Mac stood up rather wearily.
‘Is it worth it,’ she said. ‘I mean, for what you’re likely to get …’
He shook his head and said thoughtfully, ‘I’m still not sure about you, Mrs Davis. They said you were a quiet little nobody …’
‘They?’ she said, absurdly piqued. ‘This is the same “they” who didn’t warn you Ted might go out the back way with his dog? I’d ask for a refund.’
‘Maybe I will,’ he said. ‘All right. Enough talk. Get back inside. Move!’
The change of tone alarmed her.
She said, ‘I thought I might make a few sandwiches …’
‘Crap. You’re starting to think because I don’t flex my muscles all the time like Tommy, I’m the one you can work on. Don’t. The only difference between me and Tommy is I need a reason for breaking bones. But I’ll do it if I have to, you’d better believe me.’
She believed him.
Back in the lounge, Mac returned to his position by the window. Tommy was sitting in an armchair as they’d left him, but when Daphne glanced at the drinks cabinet, she saw the stopper was out of the whisky decanter. Tommy caught the direction of her gaze and glowered at her as he drained what must by now be a cup of very cold coffee.
The church clock struck the second quarter.
The first sign they would see of Ted’s return would be Lady. He always let her off the leash once in sight of the house and she would come bounding up the garden, as excited as if she had been away for weeks. Daphne hoped the two men would remember what they had been told and not mistake her enthusiasm for menace. Mac might think twice but she doubted if Tommy would think even once.
She wished she knew how tight their timetable was. Perhaps Ted wouldn’t get back in time. Once it had been hard to get him out of his chair to throw a ball for Lady in the back garden, but in the past few months he had developed a taste for longer and longer walks. As he said, a big dog needs a lot of exercise …
‘Where are you going?’
Mac’s voice, harsh and authoritative, jerked her out of her reverie.
Tommy had risen from his chair and moved towards the door.
‘Thought I’d take a look around,’ he said. ‘Even a bent jeweller wouldn’t stick his old lady with bits of glass, would he? Might be some nice stuff upstairs.’
‘Sit down, dummy. We’ve not come here for a few beads and bangles.’
‘It might be all we get from the way things are going,’ retorted Tommy. ‘If he’s not back soon, what the hell do we do? Leave a message saying we’ll call again next week? Me, I want something to show for wasting my time, even if it’s only a good luck charm.’
‘You’ll need more than one if you don’t do as you’re told,’ snapped Mac. ‘I don’t want some nosey neighbour spotting you wandering round upstairs.’
‘They’d just think the duchess here was spreading herself for her fancy man. Though looking at her, that might be a bit hard to credit.’
‘Looking at you, it would be quite impossible!’ exclaimed Daphne.
Common sense told her it was pointless rising to Tommy’s gibes but it was out before she could think. Instantly she regretted it as he moved swiftly towards her and thrust the shotgun hard against her throat.
‘Don’t need to be no oil painting when you’ve got one of these, girl,’ he said. ‘Know what the worst thing about hanging around here is? I’m getting to fancy you, ’cos there’s bugger-all else! So talk, you slag! If there’s any way of getting him back here quick, spit it out or I’ll carve you another mouth under your chin.’
You didn’t get used to terror. It came up spring-fresh every time. She rolled her eyes towards Mac in desperate appeal. He came slowly forward and stood by the chair, looking down at her.
‘You may have something there, Tommy,’ he said. ‘What do you say, Mrs Davis? Is there anywhere he might have called in? You mentioned the golf club …’
‘Yes, yes,’ babbled Daphne. ‘He might have walked across there. He’s a member. He could have called in for a drink. He often does.’
‘Right.’
He picked up the table with the telephone on it and placed it next to her chair.
‘Right,’ he said.
She didn’t move, not out of defiance but terror.
Tommy reached down and squeezed her left breast till she shrieked in pain.
‘Now ring,’ he said, relaxing his grip to an obscene caress.
‘What should I say?’ she gasped.
‘She could say she’s sick,’ said Tommy looking at Mac.
