Shaping the Ripples

by Paul Wallington

  “It’s very kind of you to invite us all,” Katie said.

  “Not at all,” Lisa answered emphatically. “Normally whenever we entertain, it’s Ian’s clients, and all they do is talk about business all night. I’ve been looking forwards to you all coming ever since Ian suggested it.”

  Ian was smiling in the doorway. “Now everyone’s here, it’s time for our waiters to serve the drinks. There’s red and white wine, but just ask them if you’d like anything else.”

  Rachael and Ben came into the room, each holding a tray of filled wine glasses. They were both immaculately dressed. I decided to have white, and so went to help myself from Rachael’s tray.

  “Hello again,” I said to her, removing a glass of wine. “I see your dad’s roped you in to work for the evening.”

  “It’s not so bad,” she smiled back. “Ben and I have already agreed that we’ll share the left over wine between us while you’re all eating.”

  “I heard that,” Ian called, flashing her a look of mock severity. “You just can’t get decent staff these days.”

  “I’m not surprised on what you’re paying us,” she shot back, and Ian laughed.

  “I should have learned by now not to try arguing with you,” he conceded. “Heaven knows what it will be like when you’re a teenager.”

  Once everyone had a drink in their hands, Ian cleared his throat. Once again I was struck by his sheer presence as the room fell instantly silent and everyone turned to face him.

  “It’s an occupational hazard that I always feel compelled to make a speech,” he began, and was greeted with a chorus of groans. “Tonight is a celebration. Partly we’re celebrating all the new donations that the Centre has attracted over the last month, money that’s enough to secure your future for a long time to come. But more than that, I wanted tonight to be a celebration of all of you.”

  “Each of you does so much invaluable and unheralded work to change the lives of the desperate people who come to you, including the partners here who put up with their husband and wife being on call at all hours of the day and night. The money we’ve raised is important, but only because it allows all of you to continue the vital work that you do.”

  He lifted his glass in the air. “To the Domestic Crisis Centre, and a successful future.”

  We all joined in the toast, and then George proposed another toast to Ian for his work in making the centre financially secure.

  “Shall we all go and get something to eat?” Lisa suggested.

  We followed her back out into the hall, and then across into an elaborate dining room. It was furnished with a couple of antique cabinets, and a long oak dining table. There were eight chairs on either side of the table, and one at each end.

  “I’ve only ever seen tables like this in stately homes,” Barbara commented.

  “It’s not quite as pretentious as it looks,” Ian answered, looking slightly embarrassed. “We don’t come in here when it’s just the four of us. Quite often when I’m evaluating a company it helps to get the management away from where they work. I often use this room to hold board meetings and so on.”

  “Help yourselves please,” Lisa said.

  The table itself was laden with food. There were plates of new potatoes, rice and chips, and bowls with all different sorts of salad in them. There was a section of cold foods; quiche, gammon, roast beef, and a delicious coronation chicken. And there were dishes of hot food; chilli, pizzas, curry and a lamb stew.

  “This must have taken you forever,” Mary said.

  “You could feed a small army with all this,” Tom joked.

  “You haven’t seen our children eat,” Lisa told him. “Make sure you’ve got a good plate full before we let them loose on it.”

  Once we’d all piled our plates high, we headed back into the living room. Katie and I sat together on a small couch, and Lisa came and perched on a chair next to us.

  “How long have you two been together?” she asked.

  Fortunately I had just shoved a large fork full of food into my mouth, so I left Katie to answer.

  “Just the last few weeks,” she said.

  “Really?” Lisa exclaimed. “You look so comfortable together, I thought you must have been going out for ages."

  “How long have you and Ian lived here?” I asked her in an attempt to change the subject.

  “We’ve lived in York ever since we were married,” she answered. “But we’ve only lived in this house for the last couple of years. Ian had always said that one day we’d live in this area so once his business started doing so well, we found this house. It’s much too big for us really, but it means a lot to him to have kept his promise.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Katie told her. “Any chance of a guided tour when we’ve finished eating?”

  Lisa looked a little uncertain. “It always feels a bit like we’re showing off,” she said. “But if you really want to have a look around, you can.”

  When we’d cleared our plates, Ian insisted that we go back for a second helping of the food. Rachael and Ben had obviously done their best, but there was still mountains of food left. I did my best to help, piling my plate high again with as much food as I thought I could possibly eat, but they were going to be able to feast on leftovers for a few days.

  Back in the living room, George and Ian seemed deep in conversation, so we sat in a group with Barbara, Tom Mary and Lisa. The conversation was relaxed and friendly, and at one point Lisa, Mary and Tom were comparing notes on the pains of being married to someone whose job took up the bulk of their time and energy. Katie winked across at me.

  “Perhaps being apart so much stops you getting fed up of each other,” she suggested.

  “Maybe,” Tom laughed, drawing a mock glare from Barbara. “But you must find it hard to have a proper social life with the hours you work.”

  “Oh, I’m not doing too badly at the moment,” Katie answered in a demure tone, and Lisa glanced quickly across at me.

