She turned her back on him and walked out. Strafford Paulson, who had been more or less ignored by Hawardine during the interview, followed and closed the front door behind them. He was amused by Charlotte’s anger.
“I guess Charles Hawardine is not your favourite person,” he ventured.
“He’s an odious little man,” she grated, ignoring the facts of the fellow’s height of six feet two and his weight approaching fifteen stone. “The only problem is that he’s one step ahead of us at the moment and it’s going to be difficult to catch him out in whatever nefarious scheme he’s involved in.” She straightened her shoulders. “But let’s see what his chauffeur has to say for himself.”
However in this she was to be disappointed. Only his wife was home. When questioned she said her husband had been sent to Exeter ‘to get supplies’.
“Hawardine knew that when he sent us round here and told us the guy was cleaning the car,” she fumed.
However there was nothing they could do but leave for now, with Charlotte promising herself that she would find a way to bring Charles Hawardine down a peg or two as soon as an opportunity presented itself.
- 26 -
As they left Stokewell House Charlotte said, “I’m sorry to have kept you out late, Stafford.”
“Don’t worry. Mabel won’t be back from her mother’s till late and I told her not to leave a meal for me. I thought I’d drop in to the local pub for a bite to eat on the way home.”
“Well, in that case do you mind if we make a quick call on Sidney Pullman? I want to check about whether he works for Harwardine.”
“OK. But can we have a bite first. I’m famished.”
“All right. Where was this pub that you were going to frequent?” She winked at him. “I’m paying.”
“Oh, in that case I know a decent place on the way back to Torquay where I feel I can take a lady.”
“Now - there’s a compliment.”
So they spent a pleasant hour discussing progress (or maybe the lack of it) on the various cases while they demolished a fillet steak and chips. Stafford was impressed that Charlotte seemed to be one lady unworried about her diet.
Thus it was getting dark when they turned into the street where Sidney Pullman lived.
“What’s happening?” Charlotte burst out.
There was a crowd of people outside number fifteen. They could see stones were being thrown and they could hear the musical tinkle of broken glass. Even as they approached, three men came out of the front door, dragging a fourth who they threw on the pavement. A woman rushed out behind them but was held back by another couple of the crowd. The three men started to brutally kick the body lying on the pavement with their heavily booted feet. The man put his hands over his head to protect himself but the boots were hammering into his ribs and stomach.
At that second Paulson switched on the siren, the headlights and the flashing blue lights and roared up to the crowd. Startled faces turned towards them as the car screamed to a halt and the two police officers leaped out, leaving the car doors wide open. There were shouts of, “Watch out”, “It’s the fuzz”, and, “Get out of here”, as the whole crowd of twenty or so people rushed off up the road and disappeared into the side-streets.
The three characters kicking the body were a bit slower than the rest and Paulson chased after the nearest and brought the man down with a flying rugger tackle. But his two mates turned back to attack the floored policeman, opening up a gash on his cheek and half-dazing him with a couple of kicks to the head. They helped their friend up and all three ran off before the inspector could struggle to his feet, brush himself off and limp back to the car.
Charlotte was meanwhile down on her knees beside Pullman trying to check his injuries. His sister joined her. The man was groaning and crying in pain. He gasped that his ribs and his stomach, one of his arms and a leg hurt. He seemed unwilling to move.
“I think he needs hospitalisation,” said Charlotte and stood up to make the call on her mobile. As she did so, Paulson staggered back.
“Are you all right, Stafford?”
“Nothing serious. Just a couple of kicks.” He took out his handkerchief to dab at the blood on his cheek.
“Nevertheless I’m calling an ambulance for Mr Pullman. I think they’d better have a look at you when they come.” She made the call and turned to Pullman’s sister. “Can you describe to me what happened?”
The woman seemed quite calm. “I heard a lot of shouting outside. When I looked out through the front room window there was a crowd of people out there. They were shouting things like ‘Get the pervert out of here’ and ‘Where’s the little girl?’ and ‘Death to perverts’.”
“When did this start?”
“Only a few minutes before you arrived. I was just going to ring the police when I heard a window break. I rushed into the front room and the middle pane of glass was completely smashed and there was a brick lying on the carpet. Then another brick came through the window in the front door. I went into the hall and all the glass was being knocked out and an arm was reaching in to undo the lock.”
“Sounds as though it was organised,” said Paulson.
“Sidney was crying. ‘They’re after me’ he said. I told him to go upstairs while I rang for the police but as I picked up the phone, which is in the hall, three men pushed open the front door and rushed in. They grabbed Sidney and dragged him out. They were shouting, ‘Where’s the girl hidden?’ and, ‘We’re going to get it out of you’ and things like that. I shouted back at them that she wasn’t here but they took no notice of me.”
She paused to take a breath. “I rushed out after them to try and help him but two of the men grabbed me and held me back. I tried to hit them to make them let me go but they were too strong. I saw them throw Sidney on the ground and start to kick him. All the time they were shouting, ‘Where is she?’ and, ‘Tell us, or we’ll really hurt you’.” She placed her hand on Charlotte’s forearm. “Then you turned up.”
