by Lou Peters
‘Yes, so what?’ For a moment the penny didn’t drop.
‘So, he prescribed something for you to help you sleep, didn’t he?’ She continued to look at Rachel, wondering no doubt, when she would see where she was going with this line of thought. ‘Did you use all of the prescription, or have you brought the medication with you?’
Finally, Rachel caught on to what Jackie was intimating. ‘I haven’t taken anything recently,’ she said, quick to come to her own defence. ‘Believe it or not I’ve been sleeping better since we moved here, except for last night of course. Perhaps because of the manual, hard work, trying to get the place straight or maybe it’s true what they say about country air. I certainly didn’t take anything Tuesday night, if that’s what you’re suggesting.’
‘How do you know if you can’t remember?’
‘The same way that I know I hadn’t been drinking that night. I just know. Anyway, I’m not even sure if I packed the tablets. I could have thrown the packet away while I was sorting things out at the flat, prior to the move. I’d found that once I’d got the damn things I started to sleep better naturally. Maybe knowing they were there as back-up, was enough to do the trick.’
‘Well, it wouldn’t do any harm to check, would it? Where would you keep them if you had brought the pills with you?’
Jackie followed Rachel out of the sitting room for the short journey across the narrow hallway into the bathroom.
‘God, I didn’t imagine the bathroom would be painted green as well.’
‘Yeah, the previous occupants did every room in the house the same beautiful shades. Amazing isn’t it?’ Rachel opened the bathroom cupboard all too aware Jackie was shivering beside her. After leaving the blazing fire in the sitting room it was freezing in there.
‘Bloody hell Rachel, how can you stand this? You need central heating.’
‘You don’t have to tell me that.’ Rachel re-focused her attention on the inside of the bathroom cabinet. Her eyes were drawn to the small rectangular, cardboard packet standing on its long edge on the middle shelf. The insomnia cure her doctor had prescribed stared back at her in innocence. The printed label on the front clearly bore her name and then address. It left no doubt as to whom the intended recipient had been.
‘What is it?’ Jackie had picked up on her friend’s hesitancy and leant over her shoulder to see for herself.
The end of the blue and white box had been ripped open in readiness to divulge its contents, which was as expected. Not to be expected however, was the empty silver sheet, edges curled up balancing precariously on top of the box, which originally had contained seven foil covered tablets. Each day of the week commencing with Monday clearly advised in bold black print. An effort one supposed, if used correctly to keep track of what had been taken and on what day. Rachel knew she’d only taken two of the tablets, leaving five remaining tablets unaccounted for. What the hell was going on? And why had the empty sheet not been discarded after use? Instead it looked as though it had been positioned in a deliberate act on top of the box, so as not to be missed.
‘Well, if you didn’t consciously take the sleeping tablets, there’s only one other explanation.’
Rachel and Jackie had hurriedly returned to the warmth. Jackie stood with her pert rear end to the crackling fire, hands in the back pockets of her jeans, trying to get some feeling back to her extremities.
‘Are you inferring that Richard spiked my drink, or whatever, with the tablets to knock me out for a whole day and most of the evening? That’s just crazy. Why, why would he do that? And why is he not here, yet his van and my car still are?’
‘I don’t know how your boyfriend’s mind works.’ Jackie responded. ‘Maybe someone picked him up after he drugged you. Have you checked to see if any of his clothes are missing?’
‘Richard hasn’t drugged me.’ Rachel insisted, throwing Jackie a glare. ‘Yes I checked his clothes this morning before you arrived and there’s nothing noticeable gone. With the exception of his favourite old leather jacket and scarf, which were hanging up together in the under the stairs cupboard and obviously the things he was wearing. Richard doesn’t know anybody in the area, so who could have collected him?’
‘Not that you know of.’
Rachel let that comment pass. Jack was talking nonsense, but she’d got no better ideas so remained listening as best she could. The headache tablets she’d taken earlier were beginning to lose their affect and in her head it sounded like the timpani section of an orchestra was starting its warm up session.
