Mrs. M opened her eyes and smiled at Angelica. ‘Thank you, my dear. I feel much better now. My heart isn’t as strong as it was.’
They all studied Angelica’s face to gauge her reaction to her words but her face was impassive. Jack suddenly realized that Angelica Logan was as good an actress as Mrs. M.
‘I’m glad you’re feeling better, Margaret. I’m awfully sorry but I’m going out in a minute so I’ll have to ask you to leave.’ She looked at them apologetically.
Jack thought fast. ‘I wonder if my wife could use your toilet facilities before we go. It’s always a difficulty when we go out.’ He smiled at her.
Angelica was taken aback; it was impossible to refuse such a request.
‘Of course, I’ll show you where it is.’ She stood up to lead the way out. Lucy glided towards her in her wheelchair, glancing at Jack as she did. ‘I need to help her, Mrs. Logan.’
They went out into the hall and followed Angelica down it. There were numerous doors leading off the hall. Angelica opened one of them and showed them into an enormous room with a toilet, bidet, large sink and a luxurious shower at the far end; it was four times the size of their downstairs toilet at home.
‘We’re sorry to stop you going out, Mrs. Logan, but it’s always difficult for my wife when we go out. It always takes some time, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ll go back and have a chat with Margaret.’
Jack took Lucy’s catheter from the side of the chair and flushed its contents down the toilet. Such intimacies no longer embarrassed either of them; Jack had been doing such things for two years.
‘I’m going to have a quick recce, Luc.’
She blinked at him as he opened the door and crept out. Jack’s heart thumped hard against his rib cage as he looked around the hall; Angelica Logan could come into it at any moment and ask him what the hell he was doing. He opened a door and saw a large dining-room with two large French doors leading into the garden; there was nothing to interest him here. He closed the door quickly and opened the one next to it and gasped. In front of him was a Catholic prayer-room. A large dais stood in the center of the room and sitting on it was a two-foot-high Black Madonna with golden robes. Jack looked at the statue intently; the figure was pregnant.
So this was the statute that must have been delivered to Paolo Cellini the night he died. Here was the motive he’d been looking for; a statue that might be full of drugs. Jack put a hand up to his chest to steady his racing heart, closed the door quickly and hurried back into the toilet where Lucy was waiting for him.
‘It’s there, Luc. It’s there. Let’s get out.’ Jack felt like shouting.
They went back into the lounge where Mrs. M was regaling Angelica Logan with the same anecdotes she had told to Jack and Lucy in the car; but Angelica’s eyes were darting around the room nervously. She jumped up when she saw them and said, ‘I’m sorry, you must go – I’m incredibly late.’
Mrs. M and Jack thanked her profusely as she ushered them out of the house. Jack got Lucy into the car without saying a word until he was out of the drive and around the corner.
‘The Black Madonna’s in her house!’
Mrs. M gasped. ‘My God – does that mean Angelica killed Paolo to get it?’
‘I rather think it does, Mrs. M.’
‘It’s unbelievable,’ she answered.
Jack glanced at Lucy who was typing and read: almost cracked it jack
‘What do you mean – almost! It’s a bloody coup, Luc!’ The adrenaline surged through his body; he felt he could fly, then he realized that she was right, before he could go to the Met with his discoveries he had to get some more evidence so that his son could be proud of him again.
CHAPTER 33
20th December 2012
Angelica had carried on with her charity work as if nothing had happened; as if the bottom of her world hadn’t disappeared underneath her. She was good at acting; she’d been doing it all her life. Mark didn’t notice anything wrong, except to say that she was looking a little pale and perhaps they should go on holiday. How could she go on holiday with this appalling man blackmailing her? Each night her dreams were full of Mark’s horror on discovering that the woman whom he thought perfect was as flawed as a large carbon spot deep within a diamond. His perfect wife was not only a whore, but a child-killer. Mark had told her that the Albanian boy had died and when she had cried, he’d said that she was the most compassionate, beautiful woman he had ever met.
