The Bright Face of Danger

by Roger Ormerod

  ‘Whatever they might feel about it,’ said George softly.

  ‘It’s not here I’m worried about. These...people, the ones who pester us, they’re not the real danger. It’s Madge’s father, Tina’s stepfather, and Marilyn’s husband. I’ll need you to guard me every minute of the day.’

  ‘We’ll keep an eye on you,’ George promised.

  ‘You mean, even away from here?’ I asked Collis.

  ‘Anywhere — any time. Do you think they’ve forgotten?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think they have.’

  ‘What you want,’ put in George heavily, ‘and let’s get this straight, is a full-time guard wherever you might be.’

  ‘You’re very quick.’

  ‘I’ve been taking it all in.’

  I could see that this would not do. If we were to work for this man, there had to be less tension between Collis and George. I’d sprung it on him, I admit, but I’d never known George so antagonistic. Collis looked at me, one eyebrow raised. Delia took George’s glass from him and said something. There seemed no need for her to have bent so close. George grunted and levered himself to his feet. He plodded after her across to the drinks cupboard, and they seemed to be chatting about the painting.

  I heard her say, ‘...our honeymoon in Paris. The showers...’

  Collis spoke at my elbow. ‘Can I see you alone for a minute.’

  Then I understood what George was doing. His attitude had split us, but it had also split the husband and wife. We would have separate impressions to compare later. People tend to underestimate George.

  I put down my empty glass on the top of a low and wide bookcase, and followed Collis. He led me through a side door into a small square room, which was obviously a workroom because it was dominated by one of those large easel-type drawing boards, with an automatic contraption on it for maintaining right angles for him.

  There were drawings and plans everywhere, stacked on chairs, leaning in rolls against the walls, even, the smaller ones, in frames on the walls themselves. Also framed was the Certificate that Adrian Palmer Collis was an Associate of the R.I.B.A.

  I wondered how long he would be allowed to keep it.

  He was standing at the uncurtained window, looking out at no more than his own reflection. I thought it was perhaps a bit risky, if what he’d said was true, but the boundaries were really too far away for the odd hurled brick.

  He turned. The movement was an abrupt challenge.

  ‘I’m not happy about your partner.’

  ‘To tell you the truth, I’m not happy to be talking to you without having George here to listen. He’s what you wanted. A guard. George is tough, and faster than he seems with all that bulk on him. Admitted he’s not all that young, but he lasts the course...’

  ‘You understand what I mean. There’s more to it than just guarding, and I’m sure you know that.’

  ‘Do I?’ The framed drawing I was studying was of a bungalow set amongst trees, and seemingly constructed of logs. ‘I like this, you know.’ I turned. ‘You have a fine style.’

  ‘That’s my design for a Forestry Commission hut, intended to house one Ranger and his family.’

  ‘Intended?’

  ‘It’s not been completed. You’re avoiding the issue.’

  ‘I didn’t like what I was thinking.’

  ‘Tell me what you thought.’

  His eyes were bright. There was an intensity of purpose about him that I found disquieting.

  ‘I think we’d better not waste time with guessing games,’ I said. ‘Suppose you tell me, before George joins us.’

  For a moment he held my eyes, before he looked away with a small laugh, very like contempt.

  ‘You’ve just been admiring a symbol of it. That design for a log house — I assure you, perfectly practical — is just one building I shall never complete. If they ever find the funds to go on with it, do you think they’ll come back to me? Do you really?’ He gave a bark of disgust. ‘Oh, there’re still a few projects I’m working on — they can hardly break my contracts. But you can imagine the future. Leave here, you say. Start afresh. But where? And under what name? There’ll be very few people like your friend, who will not know the name of Adrian Collis.’

  ‘Then change it.’

  ‘I can imagine that. I suppose I send my Certificate back to the R.I.B.A., and ask them to change my name? That’d be interesting when I’m waiting to hear that they’re thinking of striking me from their rolls.’

  ‘Surely...now that the conviction’s quashed...they couldn’t...’

