Killer Plan

by Leigh Russell

  ‘Is there a shed in the garden?’

  ‘No. You can see the garden from in here.’

  As he led her back into the main bedroom, his phone beeped.

  ‘Oh no,’ he burst out, sounding exasperated. ‘Look, I’m really sorry, but I need to go out. I’m supposed to be meeting someone. You’re welcome to come back and look around some more another time, although I don’t know what you’re hoping to find here.’ He shrugged, almost dismayed that he had nothing to show her.

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  They went back to the hall. Glancing around, she noticed a small door under the stairs. Visions of Harry Potter’s bedroom flashed into her mind.

  ‘What’s in there?’

  He grew jittery, and glanced at his watch.

  ‘That? Oh, that’s just the broom cupboard. You can look inside if you want to. It won’t take a second. But then I really do have to go.’

  He gave a shamefaced shrug and muttered something incoherent about going on a blind date. Quickly she stepped across to the door and pulled it open. With a glance she took in a hoover, broom, dustpan and brush, ironing board and iron. She closed the door.

  ‘I told you it wasn’t very interesting,’ he said, almost apologetically.

  He was sweating slightly, anxious not to be late for his date.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Stanbury. I won’t keep you any longer.’

  She considered wishing him good luck on his date, but decided to maintain a professional detachment. He had been embarrassed enough by her intrusion.

  68

  The crash of the slamming front door reverberated in his ears. Brian stood in the hall, staring at the discoloured wallpaper, shaking with fury. After all he had done for Caroline, it was hard to believe she had let him down so badly. Disregarding his warnings, she had gone blabbing to the police. He had been a fool to trust the bitch. Not after this. He glared around wildly. He would have to leave the house before the police came back. He didn’t trust that detective. Whatever she had said, he knew he hadn’t seen the last of her.

  Still trembling, he raced upstairs into the spare room and found his suitcase, dusty and brown, at the back of the cupboard. He had been afraid his wife might have thrown it away. As he yanked it out, a faint mist of dust rose from it, making him sneeze. In the doorway he turned his head to look back over his shoulder. The spare room looked empty without the boy there. He felt a pang of loneliness, but this was not the time to hang around feeling sorry for himself. He had to get out of there quickly, before the police returned. Fighting to control his panic he ran into his own bedroom, flung the case on the bed and opened the wardrobe. Hurriedly selecting clothes, he folded them quickly and stuffed them in. The case had wheels which meant he would be able to cram it full and still be able to drag it around with him. Ignoring anything formal, he packed jeans, shirts and jumpers. With no idea where he was going, he had to be prepared for all climates. He wouldn’t be able to take much with him apart from clothes but that didn’t matter. Most of the stuff in the house had belonged to his wife. He had no need of her clutter.

  A thought struck him and he hurried downstairs to fetch his spare trainers. Shirts and trousers would be easy to replace, but he had no idea if he’d be able to buy comfortable shoes where he was going. If he could get to America, all well and good. He would be able to speak the language and buy whatever he needed. That said, he had to be prepared to end up anywhere. The more remote his destination, the less likely he was to be traced. Off the beaten track, decent shoes might be difficult to come by, even if he could explain his requirements. He pounded back upstairs and shoved his trainers in the bottom of the case, underneath his clothes. He pulled open the second drawer of his bedside cupboard. Passport, driving licence, even his birth certificate was there. He thrust them all into the black leather bag and put it down on the bed. It had a long strap that enabled him to wear it slung over one shoulder. That way he could keep his hand over it. He had bought it for travelling, back in the days when he was still married. His wife had laughed at him, calling it his ‘man bag’. He had never used it, but he was glad now that he hadn’t chucked it away. At last he closed his case and lugged it downstairs. It was time to go.

