Windsor Red

by Jennie Melville

She looked at the address she had been given for Amanda Rivers, Kate’s only girl friend in the district, saw that it was close to Wellington Yard, not out of her way, and decided to go there. Fast. Now.

  She found herself in a street of small, flat-faced Victorian cottages, two up and two down, such as the artisans of the time had lived in. Now they were desirable properties. Amanda had a house with white shutters and a yellow front door with a dolphin for a knocker. The brass which should have been bright was dull and unpolished. No housekeeper then, or a long time away.

  Charmian banged the knocker and sounded the bell. No answer. She could hear the noise sounding inside the house, but no one came. She stood back, looking up at the facade. The house was empty, no doubt about it, Amanda was not at home.

  The door of the next house opened, and a head was poked round it. With surprise, Charmian recognised the face of one of the young actresses she had seen perform at the Theatre Royal. ‘Oh do stop banging,’ said the girl. ‘I’ve been trying to get some rest. She’s not there.’

  ‘Do you know when she will be back?’

  ‘Never, I should think.’ The door was closing.

  ‘I’m not the first to ask?’ Charmian got in hastily.

  ‘No, seems they are dead keen to see her at the hospital. Bye.’ Now the door did close.

  I’ll be back, thought Charmian, It was interesting and agreeable to do her own leg work again, some time since she had. Academic research was, she now realised, a form of leg work. As she turned back towards Wellington Yard, Jerome and Elspeth were standing in the door of Jerome’s shop. Oh, good, so she’s back, she thought, glad for Jerome’s sake. She had sensed strain in Jerome. They were deep in a conversation, but it was probably about work, because as she came up with them she heard Jerome say: ‘ Now take it easy. You’ve overdone it, but I forgive you, although some wouldn’t. I’ll say no more.’

  ‘The baby is back,’ she called out. ‘Left outside the railway station. No one saw. His mother’s got him now.’

  ‘Thank goodness.’ Jerome turned from Elspeth. ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘Got chicken-pox like his brother. But a light case.’ Having delivered her good news, Charmian went on to tell Anny and Jack.

  She found Jack stone cold sober feeding black coffee to Anny who was not.

  ‘They’ve got the baby back. The Robertson child.’

  ‘Oh tell someone else,’ said Anny. ‘Go away.’

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘Good news for others, when we have our own bad bundle, is not welcome,’ said Jack softly. ‘But thanks. When we both feel better we will be glad.’

  ‘What is it then?’ Charmian was anxious now. ‘ Tell me.’

  ‘The police, your friends and colleagues, have found Kate’s suitcase,’ said Anny, in a dull, drunken voice that her friend had never heard before. ‘With blood on it. All over blood. I saw it, identified it, so I know.’

  Blood. Blood was all the same when it fell as a stain. Royal blood, plebeian blood, animal blood or Kate’s blood, you could not tell the difference just by looking.

  Chapter Seven

  WHEN FROM FAR AWAY , never having been there, you thought about Windsor as a town and as an image, a piece of English history made solid, you might imagine the Castle, or the view of Eton Chapel across the river, or you might summon up a picture of the old Queen Victoria, the Widow of Windsor, as Kipling called her, driving through the town with her turbaned Indian servants by her side, but you did not think about the aeroplanes. When you were there though, you were only too conscious of them. Look up and you will see the great monsters rising through the sky from Heathrow, look down and the noise still fills your ears.

  ‘Where was the bag found?’ Charmian asked. An aeroplane roared across the sky and she went across the room to close the window.

  ‘On a side road between Slough and Heathrow airport, just beyond Datchet,’ said Jack. He was more in control of himself and the situation than Anny.

  ‘Just on the roadside?’ If that was the way, then it could not have been there long.

  ‘No, a ditch runs along the road and it was in there.’

  ‘Do you know who found it?’ She knew she had a touch too much of her professional voice on her, but it was hard to change her manner in such matters after the careful years of learning it. Her friend picked it up at once.

  ‘Oh shut up, Char,’ said Anny wearily. ‘You’re asking too many questions.’

