The Waiting Game

by Sheila Bugler

  ‘It makes sense apart from one thing,’ Ellen said. ‘The news story doesn’t mention the flowers or the mugs of tea. Monica couldn’t know about that unless Chloe told her.’

  ‘Or unless the same thing had happened to her,’ Abby countered. ‘Isn’t it possible Monica’s telling the truth?’

  ‘If she’s telling the truth,’ Ellen said, ‘then both women are being harassed by the same person.’

  ‘Who could be anyone,’ Abby said. ‘Maybe they shop in the same supermarket or drink in the same pub occasionally. Or go to the same park or cinema or restaurant. There could be any number of ways they’re connected without either of them knowing about it.’

  ‘And the alternative?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘The alternative is that Monica’s making it up,’ Abby said. ‘And if she is, then you’re right. Chloe must have told her the bits that weren’t in the news story.’

  ‘There is another explanation,’ Ellen said, only thinking it now. ‘Maybe Monica knows whoever attacked Chloe and that’s how she found out.’

  ‘Or maybe Monica herself is the attacker,’ Abby added. ‘Do you think that’s an option?’

  ‘At this stage,’ Ellen said. ‘Everything’s an option, isn’t it?’

  The bruises on Monica’s neck the other night were something else to think about. Why had Monica turned up at Ellen’s house right after it happened? What message was she trying to give that night? Ellen didn’t know, but she intended to find out.

  * * *

  Back at the station, Alastair, the junior detective in the team, was waiting for her. Ellen liked Alastair, liked how methodical he was. She had marked him out early as someone who wanted to work hard and ascend the ladder. She wouldn’t let go of him too quickly though, it was important to have someone like him at her back – thorough, a good lateral thinker and reliable.

  ‘I’ve got the info you wanted,’ Alastair said.

  Ellen sat at her desk, pulled out a spare chair and motioned for him to sit down.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing yet that connects the two women,’ Alastair said. ‘But something interesting on Monica. Might be something, might be nothing.’

  ‘Well I won’t know until you tell me,’ Ellen said.

  Alastair nodded.

  ‘Some stuff you already know. She grew up in Whitstable. Raised by her father mainly. Mother left when Monica was a kid. Husband reported her missing at the time, but our boys tracked her down easily enough. The MisPer file was closed. There’s a statement in it to the effect that she’d been found but didn’t want any further contact with her husband or daughter.

  ‘Adam Telford’s a respected businessman. Independent financial advisor. The guy I spoke to in Canterbury seems to think Telford dealt well with what happened. Brought the daughter up on his own, kept working. Made a good life for them both.’

  ‘Anything on the accident?’ Ellen asked.

  Monica had told her she’d hit her father in the car she was driving the night she left home.

  ‘That’s where it gets interesting,’ Alastair said. ‘Incident was recorded as a hit and run. Driver was never found and Telford always claimed he didn’t know who took his car that night. Detective in charge of the case at the time tried to pin it on the daughter, but Telford swore she didn’t do it.’

  ‘Maybe he couldn’t bear to think of his own daughter doing something like that to him,’ Ellen said.

  Alastair shrugged. ‘Maybe. There’s more, though.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The accident resulted in significant injury to Telford’s pelvis,’ Alastair said. ‘He had a number of operations on it in the following years. I managed to track down the surgeon who’d dealt with it. Had a quick chat with him just now. Seems a common problem in men following pelvic injury is penile dysfunction.’

  ‘You mean it left him impotent?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘Apparently so.’

  That changed things. Maybe. It wouldn’t be easy to forgive someone for doing that to you. It was possible that Adam Telford had spent the years since the injury plotting his revenge. But even if he had, it still went no way to explaining who had attacked Chloe in her house last week.

  * * *

  ‘She’s lying.’

  Ricky Lezard plucked an invisible hair from the lapel of his blue jacket and smiled, making Raj want to slam a fist into his face.