  Now that he was ready to leave, he hesitated over whether to take the boy with him. He would miss his company if he left him behind, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that the boy had been difficult all along. He had never really settled, constantly whining and nagging to go back to his mother. The reality of their friendship had never lived up to Brian’s wishes. In common with everyone else Brian had ever met, the boy had disappointed him. Given time, things could have turned out very differently. Seduced by the idea that he and Ed might go travelling around the world together, Brian had done his best to establish good relations with the boy. But time had run out. Caroline had put paid to that. He had to abandon the idea, as he had done with so many other dreams.

  He would have liked to deliberate for longer, but he had to make up his mind quickly. The only sensible option was for him to leave by himself. Apart from any other considerations, it was hard to imagine he could succeed in taking the boy out of the country without attracting attention. The police were bound to be looking for a man travelling with a ten-year-old boy. Going alone would enable Brian to get out of the country safely. Even if Ed agreed to accompany him quietly, it would be too risky. He paused in the hall and looked around for a moment. This house had been the scene of his only real happiness in life, and his most desperate grief. The walls resonated with the extremity of the emotions he had suffered while his wife was alive. It would be a relief to get out of there and start a new life somewhere else. He should have done so years ago. He took a deep, juddering breath and opened the front door. He had no idea where he was going. He only knew that he had to get as far away from the house as possible, before the police came back. He would leave, abandoning the property to the many species that lived there unseen, rats and mice under the floorboards, ants and woodlice that would crawl out of the skirting boards, spiders and beetles and other kinds of insects.

  And the boy in the cellar.

  69

  Geraldine was going through everything, step by step, checking and cross checking. So far she had failed to put the fragments of information they had gathered together in the right order, missing a vital lead. She wasn’t optimistic as she drove back to the old people’s home where Eve’s aunt lived, to double check Eve’s alibi. All the same, someone had lied to them. She couldn’t take anyone’s word at face value. The London roads seemed to be more congested every day, but at last she reached her destination. The exterior of the brick nursing home was unprepossessing, but well-maintained. Inside there was a pleasant atmosphere. The manager saw Geraldine through the window and recognised her straight away.

  ‘You’re here to see Jane Arkwright, aren’t you?’ she asked with a bright smile as she came out of her office into the foyer. ‘You won’t go upsetting her, will you? She’s very frail.’

  Geraldine reassured her without giving away the reason for her visit.

  ‘She’s not been getting into mischief, has she?’

  The manager laughed, but there was a slight edge to her voice.

  Lowering her voice confidentially, Geraldine explained that she was interested in tracing the movements of Jane’s niece on the evening of her visit to the home.

  ‘May I ask what this is about? This isn’t the first time you’ve been here asking questions, and we don’t want to go upsetting our residents. Is Jane’s niece suspected of being involved in some trouble? Nothing illegal, I hope. Only we have a duty of care…’

  ‘I’m afraid the reason for the investigation is confidential. All I can tell you is that we’re looking into the movements of a number of people, and at this stage we’re simply eliminating possible suspects. In fact,’ she added firmly, ‘Jane’s niece is voluntarily helping us with our enquiries. I’m afraid I really can’t tell you any more than that.’

/>   After remonstrating half-heartedly about being busy, the manager took Geraldine into a small office. The visitors’ records confirmed that Eve had visited her aunt on the evening of Nick’s murder. She had arrived at seven and left just before ten.

  ‘We don’t usually have visitors staying so late. The residents get tired,’ the manager said.

  The timing of Eve’s visit was certainly convenient, given that Nick had been killed between eight and nine that evening.

  ‘Did she usually stay so late when she visited?’

  The manager frowned. ‘Her visits have tended to be on and off, in the long term. She’ll visit fairly regularly for about six months, then we won’t see her for a while, and then she starts coming again. She made some excuse about not being able to drive for a while but, to be honest, it’s not unusual for visitors to be unreliable.’ She sighed. ‘It would help the residents so much if visitors would be more consistent, but you can’t make people turn up regularly. Everyone leads such busy lives these days.’

