Dangerous Promises

by Roberta Kray

  ‘Do you have some news?’ Joel asked. ‘About the murder?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Frayne said. He looked at Sadie. ‘I understand you attended Mr Wise’s funeral today?’

  ‘That’s right,’ she said. Her voice had got a croak in it again. ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘We’re here regarding an incident that happened at the cemetery this morning.’

  ‘An incident?’ she repeated. ‘What sort of incident?’

  Frayne watched her closely. ‘A man was shot in the leg. Wayne Gissing. Do you know him?’

  Sadie tried to look shocked. ‘Shot? What? Is he all right?’ She paused for a moment and then added, ‘No, not really. I mean, I know who he is. Kelly’s brother, right? I’ve never spoken to him though.’ She puckered her forehead into a frown. ‘I saw him at the church. Why would anyone want to…’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out.’

  ‘I’m not sure how I can help.’

  ‘The police are talking to everyone who attended the funeral, trying to piece together a picture, see if anyone saw or heard anything.’

  Sadie held on to his words like a drowning woman clinging to a lifebelt. Would he be saying these things if he knew she was responsible? But maybe it was a trick, a ruse to try and make her relax and let down her guard. ‘I see. Well, of course.’

  Frayne left one of his short unsettling silences before he continued. ‘So when was the last time you saw Wayne Gissing?’

  ‘It must have been at the burial.’ Sadie gave a light shrug. ‘He was standing with Kelly near the grave.’

  ‘And how did he seem?’

  ‘Seem?’ Sadie repeated.

  ‘Agitated, upset, angry?’

  ‘I-I don’t know. I wasn’t really looking at him. I don’t think so. I mean, I didn’t notice anything in particular. I wasn’t standing that close.’

  ‘You weren’t at the graveside then?’

  Sadie shook her head. Recalling the presence of the two London detectives, she knew better than to lie about this. They would have already written their reports, detailing where all the mourners were positioned. ‘I was standing back, on one of the paths. I was with Sharon Gissing.’

  Frayne’s eyebrows shot up as if he was surprised. ‘Sharon Gissing?’

  ‘Yes, we got talking as we left the church. We walked to the cemetery together. I suppose it was a bit awkward for both of us. I was the wife Eddie was separated from and she was the girlfriend’s stepmother. I think Kelly’s real mum was there so… anyway, we hung back a bit. We didn’t want to intrude.’

  ‘And when the service was over?’

  ‘I left.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Yes. Sharon was waiting for the others.’

  ‘So you didn’t go over and talk to Eddie’s parents?’

  ‘No. I meant to but… I don’t know, it didn’t seem like the right time.’ Out of the corner of her eye she could see the constable scribbling in his notebook, taking down everything she said. ‘I picked up my stuff from Oaklands, went to the station and got on a train.’

  Frayne took out a large tissue and blew his nose noisily. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I can’t get rid of this cold.’ He shoved the tissue back in his pocket. ‘Going back to the cemetery,’ he said. ‘Did you happen to notice a red Ford Capri parked at the far end of the thoroughfare?’

  Sadie shook her head. ‘No.’ Keep it simple, she warned herself. Don’t embellish. Don’t say anything you don’t need to.

  ‘So you left straight after the burial. Was that by the main gates?’

  ‘Shortly after, yes.’ Had anyone seen her leave? Not Eddie’s family – they’d had had their backs to her. And she didn’t have to worry about the Gissings; they weren’t about to admit that she’d been lured to the far side of the graveyard. No, she was pretty sure that Sharon would be telling much the same story as she was.

  ‘And who was still in the cemetery at this time?’

  ‘The priest,’ she said. ‘Eddie’s parents and his sister, Kelly and her mother. A few others I didn’t know.’

  ‘And what about Wayne Gissing?’

  Sadie wrinkled her brow as if she was thinking about it. ‘I’m not sure. He might have gone by then. To be honest, I can’t remember.’

  ‘But you didn’t hear the shot?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You left and went straight back to the guest house?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Sadie reached out for Joel’s hand, took his warm fingers between hers and softly squeezed them. ‘I was tired. It was… an emotional morning. I just wanted to come home.’

  ‘Did you see anyone at Oaklands?’

  ‘No, sorry, there wasn’t anyone around. I went up to my room, got my holdall and went to the station.’

  Frayne gave another nod. ‘There’s just one more thing,’ he said. ‘Do you know a man called Nathan Stone?’

