Vengeance

by Susan Lewis

  Before the police car had even left the street Laurence was on the phone to his lawyer.

  ‘Shit, I don’t believe it,’ Hellerman groaned. ‘It couldn’t have come at a worse time. Your chances of keeping Tom are right out the window now.’

  ‘But she didn’t do it, for Christ’s sake!’

  ‘Maybe not, but clearing her name before Friday’s hearing is going to be just about impossible, you’ve got to face that, Laurence. And even if we could, the fact that she’s been taken in . . . does anyone know? Were there any press hanging about?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘Good. Keep it under wraps for as long as you can. Now, where have they taken her?’

  ‘New Scotland Yard.’

  ‘OK. I’m on my way. Meet me there.’

  Twenty minutes later, as Laurence fought his way through the dense traffic of Victoria any hope he or Hellerman had of keeping things from the press were dashed the moment he turned on the radio. It had already made the ten o’clock news.

  For over three hours Laurence paced a featureless room in New Scotland Yard waiting for Hellerman who had joined Kirsten and the two detectives in an interview room. Eventually Hellerman came out and one look at his face was enough to turn Laurence’s stomach inside out.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked, feeling as though his voice was being dredged from a bottomless pit.

  ‘Good and bad,’ Hellerman sighed, shaking his silvery head. ‘Anna Sage and Jake Butler were definitely murdered. Don’t ask me how – I’m not sure I understand it myself. Something to do with the mix of liquid nitrogen and oxygen in the dry-ice you use for fog. It kills in a matter of seconds and leaves no trace.’

  ‘So how do they know now what it was?’

  ‘They’ve received information, they’re not saying who from yet . . .’

  ‘It’s got to be Dyllis Fisher,’ Laurence stated. ‘She told Campbell she could prove it was Kirsten.’

  ‘You could be right,’ Hellerman said. ‘But remember she wasn’t there when it was done. So there’s someone else involved here.’

  ‘Helena Johnson.’

  Hellerman shook his head. ‘I don’t know. They’re going to have to tell me eventually, but I’m going to recommend that Ernie Shore takes the case from here. It’s not my field and he’s one of the best criminal lawyers . . .’

  Laurence winced. ‘What about bail?’ he asked.

  Hellerman was taking a mobile phone from his briefcase. ‘You don’t need to worry about that unless she’s charged. But if she is, can you raise it?’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Laurence declared rashly.

  Hellerman eyed him sceptically. ‘If they don’t charge her then there’s a chance we can have her out of here before the end of the day,’ he said. ‘But if I were you, Laurence, I’d go back home and get Tom out of that house pretty sharpish.’

  ‘Can’t I see her?’

  ‘Not yet, no. And to be frank, mate, the best thing you can do now is distance yourself as far from her as you can.’

  ‘Are you serious? You think I’m going to run out on her at a time . . .’

  ‘Be sensible, Laurence. You want to keep your son, don’t you? Well you’ve really got your work cut out now. You heard the news I take it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then do as I say. Go home, get Tom and take him to your parent’s place.’

  But for the moment Laurence couldn’t see beyond what was happening there. ‘The dry-ice?’ he said. ‘You say it was tampered with?’

  Hellerman nodded. ‘Put me on to Ernie Shore,’ he said into the phone. He raised a hand as Laurence started to speak again. ‘OK, have him call me on this number the minute he gets there. A matter of urgency, tell him.’

  ‘But the forensic team checked those machines right after Anna died,’ Laurence said. ‘They found nothing wrong with them.’

  ‘No. They wouldn’t. Apparently once out of a confined space the gas rebalances itself.’

  Laurence was shaking his head. ‘But how the hell would Kirsten know about something like that?’

  ‘She probably doesn’t, but how’s she going to prove she doesn’t?’

  ‘I thought a person was innocent until proven guilty,’ Laurence remarked savagely.

