by Mona Marple
He blushed and let out a nervous laugh. “It took me long enough to find happiness, Sandy, I’m not going to be giving you up, don’t worry.”
She grinned at his sincere words.
“Do you have any other suspects?” He asked.
“Donovan directed us to The Pink Flamingo, that has to be for Tony Morton. I think we should look into him some more.”
Tom nodded.
“And…” Sandy began. “I’ve put in a request to go and see Domingo Cavali in prison.”
“What? Are you mad?” Tom asked. His raised voice caused the teenage boy to look up, collect his things, and move to a quieter area of the bookshop.
“Shh!” Sandy scolded. “I’ve requested a visit, that’s all. He could refuse it, I mean I’m only a stranger.”
“Sandy, I’m putting my foot down. We know for sure that he pulled the trigger and killed Hugo. I can’t let you go and see him.”
“Do you know what it’s like visiting someone in prison?” Sandy asked. Tom looked at her but she didn’t give him time to answer. “There are guards watching everything. Any sudden movements and the guards would be on him straight away. I’ll be fine, honestly, and he probably won’t even accept the visit.”
“What do you think you’re going to achieve?” Tom asked. “Do you honestly think you’ll walk in there and he’ll tell you who ordered the hit?”
Sandy glanced down at her shoes. “No, of course not.”
“What good will it do, then?”
“I don’t know.” She admitted. “But I have to try.”
**
Sandy returned home after dark that night.
The heat of the cottage wrapped around her as soon as she opened the door and she cursed silently for forgetting to turn it off earlier. The Cat would appreciate her poor memory, at least.
She pulled off her yellow mac and padded through to the kitchen, where she boiled the kettle and made herself a mug of mocha.
In her handbag, she had a slice of lemon and lavender cake that she had secreted from the display case when Bernice wasn’t looking. She took it out and placed it on her very best china plate, then carried the drink and cake upstairs.
“Well, pleased to see you.” Sandy greeted The Cat, who lay asleep on her pillow as usual. He opened one eye as she entered the room, both eyes as she pulled back the duvet, and jumped down onto the floor as she climbed into bed. He stood, stunned, on the floor. Amazed by her cheek.
“Come on, jump back in.” She encouraged, and The Cat obeyed. He curled up on her lap on top of the covers and began to purr softly.
Sandy forced herself to enjoy her cake and rich, creamy mocha while doing nothing else at all. She was always so on the go, juggling at least two different physical jobs at any time as well as another thirty or more things in her head that she must remember or give attention to.
Hugo Tate’s murder had taken up time and mental energy that she didn’t have to spare.
For one evening only, she would enjoy her cake, sip her drink, and stroke her pet.
The case would wait.
11
Domingo Cavali accepted Sandy’s visit request.
That was the first surprise.
Domingo Cavali was handsome.
That was the second surprise.
He flashed her a flirtatious smile as he sat across from her, and she felt her composure leave. Not because she was attracted to him, but because she was nothing like the stern mugshot the television news was showing of him.
“Domingo, thanks for seeing me.” Sandy said.
He nodded. “No idea who you are, got me curious. Who sent ya?”
“Nobody.” Sandy said. “I heard about what happened on the news and thought I’d come and see you. It must be lonely in here.”
He sneered at her a little. “Guessing you ain’t never done time.”
“No, no, I like to visit people though.” Sandy said. She had dressed in her most conservative outfit and kept her face free from make-up. Her long brown hair sat in a bun. She hoped to portray the image of a stranger concerned for his soul. She knew she couldn’t arouse his suspicion. “Do you like having visitors?”
“Gets me outta the cell.” He said with a shrug.
“Good.” Sandy said. “I’m glad to get you out of your cell. It must be so hard being in there all day and night. Are they treating you right?”
“Better than I deserve for what I did.” He said. Sandy noted that his face was free of the tear-tattoo that a murderer could carry and wondered if he was remorseful.
