Una sneered. ‘I gather he was laundering money for you. It’s hard to believe you buffoons would have enough cash to make it worth his while.’
‘A lot you know!’ Moonie retorted hotly, rising to the bait. ‘There was plenty.’
‘And you gave it to Andrew McNish?’ Sheena jeered. ‘Lord, you need your heads read!’
Bastian sniggered.
Moonie’s waxen face darkened unattractively. ‘It was Skinner. Skinner got the word McNish was okay. He made the contact. McNish said he’d do it for a cut, no problem—’
‘There you are, Una, what did I tell you?’ shrieked Dulcie. ‘What did Cliff and I both tell you? The man’s a criminal ! A criminal, pure and simple!’
‘Yeah,’ Moonie agreed, glowering. ‘Couple of weeks after he got his hands on the dough he stopped returning Skinner’s calls. Then he went into smoke. He ripped us off!’
Sheena laughed humourlessly. ‘Join the club,’ she said. ‘Well, he didn’t get any money out of me, thank the Lord. Not that he didn’t try. Said he could double me little nest egg in a few months if I gave him the handling of it, but I said no thanks, I’d rather leave it in the bank.’
‘Very wise,’ Dulcie said in a high voice. ‘Well, I wish you joy of your little nest egg, Sheena. Personally, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I’d persuaded a helpless old man to leave his property away from his family, and then had the hide to sell it back to his rightful heir!’
Sheena’s neck and face flushed bright red. Her eyes snapped. ‘What, did you expect me to give it away, Dulcie?’ she spat. ‘It was all I had to show for five years with Roly!’
‘Yes, well, and you did very nicely for yourself, too, didn’t you?’ Dulcie said nastily. ‘Cliff Allnut drew up the sale agreement, and he told me—’
‘Allnut had no business telling you anything!’ barked Una. ‘How I choose to spend my money is my affair, Dulcie! It has nothing to do with you, and never will have, whatever nasty little plots you and that golf-mad shyster have been cooking up between you!’
Dulcie boggled, then took refuge in tears.
‘You should have auctioned the best of the stuff on eBay,’ Sebastian said to Sheena, coming surprisingly to life. ‘You’d have got a lot more that way. I could have done it for you. I’d have done it for . . . twenty per cent of the sale price.’
‘Twenty per cent?’ Sheena’s face broke suddenly into a broad grin. ‘Lord, boyo, you’re a Maggott, all right.’
‘You’d still have done better than you did from Auntie Una,’ said Sebastian, unperturbed. ‘People’ll buy anything on eBay.’
Holly saw Una give him a sharp glance. Moonie also looked interested. He turned to stare at the case of stuffed birds and the clock. This brought his eyes in contact with Lily’s. She batted her amazing eyelashes and wriggled around to face him, bending slightly to reveal a little of her cleavage.
‘These people aren’t my friends, Moonie,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t belong with them. And I’m so tired. Perhaps . . . if you could just let me go to my room to lie down? I’d be so grateful. And after all this is over . . .’
‘I hate women,’ said Moonie. ‘Especially the ones who try to make me do things by flashing their tits at me.’
Lily shot him a look of pure hatred, flounced around in her chair and began muttering soundlessly to herself.
‘She’s a witch, you know,’ Una said to Moonie. ‘You want to be careful how you talk to her.’
‘Shut up!’ said Moonie. But he looked rattled. Keeping the prisoners covered, and eyeing the back of Lily’s bent head uneasily, he moved to the sideboard and pulled one of the doors open to reveal a cluster of bottles. He seized a quarter-full bottle of sherry, screwed off the lid one-handed, took a swig, and shuddered all over, looking sicker than ever.
‘You’re probably poisoned, now,’ Una told him calmly. ‘I like a glass of sherry myself, and someone’s been trying to kill me lately.’
And it was then, when she was turning away from the sight of the gun wavering in Moonie’s shaking hand, that Holly saw a face at the library window. She froze. The face behind the yellowed lace curtains and dusty glass was so grotesque that her first thought was that the watcher was someone wearing a horror mask.
She had told herself that Bernie the psychopath was the obvious candidate, and her teeth had begun to chatter, by the time she realised that the misshapen disc she was seeing was a human face distorted by being pressed hard against the security bars. A second later she understood that what she had taken to be bat-like ears were actually hands cupped on either side of the watcher’s head like blinkers, to exclude the afternoon sun. Then she saw the dark cockscomb of hair, and slowly recognised the face at the window as Eric’s.
