‘Well, Monty says the police want to talk to her.’
‘Monty’s a right old gossip, hen.
‘Why would he say such a thing if it wasn’t true? He stopped me especially to tell me.’
‘Och, you know fine that he does that to everybody. It’s how he spends half his day.’
Nevertheless, Alice wasn’t convinced by what Janet and wee Mary were saying.
‘Well, I believe him. There’s something happened to Cheryl. What do you bet?’
Janet was beginning to look unsure. ‘I hope not. It’s enough to make us all feel nervous.’
‘Apparently she was supposed to meet Tommy and she never turned up. He waited for ages. Then he came to The Heights to see if she was at her mother’s but she’d left to meet him, her mother said.’
‘But what could Miss Smith have to do with it?’
‘Tommy says she went for some messages for her and that was the last time she was seen.’
‘Well, if that’s true,’ Janet said, ‘they’ll want to talk to Miss Smith about the time she last saw Cheryl, things like that.’
‘Monty said they couldn’t find Miss Smith the first time they came. He doesn’t know if they came back and had any better luck. He was off duty.’
‘She was probably away for the day somewhere.’
Alice shook her head. ‘I can’t see her going far or for very long. I don’t really know the woman, of course. I’m just going by the look of her. She can barely hobble along on that stick.’
Suddenly they were startled by a ring on the doorbell and Betty’s voice shouting through the letter box, ‘It’s only me.’
Janet went to let her in and when her tall, solid figure appeared in the sitting room, she greeted everybody with ‘Hello folks. Everything OK?’
‘Yes …’ Janet hesitated. ‘Except we’re worried about what’s happened to Cheryl from upstairs. Is it true what Monty’s been saying? Is she missing?’
‘Yes, that’s what I’m in about. The police have been knocking on every door from the top flat downwards. They’ll be at us soon. They just want to know when everybody last saw Cheryl or talked to her and how she seemed. Did she look or sound worried or anything? All that sort of stuff. I thought I’d better warn you – in case you got a fright when the police came to the door.’
‘Thank you, Betty. That was good of you.’
‘Poor Cheryl.’ Sandra gazed dramatically up through her fringe. ‘She’s probably been murdered.’
Alice groaned. ‘Are you purposely trying to frighten me? You know how nervous I can be.’
‘Well, what else could have happened? Disappearing like that and her so much in love with Tommy and just about to start a new life with him. She wouldn’t just disappear off her own bat.’
‘She could have been involved in an accident,’ Betty said firmly, ‘and be lying in hospital somewhere. It’s no help speculating and thinking the worst. Just answer any questions the police ask – truthfully. Just what you know.’ She fixed Sandra with a warning look. ‘Not what you imagine.’
‘God!’ Rita inhaled deeply at her cigarette. ‘What a terrible worry for her mother. The bloody father’s probably too drunk to care.’
‘And Tommy,’ Alice said. ‘He’ll be worried sick as well.’
‘Aye. He seems such a nice fella. A right worry, so it is.’
Sandra rolled her eyes. ‘And him barely recovered from nearly being burned to death.’
‘Well,’ Betty said, ‘we’ll just have to hope everything works out all right. Meantime, try not to worry.’
Just then, there was a loud knocking and Betty went to answer it. She came back followed by two very large policemen.
All the women fell silent. Even Sandra.
31
It had been a nuisance having to run back out for the tea after she’d forgotten it the first time. It was a wild night and one of the street lamps wasn’t working. It made the dark night even darker.
Probably one of the local youths had flung a brick or something at the lamp. They were always doing something. Apart from anything else, they spoiled the look of the whole place with graffiti. And it was a disgrace the way they kept dropping litter about.
Cheryl was worried about being late for Tommy. However, once she had told him about Miss Smith, he’d understand. Tommy was kind and good-hearted. He’d want to help the poor old thing as well. Anyway, she wouldn’t be that late if she ran both ways and didn’t go back into Miss Smith’s, just gave her the tea at her door. She could apologise for not having enough time to make a pot of tea but would promise to look in on her again the first chance she got.
