by A. B. King
“Oh?” she exclaimed interrogatively, rolling over onto her stomach and supporting her upper body on her elbows as she looked across at him.
“I’ll give you all the details tonight if you don’t mind; it’s a bit too public here.”
“If you wish,” she agreed unhesitatingly. “So, if there are no dark secrets to reveal right now; how about a swim?”
“I didn’t bring any trunks”
She laughed mischievously. “I could say, well, come as you are, only before you take me at my word, allow me to add hastily that I already have some ready for you.”
“You what?”
“After you had left for your appointment I wandered up to the shops with the girls to get a few things, and I spotted some on display and I thought; why not? So I bought a pair on the off-chance you could be persuaded!”
“Well, I’ll be-”
“I shouldn’t” she interrupted laughing, “it could be very embarrassing on a public beach! Come on, we just have time for a quick dip before the hungry monsters descend upon us demanding yet more food!”
She lobbed a bath towel at him as she was speaking, and then turned round to rummage in her bag. As she turned, Martin was able to glimpse her back, and immediately he saw the many criss-crossed scars of the old beatings she had told him of across the lower part of her back, disappearing beneath the material of the bikini bottom and even visible on the top parts of the back of her legs. Just seeing those scars, the mute evidence of the pain and degradation she had suffered in the past filled him with an overpowering desire to find and beat the hell out of the man who had done it to her. If ever he caught up with her husband he promised himself that he would demonstrate what a real beating felt like, and to hell with the consequences!
June turned and passed the swimming trunks to him, and wriggling in an exaggerated manner he divested himself of his clothes and pulled them on. He hadn’t been swimming since Alicia had passed away and it gave him an odd feeling to think that he was returning to it in company with another woman! He thrust that thought aside, and keeping up the banter he finally threw off the towel and challenged her to reach the water before he did. In the event it was a dead heat. They waded in and eventually swam out a few yards before disporting themselves in close proximity to each other.
They had been swimming and diving for maybe ten or twelve minutes when Martin dived down, and on surfacing realised that he had come back to the surface right in front of June. She was laughing and enjoying herself in a way he had never seen her do throughout their brief acquaintance, and she looked so appealing that he had to fight really hard to stop himself seizing her in his arms and crushing her slender body to his own hungry one. At that moment he wanted her as fiercely as he had ever wanted a woman in his life, and the realisation shocked him. For a split second she looked at him, and the laughter faded as she read what was in his heart.
“Don’t spoil it,” she whispered. “Just give me a little more time; please?”
He knew he had to back-pedal, and fast.
“I was just thinking,” he quipped to cover his confusion, “that you look good enough to eat and it remind me that I have had no lunch!”
“Then I suppose I had better feed you, you brute,” she joked, the laughter returning at once to her features. “Come on, with any luck we should get back before the human locusts descend in our absence and scoff the lot!”
Together they swam back to the shore, ran up to where they had left their things, and seizing towels they proceeded to vigorously dry themselves off.
“Right,” said June, dropping her towel. “Before we do anything else you had better let me put some sun-screen lotion on you; I can see from the colour of your skin that you don’t do this sort of thing that often!”
“Only with the right sort of girl,” he joked.
“Get down and lie still,” she ordered. “I’ll do your back, and then you can do mine, and then you can finish off while I get a meal ready.”
He did as he was told, and lying there on his belly, he discovered that her hands working the lotion into his back was something that was astonishingly pleasant. When at last she had finished, he said plaintively; “I’m sure I need more?”
“Any more and you would drown in the stuff,” she retorted happily. “My turn now.”
She lay on her towel, and he squatted down beside her, and seconds later he was gently rubbing the lotion into her back. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers felt even more pleasant than the sensation of her fingers had been on his. He massaged it in gently and liberally; slowly working is way down from her shoulders and towards her lower back as far as the waistband of the bikini bottom. He did it as leisurely and as tenderly as he could and wishing all the while it was something that could go on for a long time. He only desisted when he detected signs of her getting restless.
“You finish off while I get the food out,” she said, sitting up at last. “Guess I will have to be quick about it too, here comes the starving mob!”
Martin tore his eyes away from her, and saw Beverley and her friend Georgie bearing down on them
“Hi dad,” Beverley called, flopping down beside him, with Georgie collapsing alongside June, “It’s really great here, we’ve had lots of fun, haven’t we Georgie? I can’t wait to tell all my other friends about it. We must come again. Can we?”
“I expect it could be arranged,” he agreed a little dubiously. “I will have to think about it of course. I hope you two have been behaving yourself while I was away?”
