‘Ingrid and I have held spare keys to each other’s houses for years. In case either of us got locked out. In case of … emergency …’ Her voice faded; there had been the worst of all emergencies and she had not been there to help Ingrid.
‘And did you find the cat?’ He had to ask; the beast might have come back. In which case, he had no way of identifying the intruder … the witness.
‘Not a sign of him. The food in his dishes was untouched and nasty, spoiled. I threw it out and washed the dishes and refilled them. I left them beside the catflap where he might smell them from outside and be lured in.’ She paused. ‘And then the phone rang.’
He waited.
‘It was a girl. For you.’
‘Girl?’ That explained what was bothering Edith, but still left him puzzled. ‘I don’t know any girls.’
‘Woman, then.’ She wasn’t going to quibble over a choice of words. Her look was knowing. She had caught him out – and it didn’t surprise her one bit.
‘I don’t – ’ He pulled himself up. He could not deny knowing any women. In the ordinary course of events, he knew quite a few. But not in the way Edith meant. ‘She must have had a wrong number.’
‘She asked for you. By name. She wouldn’t give her number.’ Edith was enjoying thwarting him. ‘She wouldn’t give her name.’ Triumph – and accusation. Running around with another woman and his wife not cold in her grave. Not even in her grave yet.
‘Then how am I supposed to contact her?’ He tried to keep looking into Edith’s eyes, ignoring the fact that what she thought was written all over her face. She believed he knew the woman’s number and her name, believed that he was deeply involved with her, perhaps even believed that the woman was his mistress.
‘She said she’d ring you again. At the house. Tomorrow at the same time.’ Edith did not bother to conceal her contempt. Yes, she thought he’d been two-timing Ingrid all along. And that was the one thing he was innocent of – completely innocent.
‘What time was that?’ Already tomorrow was spinning out of control. He was committed to taping that interview, now he would have to try to sneak into his own house to take a telephone call from some mysterious woman he knew nothing about. Who was she and what did she want?
‘It was about two o’clock.’ Edith’s lip curled. ‘I’d make a point of being there to take it, if I were you. She sounded quite frantic. She said she had to speak to you. She said that it was urgent … and private.’
Abruptly, the vague message made sense. He remembered his initial impression that the oddly shaped figure running away from the … the scene of the crime … might have been female.
She was female – and she wanted to speak to him. Urgently and privately. That could mean only one thing:
More blackmail.
26
‘Oh, no! Not already!’ Mags slammed the jug of milk down on the table and tried not to burst into tears as the doorbell pealed through the house.
‘I’ll get it!’ Robin pushed back his chair. ‘It’s probably for me. Jamie said he’d come over early and help me with my project before school.’
Mags slumped into her chair at the sound of the two boys greeting each other. Her nerves were fraying already; she should have known it was far too early for Mummy to arrive. She just wasn’t being realistic, but she was so tired. Josh had been civil, if not enthusiastically polite, to Mummy last night, but he had vented his fury on Mags later. As though she had ever had any control over anything Mummy might do.
‘Don’t make any noise,’ she called out to the boys. ‘Josh is still sleeping.’
‘We won’t,’ Robin called back, loudly enough to make her wince. She should have kept quiet and hoped for the best.
Josh would be in a foul mood when he woke up, whatever woke him up. It was too bad. He had seemed happy and pleased with himself when he walked through the door last night – until he discovered Mummy had arrived.
Not even a couple of joints after they returned from dinner with Mummy at her hotel and sent Robin to bed had improved his mood. If anything, they had seemed to worsen it.
‘You don’t want another one, do you?’ he had asked Mags, in a tone that dared her to accept.
‘No, thanks.’ She hadn’t taken him up on that ‘another’, what would be the use? Her last one had been at least a week ago and she didn’t want one last night. Josh was the one who thought they were a treat. Mostly, they just gave her a headache; she didn’t care if she never saw one again for the rest of her life. She only smoked them to keep Josh company, because he seemed to want her company – or compliance.
He’d given her a sharp look, as though disappointed by her response. He’d been spoiling for a fight and anything was going to set him off. She had narrowly averted a battle, but the effort had left her still exhausted this morning. She was in no shape to deal with Mummy today.
