‘We’ve gone through this, Martin. I know too much about you. I could fuck your life up real bad if I put my mind to it. Don’t mess with me.’
Martin’s face stiffened. He eyed her through the steam swirling from his coffee. ‘What is it you want me to do?’
‘You’ve got connections with people who could break into Devereux Towers, snoop around the place. You’ve used them before.’
‘No longer my game,’ he said patiently.
‘Make it your game, Martin. I need to find out what secrets she’s hiding. I need to find out what happened to Felix, one way or another. And the second thing on my list – I want you to have Laura Leach taken care of.’
Caldwell glanced at the woman in the corner. She was still absorbed in her paper. ‘That’s murder you’re talking about, Kat,’ he whispered.
‘It never bothered you before. Since when did you develop a conscience?’
‘That was years ago. I’m different now.’
‘You can’t shrug it off so easily, Martin. I won’t let you.’
He sighed heavily, his eyes flitting agitatedly. ‘It’ll cost you plenty.’
‘I don’t care what it costs,’ she said. ‘Make it happen.’ She rose from the table, wincing at a pain in her shoulder. ‘You’ve got one week. If I don’t get results I’ll make it bad for you.’ She leant on the table, putting her bruised face close to his. ‘I don’t care what happens to me anymore. Without Felix I’m nothing. So don’t think for a minute I won’t make good on my threats; I’ve nothing to lose. Find out all you can about Felix and then kill the bitch.’
He could tell she was deadly serious. She’d been so smitten by this guy Felix it was like a rampant disease that was eating her up. ‘I’ll do my best,’ he said.
‘You’d better,’ she warned, leaving him and slamming the café door behind her.
The woman looked up from her reading. ‘Wanting something else?’ she said.
‘Got any aspirin?’
She sat in the dark, in her father’s leather chair, as she had done so many times. The moonlight from the window fell onto the three framed photographs. Everyone smiling. Everyone happy. Only she wasn’t there amongst them to share that happiness, if that’s what it really was. It looked happy, and to an outsider perhaps it even appeared so, but Laura knew it was far from that.
Rain dashed itself against the window panes, the noise startling her. Strange, but it had been raining on and off now ever since she’d found out about Casper – Felix. Almost as if the weather were crying for her, mimicked her tears.
Why did she sit here? What did she hope to gain by it? Was it to try and see things from her father’s perspective, to reach behind his motivations? To see things how he must have seen them all those long years ago?
She remembered how he’d never said a word as they drove through the night. His eyes were fixed, staring straight ahead, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.
‘Where is Alex?’ Laura said from the back seat of the car.
He didn’t reply. The windscreen wipers batted away fat drops of rain, the rubber blades squeaking.
‘I need to see Alex!’ she cried.
‘You’ll see Alex again soon,’ assured the nurse sat beside her. ‘That’s where we’re taking you.’
‘But where is it we’re going?’ Laura asked tearfully.
The doctor sitting on the other side of her spoke. His voice was not as comforting as the nurse’s. ‘Somewhere where we can better look after you.’
‘I don’t need looking after,’ she said. ‘I’m not ill!’
‘We’ll be the judge of that,’ said the nurse.
‘I want my mother!’ said Laura.
‘You’ll see your mother, too,’ said the doctor.
Laura bent forward to try to speak to her father. ‘Where are we going? Why don’t you speak to me?’
‘He’s busy driving the car,’ explained the nurse. ‘It’s night-time and it’s raining. Let him concentrate, there’s a good girl.’
‘I’m not a girl! I’m seventeen and a half!’ she protested.
‘Keep calm and quiet, please, Laura,’ said the nurse. ‘You’ll only get distressed and you’re not well as it is.’
‘I’m perfectly fine! Where is Alex?’
‘We’ve already told you,’ the doctor interjected. ‘Now if you can’t be quiet we might have to sedate you again. You don’t want that, do you?’
