‘Julia.’ He twisted in his seat until he faced her, then rested his hand on her arm. ‘Smith’s threats may seem to you like the normal histrionics of a condemned man, and what he did on Friday night and his demand for a quarter million pounds merely further manifestations of his rage. But believe me, I can not afford to overlook them. Remember Avril Scott?’
She kept her eyes down. Her fingers found her handbag. Again she traced the outline of the gun. ‘What he did to Avril would surely have been on the spur of the moment.’
‘Exactly,’ Paul said. ‘So you can’t ignore the man or his threats. He’s a madman. He’s seeking revenge for something he feels his solicitor owes him. So let’s be honest. Increasing surveillance would increase our likelihood of capturing him. Has he phoned you again?’
‘No.’
He moved his hand up her arm to her chin, forcing her to look at him. ‘So you’ll agree?’
She shook her head. Further words choked in her mouth. She still had no way of knowing whether what Smith had said was true. How comforting it would be to be able to tell Paul who she thought Smith was. To share her fear with him. To tell him about Smith’s terrifying accusation which he had uttered in such a direct manner that she was in no doubt that he would, if forced, tell the police and she would be taken in for questioning with all the repercussions that would cause. But this was all wishful thinking.
‘Julia. I must make sure you’re safeguarded. Purely as a member of the public, you understand. Nothing to do with your relationship with me.’
Relationship? He’d never used that word before.
She sipped her wine. ‘Paul,’ she said at last, ‘if Smith did approach the house again, and if he got one whiff of the kind of highly sophisticated armed presence you’re contemplating, he’d be off like a shot. But goodness knows what he’d do next.’
Paul sucked air in through his teeth, his eyes flicking from left to right. ‘You know damned well he should have gone down for the Dunn rape. He’s rotten. There’s hatred and rage in that man. He could do it again and that’s why I’m so worried.’
She watched the quick rise and fall of his chest, sensing the power beneath his anger. He has fire in his belly, everyone always said about him.
But she had made her point. That was enough. If she carried on protesting Paul would begin to wonder why. ‘I think you should leave things as they are,’ she said. ‘And hope that Smith doesn’t spot anything suspicious. We all know he’s no fool. He must be fully aware that his threat in court would not be ignored. He knows how you guys work. But anything above the norm would make him smell a rat.’
‘Right. A compromise. Nothing at your house yet, but increase cover at the house opposite. Smith won’t see a thing but we’ll be ready for him. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ she said, and then, forcing lightness into her voice, ‘Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you. I’m going to one of those self-protection classes tomorrow night that you’re always on about.’
‘About time. But you look too tired to go prancing around in a gym. Look. I’ve an idea. Pack a bag on Saturday, for you and Nicky. We’ll go somewhere for the weekend. Well, don’t look at me as though I’ve suggested a trip in a Russian spaceship.’
‘I can’t, Paul.’ She picked up her handbag and stood beside the table, ready to go. ‘Anyway, you have a big case on. Surely you shouldn’t leave town.’
‘I’ll choose a hotel nearby,’ he said, standing in front of her. ‘I’ll have my mobile phone and my bleeper. We all need a break.’ He took her arm. ‘I would drive behind you,’ he said, ‘but unfortunately I have to go back to the office now.’
‘I’m fine, really. And I’d rather you didn’t, anyway.’ Silently they walked out of the pub.
Without warning he bent down and kissed her cheek. Neither of them said another word but something had changed.
* * *
Julia drove home bewildered, her thoughts zigzagging between Paul and her dilemma with Smith. She pressed the CD play button. Perhaps the poignant notes of the clarinet concerto would steady her nerves. Deciding not to take the bypass, she came off Kingsway, then took the far quieter old A34 to Wilmslow. Quieter, but better lit.
When the exquisitely beautiful slow movement started, she turned up the sound. Mozart must have been in love when he wrote this, she thought, completely forgetting for the first time in more than three days to look in her rear view mirror.