“Depends what you call behaving?” she said archly, and turned over onto her back
It suddenly struck him that he had never really looked at his daughter before, not really looked at her as a person that is. Seeing her there that day on the beach he realised what June had already commented on; she really wasn’t a child any more, she was a young woman on the threshold of life. She looked so like her mother; slim, graceful, even elegant in a way, and seen on that beach in the smallest bikini he had ever set eyes on it was patently obvious that she was fast developing a woman’s figure as well! If he was honest, the brevity of that swimsuit rather shook him, although neither June nor anybody else appeared to think it was anything out of the ordinary. As Georgie’s was equally minuscule, he said nothing; accepting that perhaps his ideas of what was proper or otherwise were getting outdated. Although the girls were much the same age, physically Beverley was already leaving her friend behind in the development stakes!
It was a pleasant meal, and they stayed quite a while on the beach, with June and Martin soon being talked into joining in on various ball games with the girls and other people. When at last Martin suggested that it really was time that they set off home there was a chorus of disapproval from the girls which was only quelled when Martin finally promised that they could make another visit during the next official school holidays.
The return journey passed without incident, and they reached Springwater House just as George was setting off home. He stopped for a word with Martin, assuring him that everything was ok, and that Hugh Edwards had been, and had left about half an hour previously, saying that he would return on the morrow if the weather held. As Martin and June unloaded the car, the girls promptly vanished with the avowed intention of doing more to their tree house.
They hadn’t been home for more than a few minutes when the telephone rang. Somehow, Martin was not surprised to hear Charles on the line.
“I think you must be trying to set some sort of speed-record,” Martin observed. “You will be getting drummed out of the legal profession if you keep this rate up.”
“Then I just hope your so-called sense of humour holds up when you get my account,” Charles retorted good-humouredly. “I trust you will think it has all been worth it?”
“Depends what you have to tell me?”
“Well, although I hate to admit it I think your instincts are possibly pushing you in the right direction. Firstly, I have to confirm that your housekeeper�
�s husband is no longer inside. It seems he has been released on the government’s crack-pot early-release scheme some weeks ago because he has shed the required quantity of crocodile tears and expressed deepest remorse for his crimes, etc., etc. Naturally there are certain restrictions on him, and we both know how lax the authorities can be at times. He has advised his parole board that he is visiting Wellworthy ‘on business’.”
“And they have swallowed this?”
“Certainly, as far as they are concerned he has become a model of a reformed character. Naturally, at the moment they have no idea that his wife is in the same area; even if they did, it probably wouldn’t register as being anything out of the ordinary unless their noses were rubbed in it! Do you want me to advise them of a potentially dangerous situation?”
“If it was up to me, I wouldn’t hesitate.”
“Meaning?”
“June Brent is still very anxious to keep her whereabouts and identity secret. I will try to get her to see that we ought to alert the police to the potential danger of the situation; I’ll let you know what she decides.”
“Well, that is up to the pair of you to sort out.”
“What else have you come up with?”
“Some quite interesting information concerning Mrs Brent’s father Charles Edward Carpenter. His background wasn’t too hard to track down; the man has a police record. It seems that in his day he was a top-class wheels man.”
“What’s that?”
“He was the man who would drive the get-away vehicle from crimes such as major robberies and the like,” Charles explained. “The police know quite a bit about him and as far as we can ascertain from a preliminary investigation he was only ever convicted once, and that was more than thirty years ago. It seems he was an extremely careful man, well informed about forensics, and always ensured he left little or nothing for the law to go on when he abandoned a vehicle after a crime. Although linked to several major crimes he was never actually charged and convicted, apart from that one occasion. He suddenly disappeared from the scene without trace some twenty-five years ago. His wife made enquiries about him at the time, yet he was never found and the police eventually gave up looking. Just for the record, the car he was driving at the time he vanished was a Ford Cortina, registration No. RJT 260R. That has never been found either, even DVLA don’t know what happened to it.”
“In other words, you are confirming that he vanished at about the time his daughter claims that he came to Wellworthy to get a job?”
“So it would seem.”
“Well, from what she has said to me, she had no idea it was anything other than a genuine job; she has never admitted anything that would suggest that she knew her father was a criminal.”
“That does not surprise me; such records as my man has been able to gain access to suggest that he was extremely careful to keep his private and criminal life separate. Ostensibly he was a taxi-driver, and his extra-curricular activities were only known to a few major criminals, and of course the police.”
“I’m getting an unpleasant feeling about all of this!”
“I’m not surprised, and no doubt the feeling will be exacerbated when I tell you what else has been uncovered.”
“Go on.”
“As you suspected, at about the same time that Carpenter disappeared there was indeed a major crime in the Wellworthy area. I do not have all the details to hand at the moment, yet the little I do know is significant. Just to the north of Wellworthy lies a road that actually links in with the motorway some miles to the west. It is called Hollingbury Lane, and it is sometimes used as an alternative route by long distance drivers when there is an obstruction on the motorway.”
“I’m listening.”
