Pinpoint

by Sheila Mary Taylor

  She bit into her knuckles. Her teeth made deep indentations in the skin. It was the only way she could stop herself from screaming.

  - 92 -

  Whenever Julia was duty solicitor she liked to go really early to the office ─ essential in order to clear her backlog before she was due in court. But this morning there was a far more pressing motive and she didn’t know how she kept her foot from pushing the accelerator straight through the floor of the car.

  Forced to stop at St Peter’s Square traffic lights, she couldn’t help marvelling at the unfamiliar silence and the wide-open spaces normally so clogged with people and traffic. In her state of heightened sensitivity she looked around, surprised to feel her heart pounding. The classic dome of the Central Library. The soaring tower of the Town Hall. The majestic Midland Hotel, a rich golden brown in the early morning light, all with their own unique beauty, she thought, and yes, I’m a part of this great city. In my own small way I help to make it function . . .

  The lights turned green. She put her foot down and crossed into Peter Street. There’d be no one else in the office at this unearthly hour. Not only would she empty her basket, she’d have time to work out a plan of strategy in case she failed to persuade Smith to wait just one more day. But there shouldn’t be a problem, she told herself. Up till now he’s been surprisingly amenable to the delays.

  She gripped the steering wheel. But first things first.

  First I will dig out Smith’s file from the archives.

  It may not give me the answer I want. It won’t provide the final cog in the wheel of uncertainty. But it will go a long way to completing the circle of doubt.

  - 93 -

  Wendy sat down with her glass of milk, her second today. Even though this was the most miserable birthday of her life, she still had to think of her baby.

  There wasn’t even anything more to do. The housework was finished, the dishwasher stacked. Nicky was ready for school and was playing hide-and-seek with Duchess. With Julia at work till goodness knows when, the day ahead was not one she was looking forward to.

  There wasn’t even a card from Alan. Nor had she heard from him since that degrading scene on Saturday. She’d certainly finished that off with a bang.

  When the phone rang a moment later she hoped Julia had left the answer machine on. Nobody ever wanted her this early in the morning. But after three rings she picked it up.

  ‘Happy birthday, Wendy.’

  ‘Alan!’

  ‘Look, I can’t talk now, but you know the big car park above WH Smith in Stockport? Well, meet me there at four this afternoon. Near the stairs going down to the shops in the pedestrian street. Okay?’

  Oh hell. Julia would kill her. ‘Alan, I’m sorry, I can’t get away.’ She could hear him breathing hard. It was her birthday. He might never ask her again.

  ‘Well, on second thoughts, maybe I could manage it. It’s Nicky’s extra ballet class at four. Would ten past be okay?’

  ‘Yeah, but no later.’

  ‘Right. I’ll drop Nicky off and pick her up at five-thirty. Why Stockport?’

  ‘Oh, just a convenient place to meet. Kind of a surprise for your birthday.’

  ‘Oh, Alan.’ Tears welled in her eyes. She’d been too hasty in her judgement of him and here he was planning a surprise present for her.

  ‘I must go now, Wendy. See you at ten past four. Oh, and wear something, you know . . . something special.’

  - 94 -

  It was a quarter to eight when Julia began ascending the steps of the Magistrates’ Court. She still had no idea what she’d do if Smith insisted on having the money today. At every single opportunity she would have to ring Fred Kennedy, just in case by some miracle the money became available after all. But more than that, there was nothing she could do.

  She pulled open the heavy swing door, put her keys in the plastic dish, sauntered through the metal detector then headed for the lifts. The confirmation that they’d both been born in the same year, which heck, if she was honest with herself she’d known all along, still didn’t prove anything conclusively. Thousands of people were born every day. Even her own birth date was the result of the nuns’ guesswork. Of course, there was still the question of the Touchstone Orphanage. Maybe she’d only imagined that Smith had once mentioned the Touchstone, a place she wasn’t aware of until Jessie had told her on Sunday that she’d been there when they had adopted her. But hundreds of babies must have been through that establishment, and okay, the evidence was piling up, but it was time she took a pragmatic view, instead of jumping to conclusions.