He shook his head and said, ‘No. We don’t want him turning up with a doctor. Golf clubs are full of quacks. And we don’t want him suspicious …’
He stared speculatively at Daphne.
‘Spain,’ he said. ‘What does Spain mean to you, Mrs Davis?’
‘Nothing. I don’t know. Ahh!’ She screamed again as Tommy renewed the pressure. ‘What do you want me to say?’
He smiled.
‘Just say there’s been a phone call from Spain. It sounded urgent but the man wouldn’t leave a message. He said he’d ring back soon, though.’
He glanced at his watch.
‘On the hour, say. Tell him, on the hour.’
‘But why … ?’
‘Just do it!’
His anger was more frightening than even Tommy’s threat. She dialled. His face came close enough for her to feel his breath as he listened to the ringing tone.
‘Hello. Clubhouse. Steward. Can I help you?’
‘It’s Mrs Davis,’ she said unsteadily. ‘Mrs Ted Davis. Is my husband there, please?’
‘I haven’t seen him, Mrs Davis, but if you hold on I’ll check.’
There was a pause of nearly a minute, then another voice came down the line.
‘Hello, Daphne. It’s Tony. I gather you’re looking for Ted.’
‘That’s right. Have you seen him? He took Lady for a walk and I need to get hold of him rather urgently.’
‘Nothing wrong, I hope?’
‘Oh no.’ She managed a poor relation of a laugh. ‘Just that someone needs to get hold of him in a frightful hurry and they’re ringing back. It’s from Spain. Business, I think.’
‘Ah, business, eh? Look. I’ve just finished playing and I did think I saw that labrador of yours galloping across the practice ground. Could be Ted’s in the vicinity. I’ll stick my head out and if there’s any sign, I’ll tell him to contact you tooty-sweet, right?’
‘That’s very kind of you, Tony. ’Bye.’
She put the receiver down and looked at Mac. She was sweating freely from nervous reaction. He said, ‘Tony?’
‘A friend. Of Ted’s.’
‘Locker-room friend, not one of your favourites?’
He was very sharp.
‘No. Does it matter?’
‘What do we do now?’ interrupted Tommy, impatient of this meaningless exchange.
‘We wait,’ said Mac. ‘Nothing else to do. But I think my money’s on good old Tony finding good old Ted.’
The phone began to ring just as the church clock started to sound the third quarter.
‘Daph, it’s me. Tony’s just dragged me into the clubhouse. Something about a phone call from Spain. What’s it all about?’
She took a deep breath but words wouldn’t come. She looked in appeal and fear at the tall man who returned her gaze neutrally, as if uncertain how best to respond. A threat would have finished her off. But suddenly he smiled and pointed at the mouthpiece and nodded encouragingly.
‘Daph? Are you there? Daph!’
‘Yes. I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘The line went faint. Look, it’s just that there was this call, not a good connection and his English wasn’t marvellous. He was very keen to get hold of you, I could make out that much. I said you were out but should be back any time and he said OK or perhaps it was Olé, he’d ring back on the hour. This was thirty minutes ago and I really did think you’d be back. But time went by and
I began to wonder if you’d got stuck at the club, so I thought I’d try to get in touch in case it was something important. Is it important?’
There was a silence.
‘Probably not,’ he said. ‘But I’d better get back all the same.’
‘Yes. You should make it all right if you don’t dawdle,’ said Daphne.
‘Yes, setting off now. See you soon. ’Bye.’
The line went dead. She put the phone down.
‘That was good,’ said Mac. ‘You did well.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes. I liked the olé. Nice touch. Funny, though.’
‘What is?’
‘When you were talking to Tony, you were nervous. Once you got going talking to Ted, you stopped being nervous. Why, I ask myself.’
Tommy who’d been listening in puzzlement broke in.
‘Hey, you don’t reckon the sly cow’s been passing coded messages, something like that?’
‘Try not to be stupid all the same, Tommy,’ sighed Mac. ‘Ninety-five per cent’s quite enough. You’re not close enough for codes, are you, Mrs Davis? In fact, you’re not very close at all.’
