by Roberta Kray
Gerald flicked it open, checked that it hadn’t expired, gave a nod and passed it back. ‘Thank you.’
‘She didn’t have anything to do with the murder,’ Joel said insistently. ‘Even if she was at the fair, that doesn’t mean… Maybe she saw something and it scared her. Maybe she’s in danger or… my God, what if the same person who killed Royston has done something to her too?’
‘Why don’t you sit down,’ Gerald said. ‘Please try not to worry too much. We’ve got no reason to suspect that she’s been hurt in any way.’ He waited until Joel was back on the sofa before continuing. ‘How has Sadie been lately? I mean, in herself?’
Joel briefly lifted his hands before letting them drop back again. ‘As you’d expect. All this business with Eddie has knocked her for six. And it’s not easy being under suspicion, especially in a small town like this.’
‘You didn’t feel she had anything else on her mind?’
‘Isn’t that enough?’
‘Yes, of course. It must have been very hard for her. For both of you. This type of thing can put a strain on relationships.’ Gerald saw a flicker in the younger man’s eyes and knew that he’d hit a nerve. Perhaps the relationship wasn’t quite as rosy as it appeared on the surface. He thought of the rumours about Sadie Wise and Nathan Stone. ‘Any unusual phone calls, anything like that?’
‘Unusual?’
‘You know, people putting the phone down when you answer it. Not speaking.’
Joel shook his head. ‘No.’ And then he frowned. ‘Well, maybe there was something.’ He hesitated as if weighing up in his mind any possible disloyalty to Sadie. A few seconds passed before he said, ‘The girl, Anne – Sadie was trying to avoid her.’
‘In what way?’
‘She didn’t want to take her calls. I had to keep telling her – Anne, I mean – that Sadie wasn’t in.’
‘Did Sadie tell you why?’
‘Only that Anne kept going on about Eddie. She didn’t want to talk about him. It was too much for her. I don’t think Anne was being deliberately unkind, just a bit insensitive.’
‘How often did she call?’
‘Quite a lot, almost every day.’ Joel ran the palms of his hands along his thighs again. He stared down at the floor before slowly lifting his gaze to look at the inspector. ‘Why do you think that Anne and Mona are the same person?’
‘I can’t really say at the moment.’
‘But you think Sadie might be with her?’
‘It’s possible.’
Joel pondered on this for a while. ‘But if that’s the case, then why did Anne call me earlier? Why would she be looking for Sadie if they were together?’
Gerald suspected that the girl had called to squeeze some information out of Joel, to try and suss out what was happening this end. ‘What did she say exactly?’
‘Nothing much, only that she didn’t know where she was.’ Joel screwed up his face, trying to remember the details of the conversation. ‘I told her the police were looking for Sadie and she asked me why. I said… I said I thought it was something to do with Eddie. I mean, I didn’t know about Peter Royston then.’
‘Did she mention Royston at all?’
‘No.’
‘And how did she sound?’
Joel gave a shrug. ‘Normal, the same. A bit worried, I suppose. She said to let her know if I heard anything. Oh, and she was calling from a phone box – she doesn’t usually. I heard the pips go when I picked up the phone.’
‘Any noise in the background?’
‘No, I don’t… I’m not sure. I can’t really remember. I don’t think so.’
Gerald gave a nod and, having decided that he’d gleaned as much information as he could from Joel Hunter, rose to his feet. ‘Well, thanks for all your help. As I’ve said, try not to worry too much. Obviously if you hear from Sadie, you’ll let us know?’
Joel stood up too. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Keep on looking. I’m sure she’ll turn up.’
‘She hasn’t done anything wrong, Inspector. I’d swear to it. Sadie isn’t… She’s a kind person. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. This is all…’ Joel’s mouth twisted as he struggled to come up with the right words. ‘You have to find her. She’d never just leave like this, she wouldn’t, not without, not… She just wouldn’t.’
Gerald, feeling sorry for the guy, reached out and gave him a paternal pat on the shoulder. ‘We’ll keep you informed. If you think of anything else, anything at all that might be useful, just give me a call.’
A few minutes later the two police officers were back in the car. ‘Poor bastard,’ Gerald said as he pulled across his seatbelt. ‘He hasn’t got a clue.’
Turner put the key in the ignition but didn’t immediately turn it. ‘Do you think Sadie could be with Nathan Stone?’
