Seemingly oblivious to what was going on around her, Helena sat staring straight ahead throughout the remainder of the service. She didn’t react, even when the curtains opened and the coffin disappeared. Geraldine studied her covertly, surprised that Helena didn’t seem curious about the stranger who resembled her so closely, yet looked so different to her. From what Geraldine could see of it, Helena’s hair was streaked with grey. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor, and from across the room her lips looked cracked and dry. She showed so little interest in the woman who was obviously her sister that Geraldine wondered if their mother had even told Helena about her. Despite her curiosity, she thought it might be best to simply leave at the end of the funeral, without speaking to anyone. She had managed for forty years without a twin in her life. She wasn’t sure she was ready to meet Helena yet.
7
As the ceremony drew to a close, Geraldine rose to her feet and slipped out of the room. She hoped it wasn’t disrespectful to the priest to leave without thanking him, but he was looking the other way. She would have had to cross the room to talk to him. Telling herself that he must be used to people failing to behave with customary good manners on such occasions, she hurried off. It wasn’t the priest she was avoiding, but the haggard woman who had ignored her throughout the service. Their mother’s funeral might not be the ideal venue for their first meeting.
Outside, she glanced at her phone and swore. A call had come in while she had been at the crematorium. One death interfering with another, she thought miserably, as she called the station and noted the details.
‘An Oxfam shop?’ she repeated, slightly surprised.
As she reached the car park, she looked up. Helena was a few feet away, hurrying towards her. It was too late for Geraldine to pretend she hadn’t seen her. She turned to face her unknown sister.
‘You’re Erin.’
About to tell Helena her adopted name, Geraldine hesitated. Erin Blake was the name on her original birth certificate. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to invite this stranger into Geraldine Steel’s life. First it might be wise to establish a relationship with her using her birth name. Helena had taken the first step and approached her. There was nothing to indicate she would be unfriendly. All the same, Geraldine was apprehensive. She was afraid her experience with the worst aspects of human nature had made her cynical.
‘It’s hard to believe we’re twins, innit?’ Helena said, squinting in the bright sunlight. ‘Ain’t you always wondered what it would be like, having a sister?’
‘I have got a sister. I’ve always had a sister. She’s…’
On the point of revealing that she had a sister called Celia, Geraldine hesitated. She wanted to get to know Helena before introducing her to Celia and her daughter, Chloe.
She wondered if Helena had lost a tooth, her lopsided grin looked so unnatural. Realising Helena thought Geraldine had been referring to her when she had mentioned her sister, she added, perhaps more sharply than she had intended, ‘I didn’t know you existed until I was given a letter from Milly Blake, our mother, after she died.’
‘I know who Milly Blake is,’ Helena snapped, her smile twisting into a sour expression.
If anything, this brief exchange strengthened Geraldine’s determination to proceed cautiously with her newly discovered twin. The knowledge that they were so intimately related was unnerving. As far as Geraldine knew, Helena was not only her closest relative, she might be her only living blood relation. Even if there was a host of other family members, she could never be as biologically close to anyone else as she was to her twin. Apart from Helena’s unhealthy complexion and bloodshot eyes, they looked almost identical. Part of her yearned to take Helena home with her and take care of her. Torn by indecision, she stood gazing at her twin.
If Helena had been penniless, or incapacitated in some way, Geraldine wouldn’t have hesitated to offer to help her. She felt guilty for not rushing to embrace her, but even in the fresh air of the car park Helena smelt of stale cigarette smoke and sweat, and her eyes had an unhealthy yellow tinge.
‘You seen mum before she died?’ Helena asked. ‘The nurse at the hospital said you was there.’
‘Yes, I barely met her a couple of times.’
‘What she say then?’
‘Nothing really. She was asleep most of the time. We barely spoke.’
Geraldine did her best to hide her bitterness. The disappointment of her mother’s death was still raw.
‘She give you a letter?’