  ‘So they tell me. But as far as the police are seeing it right now, Kirsten had a motive for killing Anna Sage. She also had a motive for getting rid of Jake Butler, or so they claim.’

  ‘This can’t be happening,’ Laurence cried, dashing a hand through his already dishevelled hair. ‘It’s a fucking nightmare. It has to be. How’s she taking it?’

  ‘Pretty well, considering. Still a bit dazed though.’

  ‘When will I be able to see her?’

  ‘Laurence, think of Tom, will you? He’s got to come first right now.’

  It cut hard with Laurence to know that Hellerman was right and that there really was no more he could do for Kirsten at the moment, but in the end he had to accept it and telling Hellerman to call him the minute he heard anything Laurence returned to his car.

  As he drove through the rain-soaked London streets the whole nightmare was running through his mind with a cruelty that made him want to lash out for the sheer madness of it. Who the hell could hate Kirsten so much to want to do this to her? Dyllis Fisher was the obvious answer, but like Hellerman said, Dyllis wasn’t there when it happened. So had Dyllis paid someone to do it? Helena Johnson? Had Dyllis given Helena money to kill two people and make it look like Kirsten had done it? But Jesus Christ why? What reason could Helena have to hate Kirsten that much?

  Almost missing a red light on Sloane Square he screeched to a halt then snatched up the car phone. A few seconds later he had Campbell on the line.

  ‘Laurence, is that you?’ Campbell cried through the interference. ‘Where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you!’

  ‘I’m in the car on my way home,’ Laurence shouted. ‘Where’s Helena?’

  ‘The police have just taken her in.’

  ‘Did she do it, Dermott? Tell me, I’ve got to know.’

  ‘The honest answer? I don’t know. I don’t think she did, but, shit, Laurence . . .’

  ‘What did she tell you about that tape?’

  ‘She said she had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Yeah, well she isn’t going to admit to it, is she? Not when she’s trying to put Kirsten in the frame. Have you been able to find out anything more about what Dyllis knows?’

  ‘Not really. Her secretary says she’s never seen Helena anywhere near Dyllis’s office. Do you know yet how they died?’

  ‘Yeah. Something to do with the mix of dry-ice. Ring any bells?’

  ‘No. All I know is that Helena told me Elizabeth Bradley tripped over one of those things when she was going to get help for Jake. It was how she broke her leg.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Laurence said, ‘she did. It set it off.’ He was racking his brains to remember what else had happened that afternoon. Elizabeth had fallen, the dry-ice machine had tipped over . . . Hadn’t Elizabeth said something about falling against the door? Yes, she had, that was why they had carried her to the drawing room, to get her out of the way so they could get inside to Jake. Christ, this could mean that Jake’s death really was an accident. He’d been shut inside that room, already unconscious, with a lethal mix of chemicals . . . But why was the dry-ice there at that moment? Who was going to be playing that scene? Elizabeth, Frank . . . The camera boys would have been in there, sound, effects, Jesus, it would have killed the whole damned lot of them. Unless . . .

  ‘Laurence, are you still there?’ Campbell shouted through the static.

  ‘Yeah, I’m here. Look Dermott, do me a favour,’ he said, digging into his pocket for his address book. ‘I’m going to give you the number of the chief location manager on the movie. Get in touch with him and ask him who was in charge of props the day Jake died. He’ll have it there on the schedule. And ask him how many dry-ice machines were
prepared for use that afternoon.’

  ‘Got it,’ Campbell said. ‘Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking?’

  ‘That Jake’s death was an accident. That someone took that machine from the store in all innocence and put it on the set for rehearsals. In other words, whoever tampered with it probably wasn’t expecting it to leave the store when it did.’

  ‘Shit,’ Campbell muttered. ‘Are you saying that it had been got ready for someone else?’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying. That’s why I want to know how many machines were primed for use that day. If it was more than one, which it would have been because we were staging a fire, then I’ll stake my life on the fact that someone had other plans for that particular cannister. It could well be that it was never intended for use on the set at all.’