  Brave talk, she told herself as she pressed the button for the third floor. But did any of this really matter? Nicky was far more important. Getting the money to keep Smith from harming Nicky, whoever he was. At the same time, let’s face it, if she kept Smith happy he would not spill the beans on her, whether his accusation was true or not.

  She punched in the code to unlock the solicitors’ cloakroom, consoling herself with the knowledge that everything else today was under control. Wendy to pick Nicky up from school. Take her to Sonya Lake’s. Wait for her. Take her home afterwards. Give her supper and wait for Julia’s arrival.

  It was too early to phone Fred Kennedy, so she went straight up to the Central Detention Centre on the seventh floor, then three flights down in the secure lift to the holding area.

  Three or four dock officers were milling around. The other duty solicitor had just arrived. Julia called for the first offender on the long list of overnight arrest cases, a thin lad with pale frightened eyes, bruised knuckles and a cut above his eye.

  She motioned him to sit next to her. ‘I’m the duty solicitor,’ she said informally, trying to put the youngster at ease. ‘I’m completely independent. I have nothing to do with the police. I’m here to help you if you need a solicitor.’

  He nodded, but said nothing. ‘Do you have your charge sheet?’ she asked, hoping he hadn’t torn it up or chewed it in his nervousness. Extracting it from the pocket of his ripped, bloodstained shirt, he handed it to Julia.

  ‘Wounding with intent. That’s serious. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘I was in a fight.’

  ‘I gathered that,’ she said, hiding her smile, ‘but I’ll need a bit more information to represent you properly.’

  ‘This lad, the one who’s in hospital, he hit me first. Then he took my money. All my money. My first ever money. My whole week’s wages. Me mum’s in hospital. They’re sending her home tomorrow. Said there’s nothing more they can do for her. I’m the only one who can look after her . . .’

  Julia listened, biting her lip as she tried to cram as much of the youngster’s pathetic life history into the ten minutes she was allowed with him. She had at least eight clients to deal with, and there were bound to be some late arrivals. She advised him hurriedly but reassuringly on his prospects of bail before explaining that he had the makings of a defence. She would need more information and would not have to enter a plea today - that would come later. The young man appeared relieved as a custody officer led him back to the cells.

  By nine-thirty Julia had seen the last of her new clients. Since the crown prosecutors invariably got these files last, the cases would not be called on yet. Julia made her way to the solicitor’s canteen on the second floor. While having a coffee she could fill in legal aid applications and make calls to verify bail details. It was also a chance to phone Fred Kennedy.

  - 95 -

  The sign leapt out from the glass doors. A sign Sam hadn’t noticed before. Not even when he’d cased the joint last week while waiting for Julia.

  FOR THE SECURITY AND PROTECTION OF OUR CUSTOMERS

  A CLOSED CIRCUIT TV SURVEILLANCE SYSTEM IS OPERATIONAL

  ‘Fuck me.’

  He glanced at his watch. Only two fifteen, but where else in or around snooty Wilmslow can you just walk in and take a shower? Well, he’d have to take a chance because being clean and presentable was essential to the plan.


  He counted to ten, relaxed his stomach muscles, and sauntered in like a regular.

  Turning right he ducked through the door leading to the changing rooms. Mercifully there wasn’t a sound from the squash court further down the passage.

  Gingerly he pushed open the door to the male changing room, checked for cameras, couldn’t see any, and sank down on the bench. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. From this day on his life would change. He couldn’t think why he hadn’t evolved this plan at the beginning, instead of kow-towing to Julia Grant’s endless excuses.

  He hung the precious clean clothes on a brass coat-hook and undressed. Holding his distended stomach he walked into the shower stall and let the tingling jets massage his burning skin. As he was dressing the pain returned. He went through the ritual, forced himself to carry on. What the fuck. He had no other choice.