And that reminded her. She got up and opened the windows to air the room before Mummy arrived. Had Robin noticed anything? It was so hard to know how much kids understood these days. If you believed the media, drug dealers lurked at every school entrance in the country. Since her liaison with Josh and her growing awareness of the ways of the media, Mags no longer believed much of anything she read or heard. It couldn’t be that easy or Josh wouldn’t complain so much every time he had to renew his supplies. Of course, Josh liked to make a big deal of everything and it was a good excuse for an extra trip to London or Amsterdam.
Upstairs, Robin’s door slammed. Mags winced, but relaxed when there was no answering shout of annoyance from Josh. He was still sleeping then and, with any luck, would not wake until after the two boys had left for school. That should be all right. After all, how much noise could they make working on a school project?
‘Inside, quick!’ Robin gave Jamie a little push and shut the door behind them, but it slipped out of his grasp and slammed loudly. ‘We don’t want to let the cat out.’
‘Where is it?’ Jamie looked around the empty room. ‘Do you think it got out already?’
‘No, he’s hiding.’ Robin had seen the flick of whiskers being withdrawn back under the bed when the door slammed. ‘He won’t come out until he knows who it is … It’s all right, Leif, it’s only us. Leif …’ he called softly ‘come on out, boy. You’re safe.’
For a long moment, nothing happened, then a small head poked out cautiously and turned from one boy to the other. The sight was obviously reassuring. The rest of Leif slid out from under the bed and he advanced on them, chirruping greetings.
‘That’s a good boy, Leif.’ Robin ruffled the fur between his ears. ‘Say hello to Jamie.’
Obligingly, Leif moved over to brush against Jamie’s ankles, chirruping again.
‘He … he knows me?’ Jamie looked down incredulously. ‘He remembers me?’
‘He met you yesterday,’ Robin reminded him. ‘And this is one smart cat.’
‘Yes.’ Jamie extended a cautious forefinger and, as Leif sniffed it and then rubbed against it, a big smile broke over his face. ‘Yes, this is one very good cat.’
‘And nobody’s ever going to hurt him again!’ Robin glowered at Jamie with unexpected ferocity.
‘No, no, of course not.’ Jamie snatched back his hand guiltily, although he had only been stroking the cat. ‘He is your cat now.’
‘That’s right!’ Robin’s heart swelled at the acknowledgement. ‘He is! Go ahead,’ he added generously, ‘you can pat him. He likes you.’
‘He likes you better.’ Leif had gone back to weave around Robin’s ankles.
‘Well, he ought to, I saved his life.’ But the boast died away and Robin’s face saddened. He hadn’t been able to save poor Mrs Nordling.
‘I brought you what we need.’ Knowing why his mood had changed, Jamie quickly offered distraction. They had discussed the situation thoroughly yesterday and agreed that there was nothing else they could do. Jamie rummaged in his pockets, bringing out various packets and a small flat tin, the sight of which s
ent Leif into chirruping ecstasies as he abandoned Robin to hurl himself against Jamie’s legs.
‘I’ve got something for you, too.’ Robin crossed to the dressing-table, opened the drawer, took out the bulky envelope and brought it to Jamie.
‘You did not need to do this,’ Jamie said. ‘I would not tell.’
‘I know. I don’t care. Old Josh probably won’t even miss them. Probably.’
‘Thank you. But, if you get into any trouble …’
‘What? You’ll ask for them back from Kerry?’ Robin gave a hollow laugh. He was already in so much trouble that a little more didn’t matter. Probably.
Leif had stopped chirruping and now he uttered a peremptory yowl, his eyes on the flat tin Jamie was still holding.
‘What have you got there, anyway?’ Robin bent to soothe the cat. ‘He’s very excited about it.’
‘Sardines.’ Jamie carefully stowed away the envelope of cigarettes in a pocket. ‘I thought they would keep him quiet while we were working on him.’
‘Good thinking,’ Robin approved. He nodded towards the little paper packets Jamie had placed on the bed. ‘That’s the stuff?’