  ‘Meaning that someone, not Jake Butler, was scheduled for the Stygian ferry that day?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Laurence answered. ‘But I don’t want to get into that right now. I’ll call you back in an hour.’

  By now he had arrived home, but he continued to sit in the car, thoughts galloping through his head as randomly and anarchically as the rain beating against the windscreen. He was so tense that every muscle in his body jarred. He was so afraid that no reason could break through the disjointed maelstrom of his mind. He had to calm down, he knew that, but how the hell he was going to manage it was beyond him. But something wasn’t adding up, he knew that, both he and Kirsten had missed something somewhere, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what. Everything pointed so conclusively to Dyllis but, he had to ask himself, would a woman in Dyllis Fisher’s position really go so far as to plot two murders in order to revenge herself on Kirsten? Sure, it took one hell of a brain to pull off something that could defy even a coroner, and doubtless Dyllis had that kind of brain. What was more she had Kirsten’s neck in a noose now, which was where she’d always wanted it. But he couldn’t believe that she’d put her own neck on the line by trying to frame up something like this. It was too risky, she’d stand to lose everything if she was found out, and she’d have to know that there was every chance she would be. And there it was again, that niggardly suspicion flickering elusively in his mind, that he was missing something somewhere, something so obvious and so vital that it was going to change the face of everything.

  He got out of the car and walked to the front door. His head was pounding, his hand barely steady as he inserted the key in the lock.

  He closed the door behind him, saw a pile of mail on the table and next to it a well-thumbed copy of the Moyna O’Malley script. And it was then that it hit him – so forcefully, so blindingly and so repellently that his head jerked back as though the horrendous realization had struck him a physical blow. Ruby!

  Ruby, with her stifling protectiveness . . . Her unnatural hatred of every woman he got close to . . . Her incessant struggle to make him her own . . . The changes in the script just before those two crucial scenes . . . The number of times dry-ice was referred to in the stage directions . . .

  ‘Jesus Holy Christ,’ he muttered falling back against the door.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  He looked up to see Jane standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

  ‘I thought I heard you come in,’ she said in a tremulous voice. ‘What’s happening?’

  What was happening? Jesus Christ, just that the world was ending, nothing more than that. That his own mother could do this to the woman he loved . . . That she could wreck his chances of keeping his son in the hope of having him all to herself. Jesus Christ! Ruby had even confessed to both murders but no one had taken her seriously!

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ he said. ‘Where’s Tom?’

  ‘Asleep.’

  ‘Go and wake him, we’re taking him to my parents.’ Dear God, how was he going to deal with this? How was he going to face Thea when her animosity towards Kirsten was already something he could barely tolerate?

  As Jane went upstairs the telephone rang. Laurence snatched it up.

  ‘Laurence, hello there, it’s Frank, Frank Cottle.’

  ‘Oh yes, hello. She’s right here.’ Calling Jane, ‘It’s your father. Don’t worry, I’ll get Tom. And if your Dad’s ringing because he’s heard the news, if he’s telling you to get the hell out of this mess then if I were you I’d do as he says.’

  Laurence dragged himself upstairs to Tom’s room. Though panic was driving shots of adrenalin through his body he made himself stop in the doorway and for a long time he simply stood looking down at his son’s sleeping face. Of all the emotions that had run through his heart that day he knew that nothing, just nothing in the world could be as powerful as what he felt for that little scrap of humanity. But he wouldn’t think beyond that, he couldn’t. For the likelihood that he was going to lose him had already become a raw, open wound in his heart.

  After taking Tom to his parents’ Laurence returned to Kirsten’s to let in the uniformed officers who had come to search the house. He was surprised that the police hadn’t asked to interview him yet, but knew that it couldn’t be long in coming. He’d tried several times over the past couple of hours to get hold of Hellerman again but so far he hadn’t succeeded. There was no reply from Ruby’s either. In fact it was as if the whole goddamned world had gone walkabout, because even Campbell hadn’t got back to him yet.

