Fountain Of Sorrow (The Christy Kennedy Mysteries Book 3)

Home > Other > Fountain Of Sorrow (The Christy Kennedy Mysteries Book 3) > Page 18
Fountain Of Sorrow (The Christy Kennedy Mysteries Book 3) Page 18

by Paul Charles


  “Oh, don’t you worry about that, Mr Elliot,” Kennedy replied but Daniel continued as though he hadn’t heard the detective.

  “She’s a great lass you know. Me and the Mrs, we were always very fond of ann. We knew her before she lost her capitals,” the old man joked. “She could never do enough to help us, so unusual for the younger generation.” Daniel took another sip of his beer. Kennedy used this break as an excuse to move the conversation in the direction of Anna.

  “You’ll get no arguments from me on that one, sir,” Kennedy began, his green eyes smiling their magic smile. “Your daughter, Anna, I was wondering if there was anyone around who might have known her.”

  “Oh, I’ve been through all this with ann rea. Has she put you up to this in case I’ve forgotten something? No, after the trouble, I mean Anna’s trouble…” Daniel stared until Kennedy nodded to show he was aware of her trouble, “…she just literally became a different person, wouldn’t go out, wouldn’t talk, even to the Mrs and me, wouldn’t see her friends, she just stopped living, really. A friend of mine from Dublin had moved to Wolverhampton and he suggested taking her in for awhile, he thought a new environment where no one knew her and knew of the… trouble, might encourage her to start living again. He thought it just might kick-start her life again.” Daniel stopped for another sip of beer; neither ann rea nor Kennedy filled the gap.

  “She went willingly. In fact we were quite hopeful because she seemed to get back some of her buzz, and then I remember when she left she wouldn’t kiss or hug her mother or me. I mean I could understand her not wanting to kiss me, a male and all that, but Lila… I can tell you it broke Lila’s heart, broke her heart right in two. Anyway, off she went to Wolverhampton, we rang her every night at first. She just wouldn’t talk to us. But Peter, my friend from Dublin, he said she was okay, coming out of herself a bit, forming new relationships and that, but he couldn’t get her to talk to us.” The old man stopped and Kennedy could see great tears rolling freely down his cheeks.

  ann rea went to Daniel and wiped his face with her handkerchief. She sat by him on the arm of his chair where she remained with her arm around his shoulders, petting gently, saying, “there, there.” After sometime Daniel got his breath back and said,

  “You know what, Christy? We never spoke with her again. We got a call after six weeks from Peter saying Anna had moved out, moved to Birmingham. She promised to keep in touch but of course she didn’t and that was that. I don’t know, I’ve been thinking a lot about it recently and I’ve been trying to think what we did wrong. I keep feeling that Lila and I were treated as though we had done something wrong. Can you tell me what we did wrong?”

  “Well,” said Kennedy, “you can’t apply normal logic to a situation like that. Here she was, probably thinking exactly the same as you were thinking: “What did I do wrong? I didn’t do anything to deserve, or encourage, this.” She probably thought she was dirty, spoiled, no longer your special daughter. She probably never wanted a man, any man, near her again in her life and she took it out on the only people she could, her mother and father,” he said very quietly.

  “But why so? Why her family?” Daniel pleaded with the pain and agony of someone who just had just been through it all yesterday and not twenty-four years ago.

  “Because you are her family and she felt that as her family you would protect her in her life, protect her against such evils.” Kennedy was trying to temper honesty with gentleness.

  Daniel looked at Kennedy with shock, hurt and anger in his eyes. ann rea’s eyes were screaming at Kennedy, “Enough of this!”

  “I’m not saying it’s true, Daniel. I am saying that there was a good chance that your daughter felt it to be true. So she found it impossible to forgive you, because when she needed you you weren’t there, and what are parents for if not to protect their offspring? But in a way it wasn’t you and your wife she hated, she hated the fact that there was no way to make all her dark thoughts go away; and who else is there to take all that anger out on? She was trying to hurt someone, someone she loved, as much as she had been hurt. You and your wife were the obvious targets and as such you were the most vulnerable and therefore you were allowing her hatred to be effective,” Kennedy concluded.