‘Cocoa … curry powder …’ Jamie indicated each packet. ‘Paprika … and turmeric, for some yellow. It is a good thing my grandparents own a grocery store. But you were right, the shoe polish was not a good idea.’
‘He washes himself too much for anything like that. We don’t want to make him sick.’
This time, Leif’s cry was so loud it startled them both.
‘Shhhhh!’ Robin whispered urgently.
‘All right, boy, all right.’ Jamie wrestled with the ring pull, which gave way suddenly. A little oil spilled to the floor. Leif dived for it.
‘We’d better spread some newspaper on the chair and lift him up on it.’ Robin had the uneasy feeling that it would not be a good idea to set Leif on the bed for this project.
‘Do you have a dish? He might cut himself on the tin.’ Jamie held the tin above his head. Leif had cleaned up the oil on the carpet and was now on his hind legs, raking the air with his forepaws, trying to drag down the sardines.
‘He’s got his little bowl.’ Robin brought it over. ‘If Mags notices it’s missing, I’ll tell her I broke it and threw it out. She won’t care. She doesn’t like the dishes, anyway. They aren’t hers, they came with the rest of the furnished stuff.’
Jamie dished out the sardines while Robin prepared the chair and hoisted Leif up on it. As soon as he realised this was bringing him closer to the sardines, Leif stopped struggling. Jamie set the bowl down in front of him and both boys watched with satisfaction as Leif lost himself in it.
‘I’ll bet we could burn the house down and that cat wouldn’t even notice until he’d finished the sardines.’
‘Hurry – he’s eating too fast.’ Jamie unfastened one of the packets quickly. ‘Start with the cocoa …’
Working swiftly, they covered as much of Leif as they could reach while he worked on the sardines. Mostly cocoa, highlighted with the other colourful spices and all of it well rubbed in.
When Leif lifted his head, stepped back from the empty bowl and sat down to look around, they moved in and set to work on the white fur of his undercarriage.
Leif regarded them benevolently. Stomach well-filled with a favourite treat, two friends fussing over him, he was a happy cat. There was just one more little thing to be attended to before he settled down to a well-earned nap. He lifted one forepaw and began to lick it.
‘Oh, no, he’s going to wash it off!’ Jamie was horrified.
‘I told you, that’s what he does,’ Robin said gloomily. ‘He’s a good clean cat, always washing.’
Leif hesitated and looked at his paw suspiciously. It appeared that, despite the overpowering aftertaste of sardine, some other strange flavour was filtering through to him. He flicked his ears and sneezed abruptly.
‘Maybe the curry is too strong,’ Robin said.
Leif shook the offending paw, put it down, and tried again, more cautiously, with the other paw. It was obviously no better. He set it down beside the first, hunched his head down into his shoulders and brooded.
‘Maybe – but it made him stop washing.’ Jamie pointed out the bright side.
‘I suppose it’s all right since he can’t see himself,’ Robin said doubtfully. ‘He looks awfully dirty.’
‘Yes, but he does not look like Leif Eriksson,’ Jamie said. ‘And that is what we – you – want.’
‘Right! That’s what we want.’ Robin gave his friend – yes, his friend – an awkward pat on the shoulder and they both stepped back to survey their handiwork.
The cat looked like a ragged, perhaps mangy, stray. It looked like a clown cat. It most certainly did not look like the elegant pedigreed Leif Eriksson.
Best of all, the cat neither knew nor cared. It slumped down, tucked its paws under its shabby frontage, closed its eyes and emitted a rough, rusty purr.
‘Listen!’ Robin’s heart gave a joyful leap. ‘He’s singing! It’s the first time he’s done that since … since he came here. He’s happy!’
27
Mags flinched when she heard the distant ringing of Josh’s mobile phone. She didn’t have to be intuitive to know that it was bad news. Anything that woke Josh at this hour was bad news. With luck, he could turn over when the call was finished and go back to sleep. Without luck …
It seemed no time at all before she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Thank heaven the kids had got off school just a few minutes earlier.
Josh grunted at her as he went past into the kitchen. She didn’t ask what was wrong. She’d find out soon enough.