  ‘Detective Patel.’ Lezard’s lawyer sat forward, hands folded neatly under his chin. ‘My client has already told you what happened. You have no evidence whatsoever to back up Ms Dunbar’s allegations. Allegations which are – quite frankly – potentially libellous. If you’ve got no further questions for my client, perhaps we could go? Mr Lezard is a busy man. He has been most accommodating already. If you’re not going to charge him, then you really must let him go.’

  Raj glanced at Abby, who shrugged. They had no choice. The solicitor was right. There wasn’t a shred of evidence that Ricky Lezard had done anything wrong. Nothing except the fear and panic Raj saw in Chloe’s face when she’d come in earlier.

  She’d barely been able to speak and when she was finally able to tell Raj what had happened, she was shaking so badly and crying so much it was difficult to understand her. She said Lezard grabbed her as she was going into work. Forced her inside and locked the door. When they were alone, he threatened her. Told her if she ever, ever accused him of being some lowlife stalker, he would kill her.

  ‘How did you find her?’ Raj asked.

  ‘The journalist,’ Lezard said. ‘Martine. I took her out for a drink, asked how I could find Chloe. She told me where she worked so I came over. As I’ve already told you, I read the piece in the Star and I was worried. I wanted to make sure Chloe was okay. We lived together for three years and she still means a lot to me.’

  ‘You’ve just accused her of lying,’ Abby said. ‘Why would you care about someone who says those things about you?’

  Lezard sighed. ‘Poor Chloe. She has all sorts of problems. She’s delusional, you know. Likes to make things up. When I read the paper, I realised she’d got even worse than when we were together. It’s the reason we broke up, you know. I couldn’t take the lies anymore. Doesn’t mean I don’t care for her, though. What sort of animal do you think I am? The poor girl needs help, anyone can see that.’

  The lawyer made a show of tidying his papers and preparing to leave. He looked at Raj over the rim of his half-moon glasses.

  ‘Will that be all?’

  Raj nodded, sick of it suddenly. He believed Chloe and knew this designer-clad wanker was lying. The fact there was sod-all he could do about that depressed him beyond belief.

  * * *

  The Evening Star offices were on the top floor of a red-brick industrial building behind Catford Bridge station. Ellen came straight over after speaking with Raj. She flashed her warrant card at the receptionist, demanded to see Martine Reynolds. Now. The receptionist lifted the phone in front of her and whispered something Ellen couldn’t hear. When she finished speaking, she asked Ellen to take a seat, said Ms Reynolds would be right out.

  Ms Reynolds left Ellen waiting for twenty minutes, her mood darkening as each minute passed. When the journalist finally appeared, all fake smile and cold eyes, Ellen got straight to the point.

  ‘You told Ricky Lezard how he could find Chloe Dunbar,’ Ellen said.

  The smile slipped.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You told him,’ Ellen said.

  Martine frowned. She looked confused. A good act, but Ellen wasn’t buying it.

  ‘There’s no point denying it,’ Ellen said. ‘He’s already dropped you in it.’

  ‘If you already know,’ Martine said, ‘what are you doing here? Surely you’ve got better things to do with your time than harass innocent members of the public, Detective Kelly?’

  ‘Detective Inspector,’ Ellen said. ‘And there’s nothing innocent here. I want to know w
hy you did it. You know what a scumbag he is. You know how scared of him she is. And yet you led him straight to her. Why?’

  There was a tremor at one corner of Martine’s mouth.

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ she said.

  ‘I can make it my business,’ Ellen said. She took a step forward and the journalist jumped back, like she’d been hit.

  ‘He got to you,’ Ellen said. ‘Didn’t he? Like he gets to everyone. What did he do, Martine? If you tell me, I can do something about it. Arrest him and make sure he doesn’t hurt any more women. Tell me what he did to scare you so much that you were willing to give Chloe up like that.’

  The journalist looked like she might cry.

  ‘Go away,’ she said. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  She turned, ready to go, but Ellen wasn’t finished.