  Daniel Elliot was silent. ann rea was silent. Silent but still staring daggers at Kennedy. Slowly Daniel started to nod his head in acceptance.

  “Well, you know what, young lady,” he said, “this is a good man of yours. His explanation makes sense to me, painful but true. I just wish he’d been around before to talk to Lila to let her know what all this was about. Because we both blamed ourselves all these years and maybe if we’d had a better understanding of all of this we could even have done something to help her. You know we never tried to track her down, there was no point, what were we going to do? What were we going to say? Sorry? We knew sorry certainly wasn’t enough. It’s hardly enough when it is your fault. Because you’re right, we parents do have a responsibility to look after our children. They don’t ask to come into the world, you bring them into it and so they must be your responsibility. But what are you meant to do? Wrap them up in cotton wool, lock them away, never let them out of your sight? You know how badly children are going to react to that.”

  “That’s the thing Daniel isn’t it, you can’t,” said ann rea. “You’re right, because if you did, if you had said to her, ‘Listen Anna, you’re not going out for a walk on the hill by yourself tonight, you might get raped, I’ll come with you.’ And what would she have said, ‘Oh, please daddy, don’t be silly, of course I won’t, everyone will make fun of me, out for a walk on Primrose Hill protected by my father, I could never hold my head up with my friends again,’?” There’s evil and badness in the world and evil always finds its victims. We can’t change that, nobody can. We just have to get on with our lives the best way we know how and hope that somehow the love which surrounds us will protect us,” she consoled as she continued to pat Daniel gently on the shoulder.

  “Look you two, I’m off to bed,” he said as he rose, kissed ann rea on the cheek and shakily made his way to Kennedy to shake his hand. He shook it more firmly than Kennedy had expected for a frail man. Perhaps he put all his energy into the handshake so that Kennedy would be aware how much his words had been appreciated.

  ann rea helped Daniel to take off his blazer which proudly displayed the Irish Guards” emblem on a crest covering the entire breast pocket. Kennedy couldn’t help but feel that this is when you see how old an old man really is. The blazer or jacket always conceals the wasting, thinning arms and torso.

  The moon illuminated (thankfully, for there was no other form of light) the pebble beach where ann rea and Kennedy found themselves ten thoughtful minutes later.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  It so happens as Kennedy and ann rea were about to start the “date” part of the evening DS Irvine and Dr Bella Forsythe were about to embark on the second date of their short relationship, if indeed you could count it as a relationship. Irvine had rang the doctor, as directed by his boss, to see if Burton’s wounds could have been caused by something other than a dog.

  Dr Forsythe had been friendly, but busy. She suggested they discuss it further over dinner, promising, unsolicited, to abstain from the whisky which had so wrecked Irvine on their first date.

  She had picked Irvine up at North Bridge House at nine-fifteen (fifteen minutes late) and they had walked the short distance down Parkway to Trattoria Lucca to be greeted by the owner, Frank. His greeting was as warm and generous as those which various members of his family had been bestowing on the patrons of Camden’s finest Italian resturant since it first opened (in half its current space) in 1955.

  “So, your DI still thinks Neil Burton could have been killed by something other than dog’s teeth?” Forsythe began as she thirstily drank her (still) mineral water.

  “Yep,” Irvine replied in his finest (and 100% natural) Connery as he toyed with his glass of lager. He was itching for a th
irst-quenching swig but he didn’t want to repeat the alcoholic charge of their first date. Hell, he liked the taste of the barley as much as the next man, but to his mind (and the rest of the diners that evening) Bella Forsythe was a beautiful woman, a stunning woman, and he had other hungers he wanted to satisfy. He could always buy a case of lager or a crate of wine, but how many chances would he have to be out with a woman who was so well preserved he couldn’t believe that she was only (just) entering her forty-first year.

  “And what do you think?”

  Irvine was cagey. “Kennedy, he’s not your usual cop you know. Sure he sometimes gets hunches which are way off base. Even then he’s usually onto something which though it may not ultimately provide the solution, will help us arrive at the solution which we probably wouldn’t have found were it not for the elaborate journey. So I’m kinda happy to follow his hunches.”

