by Roberta Kray
‘Welcome to your new home,’ Wayne said.
Sadie turned and stared at him.
He stared back, grinning from ear to ear. ‘Enjoy your stay.’ Suddenly he reached out and twisted a handful of her hair around his left hand. He pulled hard on the roots, pushed his face into hers and said, ‘This might hurt a bit.’
Sadie let out a gasp of pain as he ripped the tape from her mouth. ‘Jesus!’
‘Best not to speak, babe,’ he said. ‘You might say something to annoy me.’
Kelly glared at Sadie and then looked at Wayne. ‘You should finish her off. You know what she did to Eddie. She’s a murdering cow.’
‘I didn’t kill him,’ Sadie protested. ‘I swear I didn’t.’
Wayne suddenly spun her round so she had her back to him and she heard the flick as the blade of his knife shot out. ‘What did I say to you?’ For a second, convinced that he was about to kill her, her heart stopped. She closed her eyes and prayed. Please God. Please God. And then, miraculously, she got a reprieve. Instead of slicing her throat, Wayne cut through the ties on her wrists. She heard the rope fall to the ground and felt the blood rush into her hands again.
‘Over there,’ he ordered, gesturing towards the single mattress on the floor. ‘Sit down and shut the fuck up!’
Sadie quickly did as she was told.
‘Come on,’ Sharon said. ‘Let’s get out of here before your bloody mother wakes up.’
Wayne continued to glare down at Sadie, his look cold and sadistic as if he was weighing up the best possible method of inflicting pain. ‘Don’t get lonely,’ he said mockingly. ‘I’ll be back.’
‘Wayne!’ Sharon urged.
Finally, he shifted his gaze and walked away. Sadie stayed very still as the three of them left. She watched the door close and heard a key turn in the lock. After that there was an odd scraping sound that she couldn’t make any sense of. She rubbed her hands together trying to get the circulation back and let out her breath in a long slow sigh of relief. She wasn’t exactly happy to find herself locked up, but at least she was still alive.
Left alone, she raised a tentative hand to touch the place on her cheek where Kelly had slapped her. It was sore and throbbing. She gazed around her prison. The cell was about fourteen foot square with a single bare bulb attached to the wall. The flex ran back through a badly drilled hole into the larger room beyond, which meant that she couldn’t turn the light off. Not that she wanted to; she had no desire to be plunged into darkness.
Other than the bed, there was no furniture at all. The single mattress was thin and worn and smelled of mildew. It was covered by a green blanket and an old eiderdown patterned with roses. The walls had grey silvery cobwebs clinging to the brick. On the bare stone floor were three bottles of water, a roll of loo paper and a plastic bucket. There was no food.
Although there was little to see, Sadie continued to focus on the room. She was trying to push away a niggling question at the back of her mind. But try as she might she couldn’t keep it at bay. Why hadn’t they put a blindfold on her as they’d led her from the van and through the house? The only logical answer made her guts spasm with fear: they didn’t have to worry about what she might have seen because she wasn’t getting out of here alive.
49
Mona Farrell paced from one side of the room to the other, raking her fingers through her hair and swigging from a bottle of vodka. ‘Damn, damn, damn,’ she muttered. Why had that scumbag had to come along to ruin everything? Her face creased in disgust as she thought about Royston and his sly, accusing eyes. ‘You’re up to your necks in it, you and Sadie… I know all about Eddie Wise.’ She was glad he was dead; he bloody well deserved to be dead.
But what now?
She was still trying to figure it out, but her thoughts wouldn’t run in straight lines. What day was it? Sunday, of course it was Sunday. She recalled checking out of the Bold last night, going straight to the station and catching a train to Liverpool and then another one to London. The journey was blurred, a hurtling through darkness. Her head had been spinning; it was still spinning. Back in Hampstead, she’d felt safe, but the feeling hadn’t lasted long. Worried that the police might be on her tail, she’d taken off first thing this morning, telling her mother that she was going to stay with friends for a few days.
What were the chances of anyone remembering her from the fairground? She had bought a hotdog and a coffee, but lots of people must have done the same. Just one more face in the crowd. But someone might have noticed her walking with Royston. And what would the cops find when they searched his home or his office desk? The bastard had been digging the dirt on her – there’d be notes, documents, maybe even his suspicions written down in black and white. And then there was the hotel register, proof that she’d been in Haverlea on Saturday. How long before they found out about that? Shit, everything was starting to fall apart.
After returning to Hampstead, Mona had tried calling Sadie over and over again but there had been no reply from the flat. She had wanted to warn her about Royston. If Sadie had come to meet her at the fair then she was in the frame too. Being local there was more chance of her having been recognized.
