Lethal Ties

by Christmas, Helen

  “We did what we could,” I finished shakily, “but I-I’ll never forget one of the last things Sam said to us. Joe and I said we wanted to be detectives when we grew up and that we’d solve his mum’s murder...”

  Oh, those heart-warming words, his endearing chuckle.

  ‘I bloody love you guys, don’t ever forget that, ‘cos I want us to be friends forever.’

  Yet tragically that never happened.

  “Even Joe said he was too pure for the sick games those bastards had in store for him.”

  And the sickest of those games was the final party they had attended. Once the night was over, we never saw him again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  London

  Heavy clouds filled the sky, the threat of rain ever imminent. With the air turning colder, Thomas quickened his pace, grateful to reach the Pianissimo Tea Room before the first spikes of drizzle hit his trench coat.

  Even in this elegant quarter, north of Westminster, an abundance of sleeping bags lurked like slugs in the alleyways. Thomas clicked his tongue, irked by the growing manifestation of homelessness.

  Half an hour later, however, he was taking a bite from his miniature black forest gateau, the plight of the homeless forgotten. With another session in Parliament behind him, he could think of no better diversion than to unwind in this lovely café, especially with Poppy meandering between tables.

  “Everything okay for you, Sir?”

  “Couldn’t be better, thank you,” he replied, “absolutely perfect.”

  Oh, that wondrous smile.

  It lifted the gloom like sunshine, and even the chandeliers seemed to glow a little brighter. Deep down, he imagined he was one of her more ‘distinguished customers,’ the way she arranged his cakes on a beautiful tiered platter particularly pleasing.

  “I saw you in the paper,” she piped up. “What’s it like being in the House of Lords?”

  Heart leaping with the accolade, he laid down his cake fork.

  “Sweet of you to ask, my dear, and it can be very challenging at times but rewarding. We spend half our lives shaping the laws of this country.”

  “Seriously?” she said. “Must be cool to have so much power.”

  She would have asked him more, he was certain of it, but a movement from the counter distracted her. Only then did he spot an older woman, eyebrows arched as she flicked her gaze in the direction of another table. An elderly couple perched eagerly, eyes gleaming in anticipation of service.

  “‘Scuse me, I gotta go,” she muttered and with a polite smile, turned away.

  Disappointment sagged his shoulders. How he would love to indulge in conversation for a little longer, but with other tables to wait on, it would be wrong of him to monopolise her. Touched nonetheless, he mulled over her question.

  Much as he relished his years in politics, those stormy sessions in the House of Commons faded into insignificance these days. All bills had to be considered by both Houses before they became law. Poppy was right.

  This was the ultimate seat of power.

  With his mind still on Poppy, such thoughts drew his gaze across the café where the gleam of polished floorboards reflected a flicker of motion. Rain streaked the windows, blurring the outside world, but all the while he was fantasising about Poppy, it was easy to forget the austerity that prevailed beyond that door.

  Thomas sipped his tea. Wary of her presence, he felt a bubbling anticipation every time she veered close. But the next time he glanced up, she was putting on her rain coat. His heart plummeted. She couldn’t be leaving so soon, surely? He hadn’t even had a chance to tip her yet.

  “Where are you off to?” he called without thinking.

  Raincoat draped over one arm, she fished out an umbrella.

  “Home. With a bit of luck I’ll be in time to catch the 5:30 bus.”

  Thomas stole a glance at his watch.

  “Where do you live?” he probed.

  “Vauxhall Park.”

  An unexpected idea leapt to mind. A somewhat risky one, but not unthinkable if he wanted to keep up their camaraderie.

  “Don’t go, I was about to call a taxi. Would you like to share it with me? Vauxhall Park is only a little further on from where I live in Pimlico.”

  “Right,” she faltered. “It’s good of you to offer but...”

  “I’ll pay,” he added warmly, “if you could just fetch my bill.”