‘Close?’ she echoed with great bitterness. ‘Oh no. We’re not even as close as the golf club.’
Mac’s attention was diverted before he could reply. Tommy, his face tight with resentment, had gone to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large glass of Scotch.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘I’m sick of being called stupid,’ said Tommy. ‘If I’m so stupid how come you need me on the job?’
He downed the drink in one go.
Mac’s anger was livid on his face but he controlled it.
‘There’s no time for this, Tommy,’ he said. ‘He’s on his way. Get to that window and sing out as soon as you see any sign. And keep that great fat head of yours out of sight!’
Tommy looked ready to be offended once more, then Daphne said, ‘I shouldn’t worry, he won’t be coming that way.’
Mac turned his attention and his anger to her.
‘What’s that mean?’ he demanded. ‘You’d better stop being clever with me, lady, or I’ll rearrange your face.’
‘No need for that. All I’m saying is that while it’s only ten minutes’ walk from the golf club, Ted’s got further to come.’ She felt herself amazingly calm. ‘His dear friend Tony must have guessed or known where he really was and rung him up to warn him that I was trying to get hold of him urgently. So Ted rang me. But he got right through, you see. The phone at the club’s a payphone.’
‘So he wasn’t at the club,’ said Mac. ‘Where do you think he really was?’
‘At Little Morton, would be my guess,’ she said. ‘That’s a village about thirty minutes’ walk away. There’s a woman lives there, Betty Stanton, a widow, very attractive, very expensive. I’ve met her a couple of times. She’s always very friendly but we don’t like each other. Now I know why. No, I think to be honest I’ve known for a while, but knowing and admitting aren’t the same, are they? I took Lady for a walk over there a couple of weeks ago when Ted was away, on business, he said. When we got near the village, Lady ran off and I found her sitting on Mrs Stanton’s doorstep. I went up the path to get her and a passing neighbour, thinking I was calling, told me Mrs Stanton was away for a few days. I think I knew then.’
‘It’s a hard life,’ said Mac, indifferently. ‘So what you’re saying is, he’ll need a lift from there. Which will bring him to the front.’
‘Yes. He’ll probably say Tony brought him.’
‘You reckon?’ Mac consulted his watch. ‘Five to. Could be here any time. Tommy, keep watching out the back just in case the lady’s wrong. I’ll take the front.’
He drew his automatic and went out.
‘Thinks he’s God, that bastard,’ said Tommy. ‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’
‘Into the kitchen. I want a glass of water,’ said Daphne.
‘No way! You sit quiet, slag, or I’ll give you a little tranquillizer with my fist. I shouldn’t like to have to do that. You and me are going to be spending a bit of time together while Mac and dirty old Ted go off for the loot and I don’t like my women unconscious.’
‘That’s the only way you’ll ever get near me, you ape,’ she said scornfully, and set off for the kitchen.
Her defiance took him by surprise and she was through the kitchen door before he caught up with her. Once more he grabbed her by the hair.
‘They all talk brave to start with,’ he mocked, ‘but this soon has them doing tricks their mummies never taught them.’
He tried to thrust the shotgun up her skirt. She shrieked and twisted round to claw his face. But he controlled her with his grip on her hair and forced her back against a waist-high kitchen unit. She felt as if its edge in the small of her back was going to break her spine and flung her arms sideways to try to thrust away from it.
His face came towards her, his mouth wide, red and slavering like a hungry animal’s. Then Mac was in the doorway saying, ‘What the hell’s going on? He’s just driven by with some tart. He’ll be here any moment. Let her loose, you stupid bastard.’
Tommy relaxed his grip on Daphne’s hair and turned to face Mac.
‘I told you not to call me stupid!’ he yelled brandishing the shotgun.