  ‘I have brought disrepute. I have! My God, and I’ve done nothing. It’s been done to me. Do you think that’s fair, Mallin? Tell me you think I have been treated fairly.’

  The appalling thing about it was that he was speaking quietly, and in a level voice. It was as though he knew he had no need for dramatic emphasis; all his distress and disillusion were condensed into the bitterness of the words themselves.

  ‘There’s no reason to expect fairness from life.’

  ‘A philosophy of despair, my friend. I’ve had nine months in which to study all the philosophies, and despair was the one I was fighting to reject. No — we don’t give in, do we. We go on trying to recover something from the disaster. And do you know what I’m going to recover, Mr. Mallin? My innocence, that’s what. You, with your big and somewhat unpleasant friend, are going to prove my innocence.’

  ‘Now come on...after this time...’

  ‘You’re being obtuse. Deliberately, I’d say. The nine months is the operative thing. The prosecution used that period against me — only it was seven at the time. Now we will use it for me. As they said, there was no murder during that time. And why? Not, I assure you, because the murderer was in prison, but because the real murderer knew I was in prison. He was lying low, knowing that one more similar crime would not only help me, but would start the police looking around again. You get my point?’

  I tried to hide my uneasiness. It would have been a terrible strain, the whole thing taken as far as a life sentence. It could have pushed him too far.

  ‘No,’ he said gently, ‘I am not insane. I’ve simply had a long time to think it out. What — I’m asking you — do you think will happen now?’

  I liked the way the trees in his log house sketch were done in little squared-off lines.

  ‘Now,’ I said, sighing, ‘our sex murderer, who has somehow managed to restrain his repulsive urges all this while, will see his way clear. He’ll have you around to lap up the blame, and he’ll say to himself: oh, good-oh, I can have another go. Let’s look around for some choice bit of...’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to be flippant.’

  ‘You asked me to do some guessing, and I don’t like the result,’ I said angrily. ‘It comes out that some innocent girl, somewhere around here, might well become a target, because you’re here—’

  ‘Now wait a minute...’

  ‘Just you listen. It will be because you’re still in the district, one way or another. If you leave, then maybe — just maybe — this sex-nut of ours, always assuming it’s not you, may well continue to restrain himself. But no. You have to flaunt yourself. You, mister almighty, who’s too proud to turn and run — you have to shove your neck out and pretend you’re not frightened. Of course you’re not. It isn’t you who stands to be raped and murdered.’

  ‘A speech. I get a speech. You react. I thought you might be as gormless as the other.’

  ‘What you need’s a genius. Not me. Not George. A genius, who can work out who’s going to be the next victim, and be there in time to prevent it.’

  ‘Prevent it? Oh no, nobody can do that. Mark my words, there’s going to be another. The weather is right, the mood is right. And when it happens — where will you be, you or your partner? You will be watching me, Mallin. Watching me, with positive evidence that I cannot have been the murderer this time, and therefore wasn’t before.’

  I didn’t know whether he disgusted me or
not. I just did not know. He could have been as shining-white innocent as he claimed, and be convinced, in all sincerity, that this was his only chance. Or it could be a trick. But all I could think was that, with all that suppressed and compressed emotion, not a bead of sweat had broken out on his face. Yet runnels were pouring down my back, creeping into my eyes, and blurring my vision.

  I realised why he had said he anticipated it would be over soon. He expected another murder, or he intended one. And coolly waited.

  He said: ‘You appreciate the logic in this?’

  ‘I appreciate it.’

  ‘And you’ll go along with me?’

  ‘I’ll do that. But not for your logic. Not even for you, Mr. Collis. But for that one slim chance that we might be around, when the next girl falls for a smile that could be as false as hell.’

  He was very quick. ‘You think that because I haven’t ranted and raved, then I’ve been false with you?’

  ‘No. I don’t question your sincerity. It’s too quiet to be denied.’

  He raised his chin and his eyes were laughing. ‘I think we might work well together, Mr. Mallin.’

  It was then that we heard the woman’s voice raised in a scream. It was joined by the unbroken blare of a car horn and the frantic baying of Major.

