‘I’m glad you could come,’ Destry said to her as he welcomed the twenty or so people who had been ferried out by car from Charlotte Street, with an unexpected kiss to the cheek for Kate.
‘I’ll see you later, honey,’ he said. And there was a more believable and warmer greeting as they went inside from Kevin Dunne, who looked slightly relieved to see some faces he recognized.
‘How’s it going, whack?’ he said, clapping Dave Donovan on the shoulder. ‘It’s nice to see a few familiar faces from north of Watford. And you, Katie.’
‘From the way Destry was going on about his housewarming, I thought he’d at least have the Beatles lined up and champagne on tap,’ Donovan said.
Dunne pulled a face. ‘You could say the place is a bit rundown,’ he said. ‘But you have to put that down to the previous owners, apparently. There was a major legal row when the old boy who owned it died and it stood empty for years after the war when a fire in the tower at the back made it unsafe. They were pretty happy to almost give the house away when Destry came to look at it.’
‘But no Beatles,’ Donovan said plaintively.
‘You might find some champagne but I don’t think Jase and John Lennon see eye to eye about much,’ Kevin Dunne said in spite of the fact that the speakers were pumping out the Beatles latest hit ‘Help’, their eighth number one, while the Rainbirds’ latest still languished in the middle of the charts, rising but only very slowly. ‘Anyway, aren’t they away on tour again?’ Kevin said. ‘Though I heard this is supposed to be their last trip to America. They reckon they work eight-day weeks on tour and are getting fed up with it, apparently. Though I don’t think Brian Epstein will be keen on them giving up. He won’t know what to do with himself if they stop.’
‘Yeah, well, he’s getting a bit above himself isn’t he, Brian Epstein,’ Dave Donovan put in sourly. ‘He didn’t need to put Marie off the way he did when she went to see him. He could have shown her a bit more respect.’
‘Have you seen her at all while you’ve been down here?’ Kate asked Dunne. ‘I thought if she was put off by Jack Mansfield she might have gone looking for a few Scouse shoulders to cry on to make her feel better.’
‘Not to my knowledge, though I’ve been pretty busy since I arrived. Sorry, Dave. Can’t help you with Marie. Anyway, come in and enjoy yourself. There’s booze that way and food that way and I guess if you want anything stronger you should ask Jase.’
‘You sure?’ Donovan asked. ‘I thought there were new laws about that sort of thing.’
‘I don’t think Jason’s noticed if there are,’ Dunne said with a grin. ‘Anyway, this place is pretty isolated. I don’t suppose PC Plod will even notice we’re here. Though there’s going to be fireworks later on too, I’m told.’
‘That might tell the police there’s something going on up here,’ Kate said, glad of the warning that there were things she’d do well to avoid if she and Harry Barnard were to remain on speaking terms.
‘They won’t bother, especially if they know that the Rainbirds are heading to number one themselves when the new record’s released next week. That’s partly what this party’s about,’ Dunne said. ‘The Beatles had better look out once we really get going. Everyone’s waiting for that bubble to burst, aren’t they?’
Kate turned away, took a glass of what looked like red wine from the glasses already filled on a makeshift bar in the room to the left of the front door and went for an exploratory stroll around an extensive and visibly aged house which had a curiously unfinished appearance. If Destry was genuinely restoring it the process seemed only half begun and was likely to take a significant amount of time – years she thought, rather than just months. The rooms at the front of the house had been given a coat of paint, the smell still lingering, and some furniture had been moved in, but towards the back rooms were closed off. What must have been the kitchens facing an enclosed courtyard were not even half finished and some of the doors were locked. Glancing out of the tall window halfway up the stairs, Kate could see a couple of caterers’ vans parked close to dilapidated outbuildings which said clearly that little or no preparation had been done here for the party. The place might be intended as Destry’s new home but it looked unlikely that he was intending to live in it any time soon.