  ‘It was a boy out with his dog,’ said Jack.

  It was always a boy with a dog.

  ‘Anything else found? Any other possessions of Kate’s?’ Like a head or torso?

  ‘I imagine they are looking. But you know all we were told.’

  Charmian considered. ‘Did you look inside the case, Anny?’

  ‘Of course. Just clothes.’

  ‘Could you identify any of them?’

  ‘It was Kate’s case, if that is what you mean. Her initials on it. Besides, I gave it to her, and I know it. It was an expensive affair from Vuittons. There wouldn’t be many of those around in a ditch in Berkshire.’

  ‘No. What about the clothes?’

  ‘I don’t know quite what Kate has got, she’s always buying new stuff and dumping the old.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Jack. ‘God’s gift to Oxfam.’

  ‘But I recognised her bathing costume. I gave her that too, bought it in Milan when I was there last year.’

  And you would not find two of those around in a hurry, Charmian acknowledged.

  She looked about the room, as of habit. She always liked to study the background when questioning a suspect. Good God, Anny wasn’t that, she pushed the thought aside. No one could suspect Anny.

  Nevertheless, her eyes automatically retained the image of the room in its disorder, as if no one had paid it much attention lately, with books and papers on the chairs and dirty glasses on the floor.

  ‘We will have to see what is made of the case.’ She sought for comfort. Anyway, it doesn’t look as though it can be Kate holed up in that room in Ealing.’

  Jack sat down heavily as if he was suddenly too big and clumsy to stand. He looked beaten. ‘That’s coming to an end. It was on the TV news. Shots fired. And a body thrown out on to the street.’

  ‘Oh you are cheering me up.’ Anny reached out for the whisky.

  ‘It was the man, too,’ said Jack, as if he could not stop himself, but somehow guessed he was saying something important: men could die at a woman’s hand. Anny flinched.

  They would be heading for one of their mammoth rows if someone did not stop them.

  But Anny turned on her. ‘Not much of a detective, are you? You haven’t helped much with Kate, haven’t found her. Got you to come here to help and you haven’t.’

  In spite of herself, Charmian was hurt. ‘ I didn’t know I was got here for a purpose. But you needn’t have worried, I’d have helped anyway. As I am doing.’ She moved the whisky bottle away from Anny’s hand.

  If she had been heavy handed in mentioning the house in Ealing then Anny had handsomely paid her back.

  ‘Take no notice,’ said Jack. ‘She’s not herself. I’d have gone to identify the case myself if I’d been around but I wasn’t.’

  Off on one of those vague absences that seemed without purpose, but which filled his life.

  ‘I was looking for her, Kate. Thought I might see her car,’ he went on. ‘I always think I might if I keep looking. See her car turning the corner. Or see her getting out of it. Or just walking down the road. Only I’ve got to keep on looking. Silly, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, Jack, not silly at all,’ He loved his daughter more than Charmian had realised. Stupid of her. Not having a child made you maybe insensitive to parental love sometimes. For the first time she realised what she might have missed. But I’d have made a rotten mother, she told herself. ‘Do you have any idea where Kate might be? Any guess to make?’

  Jack shook his head. ‘If I had
, I’d have been there. Think I’d have waited around?’

  ‘Did she never get in touch with you?’ She gave a quick look towards Anny. There might be things Jack would not say in front of Anny.

  ‘She did not,’ he said heavily.

  Anny stood up. ‘ You’d better leave us, Charmian. Let Jack and me sweat it out alone.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do about the case and what it means. I’ll find out more for you. Promise.’ She had her own work to do, vital work with a time check on it, but this was important too. Emotionally important to her.

  Anny did not answer, she might not even have heard. Jack came to the door with Charmian. Drawing it behind him, he said: ‘ What do you make of this case business?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jack, I really don’t.’

  ‘Looks bad to me.’

  Charmian waited, there was something else.

  ‘She did phone me once. About three weeks ago. Just after the two of them took off. Anny was out; I took the call. She was just starting to tell me something when Anny came back and grabbed the telephone. Kate rang off.’ He looked at Charmian.