  Sadie’s pulse began to race. She had to battle to keep eye contact with him. Jesus, how should she answer? How much did he already know? She didn’t want to get caught out in a lie, but the truth might be even more dangerous. The denial was out of her mouth before she had proper time to consider it. ‘No, I don’t think so. The name doesn’t sound familiar.’

  Frayne looked towards the constable. It was a quick conspiratorial glance but Sadie still caught it. ‘Are you sure?’ he said, leaning forward to place his palms firmly on his thighs. ‘Only we’ve been informed that you had a long conversation with him in the Fox last night.’

  ‘What? Who told you that? No, that isn’t… that can’t be…’ Sadie frowned hard as if she couldn’t understand it and then produced what she hoped was a look of enlightenment. ‘Ah, do you mean the tall guy with the grey hair? Was that his name? I don’t think he introduced himself. He came over to the table and said that he was sorry to hear about Eddie. He didn’t stay for long. A few minutes at the most. Was that him?’

  Frayne gave her a long hard stare. ‘You’ve never met him before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re sure about that?’

  Sadie, who was still holding Joel’s hand, wondered if he could feel the dampness of her palms. ‘Absolutely. I went for a drink with Velma – she’s a woman I met at the guest house – and the guy just… he just came over.’ She gave a shrug. ‘Sorry, is it important? I’d forgotten all about it.’

  ‘You didn’t see him again at the church or the cemetery?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You think this man had something to do with the shooting?’ Joel asked.

  Frayne didn’t answer directly. ‘We’re still making enquiries.’

  Sadie felt her stomach shift. Had someone seen Nathan Stone at the cemetery? Or maybe his car parked by the gates? But it didn’t matter, she thought, so long as Wayne Gissing kept quiet about who had really done the shooting.

  Frayne rose to his feet and smiled at her. ‘I think that’s all for now. Thank you for your time. If anything else occurs to you…’

  ‘Yes, I’ll let you know,’ Sadie said. She jumped up, eager to see the back of him. Relief was washing over her. A short while ago she’d felt like a woman on the way to the gallows. Now she’d been given a last-minute reprieve. She wasn’t stupid enough to feel that she was safe, but at least she wasn’t being escorted off the premises in handcuffs.

  ‘I’ll see you out,’ Joel said.

  He went to the door and the constable followed him. Frayne was on the point of leaving too when he stopped and gestured towards Sadie’s hand. ‘You’ve hurt yourself.’

  ‘Oh, this?’ she said, waving her hand in the air and trying to sound casual. ‘It’s nothing, a scratch. I caught it on a nail.’

  ‘Was that here or in London?’

  Sadie might have lied to him, might have said that she’d done it downstairs in the workroom, if Joel hadn’t still been within earshot. ‘At the guesthouse,’ she said. ‘It was my own fault. But it’s fine, nothing serious. It will have healed up in a day or two.’


  Frayne continued to stare at the plaster for a few seconds as if he was trying to form a link in his head between the wound and the shooting of Wayne Gissing. He lifted his eyes to stare directly into Sadie’s. What did he see there? Fear, hope, deceit? She was the first to look away, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you in peace,’ he said. ‘Have a nice evening.’

  Sadie forced her mouth into a shaky smile. In peace? She sensed a hint of mockery in the words as if Frayne could see right into the darkness of her soul and knew that her days of freedom were numbered.

  41

  Nina Frayne could hear the rain lashing against the window as she poured hot water over the whisky and added a teaspoon of sugar and the juice from half a lemon. She gave the whole lot a stir, carried the mug through to the living room and placed the hot toddy on the table beside her husband.

  ‘Here, drink this before it goes cold.’

  ‘Thanks, love.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? It won’t take a minute.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. I grabbed a sandwich at the station.’

  Nina placed a hand on the back of his chair. She always worried about him – it had become a habit over the years – but she became even more anxious when he immersed himself in a complicated case. It was as if he lived and breathed every little detail until some form of resolution was eventually arrived at. ‘It’s turned nasty out there. Pouring down. You won’t need to go out again, will you?’

  ‘Let’s hope not.’

  Looking over his shoulder she saw that the file on his lap was open to a rough sketch of Kellston Cemetery. It included the main thoroughfare, both sets of gates and a few side paths. Eddie Wise’s grave was marked with a tombstone and there was a series of stickmen with initials placed neatly beside them.

  ‘Is this the funeral?’

