In for the Kill

by Pauline Rowson

  ‘Of course she doesn’t.’ I rubbed a hand across my eyes. I felt exhausted.

  ‘And the police? Have you been to the police?’

  ‘Get real! How can I tell the police? They’d never believe me and Rowde would know the minute I did.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  I pulled myself up. ‘ You’re going to tell me where the money is and then I’m going to get it and give it to Rowde.’

  He stared at me as if I’d grown two heads. ‘I don’t know where the money is.’

  ‘Wrong answer, Gus.’

  ‘You still think that I’m Andover?’ he cried incredulously.

  I remained silent but kept my eyes on him.

  Surely it was him? It had to be.

  ‘You must believe me for the sake of your sons and Vanessa, I am not Andover. I admit I saw her when you were still married to her and I’m sorry for that. I also admit that I never stopped loving her from the moment I met her years ago when she was at university. But I am not Andover and I didn’t frame you.’

  Either he was telling the truth or he was a very good actor. But would I know the truth if it was staring me in the face?

  ‘Go to the police, Alex. You have to for the boys’

  sake.’

  I hesitated, holding his stare. I could see he was in earnest. I had got it wrong. My body slumped. What remaining energy I had drained from me. My quest to find Andover and save my sons seemed hopeless.

  ‘Rowde might get to them first. He knows where they are and he has probably seen me make a dash for the airport. He may think I’ve already run away with the money.’

  ‘Then we need to act fast. Come on.’ Gus had the door open and was striding down the corridor before I could blink. I scrambled after him. The security guard eyed us curiously.

  ‘Are you OK, Mr Newberry?’

  ‘Get me a car, Johnson, and now. Ask someone to pack my things and check me out of my hotel.

  They can bring my luggage to the airport. Get two seats on the first flight out of here and if there isn’t one, hire me a private plane. Alex, did you check in anywhere?’

  ‘No, I came straight here. I haven’t even got an overnight bag,’ I stammered, stunned by his swift course of action.

  He mumbled something to the receptionist who looked very upset and then we hovered outside until a car drew up about a minute later and Gus urged me to climb inside.

  ‘If we can get back to England before Rowde gets to Vanessa and the boys, I’ll get them out of the country and make sure they’re safe. I’ll call Vanessa.’

  I watched him stab at his mobile phone, his fingers impatiently tapping against the side of his leg as he waited for an answer.

  ‘Damn, her mobile’s not switched on. I’ll try the school.’

  I felt my stomach muscles go into spasm. I was beginning to get nervous. I had a terrible premonition that we were already too late and that instead of making love to a beautiful woman, and then haring here like a mad man, I should have been taking my boys and Vanessa away from that school and into hiding, just as Gus now proposed. I couldn’t even get that right. I heard Gus ask for Mrs Newberry.

  ‘When?’

  He cursed and called the house, throwing me the look of a man who’d just seen his winning lottery ticket go up in flames. I knew what he was going to say even before he said it. He left a curt message for Vanessa to call him urgently as soon as she got in. I didn’t think she was going to pick that message up, just yet.

  We kicked our heels round the airport for a while. Whoever the security guard had instructed, she had managed to get us both on the 16.10

  flight to Southampton. Soon we were in my car heading for Petersfield. Neither of us spoke.

  The house was empty. You could tell that as soon as you stepped inside. There was a note on the kitchen table. Gus read it, took a deep breath and fetched two glasses of whisky. He put one down in front of me.

  ‘They’ve gone?’ I asked, already knowing the answer to my question.

  Gus nodded and tossed back his drink.

  I said, ‘Do you know what the saddest words in the English language are? Too late.’

  ‘What do we do now?’ Gus sat down opposite me. He was deathly pale.

  ‘We wait for Rowde to call.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we go to the police?’ Gus’s cool composure had gone the way of the dodo. His tie was awry, his jacket off, sweat patches showed under his arms and his hair was all over the place.