  When he was dressed he checked in the mirror. He stroked the hot smooth skin in the hollows of his cheeks. Christ, he looked terrible, though he did have this strange red flush, as if he’d been on holiday in the Med. What a genius Joe was to remember the razors. Poor old bugger.

  Commanding his body to remain upright, he strode through the reception area, glanced at the clock on the wall and walked out into the sunshine. The timing was spot-on.

  There were several other cars waiting when he arrived at the school. He turned and parked where he could see the classroom door.

  A black Volvo with smoky windows drew up right behind him. A woman in a pink trouser suit got out. With his eyes still on the classroom door he became aware that she was standing next to the Fiesta.

  ‘We spoil the kids today,’ she said. ‘I always walked home from school.’

  The woman went on blabbing. He could smell her perfume through his open window. Why the hell doesn’t she fuck off?

  Just then he saw the old yellow Mini pull up opposite the entrance.

  Sod it.

  ‘But you never know, do you?’ the woman said. ‘You just can’t take a chance.’

  Jeez! Why so goddam early, today of all days? Twice she’d been five minutes late and the kid had waited for her at the gate.

  At that moment all the classroom doors opened. Out of the Mini stepped the nanny with the big boobs and the shiny dark hair looking quite a dish in a short cream skirt and matching jacket, high-heeled shoes that showed off her muscular legs. He watched her run towards Nicola as though she had a train to catch.

  Everything had hinged on that fucking nanny being her usual five minutes late. He started the engine. No point in following them to the house. It would be crawling with the filth. He’d have to come back tomorrow and pray the nanny would be late. Though how he could hang on another twenty-four hours he was damned if he knew. And he’d miss the lorry going to France at midnight tonight.

  He gripped his stomach and spoke firmly to his body. When the Mini was twenty yards ahead he moved on. Keeping it in sight he was surprised to see it going straight on, towards Cheadle, driving like a lunatic, the crazy bitch. He glanced at his petrol gauge. Fuck it. He had absolutely nothing to lose.

  When the Mini turned in at the Sonya Lake Dance School he swung in behind it. He parked so that he had a clear view of the main door.

  ‘See you at five-thirty,’ the nanny shouted as she hurried back to her car and drove off with her tyres spinning.

  His heart was beating wildly. This was an unexpected bonus. He settled down to wait.

  - 96 -

  With an uneasy feeling Wendy drove up the ramp into the car park high above the shopping precinct in Stockport town centre, her eyes scanning the motley skyline for a glimpse of Alan. She bought her parking ticket and stuck it in the windscreen, then hurried to the stairs leading to the shops.

  Never let her out of your sight, Julia had said. She should have waited while Nicky had her class, but it would be such a waste of an opportunity when her whole future might depend on seeing Alan today. Anyway, Nicky would be well looked after and she’d be back at five-thirty to pick her up.

  In a fever of excitement she watched Alan walk towards her. God, how she loved him. If she couldn’t have him she wanted no one, even if that meant her baby never having a father. The way he walked, the way his face lit up as he saw her, it was enough to make her faint with happiness.

  ‘Hi, Alan.’

  ‘You look wonderful.’

  She smiled at him, then looked down to hide her excitement. An engagement ring? Like the one he’d given her in her dream last night? She bit her lip. No, don’t be silly. That was too much to hope for. It was enough that he’d remembered her birthday. Any little gift would be treasured and it was sweet of him to suggest she help him choose it.

  ‘Ready?’ he said.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘A little trip in my car. To Manchester.’

  It was just after four and she had to be in Cheadle at five-thirty. ‘I haven’t the time, Alan. These shops are just as good as the ones in Manchester.’ She hated refusing him but right now Nicky came first.

  He held her hands and looked down at her. ‘It won’t take long. Come on. We don’t want to be late.’