  It took one more second for the shine to spring back to her eyes.

  “Okay, you’re on.”

  Thomas smirked and dipping into his coat for his wallet, he knew he was being brazen. But if he yearned to develop their friendship, his only hope was to get her on her own.

  It did not seem long before the taxi cruised into a magnificent Regency terrace, ten minutes that passed in a flash, their conversation unrelenting. Yet how that pretty face came alive when she had slid into the back seat. The way she stroked the upholstery, breathed in the air as if savouring the freshly valeted interior.

  He found it difficult to take his eyes off her. As bubbly outside the café as she was in it, she seemed keen to keep the topic on his work status.

  “What’s rapping then? What laws did you get to change today?”

  Thomas smiled inwardly. How rare for one so young to show an interest.

  “One of the bills under the spotlight was the National Minimum Wage Regulations. Something that affects girls like you, Poppy.”

  “Yeah?” Her thickly lashed eyes flared with hope. “So did you agree to it?”

  “You mean did we approve the motion? Yes, though not without some resistance. What you have to understand, my dear, is that ever since the minimum wage was introduced, there have been widespread fears millions of jobs would be lost.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Okay, say you’re earning £5 an hour. To simplify matters, imagine if a minimum wage of £10 was enforced. Your boss would be tempted to hire half as many people, to make the same profits.”

  “Oh, right,” she mumbled.

  Glancing at her reflection in the window, he saw her preening herself. Her brow twisted with the effort of grasping his meaning.

  “Perhaps a slightly exaggerated example,” he added hastily, “though I’m sure you get the gist. To put your mind at rest, though, the majority were in favour of approving the motion, and I have to praise their enthusiasm in doing so.”

  As she turned away from the window, a smile curved her lips. Flattered by such attention, he felt his spirits lift. It wasn’t just his work she was curious about either, but everything else in life. His hobbies, his marital status...

  “Wow! What a awesome place! So which one of those mansions is yours?”

  The Regency terrace stretched far into the distance, an endless sweeping façade of houses, punctuated by white pillared doorways.

  “Mansion?” he chuckled. “I rent an apartment, my dear. It’s in this building here, the one with the red door.”

  “Oh, wow,” she gasped again. “So are you gonna invite me in?”

  Thomas froze, perhaps not the reaction she was hoping for, his hubris disintegrating to panic as he considered the ramifications. That her po-faced boss had seen her leave in a taxi with him was the first problem, but he had never once considered the girl’s curiosity would extend beyond that.

  “Not today, Poppy. My driver will take you home now.”

  Yet she wasn’t listening. Her hand tugged the door handle and the next thing he felt was a breeze flooding into the car. He had to stop her.

  “Poppy, please,” he insisted.

  His voice shuddered as he fought to stay calm.

  There was no way he could let her in; not after the rumpus that had arisen the last time he invited a teenager inside his home.

  Touching her wrist, he managed to stop her just in time.

  “What? It’s not like anyone’s gonna mind is it? You said you were divorced...” She looked crestfallen.

  “I-I am,” he said, �
��but that’s not the point...”

  He tried to smile, heart racing, as he raked through his mind for an excuse.

  “I can hardly bear to tell you this but my apartment is a mess. I’ve been hiring the services of a housekeeper but had to let her go recently.”

  A quizzical look illuminated her expression. “Is that it?”

  “What, you don’t think it’s a little shameful? Me, a member of the House of Lords and my home is in disarray? I fear people would lose all respect for me.”

  “Don’t worry!” she laughed. “There’s plenty of cleaning firms about and I’ve not long made some friends who work for a new company. It’s called the ‘Gleam Gals’ agency and yeah, it’s a rubbish name.”

  Her lively titter filled the car, lifting the atmosphere back to a safe level. And for all the while he clung to her incessant banter, she was filling his heart with hope.

  “Sounds like the answer to my prayers,” he answered dreamily, “a little domestic help would be a Godsend. Do you have their phone number?”

