Dangerous Promises

by Roberta Kray

  Sadie hesitated. Should she tell him? But then she thought about how weird it would sound, like some ludicrous story she’d made up in order to deflect suspicion from herself. And the only reason she’d do that was because she had something to hide. No, she was better off keeping quiet. ‘Only the guy who punched my ticket. We had one of those meaningless exchanges about the weather. He might remember me. I don’t know.’

  The inspector continued to stare at her as if he knew that she was lying.

  Sadie forced herself to meet his eyes, to feign an honesty she wasn’t feeling. But to tell him would make matters worse. They already suspected her – she was sure of it – and mentioning Mona Farrell would only muddy the waters.

  There was a short silence before Frayne turned his attention to Joel. ‘And you, Mr Hunter? What were you doing yesterday?’

  Joel was startled by the question. ‘Me?’

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Why do you want to know that?’

  Frayne gave him a wry smile. ‘We’re investigating a murder, Mr Hunter. We want to know everything.’

  And Sadie instantly understood why they were asking. They thought Joel might be involved, that they had killed Eddie together.

  ‘I was here,’ Joel said. ‘I mean, I was in Haverlea. I went to church in the morning, St Matthew’s on Bench Street, then lunch with my parents, and in the afternoon I did the VAT.’

  PC Turner took all this down in his notebook. Sadie knew that they would check the alibis, that they’d ask the vicar and Joel’s parents. It wouldn’t be long before everyone heard about the murder of Eddie Wise and the small-town gossips would have a field day. She wasn’t bothered on her own account, but it wasn’t fair on Joel. He was about to be dragged into something that had nothing to do with him.

  ‘Do you live here together?’ Frayne asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sadie, at exactly the same time as Joel said, ‘No.’

  Frayne’s eyebrows arched.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Joel explained. ‘I’ve got the flat downstairs and work space on the ground floor, but we spend most of our free time here.’

  ‘And do you have a job?’ Frayne asked Sadie.

  ‘The bookshop in town,’ she said. ‘Peterson’s. But I’ve got the week off. I’m not going back until next Monday.’

  Frayne studied them both for a moment and then slowly rose to his feet. ‘Well, thank you for your time. I think that’s about it for now. We may have some more questions so please don’t leave Haverlea without informing us.’

  ‘How did… how did Eddie die?’ Sadie asked, standing up too as the inspector headed for the door. ‘What happened to him?’

  Inspector Frayne turned and looked at her. ‘He was stabbed through the heart.’

  Sadie closed her eyes, her mouth twisting. Had he suffered? Had he been in pain? These were questions she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Not yet. She needed time for it all to sink in first. When she looked again, the two officers had left the room.

  Joel saw them out, hurried back and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Are you all right, love? Sorry, of course you’re not.’ He held her close and stroked her hair. ‘It’ll be okay. We’ll get through this together.’

  ‘They think I had something to do with it.’

  ‘No one who knows you could ever think that.’

  But she hadn’t told the truth, not all of it. Withholding information wasn’t the smartest move in the world, especially in a murder inquiry. And Eddie was dead. How was that possible? He’d never crack any of his bad jokes again, never laugh, never smile. For Eddie it was all over. She felt tears prick her eyes and buried her face in Joel’s chest.

  ‘They’ll find out who did it,’ he said. ‘They will.’

  Sadie wanted to believe him. She knew she was innocent but that didn’t stop her from being scared. She had a feeling deep inside her, a dark kind of premonition, as if everything good was about to be ripped apart.

  13

  Wayne Gissing winced as Kelly burst into yet another flood of tears. He felt sorry for his little sister but all the crying was getting him down. He wasn’t comfortable with this excess of emotion. What was he supposed to do? In truth, he felt out of his depth. He didn’t know what to say to comfort her. Anyway, she was inconsolable, so there wasn’t much point in trying.

  He paced the room, glancing at his watch for the tenth time in five minutes. Where the fuck was his mother? The train from Bournemouth only took a couple of hours. She should be here by now. He had things to do, people to see – the world didn’t stop turning just because Eddie Wise had got himself killed – but he couldn’t go out and leave Kelly in this state.

  It was only eleven o’clock but he went to the cabinet, took out a bottle of brandy and poured a couple of stiff ones. He needed something to take the edge off. Perhaps a drink would help calm Kelly too. Taking the glass over to the sofa, he leaned down and pushed it into her hand.

  ‘Here, have this.’

  She stopped crying long enough to look up at him through red-rimmed panda eyes. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Brandy.’

  ‘I don’t like brandy,’ she snivelled.

  ‘Drink it,’ he said. ‘It’ll help.’

