by A J Waines
‘Mark Leverton, you mean?’
‘Ssh – yes – how did you know?’
‘I’ve seen the way you glare at him.’
‘I know, I must stop being so obvious,’ she giggled. ‘Don’t say anything, will you? He literally makes me feel sick. He’s the bolshy, silent type – but weak as hell underneath.’
I’d forgotten all about this little revelation, mainly because Karen always appeared to be civil to Mark. She must have felt differently about him now, otherwise it was considerably two-faced to invite him here.
But what if Karen still felt like that? Was she playing out this big chummy act for a reason?
Karen called out from the sitting room and I put the memory out of my mind. I popped my head around the door.
‘You couldn’t get her dummy from upstairs, could you? It’s on the dressing table – I forgot to bring it down.’
‘Yes, of course.’
I left Stuart rinsing a couple of dishes and went into Karen’s room without a second thought.
Except, I wasn’t the only one in there. Mark shot round as I stepped inside. He put his finger to his lips straight away and made a hissing noise.
‘What are you doing?’ I whispered. In the split second that I’d seen him, he’d been leaning over Karen’s half-empty suitcase on the floor. It was obvious to me that he was looking for something.
‘None of your business,’ he said. ‘Me and Karen have an understanding. Don’t stick your nose in.’
I grabbed the dummy from the dressing table and backed out without another word.
I was showing Stuart my camera when a police car pulled up behind his Land Rover. We all gathered in the kitchen and two officers, male and female, introduced themselves and told us more or less what we already knew. They took down our names and asked if there were any others staying with us. Stuart explained he was renting out the McGann Cottage up the lane.
‘The child who has gone missing is Brody Holland,’ said Sergeant Mallory. ‘He’s eight and a half months old and was being looked after by Mrs Minter that afternoon. She definitely had all five children with her at five o’clock.’ She tapped her pen against her notebook. ‘Mrs Minter has three young kids of her own and was also looking after Brody and his sister, Danielle, who is three and a half.’
‘Unreliable witnesses,’ said Mark unnecessarily, chewing the end of a plastic baby spoon.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘Mrs Minter went into the utility room and when she came back, the back door was open and Brody had gone.’ Sergeant Harris cleared his throat. ‘We have to ask where you all were yesterday afternoon. Around five o’clock…’
We all looked at each other. Jodie went first. ‘We were all here – apart from Stuart.’
‘Karen came back from Glasgow with the baby, mid-afternoon,’ I said.
‘What time exactly?’ the sergeant asked.
‘About half-past three?’ I said.
Karen nodded. ‘Yeah, about then.’
‘I’ll second that,’ said Jodie.
‘We flopped in front of the fire for the rest of the afternoon,’ I said.
‘Yeah – then I helped Alice chop veg,’ chipped in Jodie, ‘while Mark listened to music in the sitting room. Karen was in and out of the kitchen, looking after Melanie.’
‘None of you went out before six?’ asked the sergeant.
‘No,’ we said in chorus.
‘Then we all had supper,’ I said, ‘at about seven-thirty.’
‘And Mark and I went to the pub about…what? Eight-thirty?’ said Jodie. She turned to Mark.
‘Yeah. We took Karen’s car. Back at around eleven.’ Both officers were scribbling down the details.
‘I left here shortly after three and went back to my cottage,’ said Stuart.
‘He came back at about 9.30pm and we went to the pub,’ I said. ‘The Cart and Horses – got back about 11.30. Everyone was in by then.’
Sergeant Harris turned to Stuart. ‘Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts after you left here at around three o’clock, Mr Wishart?’
His tongue darted around inside his mouth. ‘I don’t think they can, no. I’m staying on my own at the cottage and I don’t know if anyone saw me return.’
Mark stared at him, intrigued.
The female officer held up a coloured photograph of the little boy. He had thick blond curls and was beaming, sitting in a highchair wearing a Donald-Duck bib. ‘Does anyone recognise him?’ she said. ‘Did you see him around here any time yesterday afternoon?’
We passed the picture round and shook our heads in turn.