  ******

  “So what’s this I hear about Winterton?”

  Once again the voice possessed a smooth, mocking quality that infuriated him. Furthermore, it seemed hard to imagine a month had passed since Winterton’s return; four weeks of unsurmountable tension. When would it ever end?

  “I gather he’s got a job, but surely even he has had sufficient warning by now?”

  “The problem is he’s proving to be a right pain in the arse.”

  Driving into the South Downs to escape town, he could feel the blood surging to his temples. Even the surrounding views failed to calm him, a secluded spot where no one could witness his outrage.

  Hate was too mild a word for it.

  The last sighting of Maisie Bell had ended in disaster. If only their watchman could have been a little more discreet, but there was no question she’d seen him. Went swinging up to her car with her keys at the ready and he had only just shot off in time.

  Given the possibility their vehicle had been reported that day, there seemed no other option than to abandon it.

  “Doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere soon,” he hissed.

  “Then maybe you should think outside the box, Cornelius,” the caller laughed. “All these benign insults are a waste of time. You need to put yourself in his shoes and strike where it hurts. Think about what would really deter him.”

  Such words were bound to stoke the flames of his malevolence, and staring across the misty hills, he felt his lips pull back into a snarl.

  There was only one deterrent that had ever worked with Joe Winterton.

  Except Cornelius was no longer considering idle threats any more. If ever they were to keep him away from Maisie, it was time to up his game plan.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “You’re travelling by car,” Joe pondered, “and not by train?”

  “It’s quicker,” Maisie blurted. “I looked it up on Google Maps. The train journey includes two changes.”

  “So how long are you gonna be away for? You mentioned stopping off at your folks’ house on the way back.” His eyes wandered to her overnight bag.

  “It makes sense,” she nodded. “Swanley is only ten miles away from where Sarah lives and it would be nice to see them. So what about you, are you going to be okay on your own for a couple of days?”

  “Course,” he joked. “I’m a big boy now. I’ve got my job, plenty of overtime if I want it and I promise not to throw any wild parties.”

  Her smile brought a glow of colour. “That’s not what I meant, but I’m glad you mentioned the job. How’s it going?”

  “S’okay,” he said. “The hours go fast and the walking keeps me fit, I’ve just got to improve my picking speed.”

  “They work you hard, then?”

  Joe shrugged. “I guess they have to meet the delivery slots, but I am enjoying it. They’re a good bunch of people to work with.”

  “Good,” she kept smiling, “because I’ve got something else to tell you. I saw Matt on the way home and you know he shares a house in Canada Grove? There’s a couple of old mountain bikes in the shed left by previous tenants. He said you were welcome to borrow one.”

  “Aw, that’d be wicked!” Joe grinned. “I can cycle there in half the time!”

  Her green eyes sparkled, stirring waves in his heart, and he knew he was going to miss her.

  For the next half hour he was immersed in the news when a ping from his mobile alerted him. Grabbing it absentmindedly and assuming Maisie was in her bedroom, he was appalled to see a new message flashing up.

  @ShadowoftheGrange

  Still on our patch then @JosephofWinterfell you interfering cunt. We have ways of dealing with troublemakers like you if you remember.

  “What the f...?” Maisie gasped.

  Turning with a jolt, he had no idea she had been shadowing him. The fog in his mind swirled thicker.

  “Shit,” he spluttered. “I wish you hadn’t seen that...”

  “But what’s the point of me not seeing it?” she argued.

  The sob in her voice turned him cold, except he hadn’t yet grasped the full horror behind the threat.

  “Can’t you see it’s a retweet? Look what’s posted underneath.”

  Eyes moving to the photo, Joe almost stopped breathing. For there, coiled in a box like a snake, shone the ribbed metal surface of a steel hose pipe.

