Stranger at the Wedding

by Jack G. Hills

  “Mrs Bouchet… please just let me handle this. I’ve no idea who they are, the car’s all blacked out and I can’t see inside it but believe me I’ve got it all under control and I’ve been in more threatening situations than this, so please just keep calm.” William lied but then he knew the road better than most and up ahead he was aware that the carriageway narrowed once more, which would make it almost impossible for the other driver to overtake him or force him off the road before they reached the relative safety of the next town and the large filling station that was always busy and bustling with locals and tourists alike.

  As his foot hovered over the accelerator and a fraction of a second before he was going to slam his foot down hard, out of the corner of his eye he saw Range Rover’s passenger window start to lower. Mesmerised by a weird sense of expectation and paralysed by some unknown fear, William could do nothing but wait as the passenger leant out and menacingly signalled for the Bentley to pull over.

  The two men in the front both looked as if they could handle themselves… typical bodyguards William thought, six foot, clean shaven, well cropped hair and suited. At that moment he knew it wasn’t worth the aggravation, these guys weren’t your normal joyriders or road rage drivers… the men looked professional… too professional to argue with, fee or no fee. Without a second thought he waved his acceptance at the other car and seeing a layby appear ahead, he indicated to pull in.

  “William! What are you doing?” Rachel screamed from the rear. “Please we have to get out of here… those men they’re associates of my husbands and I’m sure they mean to harm me or even kidnap me.” She thought for a moment through her panic. “They won’t want any witnesses if they take me with them, will they?” It was the best she could come up with under the circumstances.

  “Mrs Bouchet, in my experience with such a powerful car, if they want to stop us they will, with or without my help, so let’s try to make this easy for the both of us. You stay put and I’ll see what they want… you never know perhaps it’s the vicar with some last minute advice.” William tried to make light of their situation, as he stopped the Bentley and watched in his mirror the four men climb from the Range Rover. The driver and front seat passenger stood guard next to their vehicle, whilst the two from the back walked slowly towards the Bentley. When they were level with the boot, the younger of the two took station on William’s side of the car. For no sensible reason, he suddenly felt as if he was in the middle of some Hollywood blockbuster and he was being chased down by the FBI or the CIA… perhaps the Range Rover belonged to MI5, he mused as he waited for fate to deal him his final hand… and just as his business was picking up.

  “Mrs Bouchet! My you’re a hard lady to track down. Going anywhere special are we?” The man said, as he finally opened the door and jumped inside the Bentley. Rachel though had hidden under the folds of her dress and had cowered down into the foot well, in some pathetic attempt to hide from her assailants. The small Walther was still clutched tightly in her hand ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

  It was the voice that made her look out from under the fabric of her wedding gown… not because it sounded threatening or mean but because she actually thought she recognised the voice and in that instant her fear seemed to disappear. All she had to do now was confirm her suspicions.

  “YOU! What the hell do you mean by putting the fear of God into me? You… you stupid bloody idiot.” With her free hand and struggling against the thought that she must look a particularly sorry sight, Rachel tried to lash out at Inspector Langford but failed miserably.

  “Well, you’ve not lost any of your cockiness, I’ll give you that.” He said catching the driver’s eye in the mirror. “Right William, you can drive on now but try not to lose the Range Rover, Detective Constable Hardy will be right pissed off if it gets out he couldn’t keep up with a wedding car.”

  It took Rachel another few minutes to regain her calm and composure during which time she realised that under the folds of wedding gown, in her right hand, she was still holding the loaded Walther. With some difficulty, as she struggled to pull herself up from the floor and as the Bentley moved away down the road, she stuffed the automatic back into her garter and without taking a breath she poured herself another glass of champagne to calm her ragged, jangling nerves. Taking a long hard drink, she suddenly realised her bad manners.

  “Inspector… would you care for a glass? It is my wedding day after all?” She said starting to pour out an extra glass without waiting for a reply.

  “I shouldn’t but today has been so surreal that I feel justified in breaking all our normal rules and conventions… thank you and may I congratulate the blushing bride.” Rachel accepted the sarcasm in her stride and didn’t rise to the taunt.

  “Tell me inspector, what are the police doing driving around the countryside in what can only be described as a hoodlum’s car, scaring honest citizens half to death?” Rachel asked now fully calm and in full control of her senses.

  “Proceeds of Crime Act… wonderful isn’t it. We confiscated it off somebody you might know, he works or worked for Clarence Dickens. Personally I’m not sure these days whether to use the present or past tense when I talk about him… what’s your view?”

  “Clarence who?” Rachel snapped back. If Langford thought it was going to be that easy, he’d need to pour a lot more champagne down her throat first, she thought as she took another sip from her glass.

  “Very good… oh yes that was very good Mrs Bouchet. I’d almost go as far as to say it was professional. Anyway where was I… ah yes Mr Dickens, well it seems we had an anonymous tip off about an associate of his and low and behold we found him carrying a number of kilos of cocaine in the back of the Range Rover, so he was nicked and the court in its wisdom allowed us to keep the car for police use. Unfortunately the chief constable is insisting we get the windows changed and have it fitted with the mandatory blue lights and sirens but until then even I have to admit that it’s been hellish good fun pulling up behind criminals in it… scares the shit out of the ones that have the most to hide.”