  Together, we began to run.

  CHAPTER TWO

  George had a flying start, and justified my claim that he was more nimble than he seemed. On the way through I caught a brief glimpse of Delia, standing with her knuckles pressed against her mouth, her eyes staring.

  The noise was coming from the gate, which Collis had padlocked behind us when we arrived. Major was standing our side of it, supplementing the frantic efforts of a woman standing dimly beside a car just outside.

  ‘For God’s sake, Amanda,’ Collis shouted, ‘what’s the matter?’

  She seemed alone. Major desisted when we approached, and the woman took her hand from the horn. She came forward, wild, her hair flying.

  ‘You damned fool, Adrian. What’s the gate doing, fastened like this? Why’d you have to have a dog to add to it?’ She was almost whimpering. She glanced round. ‘They wouldn’t go away. Oh dear God, open the gate.’ She whirled and placed her back against the upper rail, raising her voice. ‘Go away! Why don’t you go away!’

  I could see nothing in the heavy shadows beneath the trees. Collis was fumbling with his padlock. She fell through, almost into his arms. He muttered to her. I barely heard what he said. ‘...an exhibition of yourself...pull yourself together, my dear.’

  I clearly heard her choked reply. ‘You’ve got a lot to answer for.’

  I said: ‘Leave the key. We’ll get the car in.’ I wanted George to myself; I wanted the quiet country road to ourselves.

  George stood at my elbow. He spoke quietly. ‘Dave, what the hell’ve you got us into?’

  ‘Let’s take a good look.’

  ‘I don’t want to take a look at anything.’

  But he walked out with me into the road. I reached inside and put off the car’s lights, the better for our vision to adapt. We stopped, three feet apart, our eyes hunting. I was feeling that we were the hunted.

  It was just possible to see that the nearest trees were winter-stripped silver birches, grey ghosts of the summer, behind them the rising and tightly-pressed trunks of the firs. Against the sky, barely lighter, the tufted heads stood silent and morose. Frost creaked. There were the usual rustles that run through stilled woodland, and a gentle, silent drift of frost dust from the branches.

  When you stare at shadows, they move. Darkness slid from one tree to another. The frost drew deep, misty breaths. The white-rimmed blades of grass on the far side of the ditch made beckoning gestures as they slowly straightened.

  Suddenly George raised his voice. ‘Why don’t you come out where we can see you! You scared or somethin’?’

  His voice shook the frost and the echoes died in the distance. Then there was nothing but the silence again.

  ‘Let’s get the car in,’ I said. George was furious. One hint and he’d dash off ridiculously into the trees.

  He turned, his shoulders high. ‘For Christ’s sake, Dave!’

  ‘Let it lie, George. I’ll drive the car in. You padlock the gate.’

  It was then I realised that Major was still sitting quietly in the open gateway. He did, indeed, appreciate the boundaries of his preserve. But his ears were high and his nostrils wide, every sense straining. When I came close I could hear the deep throb of a plaintive grumbling way down in his throat.

  ‘Good boy,’ I said, and he relaxed reluctantly.

  A branch clattered along the roof of the car and rebounded from the gate. Major skipped aside and stared at it. Then he picked it up and ran off to show it to Collis.

  ‘You padlock the gate, George,’ I said firmly, and he growled.

  Collis had left the front door open. When I got out of the car, George was guarding it with his back, blocking most of the light.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ he said.

  ‘Later, George. There’ll be time later.’

  ‘What’re we doing, protecting this bastard?’

  ‘We don’t know he’s guilty.’

  ‘Of course we know. He was found guilty.’

  ‘All the same, are you going to walk away and leave him to it?’

  ‘Did he seem scared to you? Damn it all, he’s making a meal of it. You know the type, Dave. It makes ‘em somebody. Important. D’you think he cares a jot for that little woman in there?’

  Little woman! ‘You managed to get your talk with her. So...what d’you think?’

  ‘She’s the one with the guts. She’s the one trying to bear up. All she wants is to get as far away from here as she can.’