- 41 -
Wendy spooned the batter straight onto the hot plate on the Aga. When little holes appeared on top she turned the pancakes over. She filled the kettle and put the honey and the butter on the table. When Julia finally arrived home she’d at least have her favourite snack to eat.
She picked up the phone then put it down again. If she didn’t do it soon Julia would be home and she would have missed her chance.
Today should have been the happiest day of her life. She wanted to tell Julia, but Julia might not want her to carry on working in her condition and she needed the money. She wanted to tell the whole wide world. But although she was ecstatic about the baby, she was also frightened. It was really important now for her and Alan to have a house. She remembered her mother telling her how patient she’d always had to be. ‘Men don’t like to be pushed into things,’ she had said. ‘They like to think it was all their idea.’
But like a bird frantically trying to build a nest in spring, Wendy didn’t think she could be patient. She wanted her house now.
‘Men!’ she said aloud. But inside she was shouting I’m going to have a baby. I’m going to have Alan’s baby!
- 42 -
On the dashboard a red light flashing. Jesus, these old Peugeots were nothing but fucking trouble. But they were a doddle to steal and what a great feeling to be right behind the SLK, close enough to see the shape of her head and that beautiful long blonde hair.
You needed a good fifty yards to get up enough speed to zoom up behind her. Force her into the curb. Or better still into a wall. Not too fast. You don’t want to hurt her. But only a frontal impact would inflate the airbags and pop open the doors, and Christ, here he was, having to keep twenty yards behind her in case some other bastard nipped in ahead of him. You needed a pretty empty stretch of road otherwise you would have all the busybodies slamming on their brakes and offering to be witnesses.
He glared at the back of her head. It was her own fucking fault. He’d told her he would speak to her every day on the phone. He was sick of that cocky bitch at the office telling him Mrs Grant was in court, and that silly little bitch at the house saying ‘and whom shall I say called?’ So he would have to see her in person. He had no other choice. He had to keep up the pressure. A slow dripping tap that would finally make her scream for mercy and fall at his feet with the money in her hand. He grinned. He would get that money one way or another. He had to. And he’d be killing two birds with one fucking stone. At last he would be getting his own back.
This airbag plan. It was a long bloody shot. Joe had done it with a Mondeo and it’d worked a treat. The surprise element was vital. Trouble was she’d be shit scared and might do anything. But he had to make sure she got the message that he wasn’t just fucking around. Just in case she thought he’d eased up.
Handforth traffic lights red. All cars in front of the Merc flashing their left indicators. Great. Lights changing to green. Nothing behind him. Cars ahead turning left and a fantastic stretch of open road ahead. Jeez, his best chance coming up, for sure.
Approaching the dip. Still nothing behind.
Let the gap widen. Slowly does it. Let her get ahead. Not too much.
Timing vital. Speed at least seventy to make it work. Force her to accelerate just before Dean Drive intersection and hope like hell the Peugeot’s got the guts to do it.
The point of no return . . .
Now.
- 43 -
Paul picked up the phone. Even though he spent so little time relaxing at home these days it was still necessary to leave the p
hones switched on.
‘Hang on, Kev. I’ll turn off the telly.’
In one continuous series of movements he hit the sound on the remote, punched the no-hands button and slammed the receiver back on the wall, grabbed his beer from the work top and turned down the gas where one thick piece of rib-eye steak was sizzling under the grill. Only then did he sit down and glance at his watch. Must be important for Kevin to be phoning him at home.
‘Okay, Kev. Shoot. What’ve you got?’
‘Nothing, boss. Absolutely sweet bleeding nothing.’
Paul gulped his beer and wiped the foam off his lip. He banged the glass down on the table.
‘Except one thing, boss.’
‘What?’
‘Stolen car. Old turquoise Peugeot. Missing from a building site near Dukes 92 Lock on the Rochdale Canal.’
Paul clenched his teeth. ‘Smith?’
‘Just a hunch. Think he’ll try again?’
‘Damn sure he will.’
‘Well, I’ll get back to you if anything more comes in.’
‘I’ll be here. Keep in touch, Kev.’