  The conversation moved on, interspersed with compliments about the excellence of the food. Finally, we were all completely stuffed.

  “How about that tour then?” I asked Lisa. Again she looked rather embarrassed.

  “If you’re really sure that you won’t be bored,” she agreed with some reluctance.

  I’m not sure that I’d have been so modest if I lived in such a spectacular house. We only went around the ground floor, but it still took us the best part of half an hour. There were two other living rooms, both overwhelming in their own way. The first one had a cinema style television screen taking up most of one wall and was most reminiscent of an electronics showroom, with video and DVD players, as well as several different games consoles. The second Lisa introduced as their “music and reading room”, and was furnished with several comfortable looking couches, an ornate piano, and a tiny music system, with speakers in every corner.

  The kitchen was enormous and centred around a pine table and benches which, Lisa informed us, was where the family had most of their meals. Then we went on to Ian’s study where the antique desk was slightly incongruous amidst two state of the art computers, printers, a photocopier, and a fax machine.

  Lisa had saved the most stunning part for last. She lead us down a corridor, which had obviously been built as an extension to the house. At the far end of the corridor were two doors. One was labeled “Games Room”, but Lisa pushed the other one open. The smell of chlorine gave away what the door was leading to. It was a good sized swimming pool, with changing cubicles. I knelt down and dipped a finger into the water. It was lovely and warm.

  “Ian only likes swimming in warm water,” Lisa smiled as she watched me. “Our electricity bills are enormous since we had this pool built.”

  Finally we moved into the games room. This was dominated by a large snooker table. There was a bar at one end of the room, seemingly stocked with every kind of alcoholic drink. Leather padded benches ran along each wall, and there was a wooden rack, containing a large
number of professional looking cues.

  “Wow,” Katie said, her mouth slightly open with awe. “This place is fantastic.” As the rest of us agreed with her assessment, the door to the room opened again, and George and Ian walked in.

  “We thought we’d better come and find out what you were all up to,” Ian smiled. “Would anyone like a drink?”

  Before long, he was happily behind the bar, serving drinks to all of us. Once we were all sorted, Ian spoke again.

  “Perhaps you can all see why I was so keen to help as much as I can with the work you all do at the Centre. We’re well aware how lucky we are to have all this, especially when we hear the stories of the people that you help. I’m not ashamed of being successful, but I do think there’s an obligation to help those who aren’t so fortunate.” He smiled again. “Of course, that could just be my way of avoiding feeling guilty about all the money that we’ve spent here.”

  “I think it’s a wonderful home,” Katie replied. “I don’t suppose you’re looking for a lodger, or someone to mind the house when you’re on holiday?” she joked.

  “You never know,” Ian answered. “Does anyone fancy a game of snooker?”

  Somehow it ended up that Katie and I were matched against George and Ian, while the others sat and watched and offered “helpful” advice. Thanks to my “hard-working” days at university, I reckon that I’m not an awful player – in the sense that I can sometimes pot three or four balls in a row. Katie turned out to be pretty good as well, so I reckoned we had a good chance of winning. That was until I saw Ian play. He scored twenty eight points on his first go and then apologised to George for having missed a shot.

  Fortunately George seemed to think that the idea of the game was to get the white ball into as many different pockets as possible, so the penalty points he gave us each time just about kept the score respectable. Even so, it was a fairly emphatic defeat.

  “You’re far too good,” I told Ian as I shook his hand.

  “I’ve just had a lot more practice,” he said modestly.

  “That’s Ian for you,” Lisa teased. “He can’t stand it if he’s not the best at everything he does, so he tries and tries until he is.”

  “Don’t tell them that,” he replied jokingly. “I’d just about got them all convinced that I was a nice bloke.”

  We spent most of the rest of the evening in the games room, with various pairs playing snooker, and Ian continuing to keep the drinks flowing. I was surprised how much I was enjoying myself. It was only after the other couples had left, and Katie and I were trying in vain to beat Ian and Lisa, that I was reminded about the murders.

  “Have they got any further in finding this awful killer?” Ian asked as he expertly potted the blue and span the white into a perfect position for his next shot.

  Before I could answer, Katie had jumped in. “The police seem to be wasting most of their time trying to prove that Jack’s responsible,” she said with indignation.

  “Oh, how terrible,” Lisa sympathised.

  “Would I know the person in charge of the investigation?” Ian asked as another ball rolled smoothly into a pocket.

  “Probably,” I told him. “He was at the Executive Club Christmas dinner. His name’s Michael Palmer.”

  This was obviously of sufficient import that Ian ignored his next shot and stood up from the table.

  “We have quite a few of the more senior policemen in the club,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know Michael very well but he’s supposed to be very bright. He’s seen as the rising young star of the local police force. There was something else though, but I never found out the details. Some sort of scandal he was involved in a few years back. I think for a while it looked as if he would be dismissed, but whatever it was, it’s obviously all forgotten now. Would it help if I gave him a call?”