It hadn’t been until this evening that she’d finally got through to Joel. ‘Hi, it’s Anne. How are you?’
‘Anne,’ he’d said, his voice sounding tight and anxious. ‘Have you heard from Sadie at all?’
‘What? No. That’s why I’m calling. Are you all right? Has something happened?’
‘I don’t know where she is. She… she seems to have gone missing.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You don’t know where she might be?’
‘What do you mean, missing?’
Joel had taken a deep breath as if he was trying to get his thoughts in order. ‘I went away for a few days and then the police… I’ve just got back but she isn’t here. There’s no note or anything and she hasn’t rung. They’re looking for her, for Sadie.’
‘The police? Why? What for?’
‘I’m not sure exactly,’ he’d said, suddenly coming over all coy. ‘It’s something… I think it’s to do with Eddie. But I have to find her. Do you have any idea where she might be?’
‘No. Sorry. I haven’t a clue.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, of course. I’d tell you if I did.’
‘Okay, thanks, yes, I’m sorry. I’m just… Look, I’d better go.’
‘Let me know if you hear anything.’
Mona had stepped out of the phone box with a smile on her face. So Sadie had done a runner too. That was good news. It was a relief. She must have heard about Royston and guessed that she’d be a suspect. Or maybe she’d even been at the fair when his body had been discovered.
Mona stopped pacing for a moment and gazed out through the window on to Station Road. She had chosen this B&B because it was almost opposite Oaklands and she could see everyone who came and went. She had a feeling, a gut instinct, that this was where Sadie would come. To Kellston. Of course she would. Where else? Sadie wouldn’t dare call Hampstead in case the police were monitoring the phone. No, she’d come here, hoping that Mona would too.
‘She’ll remember,’ Mona murmured, pressing her face against the glass. Yes, Sadie would remember that Mona had followed her during all that silly business with Eddie, that she knew about Oaklands. It was the natural place for them to meet up again. It was only a matter of time. She’d be here soon, tomorrow or the day after. And then what?
Mona had money that she’d withdrawn from a savings account, over a hundred quid. She had some gold jewellery too, a watch, three pairs of cufflinks and a tie pin, all of which she’d nicked from her father’s bedroom. Once they were sold, the cash would keep them going for a while. They could go over to France and… She frowned. Would Sadie have brought her passport? Maybe she wouldn’t have thought of it. Or maybe she hadn’t even had time to go back to the flat. Well, it didn’t matter. There was Ireland or Scotlan
d, plenty of places they could hide until the fuss died down.
‘Plenty of places,’ she said out loud.
Mona gazed down at the Sunday traffic, getting sparser now as night drew in. She shifted her gaze to focus on the door of Oaklands. The inside of her head was starting to feel odd, muffled, like it was wrapped in cotton wool. But that didn’t matter. She lifted the bottle to her lips and drank. Everything was going to be all right. Sadie needed her help and she was here to give it. She’d keep on waiting until she came.
50
Inspector Gerald Frayne sat back in the chair and studied the man in front of him. He felt sorry for Joel, who reminded him, in some ways, of his own son. They were of a similar age and had the same trusting eyes. Those eyes were filled with confusion at the moment – it was clear that he had no idea at all where Sadie Wise had gone or why she’d disappeared.
Gerald kept his voice calm and reassuring. ‘Try not to worry. I’m sure we’ll soon get to the bottom of this. When exactly was the last time you saw her?’
‘Early in the morning,’ Joel said. ‘Yesterday. She’d decided not to come to the Lake District. I think… I don’t know, I think maybe she was worried about all the people who’d be there, that they’d be gossiping about her and Eddie. She was upset about it all.’
‘And she didn’t mention going anywhere while you were away?’
Joel pushed the palms of his hands down his thighs. ‘Only her mum’s, but I’ve checked and she hasn’t heard from her. I don’t understand. This isn’t like her, Inspector. She wouldn’t just… And the bed wasn’t slept in last night; we made it before I left and it’s still… No, I’m sure it hasn’t been. Something bad must have happened. It must have.’
The ‘something bad’ Gerald suspected was the murder of Peter Royston but it wasn’t a thought he was going to share with Joel. ‘Let’s not go jumping to any conclusions. She hasn’t been gone that long. Is it possible that she’s just gone to see a friend, someone in Haverlea perhaps, and stayed over for the night?’
‘She’s never done it before. And I can’t think of anyone she’s that close to round here. I mean, we’ve got friends but… Anyway, I’ve rung round and none of them have seen her.’