  Geraldine gave a sympathetic nod, thinking guiltily how rarely she made time to visit her sister.

  Once she had agreed to co-operate, the manager became quite chatty.

  ‘We see a lot like that. Family members who rarely visit frequently suffer a sudden attack of guilt – often brought on by the prospect of an imminent inheritance,’ she added in an undertone.

  Geraldine enquired about Eve’s other recent visits. Although she had been hoping to hear the date of Dave Robinson’s murder, she was nevertheless shocked when she heard it in the list the manager read out. After arranging for scans of the entries in the visitors’ book to be emailed to her, Geraldine went to speak to Jane Arkwright. A question was beginning to form in Geraldine’s mind about Eve, but she had to be sure her theory stacked up before taking it to Reg. He might be reluctant to accept that the killer they were hunting for was his dead colleague’s widow.

  This time the manager didn’t escort her to Jane’s room.

  ‘You know the way. It’s along the corridor to your left, four doors along. You’ll see her name.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The old woman was seated in exactly the same position as she had occupied on Geraldine’s previous visit. Ensconced in an upholstered armchair, with her feet resting on a foot stool, she barely stirred when Geraldine entered. Gazing around the impersonal decor and furnishings, Geraldine could understand why someone might prefer to sit gazing out of the window all day, even though the view wasn’t spectacular. Through the window, a narrow path was visible. It ran between a tall hedgerow and a small patch of mown grass. A reasonably fit adult could sprint along the path in a few minutes. By skirting the hedge, they might reach the street without being seen from Jane’s room.

  Seeming to notice Geraldine for the first time, Jane looked up and smiled vaguely at her.

  ‘Do I know you?’

  Eve’s aunt was unlikely to be much help as a witness. Mumbling reassuring platitudes without really knowing what she was looking for, Geraldine went over to the window. The sill was low, the single pane of glass quite large. With a quick jerk of the handle, she pulled the window wide open. It would be easy enough to climb out of it. For a moment she was lost in a mental image of Eve straddling the window sill before vanishing into the darkness outside.

  Jane’s querulous voice recalled Geraldine to the present.

  ‘There’s a bit of a draught. I don’t like to have the window open. It’s not safe to leave it open. What if someone gets in?’

  The old lady sat watching with a worried expression as Geraldine closed the window.

  Back in the office, Geraldine thanked the manager and said she was leaving.

  ‘Well, if there’s anything else we can help you with, just give me a call.’

  Geraldine spoke in as casual a tone as she could manage. ‘There is one more thing. What kind of security do you have in the ground floor rooms?’

  ‘I’m not sure what kind of security you mean,’ the manager replied, at once on her guard. ‘We have a burglar alarm, as well as smoke alarms, and alarm cords in every room. Our residents are perfectly safe here. We had an outstanding inspection report…’

  ‘The burglar alarm is on at night, presumably?’

  ‘Every night.’

  ‘But what about during the day? What’s to stop residents walking out?’

  ‘There’s always someone on duty here, keeping an eye on the exit. I’m really not sure…’

  ‘Someone could leave through a window?’

  The manager laughed. ‘Most of our residents can barely walk through the door. I can’t see any of them climbing out of a window!’ She laughed again, genuinely amused.

  Geraldine didn’t stop to explain that she hadn’t been thinking about a resident leaving the building unseen.

  70

  As she drove to Nick’s house, Geraldine tried to make sense of the recent events. Uppermost in her mind was the missing boy. Brian appeared to be on the level, and Caroline’s accusation sounded implausible. There seemed to be no reason why Brian should have randomly kidnapped Ed. Yet there was evidently something connecting the two former classmates. They both admitted to having met by chance, just before Dave’s death. Still puzzling over it, she drew up outside Eve’s house. Only a couple of weeks ago it had been Nick’s house. Every day, Geraldine’s grief grew sharper. Usually she coped with any personal problems by immersing herself in work. Now, whenever she sat in her office, his empty desk beside her was a constant reminder of his absence. Even without that she would have found it impossible to stop thinking about him, since she was involved in the investigation into his murder.