  #Premium_Metals sell ULTRA Tough Stainless Steel Hose Pipe £16.99 (regular price £55) #steelhose #garden #equipment.

  A blade of fear tore into him. For anyone else it was nothing more than a promotion for a garden product, but all Joe saw was an instrument of torture - one which his enemies had used to inflict pain on him.

  ******

  “I’ll be fine,” he placated her for the nth time. “Stop worrying.”

  Maisie had nearly cancelled her trip in the aftermath of that message but Joe wouldn’t hear of it. Anyone could tell how much she had set her heart on consulting Sarah, so why change her plans now?

  Winding down her car window, she fixed him with a last wistful stare. “Just promise me you’ll be careful and I’ll ring you later.”

  “I promise. Now best get on your way ‘cos it’ll be dark soon.”

  Touched by her concern, he watched her car disappear up the avenue. But the way he saw it, he had two choices. Cut himself off from all social media and revert to being a recluse. Or hold his head up high and refuse to let the bastards get to him.

  Two hours later, though, he was polishing off a chilli con carne he had cooked when the buzz of the intercom alerted him. He froze. There was no telling who could be calling at this hour and he certainly wasn’t expecting visitors.

  He raised a trembling finger to the button. “Who is it?”

  “Only me,” a female voice purred from the speaker.

  The familiarity of the voice drew a sigh from his throat and with no hesitation he pulled the door open.

  “Jess!” His face split into a smile.

  She looked as lovely as ever, in a figure-hugging knitted top, her corduroy skirt swaying around the tops of her high-heeled boots.

  “Maisie’s not here. She’s gone to visit an old friend and call in at her folks’ place.”

  “I know, she texted me...” and without waiting for an invitation, she breezed past him through to the lounge. “So what are you up to tonight? Can’t have you moping around on your own all weekend.”

  Lost for words, he turned to the kitchen, where the first sight to hit him was an untidy pile of washing up.

  “Sorry about the mess,” he mumbled, “it won’t take a minute to clear up. What can I get you to drink? There’s some wine in the fridge.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Jess smiled, “and congratulations on the new job, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Conscious of her eyes following him, he grabbed a clean glass. “Take a pew and make yourself comfy.”

  The clutter of dirty dishes on
the periphery was not about to disappear, but Jess sipped her wine while occupying the spot on the sofa Maisie usually took.

  “Handy to have a man in the house,” she piped up. “Lucky Maisie. You seem very domesticated, she’s trained you well.”

  Swirling the plates in the soap suds, he took a moment to absorb this.

  “No. I’m the lucky one. Dunno where I’d be now if we hadn’t bumped into each other when we did. She’s helped me turn my life around.”

  “So how do you two get on?” she kept probing. “I mean you live together practically 24/7. Got any plans for the future?”

  Still he refused to rise, hands moving faster as he rinsed the crockery.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me and Maisie.”

  “So tell me,” she pressed. “Didn’t you meet in some children’s home?”

  “Yeah,” he surrendered. “You know she lost her real family in a car crash? Not just her parents but a little sister...”

  Jess nodded and there was a sudden jaw-dropping silence.

  “Poor Maisie,” she relented at last. “The first time I met her I could tell she was sad, someone who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.”

  Joe nodded, curious to keep her talking. “How long have you known her?”

  “We met at a party three years ago but she’s a good listener, someone I could reach out to. I had problems of my own at the time, see...”

  Joining her in the lounge, Joe took a gulp of his own wine and guessing there was a lot more she wanted to offload, welcomed the stretch of silence.

  “I’d not long been through a divorce from my cheating shit of a husband. See, when push came to shove, he chose the other woman over me.”

  He felt a pang of sympathy. “Ouch! Did you love him?”

  “Very much so. Maybe a little too much but hey, at least I got a seafront apartment out of it. Hark at me going on about myself when we should be talking about Maisie, the perfect friend. Kind, caring and generous with her time. I can’t understand why she’s still single.”