Feeling Bad (Anna McColl Mystery Book 2)

by Penny Kline

  We were passing the main gate to the docks. A row of advertising hoardings came into view. A blurred athlete leaping in the air in a well-known brand of training shoes. A boy, ten times larger than life, eating an iced lolly as he travelled to the seaside on a cheap day return. The accident. For a moment I had assumed he was talking about his sister’s death. But he meant Paula. Paula Redfern.

  He was opening and closing the glove compartment, fiddling with the empty ashtray. ‘Go on, tell me how you think it happened.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Have a guess?’

  ‘Rhiannon Pascoe. You gave her money to say Luke had pushed Paula.’

  ‘Oh, she didn’t want money, she wanted me.’

  I felt calm, icy cold, as though I was listening to my own voice from a long way away. ‘Where did you meet her?’

  ‘Rhiannon? As a matter of fact — that photo you saw — I’d only known her a couple of days. She hated being a traveller. She was sick of the dirt. Bored with just sitting around. Wanted a place she could call home.’

  ‘So you and your housing trust — ’

  ‘We got talking and she introduced me to some of her friends. What a pathetic set of idiots, but they had a kind of fascination. You know how most women are — blathering on about love, commitment. Not Rhiannon. Sex for its own sake. Pure, unadulterated fucking. It was like an addiction.’

  He waited for me to speak. When I said nothing he continued in a high excited voice. ‘Out in the open air where somebody might come past at any minute. Or in some squalid abandoned warehouse. Of course, when it came to the crunch she was just like the rest of you. Wanted exclusive rights, my undying devotion. When I wouldn’t reciprocate she threatened to go to the police and tell them I’d forced her to say she’d witnessed the accident.’

  ‘So you killed her.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have lasted long, those kids never do. Abusing their bodies day after day. I just hastened the process a little.’

  On our right were the huge pipes and chimneys of the ICI plant. On our left a large flat field stretched out towards the Severn Estuary. A herring gull had alighted on a wooden post by the side of the road. Michael was singing under his breath. A song from Carousel. ‘If I love you, time and again I would try to say … ’ He was enjoying himself in the style of the classic psychopath. Callous, totally lacking in shame, with no capacity for love and attachment. But it was the other ‘symptoms’ that had been my undoing. Superior intelligence, and charm — irresistible charm.

  ‘Have you noticed,’ he said, ‘how Bristol’s overrun with schizoid-looking characters and winos?’

  ‘It’s the same in all cities,’ I said. I sounded quite calm, as though we were having a pleasant conversation. Everything was unreal, like dreaming I was having a dream. How could I have allowed physical attraction to make me so blind? Taking an immediate liking to Michael that first evening in the pub. Allowing myself to lean on him for support. Ignoring the danger signals, brushing aside the warning from Faith Gordon — someone who knew the two brothers so well.

  ‘I modelled myself on that bloke who hangs about at the top of Park Street,’ said Michael. ‘The one who hopes the students will feel guilty and give him a few coppers.’

  ‘Did you,’ I said mechanically.

  ‘My hair was the best part. Caked with filth and oil. And my face was so mucky I reckon my own mother wouldn’t have recognized me.’ He paused, running his finger along the scratch on the side of his neck. ‘Have you ever looked into the eyes of a wino? No? Nobody ever does. That’s why it’s the perfect disguise. Of course, normally people keep their distance, but in a crowd waiting to cross the road … I followed Luke and Paula quite often, sometimes two or three times a week. Waiting my chance, waiting for the perfect moment.’

  ‘But someone might have seen you.’ I needed to know everything. So I could tell Howard Fry. Later — if there was a later.

  Michael laughed. ‘Who could prove anything? I was pushed from behind, fell against Paula. Quick shove in the back and over she goes. Silly cow, she was another who fell for Luke’s hardluck stories.’

  My stomach felt lined with acid as though I had eaten nothing for days. ‘I thought you’d never met Paula.’

  ‘Oh, two can play private detective. I told you, I followed the pair of them, checked up on their habits. They were just good friends, nothing more, I could tell. Mind you, I should think that’s all my little brother could manage.’