  Gerald pointed with his forefinger to a tiny figure with SW printed beside it. ‘Sadie Wise,’ he said. ‘She was standing right here with Sharon Gissing. That’s odd, don’t you think?’

  Nina studied the diagram, trying to see what he was getting at. ‘Odd?’

  ‘Well, there’s no love lost between the Gissings and Sadie Wise. It’s not that long since they were accusing her of murder. So why would the two of them choose to stand together like that? It doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘Maybe the family changed their mind, decided she’s innocent after all.’

  ‘That’s not what I’ve heard.’

  ‘So maybe Sharon was trying to prise some information out of her. You know, the softly-softly approach? What did Sadie say when you asked her?’

  Gerald picked up the glass and took a sip of the whisky. ‘Not much. Only that they got talking outside the church and walked together to the cemetery.’

  ‘Perhaps she wanted to clear the air. It’s not very nice having people think you’re a killer.’

  ‘Except the Gissings aren’t what you’d call the rational sort. And they’re hardly the type to talk things through either. No, that family do most of their talking with their fists.’

  ‘What, even the women?’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ Gerald said. ‘Both Kelly and Sharon have been charged in the past with assaults on other females. Not to mention numerous counts of affray. It’s usually over some bloke or another; they don’t take kindly to having their toes stepped on.’

  ‘So you think Sharon was up to something?

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘But Wayne Gissing was the one who got shot.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Nina thought about this for a while. ‘You don’t think she did it, do you? Sadie Wise, I mean.’

  ‘I haven’t ruled it out. She claims she left shortly after the burial, went out through the main gates and back to Oaklands, but there aren’t any witnesses. Nobody can back up her story. No one saw her at the guest house either.’

  ‘Where would she even get a gun from?’

  ‘It might not have been hers. Perhaps it was Wayne’s. There could have been an argument, a scuffle and the thing went off accidentally. But I’ll tell you something, she looked white as a sheet when we turned up at the flat this evening.’

  ‘Lots of people are nervous of the police. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. And it must have been a difficult day for her with the funeral.’

  ‘It was more than that. Her body language… She was tense, defensive. It was all wrong. I’ve got a feeling she’s hiding something. I’m sure she is. I just can’t figure out what. And then there’s all this business with Nathan Stone. I told you about him, didn’t I?’

  ‘The man who works for Terry Street, the one she was supposed to have gone to the dogs with?’

  ‘That’s him. So she claims they’ve never met, that she’s never heard of him, but one of McCloud’s men saw them talking in the Fox last night. When I pulled her up on it she said he was a complete stranger who came up to her in the pub to express his condolences over Eddie.’

  ‘But you don’t believe her.’

  Gerald shook his head. ‘I’d swear on it. She knows him all right. So why is she lying?’

  ‘Well, if there was… is something between the two of them she’s hardly going to admit to it in front of her boyfriend.’

  ‘She could have come down to the station at any time, talked to me in confidence. Better that, surely, than being a suspect in a murder case.’

  Nina, who felt that part of her job in these exchanges was to try and put the opposing point of view, chipped in with, ‘True, but why would they even talk to each other in the pub? If they are involved, wouldn’t they be more likely to keep their distance?’

  ‘Maybe he had something important to tell her, something that couldn’t wait. Maybe he’s not very smart. Or maybe he’s so arrogant that he thinks he can do whatever he likes and get away with it.’ Gerald drummed the fingers of his free hand on the arm of the chair. ‘Cowan Road had a tail on him – that’s how they knew about him seeing Sadie Wise – but he gave them the slip this morning. Disappeared for hours and didn’t turn up on the radar again until the early afternoon.’

  ‘So he could have been involved in the shooting. What’s Ian McCloud’s take on all this?’

  Gerald swirled the whisky and lemon around in the glass and gave a weary sigh as he thought about his former colleague. ‘I think he’s leaning more towards the gangland idea, some kind of feud that’s got out of hand, an eye for an eye and all that. He can’t see any real motive for Sadie Wise wanting her husband dead.’

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be one – on the surface. I guess you just have to follow your instincts. I mean, McCloud’s never spoken to her, has he? He hasn’t seen what you’ve seen.’

  Gerald was quiet for a moment, pondering. ‘Peter Royston’s got his suspicions too. He’s been sniffing around, looking for an angle.’

  ‘I don’t like that man. He’s a scandalmonger… and a creep.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean he’s wrong, though. The guy’s got a nose for a good story.’