  Rachel simply smiled at the intended barbed comment. Langford was a slippery customer but she knew he had nothing on her or Patrick…yet.

  “What do you want inspector. Surely you must have criminals to chase in your new toy and I certainly don’t want to miss my wedding. Being alone can be so… lonely don’t you think? By the way how is Mrs Langford, have you heard from her or the children since they emigrated?”

  Rachel had done her homework since the inspector had begun sniffing around. Since losing Tom in such mysterious circumstances, she’d started to think that the only way to get on in life was to know more about the opposition than they knew about you. She knew Langford was on a fishing trip but she also knew he’d need a much bigger rod and a longer line if he was ever going to land Clarence Dickens’s body.

  The pleasant demeanour vanished in an instant from Langford’s face. He didn’t mind what people said about him whilst he was working but his family, for good or bad, were his business and no one else’s.

  “They’re in better health than either of your two previous husbands, which brings me neatly on to the reason for our unconventional meeting. A little bird, who’s been singing away in our police cells for the past twenty four hours, tells me that you and Mr Fitzgerald have been and still are in debt to our elusive Mr Dickens and that certain associates of the man have taken it upon themselves to reclaim what they think is rightfully theirs. Any comments?” Langford smirked as he posed the question. The man had told him a lot more but for now he was keeping quiet about the fact that he now had a witness, who could place Clarence Dickens in Henri Bouchet’s restaurant just before he seemed to have vanished. Unfortunately the witness couldn’t place Mrs Bouchet there at the same time and the only other person who might have been able to help was Henri Bouchet…

  “Why inspector I’m surprised at you. If this is an interview I should have my solicitor present and I sh
ould surely have had my rights read out to me… if it’s not then I’m unsure as to why it is that you are harassing me on my wedding day. Perhaps you’d care to explain yourself to the chief constable… after all he’s going to be at the wedding and that’s where we’re heading.” Langford had to admit that she was good but he knew she was hiding something. However, proving it would be an altogether different matter.

  “It was a long shot nothing more. If anything, I was worried about your safety, you know what these criminal types are like. One moment you’re driving peacefully home, the next your car is in a ditch and someone’s dead with a bullet through their head… I’ve known that happen for nothing more than a couple of thousand pounds. Think what they’d do if they were owed hundreds of thousands or maybe millions?”

  The inspector didn’t wait for Rachel to reply but merely leant forward and tapped the driver’s shoulder.

  “Pull over, I think I’ve given the bride enough fatherly advice for one wedding.”

  Rachel watched the Range Rover pull away into the distance. Langford knew something but for now she was certain he didn’t know what it was or how it connected to any of the recent events. Putting all thoughts of the nosey inspector to one side and promising herself that after the wedding and honeymoon, she’d apply herself more resolutely to the problem, she glanced at the Bentley’s dash mounted clock and saw that she still had plenty of time and anyway she’d never been early for any of her previous weddings and today wasn’t the time to start. Maybe next time, she might make the effort but not for Patrick.

  Of course she hadn’t worked out exactly how she was going to divorce Patrick, but she’d know when the time was right and the opportunity arose… perhaps one of Clarence’s associates might even help her start divorce proceedings.