  The wholesale tyre distributors, flower importers, commercial truck dealers and warehouses to let had given way to fields of long, yellowing grass surrounded by dusty trees. On our left the outline of the Welsh coast was visible across the other side of the estuary. The road swung right over a railway bridge and we passed a sign advertising teas and burgers from a boarded-up van. I felt the bile rise in my throat.

  ‘Why, Michael?’

  ‘Because I detest the little bastard.’

  ‘But Luke and your mother, you don’t know if anything actually happened?’

  I felt him tense. ‘Oh, you think they were clinging together for comfort.’ His voice was cold, sneering. ‘You’ve seen my mother. Does she look the homely type? Mrs Rabbit taking baby bunny into her bed to keep him warm. Like hell she was. Those two, they were always the same. Mummy’s pet. Luke the sensitive, delicate little baby boy. Michael, the tough self-sufficient — ’

  I swerved to avoid the body of a stoat lying in the middle of the road. Michael put his hand on my seat to steady himself.

  ‘You and your brother,’ he said. ‘You told me you had a brother — just the two of you, are there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There you are then. Two’s company, three’s a crowd. My father had Diana, my mother had Luke. Where did that leave me?’

  I breathed in deeply. ‘It can’t have been that simple.’

  ‘No?’ His hand was on my hair. He twisted it a little, then smoothed it back.

  ‘Why Paula?’ I said. ‘Why not just kill Luke?’

  ‘And put him out of his misery? I want him locked up in one of those nuthouses for the criminally insane.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ I said quietly.

  ‘Oh, new tactics,’ he sneered. ‘Very clever. Humour me, lull me into a false sense of security.’

  ‘Why did Luke run off?’ I said. ‘Last week when he was staying in my flat.’

  ‘Who knows? Could have had something to do with my phone call, I suppose. I thought I ought to warn him a witness had come forward. So much for Luke the wonderboy.’

  I stared at the row of bungalows on the road leading down to Severn Beach. Severn Beach, but there was no beach, just shingle and thick, sludgy mud. A new road leading to the second Severn crossing had been constructed but was not yet open to the public. ‘Luke the wonderboy.’ Frustrated, unhappy, with a husband who had retreated into his grief at the loss of his daughter, Brigid Jesty must have turned to her younger son. As a substitute lover? I pictured them together. Brigid with one of her headaches, lying down, resting. Luke sitting on the bed, stroking her hair, soothing …

  ‘Straight on to the roundabout,’ said Michael, ‘then take the M5 to London but leave it almost immediately. I’ll show you when we reach the turning.’

  The petrol gauge was registering nearly half-full. Michael leaned towards me.

  ‘Want me to drive?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Up to you.’ He felt in his pocket and took out a couple of sweets. ‘Oh, come on, you’re a psychologist not a bloody saint. I’ve only done what hundreds of others dream about only they haven’t the guts to make their fantasies come true.’ He sat up straight. ‘There, look, the turning to Thornbury. Now! There’s a maze of roads leading all the way to Sharpness and beyond. Don’t worry, I know the route like the back of my hand. Half an hour, bit less maybe, and you and your favourite client will be reunited.’

  He didn’t say what would happen after that.

  18

 
The road ended in a rough pot-holed space with room to park three or four cars. For the last half-hour we had travelled in silence, although now and again Michael had invited me to ask if I needed him to fill me in on any particular points. I had declined his offer.

  I pulled up, switched off the engine and sat staring straight ahead. Michael snapped his fingers in front of my face.

  ‘Out you get. Place is completely deserted, I doubt if we’ll see another living creature.’ He pointed to the grass where a dead crow lay on its side. ‘Funny, I wonder what happened. Sparrow-hawk maybe. Some noise disturbed it.’

  I left the car unlocked and started walking towards the estuary. It was important to appear in control of myself. I wanted to work out exactly where we were as though somehow that might help. In the distance the docks at Sharpness could be seen through the thickening mist. A few drops of warm rain had started to fall. I felt one land on my head and put up my hand, feeling the dampness like a cut on my scalp.

  Michael pointed to a dilapidated wooden board.

