by Penny Grubb
Chapter 34
Annie collected contacts the way a sick hedgehog collects fleas. She had a nose for information that might one day come in useful and she drew casual acquaintances into her network almost without conscious thought.
The real struggle was in keeping them all warm enough to be useful when she needed them. It took physical effort to be at the right leisure centre often enough to sustain a friendship; to make the rounds of the bars where people had lunch; to drop by offices at slack times when her presence would be a welcome distraction.
The inside information and knowledge she could pick up had saved her hours of hard slog over the years. Now she skipped from place to place, trying to find as many of her people as she could, to touch base, to drop words in ears that she was moving on, and that Pat Thompson was OK and could be trusted. Pat was too lazy to run any contacts network efficiently, but Annie hoped to leave her something.
It was early afternoon when she returned to the office, and as she climbed the stairs, she heard Barbara’s excited tone. ‘They’ve admitted it!’
She smiled. Her clandestine document copying had produced results. An admission by the other side made for an easy resolution and a smoother route to more business.
As she opened the office door, she saw Barbara clench her fist and give a crow of triumph. ‘That’s it! The conniving bastards. This is dynamite. It’s–’ She stopped as she saw Annie.
Annie worked on keeping her expression bland.
‘Message for you,’ said Pat. ‘From someone at the old people’s home. The old biddy wants to see the newspaper cuttings. Can you drop round with them?’
Annie gave a tut of exasperation. ‘I’ve just come from there. She said she didn’t want to see them. Or me, for that matter.’
Barbara turned to chivvy Pat. ‘Come on, let’s get to work.’
Annie listened as the sisters began to bicker over their next move. She decided to stay in the office and join in the debate, to make sure they set off on the right track.
Eliza could wait till tomorrow for her papers.
When she woke the next day, Annie regretted not having rushed back round to the home, because it left her with a task she could do without. It was Saturday, and she had planned to start on the serious business of wrapping up her life in Hull. Irritation rose against Eliza. Stupid woman with her antagonism and changes of mind.
But then she relented. What if it were too late? Eliza hadn’t been well. How would she feel if the old woman had died in the night thinking Annie had made up the tale about Digby’s death and would now never see the newspaper reports that Annie could have delivered yesterday? She picked up her phone.
‘Hello. I’m enquiring after Eliza Ellis. She wasn’t too well when I called in yesterday.’
‘Oh, she’s a lot brighter today. She’s quite her old self.’
‘That’s good. I’ll be round in about twenty minutes. I have some newspaper cuttings for her.’
A neighbour was coming in as she went out on to the street. Her nod of greeting turned into a groan of disbelief. Her car lolled down on a flat tyre, completely flat to the ground. How long had it been like that? Surely she would have noticed when she came in yesterday. Please let the spare be OK.
She stepped closer and realized the spare would not be enough. Both nearside tyres were down.
Today of all days! But how on earth–?
Heading for the boot of the car, she realized this wasn’t bad luck, and knew what she’d see before she walked round to the car’s offside. All four tyres flat to the ground. She looked closer to see the cuts where a knife had sliced deep into the rubber.
‘Bloody hell!’
She looked up and down the road. It was quiet now, but her car had fallen prey to a gang of kids in the night.
When her phone rang, she answered absently, her mind still on the carnage in front of her.
‘Hello, Ms Raymond. I wonder if I could have a word.’ The voice was so calm and controlled it took Annie a moment to recognize it.
‘Uh … yes, of course. It’s Brittany Booth, isn’t it? What can I do for you?’
‘Were you in court to hear the sentence?’
‘No, I wasn’t, but I know about it.’
‘It’s not like a prison term, you know. He might never come out.’
Brittany’s voice was calm but there was an underlying sadness. Clearly she still nurtured feelings for Yates. Annie had a lot to do today and wanted the woman off the phone, but she made the effort to inject sympathy into her tone.