  “I think he may be way off base on this one, James,” she smiled. He liked the precise way she always pronounced his first name. “No human could have left those marks. Unless of course it was a full moon and someone swapped their bloody Mary for some fresh blood,” she laughed. Irvine joined in. He supposed she was right. The body, in the opinion of this expert, had died not at the hands of a fellow human, but at the teeth of a dog and a crazy dog at that. Mind you, Irvine thought to himself, how come there had been no similar attacks reported?

  “Look,” Forsythe began, switching line as their starters arrived, hers hot asparagus with melting butter and his a green salad, “I’m sorry about the other night. I don’t know what came over me. ButŠ I’m shocked, maybe I was nervous but I never usually drink. If I’m honest I rarely drink at all but the first whisky felt so warm and exciting as it went down and we were having a great laugh and the next thing I realised I was completely blotto, and next morning I’d couldn’t even remember how I got home.”

  “I dropped you off by taxi,” Irvine reminded her, “you seemed totally in control of your senses. I, on the other hand, was distinctly feeling the worse for wear so we said goodnight at your door. The taxi driver and myself watched you let yourself in and then I went home to suffer. All night. And most of the following morning.”

  “Thanks, I knew I’d be in safe hands,” she smiled sincerely. “Where I come from, I’m not sure that’s exactly a compliment.” “Well from me it certainly is,” she cut in very firmly, “but thefollowing morning I woke up feeling great and it was a case of “Wow, where’s the big hangover everyone keeps talking about?”

  “Maybe I was suffering enough for both of us,” Irvine offered as she ordered another glass of mineral water to accompany her main course. She had the vegetarian lasagne and Irvine had ordered Kennedy’s pasta.

  “I was intrigued by your order, I couldn’t wait to see what it was,” she said as she prepared to eat, fork at the ready, waiting for an ample spray of ground pepper but refusing the cheese.

  “Yes,” said Irvine, “the DI always has this, it’s not on the menu, they make it specially for him, it’s just spaghetti with the most amazing pesto sauce you will ever taste, and some peas.” The way he, and most of his fellow Scots, pronounced the word amazing made you believe that the very least it could be was amazing.

  “Your DI, you like him a lot, don’t you? In fact all his team really like him, don’t they?”

  “He has his moments, but he does look after us and that’s not always the case, is it?”

  “No. Not from what I hear. And Dr Taylor swears by Kennedy as well.” “How is the old soul?” “Fine, he’s back on Monday,” she said, taking a digestive pause and asip of water.

  “Really? I didn’t think he was coming back so soon.”

  “No, he’s fine again, and besides he’d better be. I’m off on my holiday at the weekend.”

  “What?” Irvine didn’t conceal his disappointment. “How long for?”

  “Aren’t you meant to ask where, first?” she smiled. “Five weeks actually, if you must know.”

  “Five weeks?”

  “Yes, James. Five weeks, I’ve saved up a full year’s worth of leave to take it all at once, and I’m going to travel around for a bit, just go with the flow. I’ve been dying to do it for years.”

  “Where? Italy? Spain?”

  “No, silly. England. You won’t get anywhere better than England, God’s own country.”

  “I’m not sure, ancestrally speaking, that I’m allowed to agree with you,” Irvine replied, regaining his composure after the initial shock. “You’ll have fun, I’m sure. Will I get a chance to see you before you leave?”

  “Sorry, sadly no. It won’t be possible, I’m leaving first thing Saturday morning and I’m working late tomorrow night to get all the lab reports up to date for Leonard, and then I’ve got to pack. But I like it that you want to see me; will you miss me?” she teased.

  “Oh, I’d like to,” Irvine replied dolloping on a shovel (too much) of bravado, “but Kennedy will have us all running ragged on this case. We’ve got three people to track down now.”

  “Three people?” she quizzed, and stopped eating for a few seconds before breaking into a smile again. “How come three people? Surely Kennedy doesn’t think there are three people other than Anderson involved?”

  “Yes,” Irvine said immediately, but then paused as he wondered how much he should be telling her. Although they were both on the same side he thought better of it and backtracked, “Yes, there are three more people the DI wants to track down to help us with our inquiries.” The moment he uttered these words he felt a right prat. Here he was talking to a colleague, working on the same case as him for goodness sake, and he was uttering things like ‘to help us with our inquiries.’