Paul opened the fridge and took out another ice cold lager. He snapped off the top and watched it cartwheel across the white floor tiles. And then he changed his mind and poured the entire contents down the sink.
Gazing out over the tree-lined car park, he remembered the way Julia had looked at him tonight at the Addy. Shyly at one moment, sadly the next, and then, amazingly for someone so traumatised by events, sexily! At first he’d thought he was imagining it. It was so unlike Julia that it had taken him a moment to realise she was actually giving him the most positive signals since they’d met, although it wouldn’t surprise him if it were entirely unconscious on her part. She had turned to him, her eyes half-closed, her body swaying towards him but stopping short just before she touched him. He wondered what had happened in her childhood to make her so afraid of physical contact. She gave unstintingly of herself to help others in need. Sometimes she gave an inordinate amount of time to a client she believed innocent in the hope of rehabilitating him, but seemed afraid to seek help for herself.
He turned up the grill and took the M & S salad from the fridge. If only she were here now. She would like it here. So much more compact than her huge draughty old house. Even though these luxury flats were converted from an old Victorian house, the pristine bathrooms, white Formica tops and ceramic floors would seem like heaven to Julia after the ancient fittings and creaking wooden floors of Hillside House.
Julia . . .
He turned off the gas and slid the steak onto a plate. He tossed the salad, grabbed a knife and fork and flopped down on the sofa. God, he needed this weekend break as much as she did. When he’d left her at the car park he’d had the feeling that with a little more time she might have agreed to the weekend away. Maybe if he just pitched up on Saturday afternoon with his overnight bag on the back seat of the CRX, she would weaken. Especially if Nicky was given a chance to voice her opinion.
With one mouth-watering piece of meat on his fork he looked at the phone on the wall. No, he thought. Any further attempt at verbal persuasion might merely annoy her, even put her off altogether.
Action was what was needed now.
- 44 -
Lulled by the romantic notes of the clarinet Julia suddenly realised there was a car right behind her. She saw the lights first, blinding her in the rear view mirror. With her pulse racing she put her foot flat on the accelerator to get away from him and yanked on the steering wheel to try to turn into Dean Drive, but it was too late, he was almost on her. She saw the curb racing towards her. His lights filled the mirror and then she heard the crash.
Her car leapt forward. Hit the curb. The airbag came at her like a wild animal. The central locking system clunked as the door locks released.
A pain shot through the back of her neck.
A thumping noise. Running footsteps . . .
And then the door was yanked open and he was there, his eyes leering at her. Weaving backwards and forwards until he was almost touching her, coming closer and closer . . .
‘Don’t touch me.’
‘Not touching, Julia. Just looking. You ought to be more careful. Stopping so suddenly like that. Look what you done to my car.’
She thought of frightening him with the gun but realised he would grab it and she’d be the one pleading for her life.
‘I told you I’d phone every day, didn’t I? But I can’t fucking phone if you’re all over the goddam town all bloody day and all night! Can I, Julia?’ he yelled.
She didn’t answer, grateful that he didn’t also know her mobile number.
She stared at his face and realised that something had changed. She hadn’t seen him since that final day in court.
The beard had gone!
She was looking into a smoothly shaven face which in spite of the scars on his cheeks made him look years younger.
And absolutely different.
He moved closer. The floppy velvet hat Wendy had made for her, complete with its glinting hatpin, was on the back shelf of the car. There was no chance of reaching it. A few cars came past but not one even looked like stopping.
‘Great music, that,’ he said, cocking his head to one side. ‘Love to stay and listen but must be off now.’ He looked around furtively. ‘Haven’t time to chat. Lovely chats we used to have in Strangeways, eh, Julia? Still dreaming about that twin brother of yours?’ And then his eyes lit up. ‘Nicky musta done well at school today. All smiles when she came out until the nanny dragged her into that yellow Mini and I couldn’t see her any more. Well, be seeing ya. Only six days to go . . .’
- 45 -
Propped up against a pile of velvet cushions on the sofa in the drawing room, Julia sipped the hot sweet tea Wendy insisted she have for shock and nibbled on a delicious pancake spread with butter and honey. Wendy was spoiling her as usual.