  ‘He hurt her too,’ Ellen said. ‘Attacked her on her way into work this morning. She’s too scared to make a complaint about him. If no one complains, he’ll be free to do the same again. What’s to say he won’t come back and hurt you like he’s already hurt her?’

  ‘He won’t.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ Ellen asked.

  Reynolds shook her head but didn’t say anything. She looked angry, little patches of red on both cheeks, her mouth drawn into a tight, straight line. For a moment, Ellen thought the anger was directed at her. Then she realised.

  ‘Oh you stupid woman,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t you dare say that.’

  ‘What did he do?’ Ellen asked. ‘How far did he have to go to make you think he was interested in you? I bet you haven’t heard a word from him since you told him what you wanted, have you?’

  Martine drew herself up, looked Ellen in the eye and told her to leave. Ellen stood her ground, stared at Martine until the other woman was forced to look away.

  Ellen smiled.

  ‘I doubt you’ll be hearing from him again,’ she said. ‘I can’t promise the same thing. From now on, I’m watching you, Reynolds. You’d do well not to forget it.’

  She waited, half hoping Reynolds would rise to the threat, but she was too clever for that. After a moment, Ellen left.

  At the door she turned and looked back. The journalist was still standing in the same spot. The red patches had gone from her face. She looked old and tired and desperately unhappy.

  Twenty-One

  ‘An injunction.’

  Raj was smiling at her, like he was giving her good news. Chloe didn’t understand, and told him.

  ‘We can get an emergency injunction out against Ricky,’ Raj said. ‘I’ve just spoken to my boss. We can get it sorted today. Drive across to the Magistrates’ Court and get one there and then. It will keep you safe, Chloe.’

  Safe. She closed her eyes, repeated the word to herself. Was it really that easy? When she opened her eyes, Raj was crouched down in front of her.

  ‘Chloe, listen to me. Before today, we had no proof that Ricky even knew where you were. He made a big mistake today coming to where you work. If we take this to a judge, we can get an emergency non-molestation order. It means Ricky will be forbidden from approaching you or communicating with you in any way. If he even tries to speak to you, he’ll be locked up.’

  She could still smell his cologne. Couldn’t wait to go home and have a bath, scrub away every last trace of him. Between her legs still hurt. Just his hand. He didn’t do anything else. Knew if he did that they’d find traces of him inside her. So he’d used his hand instead.

  ‘Chloe?’ Raj put his hand on her arm, making her jump.

  ‘Sorry.’ He backed away. ‘I’m so sorry, Chloe. Are you okay?’

  She’d been so scared. Thought he was going to kill her. He kicked her instead. Twice in the stomach. Then he’d left. She was still lying there half an hour later when Carl came in and found her.

  If it wasn’t for Carl, she’d never have gone to the police. Too scared to even do that. But Carl insisted. And maybe he was right. Maybe this injunction thing would put a stop to it all.

  ‘Will it work?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Raj said. ‘I think it will.’

  * * *

  It was only a short-term measure. Raj explained that on the drive to the Magistrates’ Court. They applied for this today and later, they would have to go back to court once Ricky had been served notice of the order. But that was a formality, Raj assured her. Nothing to worry about.

  The court was nothing like she’d expected. From TV, she thought judges wore wigs and black cloaks, but this judge wore a grey suit and no wig. He sat at a table across from her and was really kind. When she started crying, he gave her his own handkerchief to dry her tears.

  Raj had warned her there might be a delay, but it was all over very quickly. The judge granted the order, told her she didn’t need to be scared anymore and that was it.

  Outside afterwards, Raj explained that Ricky would be served with the order straightaway. A special courier would be despatched to deliver it, making sure Ricky couldn’t miss it or pretend he hadn’t seen it.

  ‘And if he tries to make any sort of contact,’ Raj said. ‘Even a phone call, he’ll be banged up.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Chloe said.