  “If there is a connection between Stone and Burton then the Boss thinks that two other people may be in danger,” he said quietly and conspiratorially.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, James,” and Bella laughed so loud that some of their fellow diners and Frank, the owner, turned to stare, “there’s no connection. One was killed by a dog and the other by a thug. I think this must be one of the DI’s tangents you were telling me about. He may be so far off the curve on this one that you’ll need to check he doesn’t stray off on to another case entirely.” The Doctor continued to laugh so loudly that after a few seconds the dapper DS in his finest tweeds joined in.

  It was lucky he did, for he was to have no more fun on that particular evening as it ended twenty-eight minutes later with a long, but soulless kiss.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Meanwhile, back on the beach, Kennedy was faring better, professionally, romantically and sexually. In fact, if the truth be known, and there seems no reason to hide it, he and ann rea went a lot further on the beach, so to speak, than either of them expected.

  Neither, it has to be mentioned, was disappointed. No aimless groping, no fumbling with catches, hooks, buttons, zips or undergarments. No, none of this; in fact, it started with a kiss. But then doesn’t it always? It was more of a ‘missed you’ kiss than the lifeless ‘tell me when you’ve finished with my lips, mouth and tongue,’ that DS Irvine was experiencing eighty-five miles away.

  The ‘missed you’ kiss grew into a kiss of hunger, though neither Kennedy nor ann rea, if pressed as to when the kiss changed from one to theother would be able to pinpoint the exact moment of change. Did one lead to the other, or did one kiss just naturally develop out of the other, or did it just grow of its own accord? With these two particular lovers it was never a foregone conclusion that once they started kissing it would lead on to the main event. No, Kennedy loved kissing too much to be part of that deck of cards.

  Anyway, it might have been the beach, might have been the lapping of the water, might have been the moonlight, might even have had something to do with the fact that they hadn’t been with each other for four days. Or, you know what, it could even be, in a perverse way, that they both had taken a look at Daniel Elliot, alone, old, ill and without his woman and decided (unconsciously, subconsciousl
y or whatever) that they need not waste any more of their special time. Not that Kennedy was one for wasting time in that recreational area. ann rea also, ‘God bless her cotton socks,’ thought Kennedy, ‘particularly her white cotton socks,’ was not backwards at coming forwards.

  So our lovers are on the beach and they kiss, passionately. They touch, they feel, they move to a more secluded part of the beach where there is a canopy of trees. The moonlight is broken into hundreds of rays by their many leaves and branches. Neither asks ‘shall we?’ ‘can we?’ ‘could I?’ or ‘would you?’ They are leaning against a tree, Kennedy’s back to it. ann rea presses harder against him. Their kiss grows in hunger. Kennedy feels himself involuntarily pushing back against ann rea’s pressure. ann rea in turn responds.

  Kennedy has no thoughts of North Bridge House, Miss Dipstick, Castle, Taylor, Irvine, Coles, Stone, Burton, Jean Stone, the Fountain of Sorrow, Primrose Hill twenty-four years ago, estate agents, Anderson or wild dogs. Neither is he conscious of the tree digging into his back. He can hear the wind rustling through the leaves all around him. When he occasionally opens his eyes he can make out parts of ann rea’s face in the moonlight.

  Blood is being dispatched by Kennedy’s brain to every outpost of his body, he is aware of how loud he is as he inhales gulps of air through his nostrils. He knows he should have his eyes closed during these intimate moments but he can’t help stealing glimpses of ann rea. She looks so soulful, so beautiful, her almond-shaped eyes, her white skinned face which beams in the moonlight. Kennedy can just make out the beginnings of a flush on her cheeks. Her short Beatle-bobbed hair is dishevelled but not messy. He fondles her perfect body (perfect for him and does anyone else matter?), every part of her perfect body. Her clothes just seem to make way effortlessly to accommodate his wandering hands. She likes Kennedy’s hands, she has told him so many times. She likes his hands because she loves what they do to her and she trusts them completely as they do their will.

 

‹ Prev