Roadrage

by M J Johnson

  Mullings thought before he spoke. "In light of what has happened, it would be wise to remain vigilant."

  "Would you like a cup of coffee?" asked Gil.

  "Thanks."

  Gil led Mullings through to the kitchen. While he made coffee they talked generally. Gil told Mullings he'd been to lunch with his colleague Felix Blatt, and explained they'd been making arrangements for a forthcoming tour of the US.

  "Our kids were big fans of your books. The wife and I had to read them over and over."

  "In that case I'll understand if you're not too enamoured yourself."

  "Not at all," said Mullings warmly, "I think Mr Blatt manages to get right to the heart of what matters to children, but at the same time is able to entertain and amuse their parents too. Your drawings complement his writing brilliantly!"

  "Thanks," said Gil, placing two mugs down on the table.

  Mullings, after tasting his drink, returned to business, "I just wanted to keep you up to date with our investigation." He paused and took another sip, "You mentioned Geoff Owens as someone who might hold a grudge …"

  "He was the only person I could think of," corrected Gil.

  Mullings nodded, "We investigated, but he's ruled out. He spends most nights round his local pub, and it seems that Saturday the thirty-first was no exception. He is of course banned from driving. Frankly, Mr Harper, the man is a mental and physical wreck. I don't think he'd be able to motivate himself into organising something like this even if he had the desire to."

  Gil nodded, "I'm sorry I …"

  "No need to apologise," interjected Mullings, "It was a worthwhile course to pursue. I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you."

  "So there's nothing new, then?" asked Gil. It was hard to disguise the disappointment in his voice.

  "Our enquiries into Mr Chilvers' professional life have uncovered certain discrepancies. He'd been suspended from his job …"

  "Yes, a friend of Sally's mentioned that some time back."

  "It appears he may have had dealings with certain unsavoury types."

  Gil listened attentively as Mullings spoke.

  "It's alleged he may have been laundering money for a Russian crime cartel … very nasty people … drugs, human trafficking, prostitution."

  The possibility excited Gil, "Do you think it's likely? I mean, stealing my car, damaging my wife's portrait? It all seemed so personal!"

  "It does seem uncharacteristic … but stranger things have happened. These people aren't generally known for their subtlety … but then, Mr Chilvers wasn't killed in a terribly subtle way."

  "I suppose making it appear personal may have deflected attention away from them?" said Gil, feeling a surge of hopefulness that he may not have been personally targeted after all.

  "It's certainly possible," replied Mullings.

  The sense of relief was profound; it prompted Gil to reconsider Manchester. He explained the situation to Mullings; how it was a very important job for Sally.

  "If your lady friend would like you to join her in Manchester, then it's probably a good idea to be there," smiled Mullings.

  46

  The suggestion that he'd been used as a pawn to breed confusion and disguise the real motives behind Chilvers' murder brought Gil considerable relief. Next day, he booked himself a seat on the midday train to Manchester. It was Friday 13 February, an appropriate day, its producers felt, to open an opera that told such an eerie tale.

  Gil had left home early that morning to purchase a new car. Being completely ignorant on the subject, he'd asked Megan to go with him. She read magazines about cars and liked nothing better than watching all the blokish TV programmes about them.

  "I reckon a Skoda Octavia estate would tick all your boxes," she'd advised.

  He accepted her assessment without question. Megan drove them to the nearest dealership, he took a test drive, found the car agreeable, and signed the dotted line in just over an hour. The silver model he ordered would be ready to collect Monday afternoon.

  After this, they went back to Megan's for coffee and a slice of cake, after which he gave Spike a pat goodbye and was driven to the station.

  He reached Manchester with just enough time to check into his hotel, eat a sandwich and get to the theatre by 7.30. He rang Sally to let her know he'd arrived. There was no possibility of seeing her before curtain-up. She had arranged a seat for him in the third row of the stalls, and he discovered himself sitting next to David Simpson.