And Daphne’s hand struck the wooden knife-holder she’d been half-consciously searching for, her fingers tightened round the handle of the big butcher’s knife, she pulled it out and swung it with all her might to plunge deep into Tommy’s right arm. His fingers splayed, sending the gun skittering across the tiled floor. The sharp blade sliced clear through the bicep muscle and drove into the ribcage, pinning his arm to his body. He screamed and pirouetted away from her as his left arm clawed vainly at the knife’s handle which it could grasp but not withdraw. His staggerings brought him up against Mac who seized him round the waist, took a firm hold of the handle and ripped it out in one violent movement.
Tommy shrieked again, glared at Daphne with a promissory hatred and collapsed in his partner’s arms.
Mac tossed the knife into the sink.
‘Oh, Mrs Davis,’ he said. ‘They really should have warned me about you.’
‘I didn’t mean … I didn’t … he …’
The front doorbell rang. She pushed the hair back from her brow, realized there was blood on her fingers, grabbed a tea-towel and began to wipe it off. Her tongue was loose again.
‘That’ll be Ted,’ she said, ‘he never has a key, only the shop key, he knows I’m always here, you see, the bastard …’
‘Don’t go hysterical on me now,’ said Mac. ‘Pass me that towel.’
He began to bind it round Tommy’s arm.
The bell rang again.
‘What will you do?’ asked Daphne fearfully.
‘What’s to do? I can’t leave Tommy to take care of you now, can I? And there’s the fancy woman. She’ll be parked a few yards up the road waiting to see if lover-boy comes flying out on his ear. In any case, the way things have turned out, I doubt if threatening you was going to have him exactly rushing to open up his safe!’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Daphne.
‘I’ll spell it out, though I’m sure someone sharp as you must have had some idea. He’s bent, that husband of yours. Where do you think the money all comes from, eh? He’s a fence and a hard bastard in a bargain too. Few months ago there was a whisper in Marbella that Ted Davis was buying himself a nice little villa up in the hills. Not a holiday place but permanent. Retirement, a life in the sun. Give us another towel, will you?’
‘Retirement? But …’ Her mouth was dry. She passed him the towel.
‘I thought you knew all about it when you made that crack about Spain. But gradually it dawned on me you didn’t. Well, you know now. You’re well rid of him. I can’t say I fancied him as a neighbour. Fences get rich off honest crooks’ graft. Then we got another whisper he was planning to double his
pension fund with a last investment in some dodgy industrial diamonds. So some of us decided it’d be fun to pop back here and take them off him. The joke is – or was – he couldn’t complain, could he? So Tommy and I flew in this morning on a package flight and we’re due out in two hours on another. Not long enough for there to be much risk of being clocked by the filth, see? Christ, he’s an impatient sod, isn’t he?’
The bell was ringing continuously now. Mac had made a pad out of the second towel and placed it against Tommy’s rib wound, then forced the hand of his damaged arm into his trouser pocket to hold the pad in place. The man was conscious though his colour wasn’t very healthy. He groaned and swore at his partner’s roughness, but lacked the strength to resist.
‘What a big baby it is,’ said Mac. ‘Don’t worry about him too much, Mrs Davis. I don’t think you got the lung and I know a quack who owes me a favour.’
‘I won’t worry,’ said Daphne. ‘When was he going?’
‘Was?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Week after next was the word.’
‘Our anniversary week,’ she said.
‘Nothing like a surprise. I’ll be off now, Mrs Davis. If you’re ever in Puerto Banus, look us up. Tommy will be delighted to see you. Hasta la vista!’
He unlocked the kitchen door and led his weak and staggering partner out into the garden. Presumably they had a car parked somewhere close. She didn’t watch which way they went but turned towards the hall which was echoing to the sound of her name and the beat of her husband’s fist against the door. Her foot kicked against something hard as she left the kitchen. It was Tommy’s shotgun. She picked it up and laid it on the hall table as she passed.
She opened the door.
It was like looking at a stranger, like being looked at by a stranger.
She let her eyes slide by him. At the end of the drive she could see Lady, her tail wagging as she addressed herself to someone hidden behind the tall brick gatepost.
‘Daph, what’s happening? Why didn’t you answer the door?’ her husband asked fearfully.
There are No Ghosts in the Soviet Union Page 24