Geraldine nodded, wondering where this was heading.
‘Show me then.’
‘I’m sorry, I haven’t got it here.’
‘I want to see it.’
On Helena’s cracked lips the words sounded oddly threatening.
Experienced in questioning dodgy and aggressive characters, Geraldine was surprised to feel a flutter of panic, but she kept her voice level as she answered. ‘You can’t. I just told you, I haven’t got it any more.’
‘What you mean? What you done with it?’
‘It got thrown away.’
‘You threw mum’s letter away?’
‘Not deliberately. It was thrown away by mistake.’
Geraldine could see her sister wasn’t taken in by her duplicity. She hadn’t intended to lie, but the contents of the letter were none of her sister’s business. It was addressed to Geraldine alone, and private. Helena had been able to enjoy their mother’s company for forty years. All Geraldine had from her was that one letter. She didn’t want to share it.
‘So you telling me she never said nothing about me when she was in the hospital?’ Helena sounded incredulous.
Geraldine nodded. ‘I only spoke to her once, after she suffered her first coronary. Didn’t you go and see her in hospital?’
‘No one told me, did they? I had to leave for a while, and I never knew.’ She took a step closer to Geraldine who edged away. ‘You knew she was in the hospital. You never told me, did you?’
‘I didn’t know about you until after she died. And even then I had no way of contacting you.’
Geraldine started to walk away, muttering about needing to get to work. Helena followed her into the car park.
‘I wanted to meet her but she always refused,’ Geraldine added, not wanting Helena to think she had turned her back on their mother.
She didn’t go on to explain how Milly Blake had thought Geraldine would be ashamed of her biological family, or that she had written the letter to ask Geraldine to help Helena. Standing close beside her, Helena was shaking, evidently suffering from some kind of withdrawal. Whether it was drugs, alcohol, or smoking, was impossible to tell. It might have been a combination of all three.
‘Oh well, happy birthday for yesterday,’ Helena said. ‘You got a fag?’
‘I don’t smoke.’
Helena shrugged and fished a packet out of her bag. She lit up with a red plastic lighter and inhaled deeply. ‘Where we going then?’
Geraldine didn’t pause in her stride. She had a crime scene to investigate. Their mother wouldn’t have been pleased, she thought miserably, but she wasn’t about to submit to moral blackmail from a dead woman she had only met once.
‘We need to meet up, but not right now. I have to get somewhere,’ she answered. ‘It’s work.’
‘Work?’ Helena scowled. ‘Can’t you even take the day off to bury your mother? Oh well, you can drop me at the station. You got a car, ain’t you?’ she added, catching sight of Geraldine’s expression.
Geraldine hesitated. ‘It’s not my car. It’s a work car. And now I really have to get going. But we should keep in touch,’ she added vaguely as she turned away, irrationally glad that she had driven there in an unmarked vehicle, not her own car. She strode towards it, hoping Helena wouldn’t follow her, yet sure that she would.
Helena trotted to kee
p up with her. ‘Where you off to in such a hurry then? Must be a good job if you got a car with it. No one ever give me a car. It don’t look like you want for much,’ she added, ‘nice set of wheels you got there.’ She whistled appreciatively, her eyes alight with sudden interest. ‘A very nice set of wheels.’
Geraldine didn’t answer. She wondered if Helena would be so friendly if she knew what Geraldine did for a living, but she didn’t feel inclined to share any of her life with this stranger yet.
‘Goodbye then,’ she said firmly.
Helena glanced around nervously. ‘What about giving us a lift then?’
‘Sorry, I’m not going past the station.’
‘Any station’ll do…’
Geraldine was already in the car, checking the doors were locked. Feeling guilty, she drove off. But her sister had survived for forty years without Geraldine chauffeuring her around. Doing her best to stifle her guilt, she put her foot down. All her instincts warned her that any favour she did for Helena would backfire. But she knew she had to see her again.