She pressed on slowly up the stairs but the sense of abandonment only increased and it did not seem that anyone could have slept here recently. Somewhere boards creaked and she took shelter in a corner where a narrower staircase led up to another level where some of the boards were charred, her breath coming too fast as she hovered on the edge of panic. Some of the space was taken up with piles of boxes sealed up with plastic tape. She wasn’t sure how Destry would react to this intrusion but she guessed it might not be well. At the last moment at the flat she had tucked her camera into her bag and she had taken a few shots on the way up the narrow staircase and as she turned she took a shot of the sealed boxes too. She held her breath, realizing that away from the blare of the music below there was no sound at all above and that the creak of boards was coming closer. Someone else was coming up. To her relief, she recognized Dave Donovan’s voice calling to her as the steps got closer and she moved out of her sheltering alcove.
‘I’m here,’ she said in a near whisper.
‘What are you doing upstairs?’ Donovan asked quietly. ‘Does Jason know you’re exploring?’
‘I hope not,’ Kate said. ‘This house is not what I expected. It’s pretty well falling down in places. This part seems just to be used for storage. And there’s been a fire at some time.’
‘So I see,’ Donovan said.
‘I wondered where these stairs go,’ Kate asked, glancing up.
‘I reckon exploring up there’s an even worse idea than on this level,’ Donovan said cautiously. ‘You brought your camera,’ he said, sounding surprised.
‘Come on, just a quick peek,’ Kate said. ‘Two minutes.’
‘Very quick,’ Donovan conceded reluctantly, and switched on the light which illuminated little apart from cobwebs and dust on uncarpeted stairs which gave on to two half landings and a series of doors which were all locked.
‘When we were at the front there seemed to be some sort of tower at the back of the house, black and white like those old places in Chester, you know?’ he said. ‘You must have gone on school trips to Chester? This must be the tower or we wouldn’t be able to get up so high.’ Kate peered out of one of the windows and took a couple of shots looking down at the partygoers below.
‘I can see the swimming pool,’ she said and took another shot. ‘Yes, I remember Chester, but this isn’t as old as all that, is it?’ she asked.
‘Come on,’ Dave Donovan said urgently. ‘I don’t know why he’s bought an old ruin but I’m sure he won’t like us wandering around up here like this. Let’s get back to the party.’ They tiptoed back down the stairs to the landing and then hesitated at the top of the main landing where they met Kevin Dunne coming up.
‘I wondered where you’d got to,’ he said, stopping halfway. ‘What are you doing up here?’
‘I was looking for the lav,’ Kate said quickly.
‘Downstairs on the corridor to the kitchen,’ Dunne said. ‘Jason’s planning a big building job on this place but nothing’s been started upstairs yet, only a few architects coming round and contradicting each other. Some of us told him to leave the party till the place is a bit more ready but he wouldn’t. He’s an impatient beggar. And he’s been told that parts of the tower are not safe.’
‘Right, thanks,’ Kate said. ‘I’ll go then. I’m busting.’ She hurried past Dunne, closely followed by Donovan with Kevin Dunne watching them from above. He crossed the landing as soon as they were out of sight and went straight to the narrow staircase leading up to the next level. The landing was carpeted and offered no clues to Kate and Dave’s movements, but the next stage told a clear tale. Two people had gone another floor up leaving footprints in the dust going up and then coming down again.<
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‘Jason’s not going to like that,’ Dunne said under his breath.
SEVENTEEN
By the time the fireworks were due to start in the garden around midnight, Dave Donovan was seriously worried about Kate O’Donnell’s state of mind. He knew he was mildly drunk himself and guessed that she was much drunker than he understood: her eyes were becoming unfocused, her gait unsteady, and he had not exchanged a coherent sentence with her for at least an hour. He had watched her weaving between the guests taking photographs now and again as people milled around in crowds refilling glasses and eating the buffet food awkwardly as there were few places in the main rooms to sit comfortably. She seemed to be keeping the camera low and the flash turned off and he wondered if the pictures would come out at all but he assumed she knew what she was doing. As time went on they moved closer to the windows with the rest of the guests until the lawns and shrubberies were illuminated gold and red and blue and silver, the trees lit up by sparkling bands of light and the dark skies filled with soaring cascades of fire. He put an arm round her and to his surprise could feel her trembling.