  I began to pace the room. ‘No. Rowde won’t hurt them if he thinks he’s got a chance of getting the three million. So I’ll give it to him.’

  ‘You have it?’

  ‘No, but Rowde doesn’t know that.’ Suddenly it was quite clear what I had to do. ‘I’ll say that it’s in a Swiss bank account and that I have to go in person to withdraw it. He can come with me.’

  ‘Will he believe you?’

  I didn’t blame Gus for looking sceptical ‘I’ll make sure he does. It might be a good idea if you lie low for a while. Get away from here and stay away until I tell you it’s OK.’

  ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘Rowde will keep hold of Vanessa and my sons, knowing that I’ll do anything to protect them, but you took them from me so you are expendable. In Rowde’s reckoning I hate you and he won’t hesitate to kill you, or have you killed.

  He’s a cruel bastard. Why they ever let him out I don’t know, but then that’s the system for you.’

  What colour was left in Gus’s face drained away. I thought he was going to faint. In barely a whisper he said, ‘I’ll stay at –’

  ‘I don’t want to know, that way I can’t tell. I’ll call you and let you know as soon as Rowde makes contact.’

  I drove back to Portsmouth and caught the Wight Link ferry to the Island. By the time I reached my houseboat it was late. My eyelids were scratching my eyes. I was so damned tired.

  I had only just put my key in the lock when a soft voice hailed me. I was surprised to see Scarlett step out of the shadows.

  ‘What is it?’ I began irritably. I didn’t have time to think about her mother or look for her if she had gone missing again. Then something in Scarlett’s expression made my heart leap into my throat. I knew it meant trouble, and for me. I could see it. I could smell it.

  ‘It’s that woman, the blonde one who was on your houseboat,’ Scarlett began.

  Deeta. I felt cold and full of dread.

  ‘She’s dead. She’s been murdered.’

  CHAPTER 12

  Deeta dead. I couldn’t believe it. It was impossible. I must have said as much aloud because Scarlett picked up on it:

  ‘It’s true. Percy found her on the beach. He was out with his metal detector. He’s being treated for shock.’

  I bet, and then he’ll live off the tale for the next ten years. But that was unkind, and probably untrue. God, what a mess! Poor Deeta. ‘How?’ I asked abruptly.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Who could have killed her? Why? My mind raced as I saw Scarlett scan the wrecked interior of my houseboat. When her eyes came back to rest upon me they looked puzzled and a little hurt. I felt a stab of guilt as though I had betrayed her. It was ridiculous. Scarlett meant nothing to me.

  ‘I saw her leaving here the morning she was killed,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t kill her.’

  ‘I know. I watched you leave about half an hour after she did. You climbed into your car and drove off in the opposite direction.’

  ‘I could have doubled back.’

  ‘You could have, but you didn’t.’

  She said it so confidently and dismissively that I could have hugged her.

  ‘When did Percy find her?’ A terrible thought had entered my brain and blotted out everything else. How long was it after she had left me and after we had made love?

  ‘This morning, just before seven. He came running up the lane to the hotel. I don’t know why he didn’t call the police before he reached
there, but that could be something to do with the shock.’

  My heart sank. Deeta had left me just before six-thirty. She must have decided to walk around the beach back to the hotel and someone had followed her. When they got Deeta on that mortuary slab they’d discover that she’d had sex before she was killed. They’d test for DNA. I was a criminal. I was on the national database.

  They’d have a match. How long before they came looking for me? How long before Westnam’s body was washed up on the shore?

  How long before they connected these deaths with me? Oh, this was good. This was a far better frame up than before. This time I would go down for murder.

  ‘Will you tell the police about Deeta being on my houseboat?’ I asked anxiously.

  She held my gaze. There was still that hostility in her eyes but this time I thought it was tinged with a world-weary sadness. ‘Why should I?’

  I probably had a couple of days at the most before the police connected me with Deeta’s death. I couldn’t go into hiding because Rowde had to find me. I just hoped he would before the police.