  ‘Anny never told you?’

  ‘No.’ And Charmian could see why Anny had not mentioned it. ‘Any clues where the call was from?’

  ‘Well, I sort of wondered …’ Charmian waited. Not another railway station, as with the call to Anny? If it had been a railway station. ‘It was a public place.’ Here we go again, thought Charmian. ‘It could have been a hospital,’ he finished in a slow voice, as if he was still remembering what he had heard.

  Charmian did not hesitate. ‘ Jack, go back in there and ask Anny if the call she took from Kate could also have been from a hospital.’

  Without a word, Jack disappeared behind the door, leaving Charmian standing outside.

  He was soon back. ‘She says yes.’

  Upstairs in her own place, Charmian fed Muff. ‘It’s a point about the hospital. If Jack’s right, and I think he could be, then I really must get hold of Dr Amanda Rivers. She might know something. Kate could have been with her when she telephoned.’ She stroked Muff’s head bent over the bowl of liver. ‘You are a disgusting eater, Muff. The hospital now, it’s worth thinking about.’ She yawned. ‘You do the thinking, Muff, and I’ll do the sleeping.’

  It had been a hard day, and tomorrow was going to be worse. She had some searching interviews lined up with some travelling to do.

  But tomorrow morning, before setting out, she would telephone Harold English and see what he could let her know about the case. He might not know much now but he could certainly find out.

  ‘I bet the local lot are going over that ditch with a fine comb, Muff,’ she said sleepily.

  In the night, which was wet and warm, no searching was done, although the whole area was cordoned off. But with morning the search began again. It continued for some time, being conducted as thoroughly as Charmian had guessed.

  The ditch turned at a right angle to the road and ran down a narrow track which led to a farm. The farm was owned by a syndicate which had built up a group of farms in the neighbourhood. No one lived in the farmhouse.

  Nothing more was found at that time.

  Charmian was told this when she telephoned Harold English from a booth in the main post office which was better for her purpose than using either Anny’s or Jerome’s. (He had made the offer.) Neutral territory, she thought, and no listening ears. Jerome was not neutral. Better to be alone.

  Not quite true, as she gazed around at the crowd of locals posting parcels or getting their pensions cashed, while jostling with the tourists stamping picture postcards of the Queen or her Castle, but none of them were bothering with what she was saying.

  ‘What about this case?’

  ‘Found by a lad out walking. I expect you know that.’ He was mildly sardonic. ‘The initials on it were interesting, so Mrs Cooper was asked to take a look. She identified it as her daughter’s.’

  ‘And is there blood on it?’

  ‘A few stains only. Nothing much, so I am told.’

  Anny had exaggerated then, but she could be forgiven for that.

  ‘So what’s going on?’ The sound of an aeroplane overhead almost drowned her out, but he knew what she was saying, had been prepared for her question.

  ‘That’s Concorde going over. Can’t mistake it, can you? In answer to you, the bloodstains are being tested for grouping.’

  ‘Is a connection being made between the case and the severed limbs?’

  ‘Let’s say the idea is being kicked around.’

  Charmian drew further into the booth to get the maximum shelter. Next to her a large lady was having a struggle to get the number she wanted. ‘ Can you hear? I don’t want to shout. I think it would be worth finding out if a doctor in one of the local hospitals knows anything about the case and where Kate Cooper is or has been. I think they may have been together. I’ll give you the details.’

  Then they got down to the hard business, the material Harold English was really interested in. After a preliminary discussion in which Charmian told him what she had done on the day before, and what she planned to do today. He was her helper, her channel of communication, but he was also a check on her, a kind of invigilator. She recognised this as a fact, half resenting it.

  ‘Yes, get on with seeing them at home. Very valuable. Want any help?’

  ‘Not with that. I have them lined up. But I’m interested in the link with Delaney. I think he is passing them money. Someone is. I think Laraine is the paymaster.’ It was her opinion that sums of money passed through Laraine’s hands with degrees of generosity, more staying with Laraine and Nix than filtered through to, say, Yvonne. Her new shoes had not cost anything near the price of Laraine’s new suit. ‘Can you run a check on them?’