‘This way he’ll get treatment. He’d have had a bad time in prison. It’s the best option, really. I know it’s hard after all that’s happened, but you need to walk away from it.’
‘Do you really think he’ll get the treatment he needs?’ Brittany’s voice washed over her, unnaturally calm yet with an undertone that betrayed turmoil beneath the surface. ‘Isn’t it more likely they’ll shackle him and fry his brain, or stuff him so full of drugs he doesn’t know who he is any more?’
Annie felt trapped and impatient. She didn’t want to snub the woman or lie to her, but she wanted her off the phone. She had to sort out her car. The plan had been to use it this weekend to get round to everyone she had to see. She thought about insurance, about having to report it and get a crime number, about all the hassle that she just didn’t need.
‘Brittany, you’ve been reading the wrong stuff. It’s not like that these days.’
There was a silence. Annie wondered if her no-nonsense tone had been convincing. For herself, she thought Brittany’s account probably nearer the mark, but she had neither time nor inclination to worry over Yates’s fate.
‘The thing is,’ Brittany said, still in that unnaturally even tone, ‘this wouldn’t have happened if you’d done a proper job.’
‘You know that’s absurd. Nothing I did made the slightest difference. No one but a handful of people even know about it. All I did was verify that Joshua Yates was wrong. Terribly wrong. A man died because of it. The court simply looked at the facts.’
Another pause, and when Brittany spoke, her voice was hard. ‘You haven’t a clue what it’s like. Have you ever been close to anyone? I’ll bet you’re close to your mother, even if no one else’ll touch you with a bargepole. Oh yes, this is about you. You’re going to find out what it’s like to lose someone close to you; to see them condemned to a living hell.’
As Annie began to speak, Brittany cut the call.
She looked at the silent phone and let out a sigh of exasperation. Brittany hadn’t accepted it after all. On a sudden thought, she spun round and stared at her car. Was this Brittany’s revenge? If so, she could live with it, but it was a bloody nuisance. And just in case it wasn’t, or if Brittany had something else planned, she called Pat and told her what had happened.
‘Annoying about the tyres, but the rest of it sounds like hot air,’ said Pat. ‘Any idea what she might have meant?’
‘I don’t know who she’d target other than you or Barbara.’
‘Well, you watch your back, too. It’s likely nothing but you never know.’
As Annie stood trying to gather her thoughts, a voice from behind her said, ‘Dear me, what’s happened here?’
She turned with a smile for her upstairs neighbour.
‘I could have done without it, today,’ she said.
He stepped closer and saw the cuts in the tyre walls. ‘Is it to do with a case?’
Annie smiled as she opened her mouth to tell him probably just kids in the night, but then she caught the gleam of excitement in his eye and said instead, ‘Yes, it’s the same case that I needed your flask and the ice for.’
‘Dear me,’ he said, with a beam of satisfaction. ‘You’ll be needing more than ice to sort this out. Now, would you like to borrow my car? I shan’t be needing it today.’
‘Thank you,’ said Annie, genuinely touched. ‘That’s very kind, but I’m sure I’ll manage.’
After he’d disappeare
d into the house, Annie rang the home to let them know not to expect her and to say she would post the cuttings to Eliza.
‘Yes, we’d heard. It’s your car, isn’t it?’
Annie felt her guts flip over as she stared at the immobilized vehicle.
‘Don’t worry,’ the voice went on. ‘Your sister’s been to collect Eliza. She’s bringing her to you.’
‘My …? Oh my God! No! No, you have to stop her. Quick!’
‘But they’ve already gone. What is it? What–?’
Annie cut through the bewildered tone to bark out, ‘Call the police. Eliza’s been kidnapped.’
She clicked off the phone. Her finger hovered over the 9 button, but then she did what she always did when it was an emergency and there wasn’t time for explanations. She called Jennifer.
Everything she’d missed came back at her in a rush. The whole picture. That feeling of being followed. The woman who’d come to call. Not Nicole. Brittany.