She shook her head and remained quiet till they passed through a set of massive double gates and pulled up outside a dark-looking building. The doctor grabbed her firmly by the arm and all but hauled her from the car. She was taken by him up a flight of stone steps, flanked on the other side by the nurse. Laura turned around to try and look over her shoulder. Her father followed silently a little distance behind.
There was a small light burning over a plain-looking desk on which sat a telephone and little else. The nurse picked up the phone and spoke quietly into the receiver.
‘Father…’ said Laura, the doctor’s grip on her arm firm. ‘Why are we here?’
‘To make you better,’ said the nurse, coming over to her. Laura could see in the light that she was quite elderly and had a friendly, warm face that smiled reassuringly.
Laura didn’t like this place; it was cold and gloomy and had a strange, uncomfortable smell about it that make her stomach feel queasy. ‘I’m not ill,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry, Laura; we’re here to help you.’
Laura pulled away from the doctor. ‘Where’s Alex? Take me to Alex, like you promised. Father, what’s going on?’ But he stood immobile, his face impassive.
‘There, there, Laura, don’t get hysterical again,’ said the doctor, stepping towards her.
There was the sound of footsteps hurrying down the corridor towards them. Two more men dressed in white shirts and trousers. They appeared out of the dark like twin spectres.
‘Father!’ Laura pleaded, fending off the doctor’s groping hands. ‘Tell them to leave me alone!’
‘You’ve done a terrible thing, Laura,’ her father said. ‘It is a sign of a diseased mind and you’re here to have that disease cured. Until you are better my daughter remains dead to me. I’m not sure she shall ever come back from the dead.’ He turned away from her.
‘Father!’ she yelled. The doctor grabbed her, the two other men also holding firmly onto her, though she struggled with all the strength she had and lashed out with her foot, landing one of the men a painful blow on the shin.
The doctor nodded at the nurse. ‘Nurse Bradshaw, if you please…’
Her warm expression had melted to one of sorrow, and bearing that same look of sorrow she produced a syringe. ‘Hold still, please, Laura,’ said Nurse Bradshaw. ‘This is for your own good.’
‘Get that thing away from me!’ she screamed. Her arms were now held rigid by the men and she felt the heat of the needle passing into her flesh. ‘What are you doing to me? Why are you doing this to me?’
‘You know why, Laura,’ said the doctor. ‘But we can help you. At Bartholomew Place we help all manner of people.’ He glanced at Laura’s father.
They dragged her away, already her senses beginning to blur, making her feel giddy and light-headed. ‘Father’ she called again, trying to look back at him. He had his back to her. He didn’t turn around. He appeared to be signing something on a clipboard.
They passed quickly down insipidly-painted corridors lined with featureless doors, her legs now buckling beneath her and the men having to half-carry, half-drag her along. Her eyelids felt as if they were made of lead and she was hardy able to keep them open. Then she heard the harsh clink of keys in a lock, was vaguely aware of a door being thrust open. She was tossed like a sack of grain into a small, darkened room. She fell to the floor and before she could scramble to her feet the door was slammed closed and locked.
Laura beat at it, terrified. ‘Where am I? What are you doing to me?’ she said, her words slurring. She felt so,
so weak. Her legs as frail as feathers, so she sank to the floor, sobbing as the black ink of unconsciousness began to cloud her mind.
‘Alex, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry…’
* * * *
29
A Certain Kind of Freedom
He never thought he’d ever have to come back here again. Not to this gritty northern town where he’d spent so many of his younger years. Years he was not proud of. Foolishly he’d assumed he’d left it all behind. It was a life that belonged to a different person, these narrow streets with their dirty-brick back-to-back houses, the coal mines, the heaps of spoil that looked like hills. He guessed it was true what they said: you can’t shrug off the past like it never existed. It’s always there.
And testament to that past was the Eddleston Working Men’s Club. Martin Caldwell stood in the dark car park, staring long and unforgiving at the dilapidated old building, watching people filing in, hearing the strains of an electric guitar floating out of the open doors. As he approached the club he could smell beer in the air, strong and familiar. A flood of memories accompanied it.