“You look younger than on the news.” Sandy said.
“Nineteen.”
Sandy felt her stomach flip. “You’re just a baby.”
He laughed. “Whole life ahead of me, yeah yeah… I was never a baby. Things I saw, things I done, I’m in the best place.”
“But don’t you want a family? A partner?” Sandy asked.
Something flashed across his face but it was unreadable. He was unreadable. Hardened.
“Everyone want a killer for a husband.” Domingo said. “Until they get out and then the threat gets real, know what I mean?”
“Not really.” Sandy admitted.
“Love letters.” He said, the words making him shake his head. “They say I’m stupid, to do that hit, but I ain’t writin’ to no killer saying we can be together, for real.”
“Where’s that accent from?” Sandy asked.
He laughed again. “It’s from da streets. You ain’t been there.”
“No, I probably haven’t.” Sandy admitted. “So, it’s true what they’re saying? You did it?”
“Bang! You’re dead!” Domingo said, as he made a gun shape with his hand and pretended to fire at Sandy. He maintained eye contact throughout and Sandy felt a chill run down her spine as she looked back into his emotionless eyes.
“Cavali, enough.” A male guard called. He sprinted across to their desk and grabbed hold of Domingo, while another officer shielded Sandy.
“I think he was joking.” Sandy explained. “He wasn’t threatening me.”
“You have no idea, lady.” The guard in front of her said. When she moved away, Domingo had been dragged out of the room.
Sandy felt her body shake.
“You’re gonna be fine, come on, come with me.” The guard said. She led Sandy out of the visiting room into a small decompression area where she made her a sugary cup of tea and reminded her about the rules around visiting. “Next time you come, as soon as anything like that happens, you gesture for help. We’re watching, but we’re watching more than just you. We hadn’t seen that, he could’ve jumped you. You remember, ok, for next time?”
Sandy nodded as she drank the sweet tea.
There wouldn’t be a next time.
12
Tom sulked for the whole evening, right until Sandy said she was going back to The Pink Flamingo.
“Are you trying to send me into an early grave?” He asked, arms crossed, mouth stern. He sat on her settee, The Cat curled up asleep on his lap for once, looking like a bad guy from an action movie.
“I need to see this through, Tom.” She explained. “I’m in too deep to give up now.”
“What do you think you’re going to do? Go in there and confront Tony Morton?”
Sandy shrugged. She didn’t have the best plan laid out, that was true. “I guess I thought I’d just stake the place out for a bit. See what I see.”
“Stake the place out?” Tom asked. He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Listen to yourself, Sand, it’s like you’re in a spy movie! But this is real life, and you don’t mess with these people.”
“I’ll stay safe, I promise.” Sandy said. “And anyway, we’re just sat here not talking, I know you’re unhappy with me…”
“Of course I’m unhappy! You went to see a murderer in prison. He could have hurt you!” Tom exclaimed. His voice was high with emotion and The Cat had moved away unhappily to a quieter place near the log fire.
&
nbsp; “If you don’t want me to get hurt, why don’t you come with me?” Sandy offered.
Tom pursed his lips and pulled her in for a hug. He smelt of cat and fear. “Of course I’m coming. I wouldn’t let you go alone.”
Sandy nestled in to his firm chest and considered the options. She could stay right there, in the warmth of her cottage, with the man she loved, or she could head out in the cold to spy on an unpredictable and possibly dangerous man. But she knew which she would do, even though she wasn’t sure she understood her choice. In the past, she’d been so happy with a quiet life. What had happened to her?
“Let’s go then.” Tom said, his words a surprise to her. He planted a kiss on the top of her head and moved out from underneath her embrace. “You won’t settle until it’s done.”
She flashed him an apologetic smile and pulled herself up from the settee.
“One thing.” He said. “Leave the mac at home.”
Sandy grinned. There was nothing subtle about her bright yellow rain mac. She pulled on a black hoodie instead and assessed her reflection in the hallway mirror. “Do I look like I’m going out to do a burglary?”
