Lethal Ties

by Christmas, Helen

  “I’m so sorry,” Maisie breathed, “but that note! How can you be certain Danny sent it?”

  “I’m not sure he did,” he muttered, “which leaves one other possibility.”

  “Mortimer,” she concluded.

  A feeling of dread crawled over him as she toyed with her wine glass but in the aftermath of his story, their lives seemed even more connected.

  How strange they had turned the full circle.

  Mortimer. Yes, it all came back to Mr bloody Mortimer.

  “Do you wonder if he’s still around?” she whispered fearfully.

  “It’s not impossible,” Joe pondered. “That bastard swore he’d get me one day and maybe that’s the best thing about being homeless. Not many people know your name. You’re not on any electoral roll, nothing like that, no phone number, nothing for them to trace you.”

  “But you can’t spend the rest of your life hiding on the streets,” she protested. “What do you really want out of life?”

  “Same as everyone, I s’pose, a roof over my head, a job... don’t think I chose to be homeless. It’s shit! But more than anything, I wanna feel safe.”

  Her lips lifted into a half smile. “Then surely the best way forward would be to get yourself back on your feet...”

  “Yeah,” Joe nodded. “Maybe.”

  The shadows seemed to bend slightly, his mind and limbs turning heavier. Sneaking a glance at the cheap digital watch on his wrist, he was shocked to discover the time: almost one in the morning.

  “Anyway, enough about the past, I’d best be on my way now.”

  Observing him with tenderness, her smile didn’t waver. “Don’t go. I’m not turfing you out on the streets at this hour. You can stay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course!” she chuckled. “You’re welcome to use the spare room, unless you’d rather crash out on the sofa.”

  Joe closed his eyes, wondering if he had heard her right...

  ... and in that single flash of darkness, they were back in the laundry room, the place where it had all begun. He drank in her beauty, her porcelain pale skin and big eyes. At that moment he would have done anything to stop her going to that party.

  ‘Sit tight and don’t budge. I’ll unlock the door when they’ve gone.’

  A distant voice drifted into his mind, the voice of a twelve-year-old Maisie.

  ‘But what if they find out? You’ll be in big trouble.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, and that was the whole point. It didn’t.

  Confusion widened her eyes, a look of such innocence, he was damned if he was going to leave things to fate. As far as he was concerned, he had made the right choice and had stuck to it through and through.

  Chapter Fourteen

  In the cool silver light of Sunday morning my eyelids fluttered open. I was surprised I had slept so well after the turmoil of the evening. Yet none of it had played on my mind, and if anything I felt cleansed, for Joe’s backstory, whilst harrowing, had intrigued me.

  Creeping into the hallway, I paused by the lounge.

  A rectangle of grey light shone through the curtains, unmasking his silhouette. I could have smiled. From the rise and fall of his chest, he was sleeping peacefully, the top half of his blanket trailing on the floor. A grey marl t-shirt clung to his frame, his sinewy arms wrapped around his torso. But I saw a gentle vulnerability in him that stirred me, something out of step with the hostile world he inhabited.

  Feeling my way to the bathroom, I closed the door.

  Yet Joe’s face lingered. Looking back, I recalled the desperate gratitude in his eyes when I had offered him shelter for the night. He’d treated me respectfully, too, taking the invitation as it was meant. Joe was my friend and I trusted him.

  Happy to leave him, I wandered back to my bedroom and snuggling under the duvet, switched my mobile on. Spotting three missed calls from Jess, I felt an instant tug of guilt. Hardly surprising. Yet how could I ignore her when all it would take on my part was a friendly text to clear the air?

  Hi Jess, how are you? Sorry to let you down but seeing Joe was such a blast from the past. Give us a buzz later and I’ll tell you more xx

  Signing off with a smiley face and heart emoji, I arose to get dressed but my movements turned sluggish, my brain still a little fuzzy.