  While the police went systematically through all Kirsten’s possessions Laurence sat in the study, going over and over in his mind all the details he could remember of what had happened just prior to Anna’s and Jake’s deaths. In Anna’s case Ruby had been right there – she had keeled over drunk just as they were going for a take. Had it been an act? Was everything, her dementia, her drunkenness, her religion and all the other crazy stuff she got involved with, just a performance designed to mislead them? It was hard to tell. And even harder, given where he’d been himself just before Jake’s death, to know where Ruby was. She was around the set, that was for sure because she’d barged into Kirsten’s trailer, but he had no idea where she’d gone from there. However he did know that she’d gone running off somewhere screaming like a banshee right after Jake had been declared dead. Had she done that because she thought that goddamned coconut junk was coming true again, or was it because she’d killed the wrong person?

  He slumped forward across the desk, burying his face in his hands. He felt so tired suddenly, so drained of energy and emotion. He didn’t want to believe that Ruby was guilty but it sure was looking that way. Except the tape . . . Why would she have arranged something like that? And how the hell had Dyllis Fisher got to find out so much? Surely to God Ruby wouldn’t have told her. As far as he was aware the two women didn’t even know one another.

  He looked up as a police officer popped his head round the door to tell him they were finished. He went to show them out wondering what they had found to take away with them. He didn’t bother to ask, he knew they wouldn’t tell him.

  After trying Ruby’s number again and still getting no reply he drove back to his parents. On the way Campbell called him. He hadn’t managed to get hold of the location manager yet, it could be though that he was down at the Yard being questioned along with everyone else.

  So why wasn’t he himself, Laurence wondered. As the producer he’d have thought he’d be one of the first they’d pull in. Still, he guessed they’d get round to it when they were ready.

  Half an hour later when Jane had taken Tom into the garden, Laurence’s father was going pedantically over everything that had happened that morning. Laurence was barely listening. He was watching Thea’s face wondering what she was thinking, and why as yet, she hadn’t said a word. In the end he couldn’t take her silence any longer and cutting his father off mid-sentence he shouted,

  ‘Mother, if you’ve got something to say then damn well say it!’

  Thea’s eyes widened with surprise, but before she could speak Laurence said, ‘I guess you’re over the moon that this is happening, that you’
re hoping I’ll turn my back on Kirsten and leave her to rot in some goddamned cell for something she didn’t even do. Well, let me tell you –’

  ‘That’s enough, Laurence!’ his father barked.

  ‘Believe it or not, Laurence, I’m as upset as you are,’ Thea told him, cutting short his next tirade, ‘and not only because of what it could mean to you and Tom, but because I’m fully prepared to admit when I’ve made a mistake about someone. Kirsten needs help right now and this family is going to give it. If it comes to it I will put up the bail money myself. I will also cover all the legal expenses. If there’s anything else, financial or otherwise, then you have only to ask.’

  Laurence turned away, still too angry to confront his shame or the emotion his mother’s words had engendered, but when she came to sit beside him and slipped her hand into his he clung on to it so tightly that Thea turned his face into her shoulder and held him.

  At last, around five in the evening, the telephone rang. Laurence jumped on it.

  ‘It’s like a bloody circus over here,’ Hellerman grumbled. ‘Dyllis Fisher’s been in, half the cast and crew from that movie of yours . . .’

  ‘Never mind that, how’s Kirsten?’

  Hellerman paused and Laurence’s heart stopped.

  ‘The news isn’t good, I’m afraid,’ Hellerman said gravely. ‘They’re about to charge her.’

  ‘But they can’t!’ Laurence cried. ‘She didn’t do it! It was Ruby. Listen to me.’ He was aware of the exchange of glances between his parents, almost felt the ripple of shock as it went through them.

  ‘Ruby’s just left,’ Hellerman interrupted. ‘She’s been here all day.’