‘It’s possible. The Kellston lads have paid him a visit and he says not. But if she doesn’t want to be found, he’s hardly going to point them in the right direction.’ As he sat back and gazed along the road, Gerald was starting to revise his theory about why Anne/Mona had called the flat. ‘Maybe our two girls have got separated or had a falling out. Mona went home to pick up some things – we know that for a fact. What if she was supposed to meet up with Sadie later and Sadie didn’t show?’
‘So she rang to see if Sadie was here.’ Turner bowed his head a little to gaze up at the top windows. ‘The two of them killed Royston, did a runner to London, split up and… maybe Sadie is with Stone and doesn’t want Mona to find her.’
In his head Gerald quickly reviewed all the paperwork they’d found at Royston’s place. ‘But why kill him? Royston didn’t have any evidence to link either of them to the murder of Eddie Wise. Nothing solid, at least. He was certainly digging, but that’s about the sum of it.’
‘Well, you know what these reporters are like, devious sods the lot of them. Perhaps he gave the impression of knowing more than he did.’
Gerald gave a nod. ‘You could be right.’ The autopsy, which had been done this morning, hadn’t told them much more than they’d already been able to gather at the scene, that Peter Royston had died from a blow to the back of his head at around eight o’clock and that his skull had been fractured. There’d been no need for any conjecture about the murder weapon: the piece of lead pipe had been found by his side, still covered in blood. Forensics had confirmed that there were no fingerprints.
The pathologist had provided one interesting fact, however: a cup of coffee had been thrown in Royston’s face shortly before he’d died. Had that been an angry response from someone who’d just heard something they didn’t like? It struck Gerald that this was more likely the action of a woman than a man, although he didn’t voice this opinion out loud. These days you had to be careful about making what could be perceived as sexist comments.
Turner switched on the engine and pulled away from the kerb. ‘The trouble is no one actually saw Royston and Mona Farrell together at the fair. Or the two girls come to that.’
‘It’s early days,’ Gerald said. They were still trying to track down all the fairground workers – as well as the visitors who’d been there last night – but it wasn’t an easy task. It could be days before they got statements from everyone.
‘It couldn’t have been planned, could it? I mean no one with any sense would actually choose to kill in a place like that. There’s too much chance of being seen. They could have gone to his flat or lured him to a quiet spot.’
Gerald dug out a tissue from his pocket and blew his nose. He felt like he’d had this cold for ever. Why couldn’t he get rid of the damn thing? It kept him awake at night, making him tired during the day. He fought to stifle a yawn. ‘Planned or not, Royston’s still dead.’
‘He’s that all right.’
Gerald scowled and pressed his lips together. Sadie Wise was out there somewhere – probably in London. Hadn’t he had a hunch about her right from the start, a feeling in his guts? After all his years in the force he could
spot a liar when he saw one. He balled up the tissue, his hands closing around it in a tight, determined fist. Well, she might have got away with murder once, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it twice.
51
Sadie was already starting to lose track of time. How long had she been here for? Three, four days? When she looked at her watch she was no longer sure whether it was day or night. The bulb attached to the wall was always on, a constant dim glow casting shadows across the room. She lay on the mattress and gazed up at the ceiling.
There were extended periods when no one came at all, when she would begin to fear that they had left her there to rot, and then she would hear that strange scraping noise again, followed by the sound of the key in the lock. She didn’t know which felt worse, the sick horror of abandonment or the sight of Kelly looming over her with all that hate in her eyes.
Sadie could feel a throbbing in her left eye, half closed from where the girl had punched her hard in the face. It was always the same routine, the same endless questions, the same lashing out.
‘So who was it, you bitch? Who did you get to kill Eddie?’
‘No one,’ Sadie would plead. ‘I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.’
‘You’re a fuckin’ liar! Tell me! Tell me, you bitch!’
‘I didn’t do anything.’
Wayne Gissing would watch with that sly, sadistic smile of his while his sister laid into her. And there was nothing Sadie could do to protect herself. If she tried to fight back, it only made it worse. Anyway, it was two against one; she hadn’t got a hope in hell. There was nothing she could say either; if she admitted that she knew who’d killed Eddie, Kelly would kill her, and by continuing to deny it… well, the outcome would probably be the same eventually.
Sadie lay very still, trying not to move. Whenever she changed position her body cried out in protest. She had bruises on her back, her chest, her arms and legs. Her face hurt too, a constant ache that wouldn’t go away. She longed for sleep, for release, but at the moment it simply wouldn’t come. Whenever she closed her eyes she would see Kelly looming over her again.