Her heart bounded. Eric had come home! Eric had seen the captives tied to the light poles! By now he must have called the police. Relief was at hand!
Terrified that she had given the game away by staring, she looked quickly away from the window and glanced around. To her relief, no one else seemed to have noticed her distraction. Sheena and Una were both looking without sympathy at Dulcie, whose weeping had quickly subsided into a series of exaggeratedly shuddering sobs. Sebastian was staring vacantly at the bookshelves, no doubt calculating how much Rollo Maggott’s tomes on embalming, reptiles, steam trains, Elvis and dentistry might fetch on eBay. Lily was gazing down at her hands, mumbling incantations, whether calming or vengeful it was impossible to guess.
Moonie was still investigating the sideboard, pushing aside bottles in search of something he liked better than sherry. As Holly’s eyes fell on him he straightened up, holding a bulky padded envelope.
‘Holly Cage,’ he read slowly, squinting at the bold printing on the front of the envelope. ‘Per-sonal.’
Everyone looked at Holly. She stared, confounded, at the envelope.
‘What’s that, Ms Cage?’ Una demanded, leaning forward.
‘Your name’s not Cage,’ Moonie said to Holly. ‘Your name’s Love. Holly Love—that’s what Fen said.’
Holly shrugged, feeling her face grow hot.
‘Well, well,’ Sheena said softly.
Moonie put his find to his ear and shook it. Outside the room they heard the stairs shrieking beneath three pairs of feet.
‘They’re going up to get your boyfriend,’ said Moo-nie. ‘Won’t be long now.’ He grinned sadistically at Holly, showing stained, uneven teeth. Holly, who up till now had thought he was the best of a bad bunch, revised her opinion.
‘Boyfriend?’ Una Maggott burst out. ‘Love? What’s he talking about?’ Her voice sounded hoarse. Holly couldn’t look at her.
‘So what’s in this?’ Moonie asked, holding up the envelope.
‘I’ve got no idea,’ Holly said feebly. ‘I’ve never seen it before.’
‘Oh, is that right?’ Moonie jeered. ‘So if it’s a shitload of cash, it’ll be a big surprise to you, will it? Well, let’s have a look.’
He lumbered over to the dining table, ripped the envelope open, and upended it with a flourish.
A very dead white rat, seething with maggots, fell onto the tabletop.
‘Ugh!’ said Moonie. The blood drained from his face. His eyes rolled back. Slowly he toppled sideways, and crashed to the floor.
Then Holly was on her feet. She couldn’t quite remember how she got there. Presumably she had reacted instinctively to the sight of the dead rat. Everyone else had abandoned the table too—everyone except Una, who was still sitting at its head, scowling down at the unconscious Moonie. Sheena was swearing under her breath. Dulcie was babbling hysterically, clutching at her son, who was struggling to get away from her. Lily was gaping, apparently mesmerised, at the maggots wriggling on the tabletop.
‘Get the gun! Get the gun!’ Holly heard herself gabbling, then seeing that no one was listening to her, ran around the table to get it herself.
She found it pinned under the unconscious Moonie’s knee. Gingerly she tugged it free and stood up, feeling its weight in h
er hands.
‘I’ll take that,’ said Una.
Holly glanced at her uncertainly.
‘Give it to me!’ Una ordered. ‘I can handle a gun, which is obviously a lot more than you can do, Ms Cage, or Love, or whoever you are.’
‘No! Don’t let her have it!’ squealed Dulcie.
Holly passed Una the gun. Dulcie squealed again.
‘Keep quiet!’ hissed Sheena. ‘The others will hear you!’
Moonie mumbled. He smacked his lips and his eyelids fluttered.
‘Keep him covered, Auntie Una,’ Sebastian advised.
‘I think I’ll do better than that.’ Una leaned over the side of the wheelchair and hit Moonie smartly on the head with the gun butt. The murmuring and eye-fluttering stopped. Una straightened and tossed the gun onto the tabletop.
Squealing for the third time, Dulcie ducked for cover, pulling Sebastian down with her.