Tom looked at her and smiled. “If we get arrested, I’m blaming it all on you.”
**
They drove to the industrial park in silence, each distracted with nervous thoughts.
Tom found a parking space hidden around the side of another building, which gave views of the club while hiding their car from view. Once he turned the headlights off, there was no reason to imagine the car would come to anyone’s attention. All of the other units looked on, shutters down, lights off. Sandy wondered how many of their owners and workers clocked off and headed straight across to The Pink Flamingo. It was almost approaching Sandy’s bedtime, and The Pink Flamingo was entering its peak time.
A bouncer stood outside and a dingy, sodden, red carpet lay on the pavement outside to welcome customers. It seemed fitting, the carpet. The suggestion of glamour with the reality of something unpleasant - much like the experience inside.
Sandy had packed her home-made flapjack and a thermos of coffee, although her stomach flipped with nerves and she doubted she could face food and drink.
A steady line of men, all weather-beaten and shifty, made their way into the club, swallowed by the darkness of the entrance.
“Who knew this place was here doing such a roaring trade.” Sandy said. She laughed awkwardly, the silence making her uncomfortable.
Tom’s gaze was focused intensely on the club. “Recognise any of them?”
Sandy shook her head. “I don’t think they’re villagers, they’re coming from out of town.”
“Hmm.” Tom said. “Tony Morton might not even be here tonight. He’s the owner, isn’t he? He might only pop in to show his face.”
“I know.” Sandy said. She’d considered that possibility. “Or, he could be inside right now confessing to the crime, and we’d be none the wiser.”
“You don’t want to go in, do you?”
She shook her head. “We can’t do that. They thought it was odd enough the first time.”
“Phew.” Tom said. His discomfort was palpable.
“I really appreciate you coming out here with me, ya know.” Sandy said. She smiled at him.
“I know, baby.” He said. For a moment they gazed at each other, distracted.
“Oh my… look who it is!” Sandy exclaimed as she returned her attention to the club. Tom followed her gaze.
“Is that…”
“Heavenli Bodie, the one and only.” Sandy said. Heavenli stood outside the club, near a closed door. She wore a hot pink dress that hugged every inch of her and, Sandy saw, revealed the tiniest swelling of her stomach. A tiny, faded denim jacket covered her upper, but was left open to highlight her enormous bosom. Her hair sat three inches on top of her head, backcombed to within an inch of its life.
“Wow.” Tom said. “What’s she doing here?”
The door she was stood by opened then, and out stepped Tony Morton, wearing so much denim it looked like he had a blue jumpsuit on. He closed the door after himself and leaned against it, then looked Heavenli up and down. She held her hands out in front of her, moved her weight from one stiletto-heeled foot to the other, and gave a huge smile.
Tony was silent. While Sandy and Tom weren’t close enough to overhear a conversation, they could see whether someone’s lips were moving. Tony, it appeared, was entranced by Heavenli, and Heavenli seemed well aware of her effect on him.
“It’s like she’s cast a spell on him.” Tom said.
“The power of a woman.” Sandy murmured.
After a few moments, Heavenli moved closer to Tony, her body almost pressed up against his.
“Are they going to kiss?” Sandy asked, bolt upright in her seat, craning to get a better view. There was no kiss, though. Heavenli sidled as close to Tony as she could without touching him, and then whispered something in his ear.
“There’s nobody near them, why’s she whispering?” Tom asked.
“She’s teasing him.” Sandy said.
A few seconds later, Tony moved away from her. His cheeks, illuminated by the club’s neon signs, were red with fury. He gesticulated wildly towards Heavenli, towards the club and the signs that hung above them.
She took a step towards him and shrugged.
Her reaction to whatever had him so annoyed caused him to go crazy. He curled his fingers into a fist and punched the metal door, leaving a dint in its shape.
“She’s in trouble.” Tom said. “We need to help her.”