“On this particular night, information having been received by the police that a certain metropolitan crime-lord was sending a considerable sum of money to another villain in Sheffield by car, and being informed that their route would naturally take them straight up the motorway, an innocuous census point was put up to snare them. It seems that the crooks somehow got wind of the fact that the police were stopping certain cars and searching them at this point. How they discovered this fact isn’t known, all the police were able to discover is that they diverted down Hollingbury Lane to avoid the trap. It would seem that the diversion was intentional because the car they were using was found at a point just past the junction with Waterman’s Lane the following morning. The driver and his companion were both dead from gunshot wounds, and there was no sign of the money they were reputed to be carrying. The identity of the victims was quickly established. One was a known London gangster with a long rap sheet; the younger man had no record, and was eventually identified as the son of the said metropolitan crime-lord. The identity of the killer or killers was never established, nor has there been any trace of the cash.”
As Charles was talking, things started to fall into place in Martin’s mind. Previously unconnected facts and suspicions started to form a pattern, and it all left a very unpleasant feeling deep in his gut.
“How was the crime discovered?” he asked as Charles finished his recital of the bare facts.
“It seems that the car and the victims were discovered by a local police officer out on a routine patrol.”
“Do you have his name?”
“Let’s see, ah, yes, here it is; Sergeant Burton.”
The name rang in Martin’s mind like a warning bell!
“Burton you say?” he exclaimed. “That’s very interesting!”
“Oh?”
“As you know, I went to see my uncle’s former housekeeper today. She told me that a police Sergeant Burton had been a frequent visitor at the house. She also said that she didn’t like the man, and believed that he was blackmailing the doctor.”
“Hm, sounds a bit unlikely to me; do you really think that there may be some connection?”
“You have to admit that is at the very least and odd coincidence?”
“Frankly, I think it’s a bit nebulous. However, I* will admit that it does tie in with something else.”
“Like what?”
“If you study a map of the area, you will notice that Waterman’s lane runs down to the end of South Lane where Springwater House is situated.”
“I’m liking this less by the minute.”
“All quite coincidental I’m sure, yet I grant you it might be construed as suspicious. On the other hand, you have to bear in mind that this crime happened an awful long time ago. There is absolutely nothing to suggest that your uncle or his home was ever connected with this sordid business. As far as I can see, the only matter that need directly concern you at the moment is the possibility that your housekeeper’s husband may be in the area. I’ll get on to that straight away as I promised, and if you are still concerned, you can always phone the local police yourself.”
“In the circumstances I may just do that.”
“So, changing the subject; have you decided yet what you are going to do with Springwater House?”
“What? Oh, no, not yet. I’m hoping to come to a decision over the weekend. I expect to be calling you about this on Monday.”
“Well, if you will take my advice, which I admit you rarely do, I would sell the place while you have the chance. Make Mrs Brent an offer she cannot refuse, and then you can forget all about this whole sorry business.”
“Maybe I will; I’ll sleep on it. Bye Charles, and thanks.”
“Good bye Martin.”
He replaced the phone and sat deep in thought for a few minutes. As far as he could see, everything hinged upon whether his uncle had been involved, however indirectly, with the old double murder that Charles had told him about. On the face of it, an absurd idea, and yet there were things that pointed undeniably in that direction. Was it just ‘coincidence’ that the police Sergeant who had found the bodies was the man that his uncle seemed to be in fear of? If the officer was somehow involved in the crime, had his uncle really killed him? If he had, what
possible reason would he have for going to such extreme measures?
Was it possible that the mysterious would-be purchaser was also someone connected in some way with the double murder? He couldn’t quite see how he could be, but the possibility could not be discounted. If, as Charles has told him, the car travelling from London was carrying a large amount of cash, what had happened to it? If no trace of it had ever been found, was it possible that it was still concealed somewhere in Springwater House? It would have to be a considerable sum indeed to warrant someone purchasing the place just to get at it. Was it conceivable that Hugh Edwards was the man trying to buy? Aside from all that, where did Peter Buxted fit into the picture, or didn’t he?
The suspicion that June’s father had been connected in some way with the crime was something that could not be ignored. He had come to Wellworthy for a ‘job’, and given his record, almost certainly it was connected to a major crime; why else would he abandon his position as a cab driver and vanish? If, as seemed possible to Martin, the car carrying the money had been ambushed, the robbers would have needed a car and an experienced driver to get them away from the area as quickly as possible. When all was said and done the question remained; did June’s father deliberately vanish with his share of the spoils to assume another identity and set up a new life? Even though June believed that her father would never willingly desert his family, it wasn’t impossible.
The only certainty, as Charles had pointed out, was that June’s husband was out of prison and in the Wellworthy area, and that was a totally different matter. There could be little doubt that if he was at liberty, he either knew, or strongly suspected, that his wife was in Springwater House. This would explain the attempted break-in, therefore the possibility that he would make another attempt to get at her was very real. He didn’t doubt that Charles would get onto the police without delay, but it could easily be some time before the man could be picked up and removed. Until he knew for certain what the situation was he needed to remain careful of June’s safety.