  ‘But she’s not about to do any such thing, and you know it. She’s stubborn. A matter of principle. People with principles cause most of the trouble in this world. The woman’s a damned nuisance.’

  He bristled. ‘I don’t see why you should say that.’

  ‘Because if it wasn’t for her, you’d be able to walk away with a clear conscience. Now look at you, you big fool, all flabby with protective feelings. Oh come on, let’s get inside.’

  We trailed back to the big room. They were in there, the atmosphere tingling with tension, Major standing with his thawing branch ignored.

  ‘Better get back on the job,’ I told him, and we took his stick out of the front again.

  When I returned, George had insinuated himself into the setting without disturbing the situation. Delia had mentioned a sister. This had to be the one; you could see the likeness, though Amanda, as Collis had called her, was clearly the elder, the more mature, but the more emotional. She was in the middle of a tirade.

  ‘If I’d thought for one minute that you’d come back here...Whatever were you thinking about, Adrian? I could...for two pins I could hit you, if it’d knock some sense into your head.’

  He shrugged, pursing his lips in amused deprecation. But his eyes were angry. He was seated on the arm of one of his easy chairs, a leg swinging free. Delia was smoking nervously, not looking at her sister. Amanda was the dominant one; Delia had to fall back on stubborn silence.

  ‘Well!’ said Amanda, looking from one to the other. ‘Say something. Tell me at least what you intend to do.’

  Collis spoke lightly, surprise in his voice. ‘Pick up where I left off, of course. There are several projects...my office...’

  ‘You talk as though things are normal!’ she cried.

  ‘Would it help if I went into hysterics?’

  ‘You! What about Delia? Don’t you ever give her one thought? Why don’t you do what any decent man would do — take her away from here?’

  For a moment I thought he would strike her. His leg was still. Then he slid from the arm of the chair and he could not hide the fury in his expression. She stood, daring him. But his self-mastery was superb; his voice was steady.

  ‘You know why I can’t leave.’r />
  ‘Perhaps I do, Adrian. But you want to ask yourself why you can’t leave. You need to get that very straight.’

  ‘Mandy!’ said Delia sharply. For a second Amanda stood still, looking mockingly into Adrian’s eyes, then slowly she turned to her sister. ‘Mandy, please! This isn’t your affair,’ Delia pleaded.

  ‘I’m not going to stand aside and watch you suffer.’

  ‘Then do please go where you can’t see me. I appreciate...’ She paused, controlling her voice. ‘I know you mean well. But Adrian will not leave...’

  ‘The fool!’

  ‘He will not. For a number of very good reasons.’

  ‘Has he explained them?’

  ‘You never married, Mandy, or you wouldn’t have to ask. Adrian doesn’t need to explain. I’m his wife. You might as well leave.’

  ‘With things like this! With that...those creatures out there!’

  ‘Please…!’ Delia whispered. ‘Please go.’

  Amanda tossed her head. Her hair was darker than Delia’s, and she wore it longer. She was slimmer and more active, with the nervous activity of the emotional person, and her face was thinner. But her beauty was more finely-drawn, and the facial planes were balanced. Her eyes were beautiful.

  With the toss of her head she threw away the mood. Perhaps she could see the distress she was inflicting on her sister. She was abruptly skittish.

  ‘Silly me — rushing over here. I’m just too impetuous. I’ll leave you lovely people. Who’re your two heavy friends? No, don’t tell me. Policemen. Oh dear, haven’t I been indiscreet! How can you ever forgive me. Adrian, you’re a dear.’ She patted his cheek. ‘Such a romantic creature. How can you stand him, Delia? I’ll let myself out.’

  Then she paused, aghast, and seemed chastened. She looked around.

  ‘If you two gentlemen will see me to my car.’

  We saw her into the road and away. She backed the old Morris Minor down the drive with verve and imprecision, and nearly took away the gatepost. We stood, coughing gently in the exhaust smoke, and watched the one tail-light disappear.

  The trees absorbed the smoke. The night settled.

  ‘Bossy,’ decided George. ‘I bet their mother died when they were very young.’