It had always felt odd that Brittany had gone to Nicole and not Charlotte. All that pretence at remorse was a ploy to learn all she could about Annie.
Then she remembered the irritating anomalies she’d blamed on her own carelessness. The red pin, too low on the board … a document out that she was sure she’d put away. Brittany had been in her flat.
Brittany had followed her to the home.
And with a disregard for the facts that could have been Yates’s own, she’d assumed Eliza was Annie’s mother.
Annie remembered Nicole’s words, the very first time they’d met. The woman’s insane. I mean it. You can see it in her eyes.
At last, Jennifer’s voice was in her ear.
‘Jen, thank God! She’s mad. Brittany Booth. She’s as mad as Yates.’
‘Annie, what are you talking about?’
Annie pulled in a deep breath, trying to slow the thumping of her heart. She gave Jennifer as concise an account as she could, sticking to the salient facts. Brittany Booth had kidnapped an old woman called Eliza Ellis and she meant to harm her to get back at Annie.
Jennifer absorbed the information, asked no spurious questions and promised to mobilize help.
A gentle breeze swept down the street as Annie stood breathing hard, trying to work out what to do next … which way to turn. Thank God for Jennifer and that she knew Annie well enough to take her seriously. It hadn’t always been that way.
Before she could return her phone to her pocket, it buzzed a new call. Annie whipped it back to her ear.
‘Yes?’
‘Annie, good to catch you for once. Just wondering about that emergency business and if you’d sorted it?’
Disorientated, Annie struggled to put a name to the voice. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘Because if you have, there’s still time to come out here. I’ve someone else lined up to do it, but the kids were all looking forward to having a real detective judge them. Mythical warriors, you know. They’re putting on a special show as well if you can come early. They’ve really gone to town on the theme.’
‘No, sorry, not a chance. Another emergency has just cropped up.’
‘Ah well, if things calm down, come on out.’
‘Of course, but I’m afraid I don’t have time to chat. I must–’
‘Oh, I didn’t ring for that. I’ve a message to pass on. You’ve been working with some people out this way, haven’t you? Name of Morgan.’
‘Uh … yes, I have.’
‘They’ve seen you on the posters, I guess. They left a message; wanted to catch you after the judging.’
Annie did a lightning mental reconstruction. Either the Morgans had had the christening, all had gone well and they wanted to thank her. Or they’d got cold feet about some aspect of it and wanted further advice. Either way, they were at the bottom of her priority list.
‘OK, thanks, I’ll ring them. Now I have to go. Bye.’
‘And if you can–’
The woman was still talking as Annie cut her off.
As she turned back to the house, an image replayed in front of her. That red pin … too low on the board … what had it held there? Fancy-dress … mythical warriors… That message hadn’t been from the Morgans at all.
At once, she was back on the phone to Jennifer. As she paced back and forth across the pavement, Annie became aware of people walking past, their glances straying to her four flat tyres, their faces betraying relief that this was someone else’s problem.
‘Brittany Booth thinks I’m judging a fancy-dress competition this afternoon,’ she told Jennifer. ‘That’s where she’s gone. At least I think so.’ She gave Jennifer the details and explained the call she’d just taken.
‘She won’t get that far,’ Jennifer said. ‘Someone at the home had their wits about them. They saw two people arguing in the car and then going off in a shower of gravel. They got a description and a partial number and there’s CCTV just down the road. We’ll have her before she gets out of the city.’
‘But can’t you just look up her car?’
‘She doesn’t have one. She’s borrowed or stolen one. It’s a black Megane, but don’t worry… Ah, hang on. We might have her. Got to go.’
‘Ring me, Jennifer, the minute–’
The phone went dead. Still standing out in the street beside her useless car, Annie decided to make one more call just to be sure.
She got Tim Morgan. No, neither he nor Tracey had left any message or even tried to be in touch. When he started to tell her the latest about their skeleton, she cut him off, then stood undecided. There was no reason not to go back to her planned itinerary. Jennifer’s colleagues would get Brittany. Of course they would. They might have her now.