  Several times she had considered telling the detective chief inspector that she wanted to step down. Before taking the case on, she had been confident she could cope. She had been desperate to hunt for Nick’s killer. By the time she had realised that the case was too personal for her to manage in a detached manner, it was too late to withdraw. She would have had to admit the truth about her relationship with Nick, exposing herself as a liar as well as promiscuous. Her reputation would never recover. She had to leave Reg ignorant about her emotional involvement with Nick. As far as he was concerned, they had been no more to each other than colleagues who had established friendly relations after a difficult start. They hadn’t known one another for long. She had no choice but to tough it out and see the case through to its conclusion, however difficult it was for her.

  Identifying a killer who had claimed more than one victim was always urgent. This time it was even worse than usual. Until the case was over, it was impossible to drive out the memory of her night with Nick. It haunted her waking thoughts and plagued her dreams. Once she woke in the morning expecting to see him lying in bed beside her. Returning to reality was painful. Her colleagues were all in various states of shock over what had happened to Nick. No one paid any attention to the signs of exhaustion Geraldine saw when she glanced in the mirror.

  Geraldine had never seen Nick’s house while he had lived there. Now her curiosity was like an uncomfortable itch. She wanted to see where he had worked at home, where he had relaxed in the evenings, and where he had eaten. She was desperate to know whether he had lied about no longer sharing a bedroom with his wife. She tried to concentrate on Eve, who reiterated her account of where she had been on the evening of Nick’s murder.

  ‘How often did you visit your aunt?’

  Eve looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘Not as often as I should,’ she admitted.

  ‘And how long did you usually stay?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t time my visits.’ She paused. ‘It just depended on how she was feeling.’

  ‘And how was she feeling on that evening in particular?’

  ‘Fine. Now if that’s all, there’s really nothing more I can tell you. I’d like to help you, but I can’t.’

  Remembering the window in Jane Arkwright’s room, Geraldine considered the possibility that Eve was guilty. She looked
fairly fit. She could easily have climbed out through the window without anyone knowing, run to her car, driven home to kill Nick, and returned to the old people’s home without being seen. Her aunt was too confused to notice what had happened. It would have been risky, but it was possible.

  ‘Did you kill your husband?’

  Eve’s cheeks flushed dark red. Her eyes brightened with suppressed outrage.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re asking me that. You do know who my husband was?’ She stood up, her voice quivering with indignation. ‘How dare you speak to me like that? My husband was an inspector. I don’t think Reg is going to be very impressed when he hears what you’ve been here accusing me of.’

  ‘I’m just doing my job, Mrs Williams. We need to eliminate you from the enquiry. The quicker we can get through this, the sooner I’ll be off.’

  ‘Eliminate me by accusing me of murdering my own husband,’ Eve muttered, but she sat down again. ‘I’ve told you where I was. You can go there and check.’

  Geraldine didn’t say that she had done just that, and her visit hadn’t helped Eve’s case. She leaned forward in her chair. ‘Help me out here, Mrs Williams – Eve. I’ll be frank with you, we’re all at sea. Why would anyone have wanted to kill Nick?’

  Eve shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Haven’t got the faintest idea. That’s your job, isn’t it, to find his killer? One of the criminals he arrested, I suppose.’

  ‘Have you ever met a man called Dave Robinson? Or his wife, Caroline?’

  ‘That’s the victim of another attack, isn’t it? Do you think the murders are linked?’

  ‘Have you ever met him or his wife?’

  ‘No. I’d never heard the name until Reg mentioned it, and of course it’s been all over the news. The papers are saying there’s a serial killer, but why target a police officer and then some plumber or electrician?’

  She sounded genuinely baffled. Geraldine tried one more time.