  After Scarlett had gone I lay down. I didn’t even contemplate sleeping. My heart was heavy with the sadness of Deeta’s death. Only last night we had lain here together. I could still smell the scent of her firm young body. I could hear her laugh and her gentle questioning about my childhood and family. It had felt so good to talk to someone.

  I had nearly told her about Rowde, but at the final moment remained silent. I had seen the surprise and shock in her eyes when she’d seen the bruises on my torso that had come courtesy of Rowde’s henchman, and the scars that Rowde and my other tormenters in prison had inflicted on me.

  Poor Deeta. She had been so alive, so vibrant.

  How could she no longer exist? Next it would be Rowde’s turn to kill. My sons and ex wife would die. Enough. I couldn’t let anything happen to them. I would have to kill Rowde, but first I needed to know where they were.

  I didn’t intend to sleep but fatigue finally overcame anxiety and I woke to the sound of the birds. It was just on five o’clock, and it was Saturday. I had three days before Rowde carried out his threat.

  There was no point going back to sleep. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. If Gus wasn’t Andover then I had to start again. And I was going to start with that aeroplane. Someone at the airfield might know who the pilot was, or perhaps had recognised the aeroplane. I should have done this earlier but events had swept me in a different direction.

  This afternoon I was due at Camp Hill Prison to see Ray. My idea that Spires had linked the three businessmen had proven to be false; I was back to Emma Brookes, her daughter Joanne and partner, Jamie Redman. The airfield and Ray were my last hopes and I wasn’t optimistic about either.

  There was no sign of life in Scarlett’s houseboat as I passed it. There was also no sign of Rowde.

  The bastard was making me sweat. At a call box in the village I telephoned to Gus on his mobile.

  He hadn’t heard from Vanessa. He had interrogated the home telephone remotely, from wherever he had gone to ground. There was no message. He sounded dreadful, but assured me that he was safe.

  It was too early yet to go to the airfield so I decided to walk along the shore. It was a clear, crisp morning with a slight breeze that rippled the sea onto the sand. I would have enjoyed it if my mind hadn’t been so disturbed by concerns for Vanessa and the boys.

  I came to where Deeta’s body had been found.

  It was just below the footpath that led up to Swains Road, a select area of Bembridge village.

  The blue and white police tape flapped in the wind. I stood for a moment in the silence of the early morning feeling an ache inside me as I recalled her beauty. She had paid a terrible price for the sake of framing me. I couldn’t believe Rowde had killed her, not that he wasn’t capable of it, he was, but if he had known that I cared for Deeta, he would have threatened me with her life, just as he was doing with my sons and Vanessa. No, the man who had killed Deeta was the same man who had humiliated and ruined me: Andover. He was still persecuting me and Deeta had been his instrument. I had to get to him before anyone else suffered the same fate.

  I found myself climbing the coastal path and heading through the somnolent holiday camps and towards the airfield. There was a man tinkering with a small aeroplane in one of the hangars. He looked vaguely familiar from behind.

  ‘I’m looking for someone who can give me some information about an incident here a week ago,’ I began. The man turned. I couldn’t hide my surprise. It was Steven Trentham, my old childhood friend, and Percy’s son.

  ‘Hello, Alex.’

  He didn’t look overjoyed to see me. In fact his eyes were full of hate. The years hadn’t been kind to him. His face was harrowed, his skin dull and his once blonde hair thinning and lank.

  I offered my hand. He didn’t take it.

  ‘How are you?’ I rammed my hands into my pockets, trying not to feel hurt. I wouldn’t have thought Steven would have snubbed me for going to prison. Still, the Steven I had known had been a boy. It was almost thirty years ago.

  Much had happened since then and we had both changed.

  ‘Fine,’ he replied tersely, continuing with his work on the light aircraft.

  ‘Didn’t you go into the RAF?’

  ‘Left in 1997.’