The grocer’s wasn’t too busy and she was in and out in no time. Clutching at the plastic bag with the tea inside, she began running up the dark road as fast as she could. After a couple of minutes, she imagined she heard running footsteps behind her but didn’t take time to turn and look.
Then suddenly she felt a terrible pain in the back of her head. She knew she had been struck on the head with something but, before she was able to form another thought, her legs buckled and she slid into unconsciousness.
She awoke slowly to the sounds of her own muffled groaning. Her heart leapt with panic as she began to realise that there was a blindfold round her eyes, something tied over her mouth and her hands and feet were bound. Her surroundings felt icy cold. Damp too. A sickening smell filled her nostrils. She couldn’t understand what was happening. It was like something out of a horror film. Who in real life would want to do this to her? She had no enemies that she knew of. It was totally beyond understanding.
People didn’t get kidnapped in Springburn or Balornock.
Then, terrifyingly, she heard a man’s voice. He was saying, ‘I didn’t want it to be this way, Angela. I pleaded with you. Over and over again, I gave you the chance to meet me and begin a proper relationship. A normal relationship.’ His voice trembled. ‘You said you loved me. I believed you. Yet all the time, you were seeing another man. I’ve watched you with him. I know all about him. Why did you do it, Angela? It’s not even as if he was anything special. Anything better than me. I’m a successful businessman. I could have given you a good life and a lovely home. What could he give you?’
Cheryl twisted her head from side to side. She knew now what must have happened. It was mistaken identity. This man, whoever he was, had mistaken her for somebody else. Somebody called Angela. Yet how could that have happened? Had she a double, or what?
‘All right,’ he was saying. ‘I’ll take the gag off and give you a drink from this bottle of water. But there’s no use trying to make any noise. No one could possibly hear you, believe me.’
She felt his fingers fumble at the back of her head. The gag came away from her mouth.
‘You’ve made a terrible mistake.’ Desperate words rushed out. ‘My name’s not Angela. I’m Cheryl Patterson from The Heights. I don’t know any Angela. I’ve never heard of anybody called Angela.’
There was an uneasy silence.
‘I swear as God’s my witness, I don’t know anybody called Angela. I’m Cheryl Patterson and I live with my mammy and daddy on the thirtieth floor of The Heights. Ask anybody. Phone anybody. Check any way you like.’
She could hear the man’s heavy breathing. She began to sob.
‘Please let me go back to my mammy. She’ll be worried sick about me.’
She became aware of movement. Then footsteps.
‘Please let me go,’ she cried out. ‘Please don’t leave me here.’
But she knew instinctively that he’d gone.
*****
Ingram thought he was going mad. He had meant to try yet again to reason with Angela, to persuade her to see sense, to somehow make her want to give him a chance. She would surely realise that to go to such extreme measures to get together with her proved that he genuinely loved her and had a desperate need to be with her.
He would apologise for hurting her but, he would explain, she gave him no choic
e and he would make up for it, if she just gave him the chance. For the rest of his life, he would be good to her, never lift a finger to hurt her again. He would do anything and everything he could to make up for it. He would swear it.
If they could just talk again as they had done so often in the past, they would be able to work something out, he was sure.
That’s how he had persuaded himself. That’s why he had loosened the gag. The woman’s voice still reverberated in his brain. Not the lovely gentle lilting Highland voice of Angela but a loud, coarse, common Glasgow voice.
The voice confused and shocked him. No way could that voice belong to Angela. He loped away through the car park, along New Kirk Road, round on to Drymen Road and up the stairs to his flat. His brain was still reeling. He collapsed into a chair and with shaking fingers, managed to light a cigarette. He inhaled deeply. He downed a stiff whisky. Nothing helped.
How could this be? The description of the girl exactly matched in every way what Angela had told him – even every piece of clothing matched. Every time he saw her, and he’d seen her quite a few times now, everything matched exactly. Her hair, her features, her figure, her clothes, everything. Exactly. Yet it was not her. He thought for a long time. He lit another cigarette. He had another whisky. Gradually, an explanation came to him. Angela must have been describing someone else. She had done it purposely to fool him.