  ‘Probably,’ he agreed cautiously. ‘They don’t sound the sort to run bank accounts.’

  ‘Try post office accounts, possibly in either Windsor or Slough. Or they could be using a building society. One of the bigger ones, I guess. Not under their own names.’ She did not believe Laraine let them float around in liquid cash. She would make them hide it away.

  They made arrangements to meet.

  The woman in the next booth had abandoned her attempts to dial the number she wanted and had turned to shouting at the operator.

  ‘Chicago. I am calling Chicago.’ She did not seem to be getting anywhere.

  Charmian emerged from her booth to offer her help. The woman turned to her gladly.

  ‘I am trying to dial Chicago.’

  ‘Can you dial Chicago from Windsor?’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ cried the woman.

  ‘Let me try.’ Charmian squeezed into the narrow area and took up the telephone. It went dead.

  Dolly and Len were also talking on the telephone.

  ‘Was it as good for you last night as it was for me?’ asked Dolly.

  ‘Dolly, you shock me.’

  ‘And don’t I enjoy doing it.’ Dolly was exuberant. Their relationship was going to take off, she knew it. Might even turn out to be important.

  ‘Apart from anything else, how much time did we have before the bleeper went off?’

  Dolly giggled. ‘Time enough. You’ll see.’

  ‘Now you’ve shocked me again.’

  She loved it when that exasperated, ever so slightly pompous note came into his voice. She loved his voice. He didn’t know that, of course. Probably thought he was adored for quite other things.

  ‘I’m very interested in what you had to say about the way the taken babies are fed.’

  ‘Might be,’ said the future top consultant cautiously. ‘Only a suggestion.’ He was almost regretting saying anything to Dolly.

  ‘No, it’s brilliant of you. I had no idea such things could be. I’m going to work on it.’ Quietly, putting herself ahead, and not letting a colleague get a nose in until she decided when. ‘Means looking for a special type of person.’ She thought she could do it, too. Also there had
to be people who knew, one person, perhaps more than one, who had given advice.

  Len confirmed this idea. ‘ There would have to be a professional involved somewhere.’

  ‘One of your lot?’

  ‘Could be.’ A slight unease crept into his voice. ‘Who’s the most likely?’

  His mind ran over his colleagues. In alphabetical order—he had an orderly mind—he assembled a list: Brent, Cadwallader, Merrilee, Prosser, Rivers. Those were the most likely names to have been called upon to give such advice. They all worked in the relevant field. Although a GP might have done so. He could make cautious enquiries, and then he would consider what to tell Dolly. If he read that young woman aright, she could be ruthless in pursuit of her aims.

  ‘I’ll let you know,’ he said to Dolly, ‘when I’ve had time to consider.’

  ‘I’m on duty tonight.’

  ‘And I’m on call again,’ Len said sadly; they were terribly undermanned at the moment, people ill, people taking exams and people away who jolly well should be back.

  Dolly finished the telephone call by announcing that she would be cooking a large steak on the evening after, and if he liked to join her in eating it, then he would be welcome. She had a strong idea he was not a vegetarian.

  ‘You can bring some red wine and do the washing up,’ and she put the telephone down. Start as you mean to go on.

  Sooner or later, he would give her that list of names. She intended he should.

  Then she would take action. The follower of Charmian Daniels could do no less.

  Charmian Daniels, unaware that she was both an example and an inspiration, moved forward into her working day. She had fed the cat, drunk some coffee, and bought a newspaper from Brian Robertson who had a broad smile and said mother and two kids might be home this week. Peter was better and had told the police, Yes, he did see a lady standing over the plastic sack, but he did not see her face. She was wearing blue trousers and a yellow top, and he thought she had fair hair.

  They didn’t get much out of that then, she decided as she walked away, wondering, as they all were, whether the boy was telling the truth or how much of it. Might have a word with him myself some time. His father believes him, but it will be the mother who will know. Might not say, of course, but would certainly know.