  - 97 -

  When Mr and Mrs Alan Seddon walked hand in hand through the glass exit doors of the Manchester Register Office, Wendy still couldn’t believe it. The last fifteen minutes had seemed like a dream, and she couldn’t take the smile off her face. She’d had no idea a Register Office could be such a romantic venue for a wedding. She had always thought they were drab, dingy places with straight hard benches and faded green walls. Following the Registrar to the stillness of the waiting room, the cool blue of the furnishings had calmed her shattered nerves, and by the time they reached the marriage room she had almost fully recovered from the shock of discovering she was about to be married.

  As they stood starry-eyed on the steps overlooking the square, Alan looked down at his bride. ‘You look good enough to eat,’ he said, and squeezed her hand.

  She gazed up at him, happier than she’d ever been.

  Glancing through the archway on the right she realised that they were right next to Crown Square. Julia would kill her if she knew she was here, but maybe if she’d seen her standing next to Alan in that lovely gold-panelled room with the gold drapes and the subdued lighting and the yellow and white flowers on the highly polished table, all in her favourite colour, she might relent.

  ‘Where to now, Mrs Seddon?’

  She looked at her watch. ‘I have to get back quickly, Alan. I must pick Nicky up at five-thirty. But I’ll see you later tonight,’ she added when she saw his look of dismay. ‘After I’ve finished baby-sitting.’

  ‘Wendy! This is your wedding day!’

  She tugged her arm away. ‘I can’t. Even now I could be late if the traffic’s bad.’

  He pressed himself against her.

  ‘Oh Alan. Not here. Look, I told you I was busy today. I only agreed to meet you because you said it wouldn’t take long.’

  ‘Wendy, nobody gets married and then disappears straightaway. Come on, let’s go and have a glass of champers and then we’ll go to my place. There’s no one there now.’

  ‘Alan, I can’t.’ She began walking to the car.

  ‘Okay, if this is how we’re going to start off let’s go right back inside and tear up the marriage certificate in front of the Registrar. Is that what you want?’

  ‘Oh, Alan . . . ’

  ‘No? Right. We’re going to my place.’

  She’d never seen this forceful side of him before. She felt the heat in her cheeks.

  She was almost at his car when Alan stopped and turned to her.

  ‘Hell, Wendy, I’m sorry. You’ll only be about five minutes late if we leave right now. You know how fast I drive and I know all the short cuts. We’ll make it up later tonight. Okay?’

  - 98 -

  The clock on the Fiesta dashboard flicked on to five-twenty-nine. With one eye watching for the yellow Mini, Sam Smith wrapped his fingers round the door han
dle and held his breath.

  A sudden spasm of pain drenched his body in perspiration. He clutched his stomach and glanced longingly at the bottle of water on the passenger seat. He was tempted, but just imagine if he went to the door and vomited all over the dance teacher.

  But as the first child appeared through the doorway, both the pain and the thirst disappeared. There was still no sign of the Mini. Maybe her watch had stopped, and she did have this habit of being a few minutes late picking up the kid. He smoothed his hair and half opened the door, ready to leap out.

  He would wait one more minute, until a few more children emerged. The more parents around, the better. The more invisible he would be.

  - 99 -

  Paul leapt up when he heard the urgent knock.

  ‘First positive lead on Smith, boss,’ said Kevin. ‘Cleaning woman. Saw a man who fitted his description leaving a derelict building in Castlefield.’

  ‘When?’ Adrenaline pumping through his veins.

  ‘Early Saturday morning. Burnt out building on Rochdale Canal. Opposite Dukes Bar.’

  Paul slammed his fist down on the desk. ‘Why the delay? This is bloody Tuesday.’

  ‘She’d been petrified that something would happen to her if she told the police.’

  ‘Same old bloody story. So what made her change her mind?’

  ‘Your appeal last night on telly. When she saw the blown up shot of Smith there was something about the eyes that made her certain, although she said he didn’t have a beard. Which was the other reason she didn’t report it sooner. Said this guy was clean-shaven. And he wasn’t wearing grey flannels and a white open necked shirt.’

  ‘Anything in the building?’

  ‘Signs of someone holing up. And would you believe it ─ ’

  ‘Discarded dirty grey flannels and dirty white open necked shirt?’