“You were lucky,” said Paulson.
“I’ve never been so pleased to hear a police siren. I thought they were going to kill him if he didn’t tell them what they wanted to know. And I didn’t know what they were going to do to the house. I was afraid they were going to smash the place up. Some of the crowd were shouting things like, ‘Torch the place’ and, ‘Get his woman as well’. But they ran away fast enough when you arrived.” She seemed to be getting more agitated as she turned to look at the house, “Oh, look at it. What’s going to happen to us now?” And she burst into tears.
“Don’t worry, Mrs - er - what’s your name?”
“Spender,” she sobbed. “Daisy Spender.”
“You’ve not actually been hurt yourself, Daisy?”
“No.”
“Listen, Daisy. The ambulance is on its way for Mr Pullman. I think it’s only two or three windows that are broken in the house. I’ll ring the station and get them to contact a company we know. They’ll come round tonight and either reglaze the windows or temporarily board them up. They’ll also clean up the mess.”
“I’ll ring them now,” said Paulson and took out his mobile.
“But I can’t have Sidney back here any more,” said the woman. “Those men will come back again now that they know he’s here.”
“How do they know that, Mrs Spender?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve not told anyone about Sidney’s - er - problems in the past. One or two neighbours have asked who he is and I just told them he was my brother and he was staying with me while he was trying to find some work. He used to be a lighting technician in the London theatres.”
“But the men who attacked him called him a pervert and said he’d got the missing girl, so somebody must have given them that information. Do you know of anybody who could have known enough to tell them that?” Charlotte was beginning to have her own suspicions.
“No. The only people I have heard talk to Sidney about what happened in his past were
the inspector here and his sergeant.” She pointed a finger. “He’s a nasty piece of work, that sergeant. When he first came round to tell Sidney what he had to do now he’s on the Sex Offenders Register, he made all sorts of threats. Sidney was frightened to death of him.”
“Did he threaten your brother when he questioned him on Friday?”
She shook her head. “Not really. He made some nasty remarks but I think he would have been a lot worse if the inspector hadn’t been here.” She pulled a face and repeated, “He’s a nasty piece of work, he is.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the siren of the approaching ambulance. Charlotte excused herself and went to meet the paramedics as they got out and explained the situation to them. They went down on their knees to examine Sidney Pullman before deciding how to move him.
While that was going on, Charlotte went back to Stafford and took him on one side. “This smells a bit,” she said. “Do you think Sergeant Mallinson may have had a hand in organising this attack?”
“Surely not.” Paulson didn’t seem to be able to bring himself to believe one of his staff might do something like that.
“Didn’t you say he believed Sidney had kidnapped Tracey?”
“Well,” admitted the inspector, “he did seem to think the man was guilty, even though I told him I didn’t believe he had the guts for it.”
“I think we need to ask Greg exactly what part he had in all this.”
“Can we wait a bit?” asked Stafford. “I recognised one of the attackers - the one who kicked me in the head when I was on the ground. He’s a nasty piece of work called Sean Hendon. I think we should bring him in first and see what he has to say for himself.”
She nodded. “All right. I’ll go along with that.” She put a hand on his arm. “I’m no more anxious than you to accuse Greg of something like this unless there’s good evidence that he’s done something wrong.”
One of the paramedics tapped her on the shoulder. “OK, we’ve given the chap a check over. There’s a couple of suspected broken ribs, a damaged upper arm or shoulder and some possible problems in the region of the abdomen. I don’t think there are any ruptured organs but I can’t be sure without a scan. So we’re ready to get him in the ambulance if you’re happy to let him go.”
“Certainly. He’s all yours. Do you want a hand with lifting him?”
“No. We’ve got all the gear and we’re used to it.”
“What about you, Stafford?” To the paramedic she said, “Inspector Paulson was kicked in the head a couple of times.”
“I’m OK,” said Stafford. “I’ve just got a bit of a headache.”
“Let me look at the cut on your cheek.” He carefully felt around the damaged area. “I don’t think there’s a problem there. It looks like a glancing blow resulting in simple bruising. There’s nothing broken. Where was the other impact?”
Paulson indicated the location at the back of his head. The paramedic carefully felt round the area. “Do you feel any dizziness?” he asked.
The inspector shook his head.
“And that head-shake doesn’t make you feel nauseous or disorientated?”
“No. There’s just a bit of a headache.”
“I don’t think you’ve got concussion but you need to be careful.” To Charlotte he said, “Will you drive the inspector home after this?”
“Of course.”
“Take a couple of aspirin when you go to bed. If you feel funny when you get up in the morning, make sure you get taken to hospital for a check-up. Explain to them what happened and ask for a scan.” He wagged a finger at the policeman. “Concussion’s a funny thing. It can show up later and can be quite dangerous. So be careful.”