  Ten minutes later, that deadly thought and all her misgivings about the inspector vanished in a trice, as the imposing sight of the Atlantic View Hotel filled the Bentley’s windscreen and beckoned her forward to start the next chapter of her life, which like an avalanche rumbling down a mountain seemed to be slipping closer to some gaping crevasse.

  ~~~~~

  Donald stood in front of the hotel and looked up at its façade in a bid for inspiration or maybe just good old fashioned divine intervention. To the left of the building a large impenetrable brick wall ran away towards the cliffs before it turned sharply right to encircle the rear gardens, keeping the worst of the prevailing winds on the seaward side of the hotel grounds. On the other side, a line of neat stable doors, long since converted to garages, had been connected to the main house by a similar sized wall, which had at its centre the old house’s sally port and servant’s entrance.

  Unfortunately, the granite blocks from which the original house had been constructed and which had been hewn from a local quarry, were free of ivy or any other green, invasive creeper. In fact, with its abundance of Gothic windows all taking advantage of the glorious views, the front elevation appeared to be nothing like the image that had been seared into his memory.

  Certain in his mind that he’d come to the end of his journey but still unsure about the actual destination, he took out the small card that had laid nestled and protected in his pocket like some treasured family heirloom and held it up, as an artist would when framing their canvas. What stone he could see on the card looked to be a similar grey granite but the single window appeared to be more Georgian in style than Gothic… and then there was the disappointing lack of ivy.

  Disappointed but not disheartened, he checked the time on his watch and wondered if Elsie and the rest of her Padstow cronies were still sober. The wedding would just about be over and whilst he’d been all in favour of gate-crashing the ceremony to see if anyone recognised him, Gladys had persuaded him to use some degree of caution and delicacy… just in case they’d all got it wrong.

  “There’s no point ruining the poor women’s big day and making a complete fool of yourself by barging in there and shouting the odds Donald. You’ll be better off waiting until all the hullabaloo has died down and then trying to catch the bride on her own to ask your questions. That way, if she doesn’t know you and can’t help you find out more about yourself, you can slip away quietly without causing any fuss or bother.” The old woman’s advice had been a kind gesture Donald thought, as he continued to gaze hopefully up at the hotel’s bedroom windows.

  Naturally he was disappointed by the hotel’s front façade but then he’d had so many disappointments that one more didn’t seem to make that much difference, and if the outside could offer him no clues, Donald had instantly turned his attention to finding someone inside who might possibly remember him… and then there she was.

  She’d not appeared for long, probably less than a few seconds, but as she pulled back out of his sight, Donald knew he’d been right about the hotel. He rubbed his eyes with the knuckles of his index fingers and searched the upper windows to either side, but the drapes standing guard over the adjacent glass panes remained rigidly at attention.

  “Looking for anything in particular or are you just admiring the architecture of the building?” The man, who’d been watching Donald for the past few minutes, asked from somewhere over his right shoulder. Not wishing to lose sight of the window but knowing in his heart that the fleeting moment had gone, Donald turned round to see who had asked the question.

  “A little of both, I guess.” He said upon seeing the face of the man who’d crept up behind him. “I was looking for this place… any idea where it might be?” Without thinking he handed the stranger his talisman. “I’d thought it was a picture of this hotel but…” He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Looks more like the back than the front, although I’ve only been round there a couple of times. Today though might not be the best time to go sightseeing. You see there’s a big wedding going on… it’s the owner Mr Fitzgerald, he’s getting married.”

  “Yes I know but thanks anyway.” Donald stole a glimpse back at the windows but saw nothing that would tempt him to go inside. “Are you here for the ceremony?” He asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “Sort of. You see it’s never dull around the new Mrs Fitzgerald, something is bound to happen and I plan to be there when it does. Langford’s the name…” The inspector let his words trail away, as he so often did when casually talking to strangers.

  “I’m Donald. They told me in the pub yesterday that she’s had two other husbands and that the first one just disappeared. Never been seen again… strange that don’t you think, that someone could just vanish and never be seen again. I mean how do you do that?”

  “Beats me. Sometimes I wish I could just disappear in a cloud of smoke… don’t you?”

  “No, for me it’s just the opposite. I just appeared in a puff of smoke and no one knows where from.” Donald looked up into the sky and caught the white trail of a jet high up in the atmosphere. “What do you think is weirder, someone who disappears without a trace or another who appears without a trace of his past?”

  Inspector Langford wasn’t sure what to make of the man stood before him. He knew for sure that he wasn’t connected to Clarence Dickens’s outfit… for one thing he was too vacant looking to be some homicidal maniac and for another after nearly thirty years in the force Langford had a nose for criminals and killers.

  “Depends Donald… I mean, if one happens immediately before the other I might conclude that they were one and the same event… wouldn’t you think that a possibility.” Donald knew it was a possibility because he’d been awake most of the night battling with the impossible conundrum that was Tom Cox and whether the man could possibly be still alive.

  “Could be… but if that was the case then I’d have to ask why and how? Why did I disappear from one place and how did I turn up in another with no memory and no identity.”

  The man intrigued the inspector. He was an enigma and Langford had spent his entire police career seeking answers to such mysteries, which usually ended up involving
theft, murder or fraud.

  “Tell you what Donald, why don’t we go around the back and you can see for yourself if the rear of the hotel matches the photograph on that card you’re carrying around.” Inspector Langford said in as friendly manner as possible. Selfishly he had little interest in the man or his problems but maybe… just maybe if the man shook the tree hard enough, something interesting might fall out.

  “Come on, I know the tradesman’s entrance…”

  The nondescript door, which was used daily for deliveries, offered them access to kitchen yard and as they walked down the side of the hotel, past the entrance to the bustling kitchen, the air was gradually filled with the distant sound of music and cheering.

  “Sounds as if the happy couple have just said ‘I do’, so if you wanted to stop the marriage I’m afraid you’re too late.” Langford said, stealing a quick look inside the kitchens to check that there were no undesirables hanging around. “I reckon the big event is through that door and then…”

  Donald grabbed Langford’s arm and stopped him mid-sentence.

  “I thought you said you knew your way around and that you had been invited to the party?” Donald asked in a most accusatory way.

  “Did I? Well maybe I stretched the truth slightly but I never said I’d been invited to the party… it’s just my job and the people I mix with… all their bad habits rub off on me.” The inspector admitted, as he picked up the metal rod and slid it behind the door’s padlock. With a knowing wink he yanked the piece of steel downwards and snapped the steel hasp like some old dried twig.

  “There you see, now I can add criminal damage to all the other charges. Come on let’s go and introduce ourselves to the happy couple… It’ll be worth a demotion just to see the look on Mrs Bou… my apologies, Mrs Fitzgerald’s face.” Langford took a moment to reflect on what he’d just said, before pushing open the wooden gate…