Hatred and rage were so strong, it set his mind on fire. That was it. He’d kill the cruel, devious bitch. He’d find her and kill her. No kidnapping. No talking. He’d just quietly, swiftly, cut her throat.
Then he remembered the girl in the bomb shelter and felt confused again. And frightened. He wished her no harm. Nothing was her fault. But what could he do? He daren’t be seen by her. If he let her go and she saw him, she would report him and his description to the police. That way, Angela would win again.
Yet if he just left her there, she could die. He had been telling her the truth when he said if she screamed, nobody would hear her. There was the odd chance of children wandering along near there during the summer holidays. He couldn’t imagine them going along there in the dark, especially venturing into the damp, stinking depths of the air-raid shelter.
He tried to think of all possibilities of releasing the girl. Could he undo the rope around her wrists and then make a run for it in the hope that he’d be well out of sight before she undid the blindfold and the rope around her ankles? That would be taking a terrible risk. He might make it to the car park. But what about the lights there and in all the surrounding streets? He was so tall he would stick up like a running telegraph pole no matter what way he took. He cursed his height. He cursed Angela for the terrible predicament she’d got him into. Oh, he’d kill her all right.
At least he knew where she lived. She was obviously from The Heights. She must be able to see this other girl regularly in order to describe her so often and in such detail.
What an evil bitch she was, putting another girl at risk like that. An innocent girl. He felt physically sick with hatred. No more talking. No more second chances. No more love. It had all been an illusion.
The cruel, sadistic bitch. How she’d made him suffer. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined anybody being so devious and cruel. He thought about the other girl again. Poor cow. It was terrible. He had to think of something. Some way to free her. Save her. But he couldn’t come up with any ideas at all. As each tortuous minute passed, rage and hatred burned deeper into his brain until all he could see in his mind’s eye was his father’s open razor slicing across Angela’s throat.
*****
It was the talk of The Heights. What on earth could have happened to Cheryl? No way could she have disappeared of her own volition. Not when she was to meet Tommy and they were about to move in together into a lovely flat in the West End. Cheryl had been so happy she’d told everyone about it.
‘Something terrible must have happened,’ Sandra insisted. ‘She’s been kidnapped and murdered. I bet you anything.’
‘But why?’ Janet asked. ‘Who would want to do that to Cheryl, of all people? Such a nice, kind girl.’
‘Her mammy’s in a terrible state and no wonder,’ Mary said. ‘And so is Tommy.’
‘Yes,’ Kate joined in. ‘Monty says poor Tommy is nearly demented. He’s searching everywhere. He’s been through every inch of the park already.’
‘Even that drunken bum of a father of hers is helping with the search,’ Rita said. ‘And according to what I’ve heard, he’s even gone off the drink.’
Kate shook her head. ‘I’m sorry for Miss Smith as well. She feels guilty because Cheryl had gone out for her messages but, as Betty said, it wasn’t Miss Smith’s fault. Cheryl was going out anyway.’
Mary sighed. ‘I’d better make a move. Betty wants a word with me in the office. I hope it’s no’ to give me a tellin’ off about something I’ve done wrong.’
‘Don’t be daft, Mary,’ Sandra said. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong. We’ll all stick up for you, don’t worry.’
‘Thanks, hen.’
She struggled up with the help of her one arm pushing against the arm of the chair. ‘I’ll let you know when I come back in.’
After she left, Rita asked, ‘She hasn’t been drinking again, has she?’
Janet gave her a stern, disapproving look.
‘Certainly not. She’s been as good as gold. Hasn’t she, Sandra?’
‘Yes, definitely. I’ll miss her … and all of you, when I go to Edinburgh. Here, you’ll let me know if anything’s found out about Cheryl, won’t you?’
‘Yes, of course. When is it you said your sister’s coming for you?’
‘The end of the week. In just a couple of days. My brother-in-law is bringing her through in their car. I’m quite looking forward to it now. Except, as I say, I’ll miss you all.’
‘Oh well, you’ll come occasionally to the get-togethers, no doubt.’