‘How’s Dickie been, over the last few days?’ Jackie continued her interrogation. ‘Have you noticed any changes in him, perhaps a bit more moody than usual?’
‘Please don’t call him that. And Richard doesn’t do moody. He’s generally happy go lucky, but he’s not a saint, everybody has their off days...’
‘I never thought I’d hear you say that.’
‘What?’
‘That Dic...sorry Richard wasn’t a saint.’
Rachel could tell by her friend’s eyes, Jackie’s faux pas had been deliberate. ‘I know you don’t like Richard all that much, but I’d appreciate it Jack, if under the circumstances you could put your feelings to one side for the moment.’
‘I do like Richard. He’s a nice guy. I just don’t think he’s the one for you, that’s all. Anyway sorry, carry on with what you were saying.’
‘I wasn’t going to add much more, just that he’s been a little distracted lately, probably about the prospects for his landscaping business.’
‘There you are then.’ Jackie was swift to pounce on this snippet of information. She left the fireside and came to sit next to Rachel, linking her arm through hers.
‘What are you alluding to exactly?’ Rachel hurriedly pulled her arm away, putting Jack on the spot as she turned to face her.
‘I don’t know, but – I’m trying to wrack my brains here Rache for anything that might be a bit out of character for Richard... You know him better than I do, was he the type to...’
‘…Take his own life for example?’
‘Well yes, it’s a possibility that has to be considered.’
Rachel laughed aloud, in spite of the Eighteen Twelve Overture reaching its crescendo inside of her head. ‘Jack, I know you’re only trying to be helpful, but you’re right off the mark here. Richard loves this tumble down pile of stones and mortar. He’s been excited as a kid who’s been told he can keep the dog, after all. What he isn’t going to do with the place once he has the funds available… well it isn’t worth mentioning. I’ve never seen him so happy.’ She paused, ‘if anybody’s been down in the dumps, or wants to leave here, it’s me.’ Rachel looked away realising she’d already said too much.
‘You... Why?’ Jackie said, genuinely astounded. Rachel’s act had been a good one; even her best friend had been fooled.
‘I don’t know, giving up my independence for one thing.’
‘By that you mean giving up your job in the high street chemists?’ It was clear Jackie wasn’t impressed with Rachel’s choice of employment after leaving her previous position.
‘I agree, it wasn’t brilliantly paid, but at least I had a bit of money of my own and it wasn’t stressful like the finance place. I don’t know how you can still stick it there. But that’s not the only reason. As well as leaving my job, I’ve had to leave everything else I was familiar with. Leave you, mum, everything, to move all this way following Richard’s dream. I’ve got the solitude of the place to contend with, which I’m still trying to get used to. Not to mention the dampness and the horrendous task in front of us trying to transform the place and now to top it all, Richard’s disappeared.’ Even to her own ears Rachel sounded like a petulant child and she instantly wished she hadn’t opened her mouth.
‘Blimey Rache, you sound like you didn’t want to move here.’
‘I’m not in the mood for ironic comments, Jackie.’
‘Well, that was quite a confession. I did ask you
before you left if you knew what you were doing, but you assured me everything was fine... Did Richard know?’
Rachel shook her head. ‘He hadn’t got a clue.’
‘That was sensitive of him.’
‘Wasn’t his fault, on the surface I’ve been as enthusiastic about the move, as he has.’
‘What can I say, other than you’re a complete idiot, Rachel.’
‘I thought I’d get used to it. I probably will do given time; after all it’s only been a few weeks. I’ll feel better if I can get a job in the New Year. Get out of this damp hole for a bit, even if it’s only part time to start off with. But my negativity about moving here is the least of my concerns right now. I just want to know where Richard is... What could have happened to him Jack?’
Rachel could see by the expression on Jackie’s face she wanted to discuss things further. To insist that Rachel agree to tell Richard how she really felt. But as the man wasn’t around, she realised at the moment it was a pointless exercise.
Instead, Jackie said, ‘I don’t know, I suppose everything will become clear, eventually. All we can do is wait to see how things pan out… But if Richard does turn up anytime soon, I’ll certainly be giving him a piece of my mind.’ Her strength of feeling was tempered, but it was there nevertheless, just bubbling away under the surface like a hot water geyser waiting to blow.