She was kneeling in front of her Madonna who could, perhaps, save her from the eternal fires of everlasting damnation. The front-door bell broke into her prayers repeatedly. ‘Please Holy Mary, don’t let it be him.’ She prayed fervently, but the ringing persisted and she knew that it was. She got up from her knees, trying to control her shaking and walked to the door. The ringing would continue if she didn’t answer it. She opened it slowly, trying to delay the moment when she would have to see him again.
‘Good evening, Mrs. Logan. I was just passing and I thought I’d drop in.’ He walked into the hall without waiting for an invitation.
Angelica closed the door. ‘I gave you £10,000 a couple of weeks ago. You can’t expect any more.’
He looked at her in mock surprise. ‘I’m afraid that’s exactly what I expect, Mrs. Logan. I’m sure your husband will have told you that the boy you hit has died; that makes it rather more difficult for you now, doesn’t it? Your husband wrote in his newspaper that he was determined to get a conviction for manslaughter once he discovered who was responsible. Do you want me to tell him?’
Angelica suddenly felt incredibly cold. This man had the power to destroy her life and he was enjoying the power. ‘I didn’t see the boy. Please believe me. I love children. It’s haunted me every night since it happened.’
‘You were driving too fast, Mrs. Logan and if you love children as much as you say, why didn’t you stop? Only a monster drives off after hitting a child. Where I come from, children are cherished, not killed.’
‘I didn’t mean to kill him!’ Angelica could hear herself shouting. She never shouted but she couldn’t seem to stop. ‘I didn’t see him! I didn’t see him! I didn’t see him!’
Rico hit her across her face and she slumped onto the carpet. ‘Don’t shout at me, Mrs. Logan. I don’t like it. I’m trying to be reasonable. Now here’s a solution to the problem that would benefit us both.’ He looked down at her, slumped on the carpet. He hated weak women. His Bianca would have hit him back, but then, he would never have hit her. ‘You give me a million pounds and I disappear from your life forever.’
She looked up at him in astonishment and wiped a small line of blood off her chin. ‘A million pounds! Where am I going to find a million pounds?’
Rico’s body tightened. He really hated rich people who pretended they weren’t. He started towards her prayer-room. Angelica jumped up as if she had been struck by lightning. ‘That’s private! Don’t go in there!’
What more invitation could I want? Rico thought as he walked into the room and stopped dead. Standing on a small dais was the statue he had been looking for since Cellini died – the Black Madonna.
‘Where did you get the Madonna from?’ he shouted as hurried towards the statue and lifted her off the dais, desecrating Angelica’s room. She was appalled.
‘How dare you go in there!’ She ran in after him. ‘This is my private space!’
Rico turned to look at her; his face like granite. ‘I don’t take orders from women like you. Where did you get it?’ He shouted in her face and Angelica was a jelly; she couldn’t speak. ‘You stole it from Cellini’s apartment, didn’t you? What a bitch! Not satisfied with being a whore and a murderess, you’re also a thief!’ Rico suddenly smashed the statue onto the parquet floor, expecting to see bags of cocaine inside it; there was nothing. He was stunned.
Angelica’s screams bounced off the walls. He had destroyed the one person who could have saved her. She ran over to her shrine and picked up o
ne of her antique silver candlesticks and smashed it down on his head. He collapsed onto her Persian rug, blood pouring from the wound in his head.
‘Are you insane?’ she screamed at him. ‘You’ve killed my Madonna! You’ve killed my Madonna!’ She collapsed onto the rug, sobbing as she gathered up pieces of her precious statue; She knew now that there would no redemption for her; she was damned for all eternity. She sat holding pieces of the Madonna for a long time while the man’s blood spread over the rug. She suddenly looked up at the clock. Mark would be coming home in an hour, she must tidy up. She stood up, thinking what to do. Dispose of the body, but how? She looked down at it for some time; then the solution came to her. She knelt down and rolled the rug around the body. She had to get it out of the house but she wasn’t strong and although the man wasn’t tall, he was stocky; she’d need all her strength and courage. Just as she bent down to lift the end of the rug, she heard the front door open and Mark called out ‘Angel.’ For a second, she froze, then ran across the room, opened the door and closed it before he could come in.