  ‘Feels good to do something positive,’ Raj said. ‘Come on. I’ll drive you home. Is there anyone you can call? You shouldn’t be alone this evening.’

  She wanted Carl. But he hadn’t called and she was too shy to call him. Seeing her in that state earlier, it had probably scared him off for good. There was always Nathan, of course, but she didn’t think she could bear the thought of him right now. The smell and the size of him, he seemed to take up the whole house when he was there.

  Then she thought of Anne.

  ‘There is someone,’ she said. ‘Let me give her a ring and see if she’s free.’

  She pulled out her phone and dialled Anne’s number. When Chloe told her what happened, Anne promised she’d come straight over.

  ‘I’ll bring wine and nibbles,’ Anne said. ‘We can have a proper girlie night in. How does that sound?’

  It sounded just fine to Chloe. As she put her phone back into her bag, it beeped with a text. Carl, asking how she was. She typed a quick reply, ended it with two ‘XX’ kisses. She put her phone away and smiled at Raj. The first time she’d smiled all day. Things were definitely starting to get better.

  Twenty-Two

  Friday morning, Chloe’s doorbell rang as she was getting ready for work. She went to the window and peered out, terrified she’d see Ricky standing on the doorstep. When she saw Carl instead, her stomach flip-flopped. He was standing in the doorway, sheltering from the rain. Checking herself quickly in the mirror, she ran downstairs to let him in.

  ‘Thought you might like a lift,’ he said. ‘I practically drive past your house on the way in. Seems silly not to stop.’

  He looked embarrassed, like he wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing or not. She had to stop herself grabbing him and hugging him.

  ‘That’s really sweet of you,’ she said. ‘Come in. I just need to finish putting my make-up on.’

  ‘You look lovely to me,’ he said, cheeky again, now he knew it was okay to be here.

  She tried to think of something clever to say back to him but nothing came to her. Instead, she said thanks before running back up the stairs. When she came back down, he was standing in the kitchen.

  ‘Nice place,’ he said. ‘You’ve got it looking really pretty. You like it here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I did to begin with. But after everything that’s happened, I’m thinking I might move out. Make a fresh start somewhere else.’

  He nodded. ‘Can’t say as I blame you. But it’ll be better now, won’t it? This injunction thingy you told me about, he’ll have to stay away now?’

  ‘If it works,’ Chloe said. ‘But Raj – that’s the detective – he seems to think it will. Says Ricky would be mad to try anythi
ng. If he does, he’ll go straight to prison.’

  ‘Should be there already,’ Carl said.

  She didn’t want to talk about all that now. She’d woken up this morning in a good mood. Anne had stayed late last night and drank too much wine. She was funny and interesting and they’d had a good time. When Anne left, Chloe switched the alarm on and slept right through the night.

  She thought she’d be nervous seeing Carl again but now he was here, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘Shouldn’t we get going?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Carl said. ‘Listen, Chloe, I want to ask you something, but you can say no. I understand if you’re not ready.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Do you fancy going for a drink after work tonight?’ he said. ‘Just the two of us. If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I mean, I know you’ve had a horrible time of it and maybe you want to keep well away from all men for a while.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ she said.

  He was still babbling and she had to talk over him. He stopped talking and stared at her.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I’m sure,’ she said.

  He smiled and again she thought what a lovely smile he had.

  ‘Well then,’ he said. ‘That’s great. Yeah. Really great. Cheers.’

  She stepped forward, reached up on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she said. ‘Now come on. Let’s get to work.’

  When she stepped back down, she noticed he was blushing, a red flush that crept along his neck and up his cheeks. It made him look seriously cute.

  * * *

  Ellen was nervous. The sort of nerves she hadn’t experienced since… well, since forever.

  Jim was nervous too. He hid it well enough, but little things gave it away. The way his leg kept jigging under the table. And the shake in his hand when he lifted his champagne flute to touch it against hers.

  ‘To you,’ he said.