  "I'm really glad you made it," said David. "Last time I spoke to Sal, she seemed to think you weren't coming. I could tell she was disappointed."

  "I thought it would do me good to get away. And I wanted to support Sally, and Klaus too. Is he joining us?" asked Gil, pointing to the empty seat beside David.

  "Oh no, he'll spend the night treading the Dress Circle carpet like the ghost of Hamlet's father, terrified everyone will loathe his set!"

  As a novice to opera, Gil was unable to make any informed criticism. He detected no bum singing notes, and the audience, who he assumed were all more knowledgeable about opera than he was, appeared to greet each scene with approval. The subject matter, in light of Michael Chilvers' recent violent demise, was not entirely to Gil's taste. However, it was an operatic melodrama played out in a pseudo-medieval setting that really only existed in Klaus Williams' imagination. The set, once populated with its principal singers and chorus, grew into a spectacular organic whole. Sally's costume designs were understated to great effect within the powerful setting. Occasionally a costume, particularly those worn by Lady M, played by the extremely well-endowed Marika Novotny, lent an epic quality to the scene. At the final curtain call she received a standing ovation.

  There was great excitement backstage where Gil found himself being reluctantly led by David. Guests were already streaming into the principals' dressing-rooms and there was the unmistakable sound of champagne corks popping. They saw Klaus in the middle of a great throng of people in Dressing-Room One pouring drinks. He caught sight of them and gestured for them to come through, but David took Gil up a flight of stairs to a room marked Wardrobe. Inside, Sally, Roz and another girl were hanging up costumes. Sally, facing away from the door, didn't hear them enter. Roz signalled her comrade to say nothing, and led the girl and David out of the room.

  Sally must have sensed some change to her surroundings. When she looked round and saw Gil she let go the costume she was holding and rushed over to him.

  She was wearing a pair of old faded jeans and a baggy jumper. She watched him observing her and announced, "I look a fright, don't I? Haven't had time to put on my party frock yet. Don't worry, I clean up okay!" she laughed.

  "You look lovely," Gil said.

  FOURTH

  13 February - 19 March

  1

  Forty minutes after the curtain came down everyone, with the exception of the stagehands who were busy dismantling the set, had de-camped to a restaurant a few streets from the theatre. Here they were greeted by waitresses dressed in witches' garb serving Bloody Marys in plastic goblets; a Gothic nod to the bloodthirstiness of Verdi's opera. Most members of the company had walked the short distance in large enthusiastic groups and it seemed to take no time at all before the first-night party was in full swing. There was a prevailing view that the production could not be faulted by very much, if anything, and that all involved had contributed to its success. The company's self-belief, an accomplished band fronted by an excellent vocalist performing classic soul numbers, a plentiful buffet and freely-flowing alcohol made it a brilliant night.

  Despite his inbuilt diffidence, Gil found the evening great fun too. He was glad he'd overcome his reluctance about leaving home. Once he'd taken up his seat on the train at Euston, his anxiety and foreboding immediately began to dissipate. He'd grabbed the opportunity to become better acquainted with his newly acquired lap-top. Gil hadn't actually made a single entry in his diary since Chilvers' death, and had even considered abandoning it altogeth
er. However, the man possessed a quietly understated tenacity of spirit that only his oldest and closest friends might really attest to; the files on his computer may have been breached and his privacy invaded, but he would only give up recording his life, when he, and he alone, chose.

  During the journey to Manchester he had written:

  ... As the countryside flies past it feels like I am casting off the tensions and pent-up emotions that have been crowding in on me recently. I know where these thoughts would drive me if I let them ...

  The place was Gil's private hell, sometimes obliquely referred to in his diary as 'the crater'. He dreaded revisiting this barren moon of deepest hurts and darkest thoughts. He had always understood that too long spent brooding there might take him beyond despair to self-annihilation.