‘Have any of you witnessed anything unusual in the last few days? Anyone hanging around? Vehicles standing at the roadside?’
I was tempted to say I’d found ten thousand pounds in Mark’s sports bag, but managed to hold my tongue. I couldn’t see how it was related.
Sergeant Harris pointed to the baby buggy in the hall. ‘Can we see the child, please?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Karen. As if on cue, the baby-monitor let out a loud wail. ‘She’s not been well, I’m afraid,’ she said, her foot on the first stair. ‘She’s a bit grouchy. You’d better come up. ’
‘And we’d like to take a look around the property, if no one has any objections?’ announced Sergeant Harris as they followed Karen.
We all muttered our assent.
I overheard Sergeant Mallory asking Karen to undress the child, so they could see her in full. The officers then tramped into each of the rooms in turn – I could hear them opening cupboards and drawers. They checked the cellar, then went outside to the byre along the track.
‘I wonder where the poor mite is?’ asked Jodie, her fingers toying with her bottom lip.
‘In this terribly cold weather…’ I added, looking out of the window. The last of the day’s sun had lit an invisible touchpaper and begun to scorch the sky. It would be dark in an hour. The child had already been missing for around twenty-four hours.
Five minutes later, they came back inside and I overheard the officers’ parting words; a warning to Karen to be particularly vigilant with the baby.
‘No worries there,’ muttered Mark. ‘She’s all over the kid.’
After they’d gone, I remembered my feeling yesterday morning that someone had been lurking in the woods. Except, there wasn’t anything to go on. A possible figure, but I hadn’t seen if it was male or female. Perhaps it had been Stuart, before he found me, but it could easily have been a black bin liner blowing about in the wind.
Stuart slipped on his jacket as I began putting together the evening meal. I invited him to stay, but he said he’d already taken lamb chops out of the freezer for that evening.
‘I’ll give you a ring tomorrow, if that’s okay. The reception isn’t great here. Do you have a landline?’
‘No...’ I hadn’t seen a phone anywhere and assumed there wasn’t one, but decided to double check. ‘I’ll ask Karen.’
I swung my head around the door and opened my mouth to speak.
‘No, ’fraid not,’ came her reply; she’d been listening to our conversation.
‘That’s a shame.’ He wiped his feet on the mat as if he was coming in rather than going out. ‘See you soon, then.’ He left with his shoulders hunched, looking troubled.
‘Someone doesn’t have an alibi,’ said Mark, watching me from the kitchen.
‘Oh, shut up,’ I said, scuttling back to the warmth of the oven.
He echoed my words in a high-pitched whiney voice and disappeared into the scullery. Within seconds, I heard the cork pop from yet another of bottle of wine.
During the meal, Karen was uncharacteristically withdrawn and left half of her food. My birthday seemed long forgotten by everyone.
It was Mark and Jodie’s turn to wash up, so I followed Karen when she drifted into the sitting room. She paced up and down in front of the fire, rubbing her arms.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked, patting the sofa seat be
side me. ‘Is it the news about this awful abduction?’
‘Makes you think, doesn’t it?’ she said, perching on the edge of the seat. ‘Especially when I’ve got a little tot of my own.’
She shuddered and I put my arm around her; her body was stiff and full of corners. ‘I’m sorry your birthday has fallen rather flat,’ she said.
‘It’s not your fault. You made the cake – and gave me the lovely voucher – it’s far more than I ever expected.’
The others joined us and Karen handed over a pile of activity leaflets she’d collected. ‘Didn’t know if you wanted to have a go at something sporty,’ she said in a vacant tone.
Mark flicked through a few and held one up about the Gleneagles Pursuits Centre. ‘Ah, man – they do snowboarding and rock-climbing and all sorts...’
Jodie snatched the leaflet and skimmed through it. ‘It says here, you need to have experience.’
‘Yeah, well, I have, remember? When we went to Innsbruck. You went shopping and I went to the beginners’ camp. How about it, Babe? Come on – let’s pack.’