  ‘Unsafe for bathing,’ he read, ‘due to mud and currents.’ He laughed. ‘Too right it is. At low tide there’s a mass of whirlpools.’ He pulled at my arm. ‘Can you swim?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Not me. It’s safer to be a nonswimmer. Ask the local fisherman. That way you don’t become over-confident.’

  ‘We’re not the only ones here,’ I said, moving my head in the direction of half a dozen sheep grazing near the water’s edge.

  ‘Nor we are.’ He pressed his shoe into the soft, squelchy turf. ‘Look at all the little hoof marks. But I don’t see any human footprints, do you?’

  Bone-dry seaweed, left there by the last high tide, lay strewn across the grass. Thistles grew in clumps and a few teasel heads stood out above the remains of a broken fence. The only other vegetation was the Dutch grass that waved about in the muddy water of the estuary.

  When Michael put his hand on my shoulder I flinched.

  ‘Cold?’ he asked.

  ‘You said you knew where Luke was.’

  ‘I do. Look.’

  The hut was small and had probably been used as a store. Once the wood had been painted with varnish but most of it had peeled off long ago and the walls were rotting from the bottom up. Michael started walking towards it, then stopped, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

  ‘Ready? You’ve seen a dead body before? Quite honestly I think he’d had enough. Can you blame him? Life a total mess, responsible for two fatal road accidents.’

  He kicked at the door but it stayed put. Then he took hold of the rusty handle and pulled. The door opened with a jerk, dislodging dust and cobwebs. A smell of rotting sacks and something sharp and rancid made me cover my mouth and nose.

  ‘After you,’ said Michael, smiling. ‘Or would you prefer it if I went in first?’

  My face felt stiff with tension. I pushed past him, anger overcoming my fear. Knowledge of an event, however terrible, is always a little better than uncertainty — but long before my eyes became accustomed to the dark I knew the hut was empty.

  ‘He’s not there,’ I said. ‘Nobody’s been inside for months, probably years.’

  For a moment Michael seemed undecided what to do next. Then he grinned.

  ‘Idiot.’ He smacked the side of his head. ‘I can think of a much better place.’ He peered into the mist at a path leading back towards the estuary. ‘You saw those houses?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Yes, you did. Row of three. Executive, architect-designed. All unsold, never lived in. What could be better?’

  He set off across the grass, glancing back to make sure I was following.

  ‘You weren’t thinking of making a run for it, were you?’ He dangled the car keys. ‘Come on, he’ll have climbed in through a back window.’

  The track to the houses was pitted with holes that had been partially filled in with gravel. I could hear Michael giggling as though the whole thing was a wonderful game. Little boys playing hide and seek, cops and robbers.

  ‘You’ve no idea where he is,’ I said, catching up with him, breathing heavily. ‘He could be hundreds of miles away.’

  ‘Dad tried to stop these houses being built,’ he said. It was the first time I had heard him call his father ‘Dad’. I didn’t like it.

  ‘They’re supposed to be starter homes for the locals. Any idea how much they cost? View of the estuary. Unspoiled countryside.’

  ‘Why would Luke choose a place like this?’

  ‘It’s one of Dad’s favourite haunts.’

  ‘But it’s nearly a fortnight. He’d have nothing to eat. There’s no electricity, water.’

  He laughed, stuffing his fist in his mouth.

  ‘He’ll have bought packets of crisps on the way. Chocolate, cans of Coke.’

  ‘You’ve no idea where he is,’ I said crossly. He was insane but it was better to treat him as though he was a normal rational human being.

  ‘You don’t know Luke like I do,’ he whispered. ‘You don’t know anything.’ Then it happened. I saw him first. A head appeared at a downstairs window and Michael heard my small involuntary gasp.

  ‘Which one?’ He started running towards the nearest house. ‘You go to the other end, cut him off.’

  Someone was crossing the patch of grass in front of the houses. A tall, thin figure, dressed in jeans and a dark-coloured sweatshirt.

  ‘Luke!’ I called as loudly as I could but the figure kept on running.