‘Not occasionally, Janet. I’ll come to every one.’
‘Now, now, you’re exaggerating again, Sandra. Once you get a job in Edinburgh, you’ll not be able to come through here every time.’
‘Yes, I will. If the get-togethers are held in the evening and I work during the day, there’ll be no problem.’
Just then, wee Mary re-entered the room.
‘Well?’ Sandra asked.
Instead of answering, Mary said, ‘You next, Rita.’
‘Me?’ Rita looked indignant. ‘I’ve done nothing bloody wrong.’
‘Nobody’s said you have, hen. Away you go through.’
Rita had barely disappeared when Sandra impatiently repeated, ‘Well?’
Mary sighed. ‘You’ll never guess.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Mary. Tell us.’
‘Houses have come up and I’ve been offered one.’
‘Great! Great! That’s really exciting, Mary. But why the long face?’
After a minute, Mary said, ‘You’re aw right, hen. You’re goin’ to live with your sister. I don’t fancy stayin’ anywhere by masel’ now. I’m that used to my pal Janet, here. Naw, I cannae leave Janet.’ She turned a pleading face to Janet. ‘You’d miss me, hen, sure you would.’
‘Of course I would, Mary. Where is the house?’
‘Over in the south side. Betty says it’s a flat in a nice red sandstone building and it’s in a very nice street. Fancy, near another park, she says. Queen’s Park.’
‘Oh yes, that’s a very nice respectable area.’
‘Ah don’t care what it’s like. I don’t care if it’s Buckingham Palace. I’m no’ leavin’ you, hen.’
They all laughed at the ridiculous vision of wee Mary in Buckingham Palace.
‘Ah’m glad you all think it’s so funny,’ Mary said, not looking glad at all.
‘Mary,’ Janet said. ‘There might be a solution to this. Just give me a little time to think about it.’
32
It was a terrible nuisance Mrs Patterson not having a
phone, although she said that she’d ordered one now. Tommy had told her that, in the circumstances, it was absolutely vital.
She told Mabel, ‘I know that myself of course. What if Cheryl needed to get in touch with us by phone? I don’t care what it costs now. Even if I’ve to work my fingers to the bone to pay for it.’
Poor Mrs Patterson, Mabel thought. She was in a state of near-collapse. Mr Patterson was having to stay off work to look after her. He was in a state as well. Anyway, the phone had not been installed yet and so Mabel had to go up in the lift to the thirtieth floor to talk to Mrs Patterson. She heard Mrs Patterson’s feet running along the lobby in her haste to answer the bell.
‘Oh!’ The eager, hopeful look in her face immediately collapsed at the sight of Mabel. ‘It’s you, Miss Smith. Come in.’
‘No, thank you all the same, but I wanted to let you know – in case I’m needed to answer any more questions or anything – that I’m away to visit a friend in Bearsden. I won’t stay too long.’
‘It’s all right. I’m sure you won’t be needed again, Miss Smith. You’ve already told us and the police everything you know.’
‘Well, if you think so …’
‘Yes, I’m absolutely sure. Please don’t worry.’
The door shut and Mrs Patterson’s feet, dragging this time, could be heard returning back along the lobby. Mabel went into the lift and took it down to the ground floor. She badly needed to get away from The Heights and all the worrying buzz of talk about Cheryl and what could have happened to her. Mabel felt she had to do something to distract herself, take her mind off the awful business. She would go and sit in Auld’s Bakery and Coffee Shop and feel the comfort of being near to John. Perhaps John came into the shop every day to buy something for his lunch. She planned to go every day. One day he might decide to eat in the coffee shop. If the place was busy, he might even sit at the same table as her. Her pulse throbbed with excitement at the mere idea.
It was raining outside and she was finding it increasingly difficult, almost impossible, to keep her balance with the strength of the gale-force winds. If it hadn’t been for the steadying help of her stick, she would definitely have been blown over. Indeed, as she was crossing the road, she staggered alarmingly and was only saved by a young woman rushing to grab her and help her to reach the bus stop.
A Deadly Deception Page 18