And then there was the hunger. Sadie was trying not to think about the empty pit in her stomach. Since being snatched off the street in Haverlea she’d only been given two sandwiches. The first had been in the afternoon after the night she’d arrived, and she had eaten it greedily, stuffing the bread and cheese into her mouth. It had been another thirty-six hours before she’d been provided with another. This time she had been more careful, tearing off small pieces in order to make it last and savouring every morsel. There was still water, but she was taking care to ration it. She drank only a limited amount every day in case it was not replaced.
Sadie could feel the four walls of the room closing in on her. Already she knew every inch of her prison, every brick, every cold slab on the floor, every cobweb. The door was firmly locked and didn’t even have a handle on this side. She had examined the lock over and over again as if by constant scrutiny she might discover a means of getting it open. But no, there was no way out.
She wondered if Joel had realised she was missing. He would have tried to ring from the pub at Grasmere, but would not have been worried when she hadn’t picked up. She had told him she might be visiting her mother and he wouldn’t know that number off the top of his head. Would he be home yet? It was only then, when he flicked through her address book and made the call, that alarm bells would start going off.
Maybe the police were already looking for her. She held on to this hope, needing something to cling to. But in the back of her mind the little voices were chattering away: Why would they check out the Gissing house? Why would they look for her in London? Would they even take her absence seriously? People failed to return home every day. She would just be one more girl in a long list of missing people.
Sadie’s gaze slid over the ceiling as she tried to fight off her despair. She made an effort not to breathe too deeply; there was a stench emanating from the bucket in the corner. Nobody ever emptied it. She must stink as well; she hadn’t been able to have a wash or brush her teeth since she’d got here.
She had time, too much time, to dwell on all the mistakes that had led her to this God-forsaken hole in the ground, but feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to achieve anything. She had to figure out a plan, a way of getting out of here before she became too weak to act. But what? Wayne was always guarding the door, creating a barrier between her and the cellar beyond.
It was cold in the room, but that wasn’t why she shivered. Just the thought of Wayne Gissing made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The last time he’d come, he’d leaned over her before he left and whispered, ‘I could do anything to you, anything at all.’ And of course it was true. He had all the power and she had none.
Sadie forced herself to sit up. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees. Think. The idea that she might die here filled her with horror. It was better to die fighting, she decided, than to just lie down and give up.
52
Wayne Gissing limped into the hall as Sharon was pulling on her leather jacket. He frowned at her. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Going to work.’
‘You can’t.’
Sharon started doing up the zip. ‘Huh?’
‘Kel’s already gone out and I’ve got a bit of business. I told you.’
‘So?’
‘So we can’t all be out at the same time.’ He lowered his voice and glanced up the stairs, knowing that his mother was in the bathroom. ‘Who’s going to keep an eye on things?’
Sharon gave a careless shrug. ‘Well, not me, that’s for sure.’
Wayne took hold of her elbow, propelled her back into the living room and closed the door. ‘Someone’s got to stay here. What if she decides to go poking about in the cellar?’
‘She won’t.’
‘Oh yeah, and you know that for a fact, do you?’
‘I know she can’t stand the place. And no offence, babe, but I’m not spending the evening alone with her. She’s got a bloody screw loose. You’ll have to change your plans.’
‘It’s too late for that.’
‘And I’ve got to go to work so that’s that.’
Wayne, who had been looking forward to a few pints down at the Dog, raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. ‘So give it a swerve. It’s not as though you need the cash. Shit, we’re going to be rolling in it in a couple of days.’
‘A couple of days is a couple of days. I need money now, love. I can’t live off air.’
Wayne tried again. ‘Twenty grand,’ he said. ‘That’s plenty to go round.’
‘If he pays up.’
‘Course he’ll pay up. Wants the tart back in one piece, don’t he?’ The ransom note had already gone off, delivered in the dead of night to the Hope. Nathan Stone might not have all the money, but his boss certainly would. Terry Street was rolling in it. Twenty grand would be a drop in the ocean to him. And how could he refuse to help? Stone was a smart bastard, the brains behind most of the firm’s investments. Terry relied on him and couldn’t afford to have him pissed off.
‘And what if he doesn’t? Maybe he doesn’t give a fuck about the girl.’
‘Then we’ll send her back a piece at a time until he changes his mind.’
Sharon glared at him. ‘What? You’re kidding, right? I didn’t —’
‘Yeah yeah, keep your knickers on. I’m only messing. Look, he’s going to pay. Trust me, he will. So are you staying or not?’