In the doorway an old man was sitting at a wooden table. ‘You a member?’ he asked, his voice gravelled by years of smoking. He had a fag planted between his lips now, ash drifting down to an open book on the table.
‘I’m here to see someone,’ Caldwell said.
‘Which someone?’
‘That’s OK, Ralph,’ said a voice. ‘He’s with me. Sign him in.’
A thick-set man in his forties came up to them. He had a mess of long, black hair going grey at the temples, and sported a handlebar moustache. ‘Hello, Martin,’ he said. He nodded for Caldwell to follow him.
They went into the club, cigarette smoke hanging in a thick pall; the fuggy outlines of people huddled around small, wooden tables. There was a band up on stage doing a bad cover of a Bay City Rollers’ number and some of the crowd were giving them hell. The man paused at the bar.
‘Drink, Martin?’ he asked.
‘Later,’ he replied. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
‘Fine.’ He led them through a door into a short corridor and held open another door, ‘My office,’ he said. He shut the door after Caldwell.
‘Nice,’ he said, looking around him at the dingy wood-clad walls, the stack of cardboard boxes, the shadeless light-bulb, the photograph of a topless woman tacked to the back of the door. ‘I like what you’ve done with the place, Ray,’ he said.
Ray Steele smiled. ‘Long time no see, Martin. I never thought I’d ever see you back in Eddleston again.’
‘Never wanted to be back,’ he said. ‘You haven’t changed.’
‘Can’t say the same for you, Martin. Look at you now – regular dandy, eh? Life must be treating you good.’ He sat down on a chair behind a flimsy-looking chipboard desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle. ‘Fancy a snifter?’
‘I need a favour,’ said Caldwell seriously.
Steele’s smile faded and he put a glass on the desk, poured out a good measure of Jack Daniels. ‘I’d like to help you, Martin, for old time’s sake, but things have changed. Look at me, I’m going straight now.’
‘Going straight isn’t doing you any favours,’ he observed.
‘I get by.’ He downed the alcohol in one. Smacked his lips. ‘Whatever it is you’re wanting, Martin, I ain’t got it no more.’
‘I need a job doing.’
He shrugged. ‘Like I said.’
‘Are you forgetting something, Ray? Forgetting what you did for me?’
‘That was then, Martin; this is now.’ He poured again. ‘What are you getting at? This isn’t some crude attempt at blackmail, is it?’ He bent forward. ‘I could have both your legs broken before you reached your car in the car park, you know that?’
‘Nice to see that the old Ray Steele hasn’t disappeared entirely.’ He took in a deep breath, licked his lips at the sight of the drink. ‘Ray, I need your help. I’ll make it worth your while. You look like you could do with an injection of cash anyhow.’
‘OK, let’s say I was interested, what exactly do you want? No promises, mind, but because we’re friends I’ll hear you out.’
Caldwell ran his hand through his thick hair. ‘I need someone taken care of,’ he said.
‘In what way, taken care of?’ he asked warily. ‘There are different levels, you know.’
‘Taken care of in the same way you took care of a certain someone else for me.’
‘You mean when you needed to silence a certain woman, who found you out and who threatened to spill the beans on one of your scams? That certain someone?’
‘That’s the one, Ray.’
He sucked in a breath that hissed over his teeth. ‘You know what you’re asking here?’
‘Course I fucking know.’
Steele shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Martin. Things are different now, like I said. A man would need one hell of a financial incentive to climb back on that old warhorse.’
‘Whatever it takes. Cut beating about the bush, Ray; are you going to help me out or what?
‘I’m not saying I am, and I’m not saying I’m not. We need to talk over particulars first. Man or woman?’
‘Woman.’
He smirked. ‘You never learn.’
‘I didn’t come here to be preached at, Ray,’ he said sullenly. ‘There’s this place, some kind of Georgian folly or something. A woman lives there all alone. It should be easy for you. She’s loaded too. There’s also this room that I need you to get inside.’
‘And what’s in this room? Anything for me?’