‘It happened so quickly,’ she said. ‘I was nearly home. The clarinet concerto was still playing ─ ’
‘So loudly,’ Wendy interrupted, ‘that you couldn’t hear the other car.’
‘Only when it was right behind me. I saw the lights first, in my rear view mirror. Thought he must be drunk or high on drugs. Put my foot on the accelerator ─ ’
‘But you were too late.’
‘He forced me into the curb. Crashed into me.’
‘You could have been killed,’ Wendy said, hands over her eyes.
‘I felt a shooting pain in the back of my neck and then . . . ’
Julia pressed her hands into the sides of her head. Screwed her eyes up tightly. This was what Smith was doing to her. Even making her forget what he himself laid down so emphatically. She’d actually been about to tell Wendy what happened next.
‘Drink your tea,’ Wendy said.
Julia opened her eyes. She looked at Wendy and shrugged. She still didn’t know how she’d managed to drive home. ‘I’d better report this to the police,’ she said, ‘and then I’ll go to bed.’
‘Did you get his number?’ Wendy asked.
‘Did I hell. But I think it was a . . . Oh,’ she said, stopping herself just in time. ‘Silly me,’ she added quickly, holding her hand to her mouth. ‘I don’t even know what make it was. Or the colour.’
‘You should take a few days off,’ Wendy said, frowning. ‘See the doctor.’
Julia struggled to her feet. She had to show Wendy she was perfectly all right. ‘I’ll be fine in the morning. It’ll be another busy day so I’m going to need a car while mine’s being repaired. I’m lucky the damage is very slight. They could fix it in a couple of days.’
‘If you drop your car at the garage tomorrow morning, I’m sure they’ll lend you one,’ Wendy said. ‘Lucky the Merc garage is on your way to work.’
- 46 -
Suspended half way between sleep and consciousness the sounds of the night were amplified in Julia’s aching head. The east wind. An owl. The traffic. The distant roar o
f aircraft taking off. The ancient water pipes crackling as they cooled down. And the scraping noise again.
What is real and what am I imagining, she wondered. Is someone breaking in?
She climbed out of bed and reached for her handbag, took out the pistol and cocked it, just as Charlie Kuma had shown her.
Slowly she opened the curtains. The trees, lit by yellow street lights, cast long shadows on the lawn like a row of giant butcher knives.
Simon’s toy black cat on the windowsill flashed its emerald eyes. Silhouetted against the loops of condensation at the bottom of the windowpanes, it looked as though it would pounce at any minute. The time on the radio alarm clock in bright red luminous numbers said two thirty-five.
She felt a sudden coldness on her back. She whipped round. Lattice shadows on the wall criss-crossed the portrait of Simon, moving ever so slightly and making him look as though he was about to step out of the frame, alive . . .
. . . Another aircraft long ago roars into the sky. A long-legged bird flies into the engine. The plane plummets to the ground and bursts into flames. She smells the smoke, feels the heat. Feels the agony of yet another loss . . .
To banish the scene Julia fled down the passage, careering from one wall to the other, the pistol cold and heavy in her hand. Reaching the top of the stairs, she sat down on the top step and closed her eyes.
Chinks of memory exploded in front of her like a pop video, two seconds a scene, but in a new, almost logical sequence that filled her with horror and then with a sadness that felt as though it would rip her apart. The smooth shaven face loomed in front of her, reminding her that she had not yet checked the seldom-used dining room after Friday night’s break-in. A few paltry household items were not what Sam Smith had been after, but she had a sudden urge to see for herself what he had seen, and to imagine what might have gone through his head.
She tiptoed down the stairs and into the long narrow room on the ground floor. The twelve chairs were lined up alongside the mahogany table like soldiers on parade. She stood at the sideboard, the very spot where on Friday night Sam Smith must have stood, and shivered as she touched the gleaming polished wood. She turned away, then double-checked the rest of the house. Sam Smith had taken nothing but she sensed his presence everywhere.
Pinpoint Page 18