  Sally's claim that she cleaned up well was accurate. She looked great in a sparkling black dress bought for the occasion. Gil was barely able to take his eyes off her. At a moment when they found themselves alone, he whispered lasciviously in her ear, "You look terrific in that dress, but all I really want to do is get you back to my hotel, tear it off and ravish you."

  Sally's eyes shined with anticipation, "All that dark passion has brought out the brute in you! Can't wait!"

  Although the party was enjoyable, their dilemma was judging how much time would be deemed respectable before they made their exit. Despite an aching desire to be alone together, they managed to look relaxed, which under the circumstances wasn't hard.

  As 1 am approached they considered they'd stayed an acceptable amount of time.

  Sally announced their departure to the group of cast and production people they were seated with at a large circular table, "Gil and I are going to leave you!"

  There followed shouts of protest from the others.

  Gil, like a new-born babe in the face of theatrical worldliness, mistakenly thought it might help to say, "Yes, we're both quite tired and an early-ish night is called for."

  This only produced ribald jeers and much guffawing from Sally's friends who seemed fully aware the pair didn't have sleep down as top item on their to-do lists. Sally merely laughed along with them, as in fact did Gil, although his face flushed beetroot red.

  Klaus was sitting beside a standing Marika Novotny, who had floated over to visit the group. He had an arm about her waist while his head rested against Novotny's monumental bosom, proudly displayed in a low-cut gown. At Gil's innocent comment he looked up at the opera diva, "They want to go for an 'early one'," he said with a rude wink.

  The leading lady, who on stage just hours before had convincingly incited murder and been driven to madness by her evil deeds, laughed as uproariously as a fish-wife, then said in a very loud voice, "Yes, darleengs … have an 'early one' for me too!"

  As the group shrieked with laughter Gil's mouth ran as dry as Arizona at the thought of having any kind of euphemistic 'one' with Marika Novotny, who according to Klaus was a woman with huge appetites. There are some jobs a man knows he's just not up to.

  2

  Despite getting to sleep late, they woke early and lay in bed laughing, talking and caressing, in complete contrast to the frenetic love-making of the night before.

  They ordered breakfast in bed, and chatted while they ate.

  During the previous week, although they had spoken daily, their conversations had largely amounted to lists of things done during their day. Although he'd already mentioned it, Gil talked in more detail about the improvements to his home security, although he played down its real significance. On the subject of Jules' portrait he remained silent.

  "Was your alarm faulty?" asked Sally.

  "I don't think so," he answered, "I just wanted to be certain."

  "You read about this kind of stuff, identity theft etcetera," said Sally.

  "It certainly felt like a violation," he added.

  "Poor love," she said with feeling, "I've been surrounded by friends the whole time and had the show to keep me occupied. For what it's worth, I think you've coped really well."

  "I've muddled through," he said.

  Inevitably, the seeming lack of progress made by the police in their investigation into Michael's killing cropped up, and this dampened their mood for a while.

  "I'm surprised you still want anything to do with me," Sally confessed.

  "Why would I feel that?" Gil asked, astounded that she could even think such a thing.

  "Because you'd never have even heard the name Michael Chilvers if it wasn't for me!"

  "That doesn't make any of this your fault … you might as well blame Public Libraries or something!"

  Sally nodded and managed a weak smile, indicating that she knew he was right. Nevertheless, Gil could tell she still considered herself in some sense to blame for what had happened.

  He thought for a moment before he spoke. He'd been uncertain about exactly how or when to mention the matter discussed with Mullings on Thursday evening. Gil had no idea how Sally might react to this unexpected information and he didn't want to upset her. He considered the moment appropriate and said calmly, "The police told me they are investigating a possible link to the Russian mafia."

  "The who?" she asked, with more than an air of disbelief.

  "They think Michael may have been doing a spot of creative accountancy for some Eastern European criminals."

  "I find it hard to believe that even Michael would have done anything quite that stupid!" she said, nonplussed by the revelation.

  "Apparently, this was what was behind his suspension at work."

  Sally paused for a moment's consideration before asking, "But why would the Russian mafia go to such a lot of trouble to lay the blame at your door?"