Caldwell cocked his head, his lips tight. ‘I wish I fucking knew. Maybe there is, maybe not. Look, I’ll go through the details if you decide to take this job on. If not I’ll go elsewhere, in which case the least you know about this the better.’
Steele tut-tutted. ‘Don’t you trust me, Martin? An old friend?’
‘Never did, Ray; and we were never friends.’
His eyes narrowed in thought. ‘So, a break-in and a woman to be topped. All in a day’s work, eh?’ He swigged at his glass, put it down hard on the table. ‘Say I decided to take this on for you – this has got to be the last time.’
‘You have my word,’ said Caldwell.
‘Which we both know is worth shit. I mean it, Martin, we never meet again, and we never speak again. You got that? You never, ever come back here.’
Caldwell nodded. ‘Deal. Got a spare glass?’
With Caldwell out of the way for a day or so Vince felt a certain kind of freedom. He’d never really been left fully in charge of the Empire, and the sudden responsibility filled him with excitement and dread in equal measure. Whenever Caldwell had taken holidays, they shipped in someone else to cover. He’d been surprised when Caldwell had called him into his office, his mood as black as the stormy weather outside, and asked him to deputise.
‘I’ll be gone all day, maybe two. You’re manager till I get back,’ he said.
‘Are you sure, Mr Caldwell?’ asked Vince.
‘Who else is there?’
‘What about head office sending someone?’
‘HQ doesn’t need to know I’m gone. Whilst we’re on that, if anyone calls make some excuse or other for me and tell them I’ll get back to them. It’s only one day, for Christ’s sake, surely you can manage that, Vince!’
He’d said yes because he didn’t have a choice, but now he was enjoying the feeling. He even sat in Caldwell’s chair, spun it round a few times, picked up the phone and made a pretend call.
‘Just do it!’ he said brusquely to static. The office door opened and Edith came in. He slammed the phone down hard.
‘It suits you,’ she said.
Embarrassed, he rose to his feet. ‘What does?’
‘Sitting there. Being manager. It’s where you should be, Vince. You should be in charge.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t be manager,’ he said. ‘What do you want?’
‘It’s not my office, Edith.’
‘It could be. One day. You’d do a far better job of it than Martin. He’s not a nice man and doesn’t know anything about cinemas, not like you. You know everything there is to know.’
It made him feel decidedly uncomfortable, but in a nice way. He wasn’t used to receiving compliments. He’d got nothing but criticism since he was a kid. ‘Thank you, Edith,’ he said genuinely.
She beamed. ‘You deserve so much more, Vince,’ she continued. ‘You’re a nice young man.’
‘I don’t think so…’ he said sheepishly.
‘Yes you do, and yes you are. I think you’re wonderful.’
Silence slammed in like someone had dropped a heavy weight onto the room. ‘Me?’ he asked tentatively.
She lowered her gaze. ‘Yes, you. I‘ve always thought you were wonderful, ever since I first met you. And I think people have been so, so unkind to you and you don’t deserve that one jot. I’m glad Laura Leach found herself another man, because that means your mind won’t be on her all the time, and perhaps now you might look at me every once in a while…’
He was stunned, his mouth hanging open. ‘Edith, I don’t understand…’
‘I love you!’ she said in a rush. ‘There, I’ve said it!’ and she dashed immediately from the room.
Vince sank back into the chair, the wind knocked completely from his sails. Then Edith came back in, sheepishly reaching up to the wall.
‘Keys,’ she said, avoiding looking at him. She ran out of the office.
* * * *
30
The Price of Sin
The rain came down hard and relentless, the sky a broiling mass of angry cloud smothering the tiniest patch of blue, the wind tearing across the flat land, thrashing and denuding the trees that sat in a dour land brown and shrivelled. Winter seemed to be lurking just beyond the horizon, crawling inevitably towards them. Laura could smell its presence in the air and its cold breath snapped at her exposed cheeks.
MOUSE (a psychological thriller and murder-mystery) Page 18