  Thinking about last night again, Joe hadn’t divulged as much about the care home as I’d hoped, my mind burning with questions about those parties. But as I drew the curtains, a creak from the lounge jolted me.

  Whatever he knew would have to keep for now.

  The more pressing issue was how to help him turn his life around, and it once again struck me what a deep and satisfying sleep I’d had, with none of the hooded monsters encroaching.

  Yes, Joe made me feel safe, Joe, my friend who had always protected me.

  Tiptoeing into the kitchen, I grabbed the cafetiere, tipped in a hefty measure of gourmet roast and filled it to the brim.

  Five minutes later, an aroma of freshly brewed coffee coiled into the air. Lingering by the work surface, I was still wondering what to say to Joe, when as if on cue his shadow spilled over the threshold.

  I glanced around. “Hey, you! How did you sleep?”

  “Very well,” he mumbled. “Thanks for putting us up.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  He was fully dressed now, in jeans and a cable-knit jumper, but as we rested in the lounge, taking alternate sips of coffee, the silence between us swelled. Not an awkward silence, more a companionable one, each of us mulling over what to say to the other.

  “Good coffee,” Joe piped up, finally filling the void.

  And as I lifted my gaze, everything snapped into focus.

  “Look, I’ve been thinking... Too many years have passed under the bridge to go our separate ways again. We never did discover what happened to Sam but wouldn’t it be good to get to the bottom of it? I don’t think I can move on until we do. And at the same time I feel like we should stick together...”

  Joe cast me a sceptical look. “Go to the police, you mean?”

  “Why don’t we just tell them what we remember about Orchard Grange?”

  “It’s complicated,” he argued, “not to mention dangerous if it means going up against Mortimer. We can’t prove nothing! I mean who’s gonna believe someone like me? Some scuzzy low life who’s done time, done drugs, and spent the best part of two years sleeping rough?”

  I took a deep breath, hit with a flash of intuition.

  This was my moment.

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it, but like I said, the best thing you can do is turn your life around. Get off the streets and find work. It’s not impossible.”

  “You can’t get a job if you don’t have a fixed abode.”

  “Okay, so I’ve got a solution to that, too. Stay here with me for a while. I’ve got a spare room. It needs clearing out and a bit of paintwork, but if you’re happy to help me out, then it’s yours!”

  Joe froze, coffee cup suspended.

  You’d think he’d be ecstatic but if anything his face fell, his defences rising.

  “That’s very kind of you, Maisie,” he said, “but have you got any idea what you’re letting yourself in for?”

  “I-I don’t understand,” I faltered, “where else will you go? It doesn’t have to be permanent, just a chance to get your life back on track. What’s the problem?”

  He expelled a light laugh. “Do I need to spell it out? A professional woman like you, used to your own space and independence? It won’t be like living at the care home, you know, and I’ll tell you now, men can be fucking gross. I learned that in the nick. You’ll hear me snoring and farting.”

  “Is that all that’s bothering you?” I retorted. “Won’t you at least think about it?”

  “You’re lovely you are, d’you know that?”

  A smile spread across his face. A warm, lazy smile, and with his eyes half closed, I felt my heart melt anot
her degree.

  “Now is there anything I can get for you? I was gonna pop to the nearest shop to get some razors and a paper...”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said, feeling the breath coil out of my lungs. “Just promise me you’ll come back!”

  “I promise,” he kept smiling.

  I was cracking eggs in a bowl for an omelette when I jumped at the sound of my buzzer. Thinking that it couldn’t be Joe back already, I rushed out to answer it.

  “Jess!” I spluttered in shock.

  My friend looked the worse for wear. Never had I seen her azure blue eyes so puffy, despite the concealment of makeup.

  “Can I come in?” she begged huskily.

  Rooted to the spot, I held the door open, then followed her into my flat.

  “It’s over. Steve is a total wanker! To think of all the amazing times we had, and it turns out there was another woman all along.”