‘I think you need a little break, Katie,’ he said. He took her glass out of her hand. ‘Let’s find somewhere to sit down for a while.’
‘I like the pretty stars,’ she said, suddenly speaking clearly but shrilly, pulling herself away from his arm and half standing leaning against the glass to gaze at the display outside again.
‘Have you been mixing your drinks?’ Donovan asked anxiously, guiding her with some resistance to a sofa where she slumped back against the cushions and closed her eyes and began to shiver.
‘Kevin gave me a cocktail,’ she said. ‘That was nice.’
‘Yeah, he offered me some of that but I didn’t finish it. It tasted a bit odd,’ Donovan said, wondering just what it was that had given the sweet drink such a weird flavour. But the amount of alcohol he had drunk seemed to make it too difficult to get back to his feet and ask Kevin the question.
Kate suddenly pulled away from him and then flinched.
‘What is it?’ Donovan asked, beginning to feel nauseous himself.
‘I thought … something was coming through the window … flying … on fire …’
‘It was just one of the fireworks, Katie. Nothing to worry about. The windows are all closed. It must have been a reflection in the glass. Where’s your camera? Give it to me and I’ll look after it for you. You don’t want to lose it, do you?’ She did not respond but handed him her camera and her bag. What had seemed like shivering was now more like shuddering and he noticed her arms, barely concealed by her flimsy silk dress, were covered in goosebumps. He took her hands and felt how icy cold they were, took his jacket off and wrapped it round her shoulders.
‘You’re not very well, Katie. I’ll ask Kevin if we can get a lift back to London. I think you should be going home. It’s late.’
‘It’s not late,’ Kate shouted so frantically that even the sound of the explosions outside did not mask her distress and many of the watchers at the windows turned to look at her for a second or two with uncomprehending eyes before the display took their attention again. ‘It’s not late,’ Kate said again more quietly. ‘We only just got here. It’s not late.’
Donovan glanced at his watch but did not argue.
Kevin Dunne watched them from the far side of the room where he and Jason Destry were paying little attention to the pyrotechnics outside.
‘I think you’d better move soon,’ Destry said.
‘The same as last time?’ Dunne asked.
‘I think so,’ Destry said. ‘It worked fine with our other little friend who took a trip. There’s been no comeback?’
‘Not a cheep,’ Dunne said.
‘Just make sure Donovan has had enough to keep him quiet. She’s obviously well away with the fairies. Just a pity she won’t remember much about it tomorrow. I’m not sure we’ve got the dose right yet. No one will want to buy this stuff in the clubs if it knocks people out completely.’
‘Well, it certainly seems to have done that for Kate. Pity, I quite fancied her,’ Dunne said regretfully.
‘Keep your mind on the job,’ Destry said sharply. ‘This is important. We might get to the top of the hit parade or we might not, but there are other ways to make money in swinging London. There’s a new club or restaurant opening almost every week and people with money are flocking in. I saw Terence Stamp in Alvaro’s last week and Marianne Faithfull the week before. It’s not just rock musicians – its actors and film stars and dress designers. The whole of the West End is swinging. Do you know Alvaro’s phone number is ex-directory? He runs the place just like another club. If your face fits you’re in, if it doesn’t you’ll never get in.’
‘Right,’ Dunne said impatiently. ‘I’ll take these two out the back way before they’re both completely out of it. I asked two of the cars to wait at the back in case we needed them. Looks like we do.’
Destry circulated among his guests again as the smoke from the display drifted away and the spectators at the windows headed back to the bar and the food which had now been laid out, and only the sharpest eyes noticed that the trees beyond the lawns harboured black-clad figures who did not seem to belong to the technicians who had supervised the fireworks. As soon as the display team moved off to their vans parked by the front gates the new arrivals moved smartly out of the shelter of the trees and round the sides and back of the house until a whistle was blown at the front and DI Brian Jamieson and DS Steve Pendleton hammered on the door, turned the handle and to their surprise found it opened easily.