Rachel didn’t know why her friend should feel this anger towards Richard. She’d just explained he thought she was happy with the move. Perhaps Jackie was angrier with herself for not picking up on Rachel’s veiled reluctance to relocate.
‘Don’t say that Jack, you may regret it later.’
‘Have you checked to see if he’s been in touch with his parents?’ Jackie’s voice was forced calm, her feelings tethered for the moment.
‘No, I didn’t want to worry them unnecessarily, in case he hasn’t. They’re getting on a bit and after all it’s only been a day. I’m sure if they’d had any news Mrs. Johnson would have let me know. She’s a nice old dear and wouldn’t want me to worry.’
‘Did you phone your mum in the end?’
‘No,’ Rachel again said. ‘It’s too soon yet. If she knew I was going to be down here on my own she’d be on the next train. And before you say it, I know you could have brought her in the car, but then there would have been the three of us sitting here, not knowing what to do.’
‘As it has only been a day, perhaps you should put things into context and be a bit more laid back about it. Richard could turn up at any minute and wonder what all the fuss is about.’
‘Despite what you think of Richard, I truly love him Jackie and I can’t get this picture out of my mind that he’s lying somewhere injured. Waiting for me to raise the alarm and every hour that passes he’s growing weaker and weaker until he’ll just fade away; and I’ll have let it happen. I even thought I’d heard sirens out in the lane this morning, convinced myself. I spent the rest of the earlier part of the day waiting for the knock on the door. Knowing when I opened it there would be a policeman standing there, a grim expression on his face waiting to tell me the worst... But it never happened.’
‘In that case, if you’re feelings are so strong, you’ve got no alternative, you’ll have to go to the police station for your own peace of mind.’
‘And tell them what, exactly? The first question they’ll ask is when was the last time I saw Richard? I don’t have an answer. They’ll probably charge me with wasting police time.’
‘It’s your choice Rachel… Look, it’s just a thought. Would it help if you went back a bit? Forget yesterday, concentrate on Tuesday instead. Perhaps, if you can recall that day, who knows maybe some of Wednesday will filter through. I’m going to make us another cup of coffee and nip to the loo. Have a lie down while I’m gone.’
Jackie rose from the settee. She plumped up the padded squares, encouraging Rachel to lean back against them. Gently she lifted her feet off the floor, until she lay recumbent on the comfortable piece of furniture. Sitting on the arm of the settee, Jack stroked her friend’s forehead lightly for a short time, while Rachel’s dark head rested against the softness of the cushions.
‘Now try and relax.’ Her voice was soft and soothing. Rachel was glad Jackie had insisted on coming to the cottage.
‘When I come back, I’ll be your own personal shrink. I’ll even put on a white coat if it helps and then Doctor Riley will delve into your subconscious and winkle out the events of Tuesday.’ Before exiting the room, Jackie threw another shovel of coal onto the fire, releasing sparks to fly up the chimney. Rachel stretched out on the sofa, gazed at the bright bits of glowing amber amidst the sooty backdrop, like orange stars in a night sky. Her eyelids grew heavy in the stillness and once more sleep overcame her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thursday Afternoon 10 December 2009
Arnold Cooper sat in the front passenger seat of the patrol car. Hurriedly, he crammed the last of his stale cheese and pickle sandwich into his mouth before stashing the scrunched up plastic wrapper into the glove compartment, for some other poor sod to dispose of. The sell by date on the reverse of the packaging, had he thought, been a little optimistic stating the eleventh of December, tomorrow. But Cooper supposed the sandwich had been sitting on the shelf, under the harsh fluorescent lighting awaiting purchase, probably for the best part of a week. To obtain a really fresh one, he concluded, you would have to purchase a packet with the sell buy a week in advance. It was his own fault; he shouldn’t have sent a boy to do a man’s job. ‘No wonder I’ve always got indigestion,’ he mumbled to himself. He was late for his meeting with Walters, but knew if he hadn’t grabbed something to eat then, it could be hours before the opportunity arose again.