Brittany’s plan had been to head out into Holderness expecting to find Annie judging a fancy-dress competition. Annie hated the feel of Brittany’s illogical thinking. Clearly, she wanted Annie at that village show, yet she’d slashed her tyres so she couldn’t go and get Eliza. How did she expect her to get there? She didn’t like how it felt that Brittany was irrational enough not to have thought that through. Would it occur to her at some point that she’d wrecked Annie’s only obvious means of transport? Would she head back here to the flat?
Or did the woman have some insane plan to go out there in her place, to get in amongst the contestants as the substitute judge? And then what?
She tried to tell herself that Brittany was angry and upset, that was all. She would come to her senses and she wouldn’t harm Eliza. She brought Brittany’s face to mind. The fanatical gleam in her dark eyes; her disregard for fact or logic; the well of anger she’d seen ready to erupt when Brittany was bested. She could find no reassurance in any of the memories.
Again, she was on the phone to Jennifer. And now Jennifer was beginning to sound impatient.
‘We’ll have her soon, Annie, whether she heads out of the city or goes to your flat. I’ll let you know.’
Annie knew she couldn’t settle to routine business. She had to join in the hunt for Eliza. She headed back indoors to take up the offer of a car from her upstairs neighbour.
It was as she pulled away that a text message beeped through on her phone telling her she had voicemail. She clicked the handset to speakerphone and laid it on the dashboard.
‘Where the hell are you?’ screeched Pat’s voice. ‘Who the hell are you talking to all this time? For God’s sake ring me the moment you get off the phone.’
She stopped to ring back.
‘Annie, at last!’ Pat’s voice was urgent and breathless. ‘Booth’s after the old woman … thinks she’s your mother. I was about to ring 999.’
‘No, stop. I’m on it. I’ve called Jen.’
‘But Booth’s taken her already. We saw her.’
‘I know she has. That’s why–. Hang on, what do you mean you’ve seen her?’
‘It clicked just after you’d rung. When I couldn’t get you, we went straight to the care home. The Booth woman was driving her away. We tried to follow, but we lost her.
Look, are you sure it’s in hand?’
‘Yes, Jen’s on it. Did you get a number?’
‘No, we were too busy trying to get after her. Flanagan can just look it up. It’s all in hand, right? Because I’ve things to do. I haven’t time to run around after madwomen.’ Pat’s voice became muffled as she added. ‘You can leave me here.’
‘Who are you talking to?’
‘Babs’s lass. I made her drive me. That’s why we lost her. If I’d been driving …’
In the background, ‘But Aunt Pat, I couldn’t …’
Chapter 35
Thirty minutes later, Annie pulled the borrowed car into the gravelled yard at the riding school. Vehicles were crammed in everywhere, the grassy verges churned to mud. She climbed out of the car and looked around.
A couple of people wove their way through the maze of cars, but the real activity was over in the big paddocks. Annie heard a public address system boom out, calling entrants to a show class. Between her and the hub of the action lay the barns and stable blocks. Built as a neat courtyard, a motley collection of lean-tos and sheds had been added over the years, their bare concrete blocks at odds with the brick and timber finish of the original.
‘Annie! You made it.’
Annie turned at the shouted greeting, to see a couple of young girls running off round the barn to spread the news of her arrival.
Her memories of previous visits were overlaid by the smells of horses and mown grass, but today with all the vehicles, it was the oily aroma of petrol that hung in the air. The sickly tang held in the back of her throat as she inspected every car, looking for a black Megane or something that might have been mistaken for it; looking, too, for any sign of Eliza or Brittany in any of the empty vehicles, though not sure what sign they might have left. There was nothing to find.
She decided to head for the action and find out more about the message, but she avoided the direct route through the courtyard. Although it appeared empty, she knew how suddenly the enclosed space could fill with ponies that darted here and there dragging their tiny owners and barging into anyone in their path.