Sandy sighed, her fingers trembling. “You’re right.”
Tom turned on the engine and began to drive towards the club. Tony Morton was so blinded by rage he didn’t respond at all. Heavenli cowered in front of the building, arms wrapped around her face to protect her from the attack she expected.
“Get in!” Sandy called to her from her open window as Tom pulled up outside the club. The smell of alcohol and sweat radiated out from either The Pink Flamingo, or Tony. A frantic beat pulsated out from the club.
Heavenli glanced up at them from behind her hand-shield, then climbed to her feet and dived into the back seat.
“Where the hell are you -” Tony shouted after them, but he made no effort to follow them. As they drove off into the distance, Tony remained outside the club, watching in amazement.
“Are you okay?” Sandy asked. She turned around to look at Heavenli in the back seat. Her dress, Sandy realised was almost too short to be decent, and her legs were covered with bruises. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head and pulled a mirror compact from her handbag. To Sandy’s surprise, she inspected her face, which was still immaculate make-up - war paint, to cover who knew what.
“Your legs are bruised.”
“They’re always bruised.” Heavenli said with a shrug. Her voice was like gravel. She shivered in the back.
“Turn the heat up, Tom.” Sandy commanded. “Should we get you to a hospital? You know, with the baby to think about?”
Heavenli shook her head then looked at Sandy in surprise. “Do I know you?”
“Sorry, I’m Sandy, and this is Tom. I met you briefly the other day, you came in my cafe, Books and Bakes, with Marshall.”
“Oh.” Heavenli said. The interaction seemed to spark no significance in her mind.
“It’s okay, I’m sure your head’s all over the place. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Me too.” Heavenli said. “I miss him so much.”
Sandy glanced away, Heavenli’s raw emotion unexpected. Heavenli gazed out of the window, lost in her thoughts.
“He’s a good man.” Heavenli murmured.
“So I’ve heard.” Sandy said. She assumed that Heavenli meant Hugo and couldn’t bring herself to change her tense to reflect his death. Sandy remembered doing the same after her mother’s death. My mummy is… she would tell people, and watch them glance at each other.
“Where sh
all we take you? Where’s home for you?”
“I’m staying with friends.” Heavenli said. “Drop me off anywhere and I’ll make my way back.”
“I’m not letting a pregnant woman get home on her own, especially after what’s just happened to you.” Tom said.
“I appreciate that.” Heavenli said. “But, with respect, I don’t know you two enough to show you where I live. There’s a lot of press hanging around trying to speak to me. I’m sorry, I appreciate your coming to my rescue.”
“No, it’s fine. I understand.” Sandy said. “Let’s just find somewhere safe.”
“What if I take you to The Tweed?” Tom suggested. “You can at least wait somewhere warm and safe.”
“The Tweed?”
“It’s a pub, my pub. It’ll be warm until your lift arrives.”
“Sure.” Heavenli said. Her voice was quiet with exhaustion.
“Don’t you know the village well?” Sandy asked.
“Not, erm, not that part.” Heavenli said, which was a strange answer as the village wasn’t big enough to have more than one part.
Within minutes they arrived at The Tweed and Heavenli thanked them once more before getting out of the car and teetering away on her heels. She entered the pub and walked straight to the bar, where Tanya greeted her with an amused smile.
“What shall we do now?” Sandy asked. “We shouldn’t follow her in there, that’d look strange.”
“Go back to yours and finish watching that programme?” Tom suggested.
Sandy nodded her agreement. They’d set out in such a rush earlier she couldn’t remember if she’d even turned the television off.
“Don’t you think it’s strange?” Tom asked as he drove through the darkened country roads towards Sandy’s cottage.
“What?”
“New widow, pregnant, out in such a seedy place dressed like that?”
Sandy considered his question. “I don’t know. I guess it would be strange if I did that, but it’s Heavenli’s past. Wouldn’t it just be like me putting on an apron and going to my workplace?”