‘Pack? What – now?’ Jodie turned to Karen and me. ‘Sorry about this,’ she said, getting up to follow him. ‘He’s been itching to get out and “do something”, as he puts it, since the moment we got here.’
Mark came back with a backpack slung over his shoulder. Jodie was right. Mark did seem keen to grab hold of any excuse to leave the cottage. He was grinning and breathless, as if someone had pressed a ‘supercharge’ button inside him. It was followed by the announcement that the two of them were going to a pub they’d heard about called The Bull.
‘We’ll spend the night in Fort William,’ he said, ‘and tomorrow, we’ll head off to have a go at snowboarding and stuff. Looks like it’s about thirty miles away, so might be back tomorrow…might not.’ He tipped his hand to demonstrate the uncertainty. ‘I’ll go down the lane to get a signal and call a cab.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ said Karen, getting to her feet. ‘I’ll take you both – to the pub at least – if you tell me where it is.’
‘You sure?’
‘I thought you might want to go out for a drink again. I was going to offer to drop you at the pub, anyway,’ she said.
‘What about the kid?’
‘I can keep an eye on her,’ I interjected.
‘It’s fine, Alice. Mel’s restless – a ride in the car might lull her to sleep. It always used to when she was tiny and it did the trick on the way back from the hospital.’
‘Ah, brilliant,’ said Mark. ‘The Bull’s not far.’
‘You going to join them at the pub?’ Karen asked me.
I heard Mark utter a barely perceptible groan, before wiping his hand over his mouth, pretending it was a burp.
‘No – it’s okay. I’ll stay here,’ I said. No way was I going to be the gooseberry. ‘Got a bit of a headache.’
As if on cue, a loud wailing came through the baby monitor beside us. Karen shrugged. ‘I’ll get her ready.’
Jodie came down the stairs and dumped a rucksack by the front door. ‘Mark’s always got itchy feet,’ she said apologetically.
I wasn’t sorry they were going; it would be a relief to wave goodbye to the squabbling and backhanded remarks for a while – not to mention the racket from the top floor.
Karen came down with Melanie shortly afterwards. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Keys, torch, cell phone.’ She patted her pockets. I’d noticed a couple of times before that she’d used American words: eggplant instead of aubergine, cookie for biscuit. She didn’t have an accent, but the time she’d spent in LA had rubbed off on her, nevertheless. ‘We’ll see you later. Don’t wait up if you’re tired.’
I opened the door and they all set off into the night.
I’d been sitting in front of the fire reading a book and must have dozed off. It was the clink of glasses that woke me. Karen was above me holding one inches from my face, half-full with red wine.
‘A final nightcap,’ she said, handing it over. She sat in the rocking chair sliding her feet beneath her. ‘I’ve just put Mel to bed – she’s fast asleep.’ She crossed her fingers and we both stared at the silent baby monitor.
I lifted the glass. ‘Thanks – I shouldn’t really.’ I was aware that my head had been throbbing on and off since lunchtime and I’d taken several doses of painkillers. I discretely touched the spot above my temple where I’d whacked it under the sink; it was tender and felt like the top of a hard-boiled egg.
‘Come on. It’s your birthday,’ she said leaning over to tap her glass against mine.
I took a long sip. ‘Here’s to you and Mel and your new life back together again.’
Karen looked down and smiled, but it didn’t light up her face. ‘It’s going to be tougher than I thought,’ she said.
I cleared my throat, thinking back to a few hours before. It seemed only right to mention it.
‘Karen? You know when you asked me to get Mel’s dummy earlier?’ she waited for me to go on. ‘Well, I found Mark snooping about in your room.’
She straightened up. ‘Really? What was he doing?’
‘I’m not sure. Looking in your suitcase.’ I said. ‘I’ll show you.’ She frowned as I led the way upstairs.
Inside her room, I stood where Mark had been, with his feet touching her opened suitcase on the floor. Karen quietly rifled through the baby clothes inside.
‘I don’t think anything’s missing,’ she whispered not wanting to wake Mel.
She ushered me out onto the landing. ‘What would he want?’ I asked.