  ‘Where’s Mum? Why isn’t she here yet?’

  ‘She’ll be here soon.’ Wayne tried to sound confident, hoping that she hadn’t changed her mind. He’d called her earlier that morning, got no reply and presumed she was on her way. Of course, her coming would create as many problems as it would solve. On the one hand, she’d be able to take care of Kelly, but on the other there was going to be fireworks when Sharon – his father’s second wife – got home to find her here. But what else could he do? At times like these a girl needed her mother.

  Wayne gulped down the drink and poured another. Yesterday had been a bloody nightmare. Kelly had gone over to the Mansfield at six o’clock when Eddie still hadn’t rung her and wasn’t answering his own phone. She hadn’t been that worried then, presuming that he’d crashed out and was still sleeping off the excesses of the night before. The flat had been in darkness and the front door, oddly, had been unlocked. She’d turned on the lights, gone into the bedroom, tried the living room and then… Eddie had been lying on the kitchen floor with a knife through his heart. They must have heard her screaming across the whole estate.

  ‘That bitch did it,’ Kelly spluttered. ‘She must have. It had to be her. Do you reckon the filth have charged her yet?’

  ‘If they’ve found her.’

  Kelly wiped the snot from her nose with the back of her hand. ‘That bitch killed my Eddie. She hated his guts. She couldn’t get over him dumping her. She was always hassling his mum and dad, trying to find out where he was. The evil cow wouldn’t leave him in peace.’

  Wayne gave a nod. ‘Yeah.’ He wasn’t really listening. She’d been saying the same thing for hours, over and over, as if she was caught in a loop she couldn’t escape from. He felt bad for her but at twenty-two she was young enough to get over it, to find someone else. And it wasn’t as if Eddie had been any great shakes. Personally, he hadn’t thought much of him.

  ‘So why haven’t they called?’ she whined. ‘Why ain’t I heard nothin’?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The filth,’ she said.

  ‘Give ’em time, Kel.’ Wayne was hoping she was right, that this was a straightforward domestic, a row that had got out of hand and ended badly – but he had his doubts. That’s why he wanted to get out of the house and down the pub, to find out what other people thought, what the word was on the street.

  ‘How long does it fuckin’ take? All they have to do is arrest the bitch.’

  Wayne swigged at the brandy. ‘Maybe they already have.’ He went over to the window and gazed up and down the road. There was another possibility. What if Eddie had been wasted by Terry’s mob? They’d had a few run-ins recently, the last only a few days ago. During a bust-up in the Hope and Anchor, Vinnie Keane had got stabbed. It
hadn’t been serious – nothing that a few stitches couldn’t put right – but he was one of Terry Street’s boys and Wayne wondered if this was retribution.

  Kelly curled up in the corner of the sofa, her long fair hair falling over her face. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. ‘She killed my Eddie. How could she do that?’

  Wayne gave a long sigh. It seemed to him that everything had been going wrong over the past few months. First the old man had been sent down for a five-stretch, then he’d had to leave his flat and move back in here – his dad had asked him to, saying it wasn’t safe the two women being on their own, although really he reckoned it was just so he could keep an eye on Sharon to make sure she wasn’t shagging anyone else – and now this. It was just one bloody thing after another.

  As soon as his mother arrived, he intended to make himself scarce. He didn’t want to be around when Sharon returned from visiting the old man at Highpoint and found wife number one back in residence. He probably should have mentioned it, but he’d known she’d do her nut and who needed that first thing in morning? It would have been easier to take Kel down to Bournemouth but she wasn’t allowed to leave London until the cops had finished their investigation.

  Wayne considered rolling a joint – maybe that would calm Kel down a bit. Or would it make her worse? Hell, there was no way of knowing at the moment. His thoughts slid back to Eddie Wise. Yeah, the tart had probably killed him. It was the most likely explanation. Hadn’t he walked out on her? Didn’t he owe her money? But if it was Terry, that was a whole different ball game. That would be a declaration of war. Wayne might not have liked Eddie much but he’d still been Kel’s boyfriend. And that was like being family – well, almost.

  Kelly finished the brandy and slammed the glass down on the coffee table. ‘I shouldn’t have left him on his own. I should have guessed she was a fuckin’ psycho.’

  ‘And how could you have known that? Don’t start blaming yourself, Kel. None of this is your fault.’

  ‘If I knew where she was, I’d kill the bitch myself.’

  And Wayne reckoned she would too. She was crazy enough to do anything at the moment. ‘Yeah, well, she’ll get what’s coming to her. She’ll spend the next twenty years banged up.’