‘It isn’t real, you fool,’ Una said. ‘It’s just a dummy. No striking mechanism. No bullets. Useless.’
Everyone groaned. Dulcie, Sebastian and Lily stared reproachfully at Holly as if she should have known.
‘It looked real,’ Holly said, impelled against all reason to defend herself. ‘I wasn’t going to take any chances.’
‘Quite right,’ said Una surprisingly. ‘So. What’ll we do now? The other three will be down any minute.’
She was looking at Holly for instructions. They were all looking at Holly, expectation in every line of their faces. After all, Holly was the professional. Professional detective, or professional con artist, either way she was an aficionado of the mean streets, and therefore the only one of them fitted to lead a battle on the dark side.
It’s a dirty job but someone has to . . .
Holly glanced at the window, but Eric had gone. Her mind raced. No way out of the house. No lock strong enough to keep Fen out. Unless . . .
She stepped over Moonie’s body and darted to the end of the sideboard. ‘Help me push this thing across the door,’ she heard herself saying crisply. ‘We don’t have to hold out for long. I saw Eric outside. The police must be on their way by now.’
She put her shoulder to the sideboard. Sheena hurried to join her. Sebastian and Dulcie gripped the end nearest the door as best they could. Lily stood ineffectually in the middle, holding on to one of the drawer handles.
‘One, two, three!’ said Holly. Grunting with the effort, she and Sheena pushed, Sebastian and Dulcie pulled, and Lily did a bit of both. The sideboard shifted a little, its base grating on the floorboards, the bottles inside it chinking together. Then it ground to a halt.
‘Put your backs into it!’ Una Maggott hissed, zooming dangerously past Moonie’s head to get closer to the action. ‘What’s wrong with you all?’
‘Can’t—get—a—grip,’ Sebastian panted. He pushed past his mother and hauled recklessly at the drawer nearest to him, jumping back as it slid out abruptly and fell to the floor, just missing his foot.
The drawer’s contents spilled onto the boards: chess pieces, poker chips, decks of cards, some bridge score pads, several small, blunt pencils, a few dice, two champagne corks . . . and a flat, faded blue box with a gold clasp that sprang open to reveal a row of silver teaspoons.
‘Ha!’ crowed Una Maggott.
Holly’s breath caught in her throat, but before she could say anything, Sebastian had kicked the clutter away and taken hold of the edge of the drawer cavity. He gritted his teeth. The unaccustomed physical effort had turned his usually vampire-pale face scarlet.
‘Go!’ he ordered. Again they strained, and this time the sideboard moved, sliding across the boards with a dull, rasping sound, to within a chair’s width of the door.
‘Again!’ gasped Holly. ‘One, two—’
The final word stuck in her throat as the library door swung open.
Martin the landscaper slipped noiselessly into the room, a spanner hanging loosely in his hand. He nodded to the gaping prisoners, as laconic as if he’d come to give a quote on building a retaining wall. Behind him crowded Eric, glittering and manic as Elvis on speed, brandishing a piece of pipe, and Trevor Purse, tousled and intent, gripping his massive black torch.
‘Are the police here?’ Una demanded, finding her voice.
Martin shook his head slightly and put his finger to his lips. He looked quickly around the room, taking in the rat and the gun on the table. His gaze swept over Holly as if she wasn’t there. He didn’t seem surprised that Moonie was unconscious, and Holly realised that Eric must have seen the man fall.
‘Where are the other three?’ Martin asked softly.
‘Upstairs,’ said Sheena. ‘Looking for Andrew.’
He nodded. ‘Still clear, Trevor?’ he whispered.
Trevor Purse peered around the doorjamb and beckoned elaborately like an elf in a pantomime.
‘Go!’ said Martin to the room in general. ‘Follow Trevor. Out the kitchen window, then up the front. Hide in the bush across the road. Trevor’s wife and the other women are there. He’ll show you. Quick and quiet as you can.’
Still beckoning over his shoulder, Trevor ran from the room on tiptoe, looking more like an elf than ever. Lily bolted after him, beating Dulcie to the door by half a head only because Dulcie paused to seize her son’s arm on the way.
Holly grabbed Una’s wheelchair and tried to turn it. It wouldn’t budge. She tugged at it, but it was wedged between Moonie’s body and the leg of the table.