‘Your face looks flushed, what have you been up to?’ Mark said as she rushed into the hall. He came up to kiss her.
‘A few exercises. Thought I should keep fit.’
He pushed a strand of hair behind her ears. ‘In your prayer-room? Funny place to do exercises.’
Angelica held herself together tightly so she wouldn’t start screaming. ‘Lots of floor space. You’re home early.’ Was her voice normal?
‘Forgot my memory stick. Really sorry, darling, but I’ve got to go back into work. We’ve had a tip-off about a huge amount of cocaine being shipped into the UK. It’s a big story. I might be working on it for hours. Hate to come back and leave you so quickly. Will you forgive me?’
Angelica kissed him lightly. Perhaps the Madonna was still helping her. ‘Of course I will. Your work’s important.’ It took every ounce of her strength for her to be able to smile at him normally. ‘Go on. I’ll wait up for you.’
Mark stared at her in amazement. ‘I can’t believe I’m so lucky. Night, darling. I’ll be home as soon as I can.’
Then he was out of the door and Angelica slid down one of the walls; the effort of standing was suddenly too much. She didn’t want to go back into her prayer-room; she wanted to sit here and have her life back again, but she couldn’t. She stood up and stumbled back into the desecrated room. The rolled rug looked innocuous lying on the floor; the blood stains were invisible from the outside. She went to get some gloves from one of the kitchen drawers, then walked back into the prayer-room and started pulling the rug with the body on it towards the door. It was a lead weight. Half-an-hour later, she had only pulled it halfway across the room. She sat on a chair and breathed deeply. She had to find the strength to get the body into the car. She had to! Her Lexus was parked outside the kitchen; she started dragging the body again. It took her another half-an-hour to reach the kitchen door. She sat down at the kitchen table to rest and thought how she could lift him into the car. The boot was high. It was impos-sible! Then she remembered Mark’s hydraulic loading ramp in the garage and ran to get it. It scraped noisily along the concrete garage door as she pulled it. Thank God their garden was large enough to muffle the noise so the neighbors couldn’t hear. At last, she managed to drag it into place below the car boot; then stopped, panting with the exertion. She staggered back into the kitchen and dragged the body towards the ramp. It felt heavier now. Then she realized with horror that she’d forgotten to check the man’s pockets to see if he was carrying anything that would incriminate her. Groaning, she unrolled the carpet and shuddered as she saw the man’s bloody face again. She knelt down beside the body, taking small breaths to stop herself from fainting as the smell of blood reached her nose. Her hand shook as she searched into his left pocket. It was empty. She was so close to the body She could smell its sweat. It was rancid. She clamped her hand across her face to stop herself from gagging. How would she find the strength to continue without the Madonna’s help? She stood up shakily, glanced at the kitchen clock and groaned again. She had taken over an hour. Mark could come back at any moment and discover her leaning over a bloody corpse and her marriage would die. She moved over to the other side of the body. She couldn’t possibly lean over it to reach the other pocket for how could she look into the eyes of a man she had just killed? She closed her eyes and felt around the outside of his pocket with trembling fingers until she found the top and slipped her hand inside it; all the time willing her body to obey her. Her fingers touched a bundle of papers. She took them out and opened her eyes. In front of her was a small crumpled photo of a dark-haired woman, a receipt from a dry-cleaners and a parking ticket. Small traces of a small life, she thought. She stood up and willed herself to walk in a straight line towards the study and put the evidence into the paper-shredding machine. It gobbled it up greedily. She returned to the kitchen, feeling much stronger; the man was now anonymous. She rolled him up again and lifted the end of rug and dragged it out of the kitchen towards the Lexus. It took her another half-an-hour, but at last she got it onto the ramp and pressed the button; the ramp silently lifted the body up to the boot. She released the button and it stopped, level with the boot. The body rolled into the boot as she pushed against it hard. Suddenly, an arm fell out and Angelica leant against the car, feeling sick. She breathed deeply to stop the nausea. I’ve done it, she kept telling herself! I’ve done it!