  “That’s very kind of you,” I told him. “But I don’t think that it would do any good. After all, the only thing you could tell him is that you’ve played snooker with me, and that I don’t seem like a killer to you. If anything, it might make him suspect me even more if he thinks that I’m trying to get people to warn him off.”

  “You’re probably right,” Ian agreed, lining up his next shot. “But if there is anything I can do, anything at all, please just ask me.”

  “Thanks,” I said, as he effortlessly potted the black to end the game. “It’s really nice of you.”

  Katie and I decided that we ought to be leaving as well, and thanked them once again for their hospitality. We declined Lisa’s offer of taking bags of food home with us, and drove off in the car. The two of them waved us off as we drove down the drive.

  “What an amazing house,” Katie commented once we were out onto the main road. “How much do you think it must be worth?”

  “Well over a million,” I guessed. “I don’t think the money’s really a consideration for them though.”

  “And they’re such a nice family as well,” Katie agreed. “Talk about having it all.”

  I nodded, and then glanced across at her. “Just at the moment, I wouldn’t trade places,” I told her.

  She reached across and squoze my arm. “Me neither,” she said, and there didn’t seem to be any more need for words on the rest of the journey. Saying goodbye outside her house took a long time, but eventually I watched her walk up the stairs and into the house.

  All the apartment block was dark when I got home, which wasn’t too surprising, as the clock in my car told me it was just after midnight. I tried to be as quiet as I could getting into my apartment.

  When I opened the front door, I was fairly surprised to see the red message light on my answering machine flashing in the darkness. I turned on the main light, and went over to find out who had called me.

  A press on the “play messages” button produced a metallic response. “You have one message. Message one, Saturday 8.30pm”. Then a hysterical female voice filled the room.

  “Jack, are you there?” The voice was shaking so much that I couldn’t recognise it. “It’s Linda Clarke. I’m frightened Jack, I need to speak to you. I’m sure that someone’s been watching me in the last few days. What if it’s Ryan, and he got the address from your office? Please ring me as soon as you get this, I’m so scared. Help me, Jack!”

  With this final cry of dismay, the message ended abruptly. My heart racing, I searched through my address book for her number. My hands were shaking as I dialled. In Linda’s house the phone rang and rang, but nobody answered it.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  I sat there for a few minutes, letting the phone ring and trying to decide what to do. Finally, I hung up and then rang the police station. A rather bored sounding male voice came onto the line, and asked me what the problem was.

  “My name’s Jack Bailey. I work at the Domestic Crisis Centre,” I explained. “I’ve just got home to find a very distressed telephone message from one of our clients, a Linda Clarke. She believed that she was in danger from a stalker, possibly her former husband. I’ve tried to call her back but there’s no reply.”

  “It is after midnight, sir. Are you sure that she’s not just soundly asleep?” the voice replied.

  “No, I’m not sure,” I told him. “It just doesn’t seem very likely that someone who was as terrified as she sounded when she called me, would just go off calmly to bed and fall into a sleep so deep that the telephone couldn’t wake her.”

  There was a slight pause. “Even if she has left the house, we have to wait for twenty four hours before investigating a missing person report.”

  I was starting to feel a little frustrated. “I understand that,” I said, “but this isn’t a simple case of a missing person. She was convinced that she was in danger, and now there’s no response from her home.”

  “Surely if she believed that she was in imminent danger, she would have telephoned the police,” the calm voice replied. “I can understand that the message has upset you, sir, but you may be panicking unnecessarily. Per
haps if you wait until the morning she will get in touch with you again.”

  I decided that there was no alternative but to share the fear that had lurking ever since I’d heard Linda’s voice.

  “I think that the person she was scared of may be the same person who has murdered Jennifer Carter and Christopher Upton.”

  The policeman’s voice noticeably changed in tone. “And why would you think that sir?”

  “I’m the person that the killer has been corresponding with,” I explained. “His last message hinted that his next victim might be someone who had helped at work. If Linda was really being followed, it could well have been the killer.”

  “So you believe that this killer may have already attacked Mrs. Clarke?”

  “It’s possible,” I answered. “I any case, I’ve decided to drive over to her house to see if she is there. I was hoping that a squad car could meet me there, but I’m going whether it can or not.”

  Somewhat reluctantly, he agreed that he would send someone out to meet me. I gave him the address of Linda’s house, and went down to the garage to collect my car.

  The police car hadn’t arrived when I pulled up at the village square. The front of the bungalow was in total darkness, but my worry increased when I saw that the upstairs curtains were open. I decided to wait in the car until I had company.

  After a few minutes, a police car arrived and parked just behind me. A very young man in constable’s uniform got out, and I went to greet him.

  “Mr. Bailey?” he checked as he shook my hand. “I’m PC Mark Rogers. The Sergeant has filled me in on your telephone conversation with him. Which house is it?”

  We walked together up to the property. The front door was closed and secure, and there was nothing visible through the lounge windows. PC Rogers tried ringing the bell and hammering on the door, but there was no sign of life.

  “It doesn’t look as if there’s anyone home,” he observed eventually. “Did Mrs. Clarke live here alone?”