She braked suddenly. The least she could do was drop her sister off at a station. She wouldn’t have refused a lift to a stranger. Besides, Helena had been brought up by their mother. She must be feeling bereft at the death of her only known parent. Looking up she saw Helena walking quickly towards the street, puffing on a cigarette. Patiently she waited for Helena to catch up with her. Opening the window, she called out.
‘Put out your cigarette and I’ll give you a lift, if you like. I’m going past Highgate station.’
Without answering, Helena opened the passenger door.
‘Could you get rid of your cigarette, please?’
‘Oh fuck off. Just because you’re giving me a lift don’t mean you got the right to tell me what I can and can’t do. I just lost my mother.’
Helena climbed in, and inhaled deeply.
‘She was my mother too.’
Helena exhaled. Smoke swirled around in front of her face. ‘You never even knew her.’
It sounded like an accusation. Geraldine decided to let it go. With the windows open, the stench from one cigarette wouldn’t linger long.
‘What was she like?’ she asked.
‘What do you care? You never went to see her.’
‘I wanted to but she refused to meet me.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Look, Helena, I appreciate you must be upset, but I’m telling you the truth. I asked repeatedly if I could see her, but she always refused. You can check with the social worker involved if you don’t believe me. If I’d known I had a twin sister I’d have wanted to meet you too, but I didn’t even know I had a sister, let alone a twin. How was I supposed to know? No one told me anything. And anyway, you never made any attempt to get in touch with me either, so there’s no need to be aggressive.’
‘Big words don’t impress me. So you had an education. Well ain’t you the lucky one?’
‘Helena, I know you’re feeling angry right now…’
‘You don’t know nothing.’
Geraldine swallowed her disappointment. She hadn’t lived Helena’s life. It wasn’t fair to judge her. They drove on in silence as far as Highgate station. When at last they pulled up, Helena leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
‘You need to get out here. I have to get to work.’
Helena opened her eyes and looked sideways at Geraldine. ‘I don’t want to get out of this nice car just yet. What you going to do about it, then? You got to move off soon. You can’t stay on a double yellow line. They’ll do you. So let’s get going. You can start by showing me where you live.’
Geraldine hesitated. She felt uncomfortable making demands on the sister she barely knew, but there was nothing else she could do.
‘I’m sorry, Helena, but you haven’t given me any choice. I need to get going, and the nature of my work means I can’t allow anyone to hold me up. So please get out of the car right now. I’m sorry to rush you, but I really do have to go.’
Helena shook her head. ‘You can’t push me around, and you can’t tell me what to do. I may not be as clever as what you are, but I’m not an idiot. So come on, let’s go before the pigs do you for stopping here.’
‘The traffic police aren’t going to prosecute me.’
‘Who are you then? The bloody queen? Listen, Erin, you don’t know nothing about the police. They’ll do anybody for anything, or for nothing if they feel like it.’ Helena snorted. ‘I should know. They got their targets, see. They don’t care what reason you got for being here. You could tell them you stopped because you was having a heart attack, they won’t give a stuff. If they can get you, they will. I’m giving you some sisterly advice, you got to move. You ought to be more worried about the police, or you’re going to end up in trouble.’
With a sigh, Geraldine pulled out her warrant card. ‘I’m guessing you know what this is.’
Helena’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh fucking hell, just my luck!’
‘I’m a detective inspector, and right now I’m expected at a murder scene, so you need to get out of my car.’
Without warning Helena made a grab for the identity card but Geraldine’s reflexes were fast. She raised her hand and held the card out of her sister’s reach. Swearing, Helena wrenched the door open and jumped out of the car.
‘Let’s not part on bad terms,’ Geraldine called out before she drove off.
She didn’t know if Helena had heard her.
8
He glanced at his watch and nodded to himself. By now someone was bound to have discovered the corpse. He hadn’t exactly hidden it well, but that was of no consequence to him, and it certainly didn’t matter to her.