‘Thanks Bob,’ he addressed his companion, a young uniformed constable seated in the driver’s seat alongside of him who’d purchased the sandwich on his behalf. ‘I’ll settle up with you later.’
‘Sure.’ Bob Rodgers grunted. That’ll be the last I see of that two pounds forty, sucker. Even so, he’d marvelled at the way Arnie Cooper had made the sandwich disappear. The car radio crackled into life. With all of the present day modern technology it still sounded as though the operator was in a call centre somewhere in India and not in the building they could see out of the car window. Probably could have waved to her, if she’d stood up from her workstation. The instructions relayed to the young PC made him groan. He was to investigate a cycle theft in the town centre.
Throwing an envious glance in Arnold’s direction, the twenty five year old bemoaned his fate. ‘I wish I was in CID and had something worthwhile to get my teeth into, instead of these poxy petty crimes.’
‘All in good time Rodgers. We’ve all been there. All had our fair share of the humdrum. Wait until you get to my age.’
‘When I get to your age, sarge,’ Bob Rodgers responded spiritedly, ‘I’ll be a DCI.’
‘Impudent young bugger. I’m not that old.’ Arnold went to playfully clip the lad around the ear. However, Rodgers saw it coming. With a grin, he dodged out of the way. Cooper got out of the car. Immediately the strain was taken off the suspension, the car visibly lifting at the removal of his bulk. No sooner had the sergeant shut the door, than with a squeal of tyres the patrol car sped away, as though on a life or death mission. Leaving Arnold to stand in the police car park shaking his head, hoping no-one else in authority had witnessed the constable’s over eager departure. He was surprised the youngster hadn’t had the siren screaming. Maybe he would do, once he was out of earshot of the station. Cooper would have to have a word with young Rodgers, otherwise he’d end up facing a disciplinary if he wasn’t careful and he wasn’t a bad kid at heart. The boy reminded Arnold of himself at that age, eager for excitement with no respect for danger. Perhaps Cooper had been a bit younger. Kids these days seemed to take longer to mature.
The DS headed at a jogging pace towards the modern glass and chrome fronted building. Taking the six concrete steps leading up to the ent
rance two at a time. He pushed through the double swing doors to come face to face with Paul Grimes behind the reception counter, impeccable in his sergeant’s uniform. He looked up, pen in hand as his plain clothes counterpart burst through the doors. Paul was known to be a bit of a lad where the ladies were concerned. Cooper got a waft of Giorgio Armani as he entered the reception area. ‘God what’s that smell Grimesey?’ Cooper pulled a face. ‘Have we had a clamp down on the local prostitute community while I’ve been out? Had the tarts in with their pimps to read them their rights, or something? Bloody hell, smells more like a whore house in here rather than a cop shop. Arnie made a show of waving his hand in front of his nose for added effect. We could do with opening a few windows to take the stench away. Do you want me to wedge the door open for you Paul?’ Cooper asked helpfully, trying his best to keep the serious expression on his face from slipping.
The desk sergeant didn’t rise to the bait. He was used to Arnold’s schoolboy sense of humour. ‘You’re late,’ was the unsmiling response. Walters’ has been on the blower twice already, checking on your whereabouts. I’d get your arse up there smartish, if I were you Cooper instead of playing the fool.’
Grinning, Arnold keyed in the security code and the door leading into the main part of the building buzzed open. He didn’t wait for the lift, but bounded up the stairwell. The hardly digested sandwich, trying to make its way down to his stomach, burned in his chest. Cooper wished he’d got some antacid tablets on him. Passing in front of the control room door, he peered in through the square of toughened glass. The room appeared to be no more busy than usual, with only a handful of people inside. He noticed Marie Travis wasn’t one of them. Arnold was tempted to go in, check if there’d been any developments, but didn’t, as he was already running late for the debriefing. He continued a little further down the corridor, past the two obligatory interview rooms, until he reached the detective inspector’s office. Giving a firm rap on the unglazed door, he waited for a response.