  "I asked the same question. The police seem to think it's worth investigating though."

  Sally, clearly not too convinced, went on to say, "I suppose if the Bulgarians could assassinate someone with a poisoned umbrella on Waterloo Bridge, or Alexander Litvinenko could be given a fatal dose of radiation in a London Sushi restaurant … anything's possible!"

  "Who knows, it may be of value to these people to deliberately mislead the authorities ... lay some kind of false trail!"

  Sally nodded, there was some credibility in this argument but she remained sceptical.

  "I've been over every detail a hundred times," replied Gil, "Seems to me everyone who ever met Michael Chilvers ended up despising him. But to murder him? And to go about it in such a cold, calculated way? I mean, even if it crossed your mind to do away with someone, and over-riding any personal moral code that says it's wrong to murder, it would be very risky … far too many things might go wrong …"

  "And you might get banged-up in prison for a hell of a lot of years!" agreed Sally.

  Gil nodded.

  "Did you ever consider that it might be me … that I could have killed him?" she asked.

  Gil glanced sideways at Sally and gave a shamefaced nod, "Not for long. I think it would be the same for you as for Klaus or David or Roz, or the dozen others who despised Michael … me too! I mean, if you happened to be there in a car on a deserted road at night, and he just happened to stagger into your sights … nobody to witness it … all it needed was a bit of pressure on the gas … for a split second it might be hard to resist!"

  "When I was Michael's … domestic prisoner, I used to fantasise about killing him ... mad things like hitting him over the head with a cast iron pan while he dozed in a drunken stupor at the kitchen table. Once, he passed out in his car in the garage with the engine running … I actually considered closing the doors to gas him."

  "That's what I mean," interjected Gil, "We all have such thoughts."

  "Do you know why I didn't?" she asked.

  "Because you're not a murderer?"

  Sally shrugged, "I wanted to, believe me, I really wanted to! But the truth is, I was terrified of him!" As she spoke a solitary tear ran down her cheek, "Even if he'd been alone, as you described, drunk and powerless … and I was behind the wheel of
a car … I'd still be scared of him. Scared that in spite of his feebleness and my relative position of strength, he'd still somehow be able to exert his power over me, control my actions, cause me to swerve and fail at the last moment."

  3

  Sally was not required to be at the theatre until midday. This was for the production team meeting or post mortem as Sally referred to it. Apart from Saturday afternoon, the remainder of the weekend was theirs to do as they pleased.

  They went out for dinner in the evening with Klaus, David, Roz and ten other mates from the company. They were a warm and chatty group of people who it would have been extremely difficult not to get along with. A good time was had by all, especially by Gil, eager to enjoy himself after his recent troubles. He did wonder if Klaus and Sally had asked their friends to avoid mentioning the investigation, as no reference was made to it during the entire evening. He meant to ask Sally later whether this was actually the case and offer his thanks, but forgot and never got round to it.

  4

  On Sunday they rose at the moderately early time of 8.30, had breakfast in the hotel dining-room, and drove to Blackpool. Neither had been to this most famous of British seaside towns before, and afterwards concluded it was unlikely they'd experience any pangs of longing to return.

  They enjoyed a bracing walk along the promenade, pummelled by a powerful headwind beside a turbulent gunmetal-grey sea. Everything about the seafront seemed unremittingly drab, but the salt air was fresh and the exercise felt good. They ate seafood for lunch and took afternoon tea in Lytham St Annes. Despite finding Blackpool rather stark they still had a nice time.

  That night they dined alone at an Indian restaurant, recommended by the permanent staff at the theatre. Their only complaint was with themselves for ordering too much. They finished the evening in the hotel lounge on a large leather sofa with double brandies to help ease the pains of excess.

  Sally had two more performances at Manchester in the forthcoming week. Although everything looked fine to Gil, there were still changes being made and it looked as though Sally would have a busy time ahead of her before the company moved on to Bristol.