  “Sit down,” I tried to pacify her. “Can I make you a camomile tea?”

  Jess nodded bravely but I could see she was fighting tears.

  Slipping out of her long winter coat, she eased herself into an armchair.

  “Sorry if I was ‘off’ yesterday, but I really needed someone to talk to. I never imagined you’d pass up an opportunity for a girlie night out - not for some homeless guy... and I know you’ve got a kind heart.”

  “Hey, stop right there!” I interrupted. “I’m sorry if you’ve been hurt but Joe is a very dear friend and we had lots of catching up to do. It’s been twenty years.”

  Turning towards the kitchen, I allowed the memory to bloom. Joe had always been the tough one, but now I knew his story, it was my turn to defend him.

  “You don’t know anything about him,” I persisted, “but he’s got a pure heart! Before I was fostered, I spent a year in a children’s home, did you know that? Joe was one of the few boys who actually cared about me.”

  “Okay, okay,” she relented, palms raised. “I didn’t mean to offend you but I care about you too, you know.”

  I fell silent, wishing I could find the courage to say more, but as I placed the mugs on the work surface, my nerves got the better of me. Sure, Jess was my best friend, but I was unused to standing up to her, conscious of her preening herself in the background, just waiting for her turn to offload.

  “Go on then. Tell me what happened.”

  Her eyes swam with tears. “He dumped me - by text!”

  Pouring another coffee, I resigned myself to do what I always did in this situation. My friend’s heart had been broken, and I had to stand by her.

  When the buzzer sounded again, she was still in full throttle.

  “Excuse me, do you mind if I get that?” I interrupted.

  Anticipating Joe’s return, I held my breath... but what a delight to see him there, teetering on the threshold, cheeks flushed from the cold and that winning smile.

  The door clicked shut behind us.

  At first Jess didn’t move, lips parted, desperate to carry on her story. A lull of silence bit the atmosphere before her eyes swivelled to Joe.

  “Well, hello,” she murmured in intrigue.

  I didn’t move, braced for her next sarcastic comment. To my surprise though, it didn’t come.

  “Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  “What, you don’t remember Joe?” I said, fighting to contain my amusement. “My homeless friend who was here last night?”

  My homeless friend who she had treated like shit off her shoe.

  “No way!”

  Her cheeks flared crimson as she struggled to speak.

  “Joe, this is Jess,” I broke in to save further embarrassment. “My best friend.”

  “Hi,” Joe nodded. “Good to meet you.”

  “We were just having a long overdue catch up but take a seat. Can I get you another coffee?”

  “It’s okay, Maisie,” he said. “I’m fine. I’ll grab a wash and a shave then let me know what jobs you want doing and I’ll make a start.”

  Watching him withdraw into a shell again, I felt the air freeze around me.

  Jess on the other hand, didn’t budge. Eyebrow raised, she met my eye with a grin and I could see that as far as she was concerned, this ‘homeless guy’ had suddenly become a lot more interesting.

  “Wow,” she breathed, in the moment we stepped outside. “He scrubbed up nice didn’t he?” Dominating the conversation for the last thirty minutes, she had finally decided to excuse herself. “And you’ve got him doing odd jobs already?”

  I felt a twinge of anxiety, but only as we loitered on the doorstep did the enormity of the situation hit me at last.

  It was time to come clean about my decision.

  “Look, you might as well know, I’ve offered to put Joe up for now.”

  Jess’s eyes widened. “Seriously? How do you know you can trust him?”

  “Call it intuition,” I said, “but I just do.”

  “Ooh, I get it,” she smirked. “So what really happened last night? Come on, fess up. There’s something between you two isn’t there?”

  “Absolutely not!” I gasped. “Joe and I don’t have that sort of relationship, we’re childhood friends, that’s all!”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  A wicked glint lit her eyes. “Well between you and me, I think he’s lush. I know I wouldn’t kick him out of bed. Maybe I should snap him up for myself.”