Gerald gave a nod. It had taken them a while to track Joel Hunter down. The house in Grasmere had no phone and so the local police had been enlisted to pass on the information that Sadie Wise appeared to be missing. Joel had driven straight back to Haverlea, arriving at about six fifteen. It was now almost seven o’clock. ‘What about friends in other places? London perhaps. She used to live there, didn’t she?’
‘That was years ago. No, I can’t think of…’ Joel paused, frowned a little and then said, ‘Well, there’s Anne. She called me earlier, just after I got back, but she was trying to get hold of Sadie too.’
‘Anne?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know what her surname is?’
Joel shook his head. ‘Sorry. Sadie might have mentioned it but…’
‘An address then.’
Joel shook his head again. ‘I didn’t really know her that well. I’ve only met her once, a few weeks back when she turned up out of the blue. It was my mum’s birthday and there was a party so we all went to it together. She didn’t stay long though, only half an hour or so. Sadie said she wasn’t feeling well.’
‘Does Sadie have an address book?’
Joel, as if eager to be doing something useful, jumped up off the sofa. ‘Yes, it’s by the phone.’ He crossed the room, retrieved a small pale blue book, walked back and gave it to Gerald. ‘This is it.’
Gerald in turn passed the book to PC Turner. ‘Have a flick through this, John, see if you can find an Anne in it.’ He waited until Joel sat down again before asking his next question: ‘Has Sadie ever mentioned the name Mona Farrell to you?’
‘No, I don’t —’ Joel stopped abruptly as if something had just occurred to him. ‘Hold on, yes, she might have mentioned a Mona. I’m not sure. When she got back from London. A friend she’d bumped into at Eddie’s funeral? I think so. I couldn’t swear to it, though.’
‘Only we’ve not been able to track down Mona Farrell either. She told her mother she was going to stay with friends for a few days but we don’t know where.’
‘What, you think Sadie might be with this Mona? Is that what you’re saying?’
Gerald didn’t tell him that Mona Farrell had booked into the Bold hotel on Saturday. He thought about the papers they’d found at Peter Royston’s flat, a few press cuttings about the death of Eddie Wise and some basic stuff on Sadie. There had, however, been a virtual dossier on Mona Farrell with information on her history, her family and her connection to Sadie. At the very end of this file, a question had been posed in Royston’s small neat handwriting: Mona = Anne?
PC John Turner closed the address book and put it down on the table. ‘No Anne in it,’ he said. ‘No Mona Farrell either.’
Gerald paused for a second before asking Joel, ‘Do you think it’s possible that Mona Farrell and the woman you know as Anne are one and the same person?’
Joel looked bemused. ‘What? Why would they be? Look, what’s going on here? I don’t get it. I don’t understand.’
‘Do you know a journalist called Peter Royston?’
‘Yes, of course. I mean, I don’t know him well or anything. He’s a reporter on the local paper.’
‘Did you know he was looking into the murder of Eddie Wise?’
‘No, but I can’t say it surprises me. He likes scandal, likes writing about it. He’s not a particularly pleasant man.’
‘You haven’t heard then?’
‘Heard what?’ Joel asked.
Gerald leaned forward a little, keeping his eyes fixed on the other man. ‘Mr Royston was found murdered at the fairground on Saturday night.’
Joel flinched, his face paling. ‘He’s dead?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘I can’t believe it. Do you know who… how? Why? Have you arrested anyone?’ It took a few seconds for his brain to make the necessary connections and then the leap as to why the police were so eager to find Sadie. ‘God, you can’t think Sadie had anything to do with it. That’s crazy! She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.’
‘We’re not making any accusations, Joel. We simply want to talk to her. Does she often go to the fair?’
‘No, never.’
‘Well, we’re pretty sure she was there on Saturday night. We have a witness, a local woman, who claims she saw her standing by the Big Wheel at about eight o’clock. She looked as though she was waiting for someone.’
Joel gave a shake of his head and stood up again. He paced over to the window and stared out for a moment. ‘I don’t know why she’d go there. Maybe they’re wrong… this witness. Are they sure?’
‘Yes,’ Gerald said. ‘Does Sadie have a passport, Joel?’
Joel spun round, startled by the question. ‘What?’
‘A passport,’ Gerald repeated gently. ‘Please don’t be alarmed. It’s just procedure. One of those things we have to check when people go missing.’
‘Yes, she keeps it in the bedroom.’ Joel, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands, put them in his pockets and then took them out again. ‘I’ll go and get it, shall I?’
‘If you would.’
Joel returned about thirty seconds later, brandishing the passport. ‘Here,’ he said, thrusting it into the inspector’s lap as if its presence in the flat was proof positive of Sadie’s innocence. ‘I knew it would still be here.’