‘Sheena!’ she hissed desperately.
Sheena glanced over her shoulder, hesitated, then ran back to help.
‘Hurry up, will you?’ Una complained as the two women heaved at the chair, trying in vain to free it. ‘We haven’t got all day!’
Holly could have hit her.
Eric came running. He elbowed Sheena and Holly aside, dragged the table a little to the left and jerked the chair free, lifting the wheels from the ground in the process.
‘Be careful, you fool!’ growled Una, clinging to the chair arms. ‘You’ll have me over! Trying to finish what you started last night, are you?’
‘You lousy, ungrateful old besom!’ spat Sheena. ‘It’d serve you right if we left you to rot!’
But Eric didn’t miss a beat. Swivelling the wheelchair around he reached for the gun on the table.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Holly told him. ‘It’s a fake.’
Eric ignored her. He picked up the gun, shook a couple of maggots from the barrel and began wheeling Una rapidly towards the door, with Sheena striding behind him.
Holly shrugged and trotted after them. Maybe Eric thought the gun might be real after all. It was possible that it was, but Holly didn’t think so. Una had seemed to know what she was talking about. In fact, eccentric and obsessive as Una was, she hadn’t been wrong about very much so far. She’d been right about the sterling silver teaspoons, for example—the teaspoons that had been hidden at the back of the sideboard drawer, and lay right now under the library table. She’d been right about Dulcie’s money, too. Maybe she’d been right about everything.
Holly’s skin prickled. The room seemed to darken. Fighting off the unreal feeling that had become very familiar over the last few days—the feeling that she wasn’t actually awake, but was in the grip of some long and complicated nightmare—she hurried to catch up with Sheena.
Trevor Purse had reappeared in the doorway. Presumably he’d come back to see what was keeping them. Hopping nervously on the spot, brandishing his giant torch, he now looked less like an elf and more like a feverish cricket.
‘What’s with the dead rat?’ Holly heard Eric murmur.
‘Someone’s gift for Ms Cage,’ Una said grimly. ‘Of course, it turns out her name isn’t Cage at all.’
Eric nodded as if he’d suspected that all along.
‘If the police aren’t here, how did you get in?’ Sheena asked him.
‘Kitchen window,’ said Eric. ‘Martin took out the bolts and the bars all lifted off in one piece,
easy as pie. Old Mag-gott got done. He must be spinning in his grave.’
Una gave a harsh bark of laughter. Sheena chuckled.
Martin grinned at them both. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said.
And at that exact moment, the staircase outside began to squeak and there was the echoing sound of voices.
Holly’s stomach turned over.
‘They’re coming down!’ croaked Trevor, springing back from the doorway and dropping into a half-crouch.
Martin swore under his breath and pushed the door shut.
‘Sheena, take Una down the other end. Down to the windows. Get behind the couch if you can move it.’ He glanced coldly at Holly. ‘You, too!’
‘Thanks for the permission,’ Holly snapped, very irritated.
Martin and Eric flattened themselves against the wall on either side of the door. Trevor Purse crouched by the sideboard, killer torch at the ready.
‘Don’t listen to him!’ hissed Una, as Sheena spun the wheelchair around and began hurrying past the table. ‘He needs to take those lowlifes by surprise. We have to be sitting where we were or they’ll know there’s trouble the second they open the door.’
Right again, Una, thought Holly. She caught Sheena’s eye, darted back to her chair, and sat down. Sheena ran with Una to the head of the table, then ran back to take her own place. They all folded their hands on the tabletop and waited for Martin to notice them and protest.
Martin, however, was busy examining the gun that Eric had passed him.
‘Replica,’ he said at last, putting it down on the floor.
‘We told you that,’ Una said impatiently, not troubling to keep her voice down.
Martin looked up. When he saw the three women sitting at the table he raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment.
Mr Cool, Holly thought sourly. She wondered what it would take to ruffle this man. If she knew, she would take pleasure in doing it.
‘I can’t speak for the other one, though,’ Una went on blithely. ‘And the tall fellow, the one with the ponytail, has a knife. He’s a psychopath. You can tell by his eyes.’
‘Nice mates you’ve got,’ Martin said to Holly. She blinked. Was he joking? He didn’t look as if he was. His mouth was hard.
Love, Honour & O'Brien Page 24