  “Jess,” I breathed. “You are unbelievable.”

  “What’s the problem?” she tittered. “You said you were just friends.”

  “It’ll never work. You’re too different.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know you, Jess. For a start, he’s got no money. He’d never be able to afford the lifestyle you’re accustomed to.”

  Jess shrugged. “I’m not after money, I want passion.”

  “And Joe needs a bit of looking after before you get your claws into him. He’s had a tough life, so please don’t jump on him too soon...”

  “Whatever,” she sighed and pecked my cheek. “It’s been lovely to see you.”

  The sun felt warm, a beam of light slipping through the clouds and onto her face, magnifying her beauty. I kissed her back. Perhaps she was only teasing me, but something about her interest in Joe sharpened my senses.

  “Tell you what,” she finished, with an afterthought, “let’s go out for a meal one night. My treat to make up for being such a bitch yesterday.”

  I struggled to take it in. Thinking about the omelette I’d been about to make, perhaps hunger had brought on a sudden dizziness, but the sunlight was dazzling me. Dots swirled before my eyes, and slipping back into the house, I closed the door to find myself in a web of darkness.

  With nothing but a splinter of light shining under my door, so deep was the gloom, I could not see beyond the hallway.

  Only a creak on the stairs alerted me to a presence - someone lingering above, watching me. I turned with a gasp, fearful it might be Paula again, until the spidery silhouette of a man took shape.

  “Mr Lacey,” I called up, “is that you?”

  He took a slow step, one hand clawing the banister.

  “Maisie, my dear, forgive me... I saw you had company.” He spoke quietly, a husky scratch to his voice that reminded me of his ill health.

  “You remember Jess,” I responded, keeping my voice light. “Anyway, how are you? Were you going out somewhere?”

  “Arundel,” he drawled. “Plenty of fine old book shops in that town.” He gave a watery smile. “By the way, I hope my car isn’t taking up too much space, it’s not easy to park around here.”

  Picturing his car - that huge diamond white Nissan Qashqai with tinted windows - I chose my next words with care.

  “No. Just thank God we’re the only ones here with cars.”

  Descending painfully, he reached the ground floor out of breath. His eyes were dark as flints as they met mine but nothing more was said. Just a polite
nod before he continued his way through the hallway and left the house.

  ******

  Braced on the other side of the door meanwhile, Joe knew Maisie had been seeing Jess off, the echo of her words resonating.

  Hearing her return, though, brought a vivid flashback of his own, his mind no longer in her flat.

  Tight-lipped and defiant, he stood in Mortimer’s office, the giant of a security guard towering over him. He could remember how much his arm throbbed, being hauled up two flights of stairs.

  ‘What the hell did you think you were playing at, Winterton?’

  Mortimer’s voice penetrated his mind like a video recording. Joe gulped back his terror. He should have known he would be in trouble, but the sadistic smirk on his colleague’s face had turned his blood to ice, the way he reached into his hold-all, uncoiling a length of steel hose.

  Yet none of it seemed to matter. That ordeal was nothing compared to the dread he had felt the previous day; of creeping back to the laundry room and finding the door unlocked, the silent gloom that awaited him when he saw the empty space on the bench where Maisie should have been.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dark thoughts festered in the man’s mind, fingers drumming impatiently on the dashboard. The recipient of his call failed to pick up, the ring switching to voice mail. Yet did he dare leave a message?

  No, this needed careful discussion, a matter so private, no one could possibly know how long he had been pursuing young Maisie.

  The reason for her brief disappearance a few days ago remained a mystery, yet he was prepared to let that go. The most likely explanation was that she had visited her foster parents, that respectable couple in Kent, both of them teachers.

  A covert smile edged its way into his lips as the memory surfaced. Something special about Maisie had set her apart from the others, but when Stewart and Amanda Reedman had applied to foster her, it had certainly been for the best. Anything to keep her away from that troublesome boy, who would forever be their nemesis.