He came back, slumped into the chair opposite her, slammed his mug of coffee down on the table and sat there glaring at it.
‘You can’t depend on anyone,’ he brooded.
Oh, thank you very much. She just stopped herself from saying it aloud. Last night had been unpleasant enough. If he wanted to carry on with it today, she was not going to be a party to it. Let him fight with himself.
‘Where’s your mother?’ He lifted his head and stared around, as though expecting an attack from ambush.
‘She isn’t here yet.’
‘Oh? I thought I heard the doorbell.’
‘That was a friend of Robin’s.’
‘I didn’t know he had a friend.’
‘Of course he’ll have friends, now that he’s started school. He’ll make lots of friends.’
‘And bring them back here to clutter up the house?’
‘Robin is living here now.’ Mags kept her voice even. ‘You can’t expect him to be a hermit. We’re not much company for him, he needs friends his own age.’
‘First your nephew, then your mother – and now your nephew’s friends.’ Josh slammed his fist down on the table, jouncing his mug, sending the coffee spilling over the sides. ‘A man can’t have any peace or privacy in his own home!’
‘It’s not a home, it’s a rented house. Another rented house …’
‘I might have expected that! Mummy’s been getting at you already, hasn’t she?’
‘Mummy hasn’t said a word. I’m perfectly capable of noticing some things on my own. I’m the one who’s been doing most of the packing every time we’ve moved, you know.’
‘Oh, I know, I know. I, of course, am not doing anything. Only making the money to support us. Even though it’s not in the style to which you were previously accustomed – as I’m sure Mummy keeps reminding you.’
Where had all the fun gone? In the beginning, breakfast had been one of the pleasantest times of the day, with private jokes and plans for the day’s activities. She’d had more laughs with Robin lately than with Josh. And those had been few enough. Poor kid, his life had been completely disrupted by all the upheaval. It was close to unforgivable for Eva to go off and leave him for so long and then to change her mind about returning and prolong her absence. Robin must feel as though his mother had been gone for ever
. It would not be surprising if he wondered whether she really was going to come back for him. The new husband must be a very persuasive character.
So had Josh been … once. At least, she had thought so … once .
She looked at him now, sitting there, hair uncombed, unshaven, unkempt. And it was deliberate. He’d thought Mummy was here. He knew Mummy disapproved of him – and he was going to give her a lot more to disapprove of. He was no better than the punters he railed at and despised, just a step up educationally on most of them. At heart, he was a pseudo-intellectual redneck. And now his sneering and jeering was being turned against her. He was waiting for her to answer, to say something else that he could pounce on, twist, and distort into something stupid, the way he did with the poor fools who phoned his show.
She averted her gaze and remained silent.
Silence was the one thing he couldn’t cope with. Silence, in radio terms, was ‘dead air’ – to be avoided at all costs. Silence set the listener to twiddling with the dial, thinking something had gone wrong with his radio, perhaps turning to another station, never to turn back. Couldn’t have that. Got to grab their attention and keep it, by any means – fair or foul. Silence was the enemy.
The room was so quiet she could hear him swallow, then the clunk as he set down his mug loudly enough to attract her attention. To make her look up – if she were so minded. She kept her gaze on her plate, absorbed in counting the toast crumbs.
‘I’m sorry, Mags.’ His voice had changed. It was soft, gentle, professionally appealing. ‘Shouldn’t take it out on you – but the day is shot to hell already. Didn’t even have a chance to get out on the wrong side of bed – that telephone call caught me flat on my back. And just about left me there.’
Mags looked up, her interest caught despite herself. Josh grinned at her in the old way, loving and intimate. That old familiar melting feeling stole over her. Despite herself.
‘The victim’s husband, the grieving widower.’ Now that he had her attention again, his voice reverted to a bitter whine. ‘The bastard cancelled out on me! Can you imagine it? “An important appointment,” he said. What could be more important than working to find his wife’s killer? Than appealing to the public to help us bring the rat to justice? Than an urgent passionate plea to mobilise the countryside into the old Hue and Cry to hunt down and capture the monster in our midst?’
To Catch a Cat Page 13