He went back to help his colleague get Sidney Pullman loaded into the ambulance. Then they departed for the hospital. His sister was advised to leave him with them for the night. She could get in touch with the hospital in the morning when they would be able to give her more information about his condition.
Charlotte rang the station and was told the glazing company would be there within half an hour. A woman PC was being sent to the house to see if Daisy Spender needed any additional protection. And a couple of neighbours who had ventured out to see what the fuss was about had offered Sidney’s sister help.
So the detectives left with the promise that the attack would be fully investigated and they would contact her when they had more news.
Of course nobody noticed Greg Mallinson, when he left his vantage point further up the hill. He got into his car, reversed away from the main road, did a three-point turn and departed up the side street away from the scene.
- 27 -
When Marion went to answer the ring at the doorbell early on Tuesday morning she was astonished to see James Fisher standing there.
“I’ve come to apologise before I hand myself in to the police,” he announced.
“Oh.” She was taken aback. “Oh dear. I suppose you’d better come in.”
“Is your husband here?”
“No. Don’t worry about that.”
“I wanted to apologise to him as well. He’d be entitled to give me a good beating if he chose.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She almost pulled at his arm. “Please come in.”
He followed her as she closed the front door and led him into the sitting room.
“I promise you I have never done anything like that before in my life. I know what I did was unforgiveable and I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know how thoroughly ashamed I am of myself. My mother telephoned me to tell me that the police wanted to interview me about what happened the Sunday before last. I came here first because they may decide to put me in the cells when I report to them.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Marion experienced a most strange sensation of almost maternal consideration towards the young man.
“I can only offer as the reasons for my behaviour that I had drunk too much and you seemed so attractive and so - well, yes - so sexy and at first I thought you were going to let me and then I realised that you wouldn’t and I - I felt as though you were trying to cheat me like that Taliban woman did to my mate. Not that I had any right to think like that,” he said hurriedly.
He put up his hand. “I realise now that it was nothing like that. You had every right to push me away. I’m not offering that as an excuse. I know my treatment of you was inexcusable. But it’s a sort of reason for how I felt towards you.” He smiled weakly. “My mother has made it clear to me that I must accept my punishment for the way I behaved and I agree with that.”
“Well, I suppose -.” She stopped herself. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”
“No thanks. I promise not to stay long. I don’t want you to feel threatened by me.” He took a breath. “I also promise you that I’ll make sure you won’t be dragged through the humiliation of being questioned in court by the defence lawyer. My mother said she’d read that was one of the worse things for a woman and was the reason why many of them don’t take proceedings against their attackers.”
Marion found it difficult to believe that this man who had been so violent on that awful night could now be so considerate. But everything about him suggested he was telling the truth.
“My mother also told me what an awful experience it must have been for you. She told me some women are so traumatised by being - er - by being raped that they are never able to let a man touch them again.” He coughed. “I hope that won’t happen to you.”
There was a long silence. It seemed to Marion that James was hoping to get some sort of reassurance from her.
“Well,” she said, “all sorts of things have happened since you - since you raped me.”
“What do you mean?”
“The most important thing is that my daughter has gone missing. Tracey’s only twelve years old.” She shook her head. “As far as I’m concerned she’s much more important than what you did to me.”
“What’s happened to he
r?”
“We don’t know. The police are searching everywhere for her but they haven’t had any luck yet.” Her voice broke. “She’s been missing for five days now.”
“God, how awful. Is your husband out looking for her?”
“No, he’s disappeared as well.” Why did she feel the need to explain to this man? “He came back from the Far East on Wednesday night. He’s the one who made me report the rape to the police. We did that early on Thursday morning. Tracey disappeared while we were at the police station. Afterwards we had an awful row and he accused me of encouraging you. Then he walked out and I haven’t seen him since.”
She suddenly burst into tears. She didn’t know why she did it at that particular moment. Then this man - this man who had assaulted her - had his arms round her and was comforting her and she wanted him to do it.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It’s all been caused by me.”
“No,” she sniffed, “it’s not your fault.”
“Yes it is. If I hadn’t treated you like I did, you wouldn’t have been at the police station and Tracey wouldn’t have disappeared and you wouldn’t have rowed with your husband.” He let go of her. “You don’t know what you start when you behave with violence.”
She was disappointed he had let go of her but she understood. She must look ugly with her tear-stained face without any make-up on. She was dressed in tatty old clothes which she had dragged on when she got out of bed. She hadn’t even had a shower. She thought she must look like a proper old hag.
James said, “I wish there was something I could do to help to make up in a little way for what I did last week.”
And then the doorbell rang.
Marion crossed to the window and peered out through the net curtains. “Oh, it’s Charlotte.”
“Who’s Charlotte?”
“She’s the police lady who’s been arranging the search for Tracey.”
“Oh, I can tell her I’m giving myself up.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want her to find you in my house. Go into the kitchen,” And when he still stood there. “Go on. I’ve got to let her in.”
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