  ‘What if she’s done a runner? She could be miles away by now. She could be in bloody France or Ireland or fuck knows where. She ain’t gonna hang around to be picked up by the filth.’

  Wayne was trying to think of something comforting to say when a black cab pulled up outside the house. Thank God. His mother was here. Finally, she was here.

  14

  As Petra Gissing stepped out of the cab, suitcase in hand, she glanced down the path towards the grey brick semi. The house had been her home for over twenty years until Roy had dropped the bombshell that he was dumping her for a cheap little slut who couldn’t keep her legs shut. That had been three years ago, but the betrayal still rankled. It was her pride that had been hurt more than anything else. She’d stuck with that man through thick and thin – and most of it had been thin – and then he’d gone and done the dirty on her.

  The old resentments rose to the surface as she approached the front door. She’d fed the bastard, washed his clothes, raised their kids, lied to the filth for him and never missed a visit when he got sent down. And what thanks had she got for it? A goddamn divorce petition three days after her fiftieth birthday. Still, there was one consolation: the old git was serving a five-stretch now and it served him bloody right.

  Petra started hauling the heavy suitcase up the driveway. She had probably packed more than she needed but she didn’t know how long she’d be staying for. A week? A month? That depended on Kelly. The poor kid was bound to be a mess and she didn’t plan on leaving until she could take her baby with her.

  Wayne appeared before she was even halfway along the drive, which saved her the indignity of having to ring her own front doorbell. ‘Give us a hand with this case, will you, love. It weighs a ton.’

  ‘What took you so long?’ he snapped. ‘We’ve been waiting all morning.’

  Petra threw him a sharp look. ‘It’s good to see you too. And I’m in Bournemouth, not bloody Bethnal Green. I’ve been up since the crack of dawn.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry. Sorry, Mum. It is good to see you. It’s just all been…’ He picked up the case and carried it the rest of the way and over the threshold into the hall. ‘Kel’s been asking for you.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Hysterical,’ he said. ‘She hasn’t stopped crying since she found him. And last night they kept her down the nick for hours.’

  Petra closed the door behind her and frowned. ‘They can’t think she had anything to do with it.’

  ‘She’s a Gissing, ain’t she? The filth don’t think twice about stitching any of us up.’

  ‘Well, they’d better not try it with her. Did you get her a brief?’

  ‘Yeah, course I did. Tony Marshall. He was with her when they did the interview.’

  ‘And what does he reckon?’

  ‘Says it’s early days. The pigs are still trying to work out exactly when Eddie died. And the only alibi Kel’s got is that after leaving the Mansfield in the morning she was home all day with Sharon.’

  Petra flinched a little on hearing the name of the tart who’d taken her place. ‘But you said his wife did it, that she was there when Kelly left. Why would they —’

  ‘I’m not saying they do. I’m just not saying they don’t either.’ Wayne pulled a face. ‘Let’s wait and see what happens, huh? Kel’s in the living room. You go through and I’ll take your case up. Will you be okay in the spare room?’

  ‘Have I got a choice?’

  ‘Well, you can have my room, if you’d rather. I don’t care where I sleep.’

  ‘No, that’s fine. Put it in the spare.’

  As her son walked up the stairs, Petra hurried along the hall and into the living room. ‘Kelly? I’m here now, love. I’m here.’

  Kelly raised her tear-stained face and wailed, ‘She killed him, Mum. She killed my Eddie. What am I going to do?’

  Petra sank down on to the sofa and took her daughter in her arms. ‘I know, baby. It’s a terrible thing. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Mummy’s here. You’ll be all right. I’m going to take care of you.’

  It was another ten minutes before Wayne came downstairs again. By then Petra had managed to calm Kelly down a bit. She looked up at her son. ‘Make us a brew, will you? I’m spitting feathers here.’

  ‘I’ve got to go out.’

  ‘What’s so urgent that it can’t wait five minutes?’

  Grumbling under his breath, Wayne disappeared into the kitchen.

  Petra gave Kelly another hug. ‘I won’t be a minute, love. I just need a word with your brother.’ She got up, crossed the room and leaned against the door with her arms folded across her chest. ‘Want to tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘You know what’s going on.’

  Petra moved inside the room, closed the door and lowered her voice. ‘Don’t give me that, Wayne Gissing. What aren’t you telling me?’

  ‘Nothin’.’

  ‘You’re a bloody awful liar. Come on, spit it out.’

  Wayne turned his back on her, playing around with the mugs and the tea. ‘It’s probably nothin’.’

  ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

  Wayne looked over his shoulder. ‘There’s been a bit of bother with Terry Street.’