‘Perhaps he came in to borrow a hot-water bottle…’
‘There’s something else,’ I said. ‘You know when you asked me to go into their room yesterday and get the towel?’ She stood with her arms folded, her head on one side. ‘There was a bag on the top shelf and it fell out…and some of the contents sort of spilled out…and I found about ten thousand pounds in cash…’
She did a double-take. ‘You what?’
We went up another flight. I flipped the light on in their room and opened the cupboard in the corner. Karen looked awkward, holding back on the threshold. The bag was sitting on the towels as it had been before. I lifted it down.
I should have known straight away; it was lighter. I put it on the bed and unzipped it, rummaging through the cans of deodorant and CDs.
‘It’s gone,’ I said.
Karen sank down onto the bed. ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Definitely, absolutely,’ I said. ‘Batches of fifty-pound notes.’ I looked more carefully at the contents this time and pulled out an aerosol. ‘Look – it’s shaving foam.’ There was a packet of razor blades and a pair of dirty men’s socks. ‘The bag must be Mark’s.’
‘Bloody hell,’ she said, inhaling the words.
‘I know…’
Our faces were mirrors of each other as we chewed our bottom lips in unison.
‘Why would he need that amount of money on him?’ I said.
‘Who knows?’ she whispered.
She ushered me out and closed the door. ‘Maybe he’s buying a car,’ she added, without conviction.
‘Yeah – maybe…’ I said, wanting it to be that simple.
Chapter 19
I woke far too early, with one of those jolts that shook me instantly from deep sleep to super-alert, as though someone beside my pillow had called my name.
I slid the curtain to one side, not sure what to expect. There had been no further snow, but what had already fallen looked solid, like immovable blocks of ice. I picked at the frozen condensation inside the window, staring distractedly into space and reached down to switch on the heater.
Then I saw him. Lying, face down on the floor. His left arm was squashed underneath him, his right splayed out to the side. He was wearing a brown leather bomber jacket and his jeans were hanging low, the waistband lying across his buttocks. The skin on his back was meringue white. He looked like a half-dressed mannequin. It looked like Mark.
I made a whimpering sound, my hands over my face, staring at him, not knowing what to do. One leg was hitched up like he was trying to drag himself across the carpet. Except he was perfectly still. I stood on the spot waiting for him to move – then I rushed out of the room and hammered on Karen’s door.
She opened the door a fraction, her eyes screwed up. ‘Hush – you’ll wake her,’ she hissed. ‘It’s not even seven, yet.’
‘Something’s happened,’ I said, reaching out for her wrist. ‘You’ve got to come – right now!’
I dragged her, barefoot in her flimsy chemise, into my room. She stopped abruptly, her toes inches from his boot.
‘What happened,’ she whispered, looking down to him and then up at me repeatedly.
‘I don’t know. I just found him here…’
Karen went to the window and pulled the curtains right back. Under the man’s head a pool of blood the size of a dinner plate had made its way across the floor.
‘Shit – how long has he… ?’
She was far braver than me and bent down, placing her fingers against his neck.
‘Try his pulse,’ she instructed. I stretched out my fingers and let them hover above his limp wrist. I didn’t know how to do it. She nudged me aside and did it herself, shifting her fingers around, trying to find the right place. She looked up.
‘Well – he’s dead,’ she whispered.
‘Oh, God…’ I said.
I stood up. ‘We mustn’t touch anything.’ I swallowed a taste like rotting slug inside my mouth. ‘It’s Mark, isn’t it?’
Karen got down on her knees, then slowly pulled on his shoulder to turn him over.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ I spluttered. ‘You’re disturbing a crime scene!’
His eyes were open but gluey like egg white, the colour already draining from his lips. I hovered by the doorway, not wanting to take a closer look.
‘It’s not Mark,’ she said.
I stepped forward. ‘Oh, God – it isn’t,’ I spluttered. ‘Who the hell is it then?’
‘No idea…’
She stood up. I was looking at the door, the rug, the bed, attempting to work out what could have happened.