  I heard Michael snigger. ‘He won’t get far. The path leads down to the estuary. There’s nowhere else he can go.’

  It was nearly dark. I tripped over a pile of builder’s rubble and fell, grazing the side of my hand. When I caught up with Michael he pulled hold of me.

  ‘Look, there he is. No, there.’ He twisted my head to the left. He was wildly excited. ‘Luke, you idiot, you’ll be sucked under.’

  Luke was up to his ankles in mud, moving backwards with his arms held out like a tightrope walker.

  ‘Luke,’ I yelled. ‘Luke, it’s me, Anna, come back.’

  Michael stood on a tussock of grass. He was gazing across the estuary, where visibility was decreasing fast. He called to me, cupping his hands to make the sound carry.

  ‘Leave him. He doesn’t want to be saved. He’s got a death wish. Let him go.’

  By the time I reached the edge of the water Luke was thirty feet away, still moving backwards along a wide inlet that led out to the estuary. The white skin of his face was splashed with mud.

  ‘Luke, please,’ I shouted, ‘start walking towards me. It’ll be all right, I promise. No, please, Luke, stop.’

  Michael was approaching. ‘There’s a pit,’ he called, ‘under the water, over twenty foot deep. In the winter it fills up with mud but in the summer it’s lethal.’

  I saw Luke hesitate. When he stopped moving he began to lose his balance and his arms started flailing the air.

  ‘Luke! Be careful. Just fix your eyes on me and start walking.’

  ‘What you need,’ said Michael, ‘is a thick length of rope. Or a plank of wood would do if it was long enough.’

  ‘Find something.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Please, Michael.’

  ‘Please, Michael.’ He imitated my voice, reaching out to touch my cheek.

  ‘In the shed,’ I said. ‘There might be some wood or corrugated iron. Quick. Anything. Only hurry.’

  He glanced over his shoulder. It was too dark to see the shed. ‘The houses,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find something. Be back in a minute.’

  Luke was standing still, swaying backwards and forwards. He seemed incapable of moving his feet.

  ‘Lift your right foot,’ I said. ‘Slowly. Careful, take your time.’

  ‘I can’t.’ No sound came out of his mouth but I could read his lips.

  ‘Yes, you can. Come on, Luke.’

  He seemed to be sinking lower. The water was almost up
to his waist. I watched him struggling to raise his leg, heard the gurgling, sucking sound as he pulled a foot free.

  ‘Good. Now the other one. Come on, keep going.’

  Slowly, laboriously, he started moving towards me. Now and again his body leaned to one side and I expected him to fall and disappear beneath the water.

  ‘Just keep your eyes focused on me. Come on, there’s not much further to go.’ I held out my hand. There was still a gap of several feet but he was no longer in any danger. I could tell his feet were on firmer ground. He moved liked a sleepwalker. I wondered if I should wade in after him and if so was it better to keep my shoes on or take them off.

  ‘That’s it, Luke. Four more steps and I’ll be able to catch hold of you.’

  He lifted his head, leaning back slightly, staring at the darkening sky. The water was still above his knees and from the waist down he was caked in thick strong-smelling mud.

  ‘Hold out your arm,’ I said. ‘Your arm, Luke.’

  He stared at me, as though he was seeing my face for the first time. Then he reached out and took hold of my hand, allowing me to drag him from the water.

  Michael sprang. He must have been watching from the dip in the grass. I saw the plank of wood in his hand and heard the thump as it hit Luke’s chest. Luke fell on his back. As he struggled to his feet Michael jumped on him and started banging his head up and down on the turf.

  ‘Stop it!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t!’

  I might as well not have been there. The two of them rolled over and over, tearing at each other. Michael caught hold of Luke’s arm and twisted it behind his head. I heard Luke give a shout of pain, then he wriggled free and scrambled up so that the outline of his body was silhouetted against the estuary. I expected him to start running but he stood his ground. His height gave him a slight advantage but Michael was stronger and he wasn’t covered in mud. For a split second the two brothers stared at each other, then Luke leaped forward and they fell to the ground once more, rolling backwards and forwards, pulling at each other’s hair, scratching, biting, kicking.