Quarry Road was unmade so Angelica was thankful she was driving her Lexus as the car bumped over the pot-holes. Her headlights picked out all the posters of the new lake and gardens they were building on the site. She wasn’t interested in either, except in the knowledge that after Christmas the quarry was going to be flooded and then no one would ever find the body. And even if they did find it before the flooding, nothing would connect it to her. But first she had to get it out of the car, unseen. Fortunately, all work had stopped for Christmas, so the road was completely empty. She moved two of the barricades around the site and drove as near to the edge of the quarry as she dared and cut the engine. Thank God Mark had bought a ramp last year when he wanted to transport his motorbike. She got out of the car with a torch in her hand, but dropped it in alarm as a sudden flash of lightning streaked across the sky. She picked it up, then realized it was impossible to hold the torch and move the body at the same time. She couldn’t put the headlights on in case someone came up the road. She jerked as she heard a sudden rumble in the distance. Holy Mary Mother of God, don’t let a lorry come down here please, Angelica prayed, before realizing that the rumble was thunder. She opened the boot quickly, angled the torch inside it and got the ramp out. It only took a moment to get it level to the base of the boot, but it seemed an eternity to her. She steeled herself to reach into the boot to pull out the carpet, praying that another part of the body wouldn’t be exposed; it wasn’t. She tied some cord she had brought around the rug so it would stay in position; then wheeled the ramp over to the edge of the quarry. It was difficult seeing what she was doing as the torch light was directed into the boot, but there was a full moon so she could see the outline of the quarry disappearing into nothingness. She tilted the ramp until the body started sliding down it, then suddenly it was gone and she was sitting on the ground, shaking. Now Mark would never discover what she had done. She was safe.
CHAPTER 34
22nd December 2012
Everyone was eating breakfast in the kitchen, except Tom who was, as usual, drawing another picture for Lucy. Jack felt happier than he had for a long time as he looked at Tom who was unaware that his parents and grandparents were watching him with so much love; he was completely focused on his drawing. He had a natural talent, Jack thought.
He smiled at Lucy as Mary fed her, Jack knew Lucy hated being dependent on them, but there was nothing they could do about that. Lucy’s parents were still in denial about their daughter’s illness. They often spoke about them all having holidays together when Tom was older. He could ne
ver tell them of Lucy’s wishes because they would never have believed him.
As usual, when Jack’s thoughts turned pessimistic, he sought external stimuli; he reached for a newspaper and suddenly found he couldn’t breathe.
Yesterday afternoon a body was discovered in the Overlands Quarry half-covered by an expensive Persian rug. Mr Dick Pearson, a foreman at the site, had gone back to get some equipment that had been inadvertently left there. When he glanced down the quarry, he saw a rug caught on one of the ledges that had been cut into the sides of the quarry for access purposes. He was extremely shocked to see a leg hanging outside of it and rang 999 immediately. Within ten minutes the police and ambulance services had arrived on the scene. The man, who comes from the Philippines, was winched up the quarry and taken to hospital where it was discovered that he was still alive, but in a critical condition. Unfortunately, there was nothing in his pockets to identity him. The police are now searching the area for evidence. A police spokesman said that they have found a number of tire marks around one section of the quarry which have been photographed and will be analyzed by a team of forensic experts. If anyone knows of a missing Filipino man or has some information concerning this incident please call 101.
Jack looked across at Lucy; no one apart from her could tell that he was excited about something; years of keeping his face impassive in front of criminals, judges and juries had made him a master of disguise. Lucy typed something to her mother, then pressed a button on her motorized wheelchair and moved beside him. He held up the article for her to read; her eyes blinked fast; her signal that she was excited.
‘I think it’s the manager of the club, Luc.’
lets go into study she typed.
‘We’ve just got to check something on the computer, folks. Back soon,’ Jack said casually.
Mary and Colin smiled at him. Since they’d been staying with them, they had come to realize how close their daughter and son- in-law were and their animosity had disappeared.
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