He’d done a good job, disposing of the body like that. Admittedly it had been a stroke of luck finding the wheelie bin empty. Even so, he’d been nothing short of inspired to think of using it. He was fairly confident he hadn’t been spotted. No one had been around outside so late at night. If a neighbour had seen him, they would have assumed he was putting out rubbish, and were unlikely to remember anything about it. There was no way anyone could have suspected what was inside the bin. Until now.
Someone would have noticed the bin outside the charity shop. Whoever it was had probably wheeled it inside. It was macabre, but he couldn’t help laughing to think how surprised some poor sod must have been on lifting the lid. He wished he could have been there to watch. Maybe they had looked inside it straight away, before moving it, surprised by how heavy it was. But wherever the contents had been discovered made no difference to him. Or to her, come to that.
He was fairly sure people who worked in charity shops were volunteers. It must be boring, standing behind a counter day after day, working for nothing. Well, he had given the staff there something to liven up their day. Not that he had left her there just to give the staff a bit of excitement, but it had been an inspired way of disposing of the body. He wondered if the people who found her would appreciate how clever he’d been.
Probably they’d be too disgusted by the sight of her bloody head to admire his brilliance. But it wasn’t his problem if she’d been discovered by someone squeamish.
He hadn’t planned to kill her, only somehow he had lost control of himself. All he’d wanted to do was punish her for trying to trick him. It was as though a red filter had fallen in front of his eyes. It was purely by chance that the chisel had been in his pocket. With a surge of adrenaline he had become aware of his hand, raised in the air. Before he’d realised what he was doing, the chisel had struck. It had all happened so quickly. The craziness hadn’t lasted long. Once her skull had split open, that had been the end of it.
Since that one burst of rage, he had felt completely cold. All that mattered now was to avoid being caught. Finding the bin had saved him a lot of trouble. He’d been able to leave the scene of her death within minute
s of arriving at the house. No one would ever know he had been there. He smiled to himself, pleased at how neatly everything had worked out, in the end. Admittedly, he’d killed a woman, but there was no real harm done because he had walked away unscathed.
All that could incriminate him now was the murder weapon. He hadn’t yet decided what to do with the bloody chisel, but once he’d disposed of it, he would be in the clear. So far he had been very careful. With his victim safely concealed in the bin on top of the bloody rug, he had gone into the kitchen to find something with which to clean up. Finding a pair of yellow plastic gloves, he’d rummaged in the cupboards and found a sealable plastic bag. Without stopping to wipe the blood from the chisel, he had dropped it straight into the bag and closed it. With the sealed bag safely stowed in his pocket, he’d decided to ignore the carpet. He couldn’t see any splashes of blood, which seemed to have all been absorbed by the rug. If the police searched, they were bound to find traces of blood however thoroughly he scrubbed it. Plus, the longer he hung about, the greater was the risk of discovery.
There were a few steps outside the back door, and the bin was heavy. He didn’t want to risk it tipping over and spilling its load in full view of any neighbours who happened to glance out of their window, perhaps disturbed by the noise. Realising he was no more likely to be seen going out of the front door than if he pushed her along the side of the house, he’d pushed the bin straight out of the front door. The only real struggle had been lifting it into the back of the van waiting there.
Closing the back door of the van as quietly as he could, he had glanced around. There was no one about, as far as he could see. No lights had come on, no curtains had twitched as he’d driven off.
He had been heading towards Hampstead Heath, with a vague plan to leave her there, when he had spotted the Oxfam shop up ahead.
Elated by his own resourcefulness, he had scrambled across the seats and climbed out of the passenger door so the van stood between him and the security camera across the road. The camera probably didn’t work, but there was no harm in being careful. Keeping his back to the camera until he was shielded by the open door of the van, he had dragged the bin out, grunting with the effort of hoisting it up the kerb and on to the pavement.
Deadly Alibi Page 4