‘They felt pretty secure out here, didn’t they?’ he said. Closely followed by a dozen uniformed officers, Jamieson turned off the lights briefly to attract attention in the rooms where the party was still in full swing and a puzzled silence fell.
‘Police,’ he said, hardly needing to raise his voice. ‘Stay where you are, please. We will need names and addresses to start with and then more details from some of you. Mr Destry, you are under arrest.’
In the melee of musicians and guests and police officers no one noticed Kevin Dunne slide out into the hall and quickly make his way to the stairs of the half-ruined tower at the back of the house with a bundle of what looked like kindling in his hand.
Dave Donovan was as oblivious as Kate seemed to be on the drive back to London and their unceremonious ejection from the car which had taken them there. As far as he knew, neither of the men in the front seats had said a word during the journey. But the shadowy darkness which was all he could see when he eventually and reluctantly opened his eyes told him nothing about where he had been dumped on an uncomfortably hard and dirty floor, or whether Kate was still with him or not. He felt incredibly cold, knew that he was shaking uncontrollably and felt an overwhelming fear that he had lost contact with Kate somewhere on the journey and that he would not be able to ever find her again. Somewhere he thought he heard a woman scream which panicked him enough to enable him to stagger to his feet, but when he tried to cry out to attract attention he could achieve no more than a faint moan. His mouth was as dry as sandpaper and he had little certainty in the dark void he had been consigned to of even remembering his own name. Struggling for breath, he dropped to the floor again and only then realized that he was not in fact alone. Someone else was lying face down on the floor beside him, and when he forced his hands to reach out he could feel a bare arm, the flesh even colder than his own, and the soft touch of silk and then, when he persuaded his fingers to reach out a bit further, a face and hair spread out among the scattered debris of a filthy floor.
‘Katie?’ he croaked, although he doubted that he had said it loudly enough to register. But when he put a hand on her chest he realized that although she was not moving and did not seem to aware that he was there, she was at least breathing, even if only faintly. He struggled out of his jacket, wrapped it over her and hugged her close in an attempt to keep her warm, but as his head very slowly cleared, the faint light of
what he assumed must be dawn revealed that they were lying under stone arches open on one side to a narrow, high-walled street with only one dim street light some distance away. As the daylight increased he could just about read his watch, although the face seemed to be changing shape, and saw that it said six thirty and at the same moment he heard the unmistakeable sound of a train passing, fading away and then braking to a high-pitched standstill. If they were near a station, he thought, surely he would be able to attract someone’s attention and get help even early on a Sunday morning.
He waited a while until he felt strong enough to scramble to his feet again, although he knew Kate needed help. He did not want to leave her and be unable to find his way back. He did not look at his watch again as a sort of helplessness engulfed him and the face of the watch seemed to grow and shrink again more or less at random, but he realized that the sound of the trains was becoming more regular. Somewhere out there a day was beginning and when Kate stirred and began to whimper and moan, he struggled to his feet, pulled her upright and staggered towards the street.
‘Come on, Katie, we have to move. People will be looking for us.’ But he realized that although she was upright she was making no attempt to walk. Half carrying her and half dragging her, still wrapped in his jacket which meant that he was shivering uncontrollably himself, he could see no obvious way through the neglected huddle of arches and narrow, littered streets which he could tell from the increasing sound of trains must conceal a station where he knew there would be help. Kate’s agitation grew and she started a panicked and incoherent monologue, behind which lay the belief that she was surrounded by a raging fire which threatened them both.
‘There’s no fire,’ Donovan said, struggling to hold her upright. ‘You’re safe, Katie. There’s no fire. What you saw was the fireworks, just fireworks.’
‘The tower was on fire. I saw it, blazing,’ Kate said mulishly and kicked and struggled until in desperation Donovan picked her up and carried her over his shoulder, although he knew he could not keep that up for long. To his intense relief, Donovan eventually saw a red phone box on the corner of the next turning. He struggled on, pushed Kate inside the neglected and smelly box and dredged through his coat pockets for loose change. Tess answered her phone quickly and he could tell that she was unusually eager to talk to him.
Playing with Fire Page 20