the front door.
Tina’s head was a dead weight to lift, and one look at the back of it was enough to know that it had been a vicious blow. There was an envelope under her head, sodden with blood. Fingers trembling, I fumbled the note out from inside. It had been prepared well beforehand, for it was done with newspaper cuttings stuck to the sheet.
“1, 2.....
..3? £1.5m by Saturday - Police = no 3”
1, 2.....3? - Giles, Tina ... Juliet? is how I read it. That bloody man, I’m going to kill him - painfully! I’ll force Sandra to watch her brother suffer before I rid the world of her too!
Juliet! God, I hope she’s all right! I didn’t think about the money or where it would come from, I just raged for five minutes and stared down at Tina’s lifeless body with tears welling up in my eyes.
Anger and loss and fear for Juliet clouded my thinking for a while, until rationality returned. All that you hear or read in books about kidnappings tell how the victim’s friends or relatives avoid going to the police, because they are frightened that the threat is not an idle one. That might make for a better story, whether it was true I didn't know, but I certainly agonised over what to do. I was sure I could get the money. The bank would lend it to me using the farm as collateral, or so I imagined. Should I phone Carter? Wiggins or Sandra or both of them were going to stop at nothing to get some money out of this. I had no doubt that he would kill Juliet if he found out I’d been to the police, but he might well do anyway. Sandra might even order it out of sheer spite and revenge for depriving her of her settlement. Her hand was evident at every turn of this crisis. It wasn’t just a step she was ahead, it was now a leap.