  Silence for a moment. When it was clear the act of making conversation was going to fall to me, I said, ‘You work here?’ Steven had never been a great conversationalist. When we were kids I was the one who had done all the talking and the bossing around, taking advantage of my superior position as a child of the lord of the manor. If Steven wanted the last laugh he could have it now only he looked as though laughing was the last thing on his mind.

  ‘I do pleasure flights around the Island and the odd bit of ferrying business people about.’

  Do you now! I hadn’t realised that Steven could fly an aeroplane. I recalled Percy’s words that first day I’d seen him when I had asked how he knew that I had been released, ‘ Steven told me.’ How had Steven known? Perhaps he was friendly with, Angela, Miles’s cleaning lady.

  I said, ‘Someone buzzed me in a plane a week ago last Thursday as I was walking across the airfield. I’d like to know who. Can I find out?’ I had walked around so that I now faced him. I watched him carefully for a reaction. There was none.

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Can’t you check your records. He must have radioed in to say he was landing or coming over the air space or something?’ I said, with exasperation and irritation.

  Steven looked up. He gazed steadily at me with hazel eyes. In his right hand I could see the knuckles whiten as he tightened his grip on a wrench. There was something akin to disgust on his face.

  ‘What is it, Steven? Don’t you like associating with ex cons?’ I said harshly.

  He glanced away. ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘What then?’

  He put down the wrench and said, ‘Shall we take a walk?’

  I agreed with some reservations. I wasn’t sure where his walk would lead; fraternising with types like Rowde had made me edgy. Was Steven about to tell me he was Andover and then try to kill me? I was glad he had relinquished the wrench.

  We stepped out of the hangar and walked across the grass towards the bird sanctuary where I had taken shelter from the maniac pilot who had tried to scalp me. My heart was beating faster. Steven was silent. I couldn’t believe he was Andover, and yet…

  ‘I saw her go into your houseboat,’ he said.

  I froze and held my breath. I knew he must have meant Deeta.

  ‘She didn’t come out again, not until the morning,’ he added.

  ‘You were outside all night?’

  ‘In my car.’

  I groaned. On his evidence Steven could have me arrested. ‘What do you want, Steven? Do you want to see me go down for murder? Wasn’t embezzlement good enough? How did you do it? And why for Christ’s sake?’

 
‘That fucking war.’ He spat with venom.

  His answer took me by surprise. I stared at him.

  I could recognise a soul in torment. I recalled the carefree little boy with the sticky out ears and the wide grin. That Steven couldn’t have ruined my life and my reputation. But could this one have done so? I wasn’t sure.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Gulf War syndrome. I got chucked out of the RAF.’

  Had the war somehow affected Steven’s mind?

  He’d had many years to brood about it. Had it tipped him over the edge into insanity? Had all the past injustices welled up in him and focused on me?

  ‘Why pick on me, Steven?’

  ‘You slept with Deeta,’ he rounded on me.

  It wasn’t the reply I had expected. I didn’t see hatred in his eyes now, only a deep and inconsolable sorrow. I knew that he had been in love with Deeta.

  ‘I stopped her at the Toll Gate café but she didn’t want to speak,’ he continued. ‘She was angry with me for spying on her. We rowed. She stalked off along the beach and around the point.

  I went after her, then realised how hopeless it was. An hour later she was dead.’

  ‘You didn’t frame me?’

  He stared at me confused. I had got it wrong, again. Andover wasn’t Steven.

  ‘Frame you? For what?’

  ‘Have you told the police any of this?’ I tried not to sound nervous.

  ‘No. They haven’t asked. You made love to her, didn’t you?’ he rounded on me. ‘Did you love her?’

  ‘No, I –’

  Suddenly his fist struck my chin. I stumbled back surprised, but as I stared at him and felt the blood from my cut lip I didn’t feel angry with him. I guess this was what he had asked me here for. He stepped back, and looked away. His shoulders sagged and I knew he wouldn’t hit me again. I was glad. I was getting rather fed up with being everyone’s punch-ball.

  ‘That’s all she was interested in, the war,’ he said sorrowfully.