‘I suppose he is, rather.’
‘Jo, I was wondering …’
‘If you don’t mind, Stephen, I’d really like to go home. I’m exhausted.’
‘OK, Jo ...’ He fell behind me.
As I walked to my car, I wondered whether I’d done the right thing … perhaps if I’d allowed myself to be persuaded a little more …
No.
To my surprise, Jones was waiting for me in his car. He raised a hand when he saw me and started driving off.
I got into my own car and followed him out. Wiped the screen with my hand and switched on the demisters, hoping they’d warm up soon.
No, Stephen would have to show a lot more contrition; work a lot harder than that before …
The road from the hospital rises gently for about a quarter of a mile and then dips again just before the junction with the main road.
Jones stopped as the lights changed and I pulled up behind him. At least, I would have done, had my brakes been working. I pumped the pedal frantically, then remembered the hand brake — too late, though, to prevent my car from ploughing, in slow motion, into the back of the Cooper.
16
The shunt pushed his car, also in slow motion, about five yards into the traffic pulling away from the lights. Cars braked, swerved, hooted.
He jumped out, ran back and yanked open my door.
‘What the hell are you playing at, Jo?’
‘My brakes failed,’ I said numbly.
‘All right,’ he said after a moment. ‘We’ll have to move the cars. Can you move yours?’ His voice came from far away. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Better let me do it.’
I extricated myself from the seat, my body not belonging to me. He started the engine and drew back on to the grass verge, then jumped out to move his own car behind it. Then he guided me into the passenger seat.
‘Better?’
‘No.’ I drew heavily on a cigarette I couldn’t remember lighting.
‘Can you tell me what happened?’
‘Nothing bloody happened, that was the trouble.’
‘No response to the brakes at all?’
‘No.’
He reached across me, opened the glove compartment and took out a torch.
‘Wait here; I won’t be long.’
Where did he think I was going? I wondered, and began to shiver, just a little at first, then violently.
He came back. ‘Somebody’s cut through the brake pipes,’ he said.
‘Who?’ My lips framed the word.
‘Sutton,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It’s time he was put to rights.’
‘Now?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Then, noticing for the first time the tremor in my voice: ‘Are you cold?’
‘I’m bloody terrified.’
He opened the glove compartment again. ‘You won’t be doing any more driving tonight, so have some of this.’ He handed me a small flask. ‘Not too much. I’m going to check my lights.’
It was whisky. I took a hefty swallow, then another. Heard him tinkering at the back of the car. Felt slightly better.
He reappeared with a screwdriver, took one of the back lights off my car and disappeared again. More tinkering.
‘Any better?’ he said, climbing back in.
‘A bit. Thanks.’
‘I had to take one of your lights, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
I didn’t reply.
He started the engine and backed on to the road. Without thinking, I reached for the seat belt.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked when I realized it wasn’t to my house.
‘Sutton.’
Panic gripped me. ‘We can’t! He’ll kill us …’
‘No, he won’t.’
‘Why can’t we go to the police?’
‘Because I can do this better,’ he said, and I realized he was in a cold fury.
‘Not me. Stop the car!’ It came out as a squeak.
‘When we get there. I’ll need your help, Jo.’
I looked at him, appalled.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Like I said, put him to rights.’ He glanced at me. ‘Don’t worry. He won’t do anything.’
Less than a minute later, we pulled up in a quiet avenue and I dimly wondered how he knew the address.
‘Listen, Jo — we go up to the door. It’s bound to have a spy hole. You ring, I stand to one side. When it opens, say you want to speak to Sutton. OK?’
‘No, I —’
But he’d already opened his door and was helping/pulling me out from the other side.
We walked quickly up the gravelled drive. As we approached the porch, a blinding light came on.
‘It’s automatic — keep going.’
We reached the porch. I was trembling violently again. He left me in front of the door, and standing to one side, pressed the button on the intercom, leaving his finger on it.
The rattle of the spy hole flap, then a metallic voice on the intercom, ‘Aw right, aw right …’ Polo’s voice. ‘Whadda you want?’
‘I want to speak to Sutton.’
‘Oh, it’s you.’ He laughed. ‘Mr Sutton to you, honey.’ The bolts drew back … my throat closed as the door opened …
‘Aw right, you’d better co —’
‘Back! Now!’ Jones was in the doorway, gun pointed at his belly. Polo hesitated and backed off. I followed him in. ‘Close the door, Jo.’
‘I could get really irritated with you, mister,’ Polo said softly.
‘Hands behind your head.’
Again, slowly, he obeyed.
‘Who is it, Polo?’ Sutton’s voice, coming nearer. Polo looked to say something, but Jones levelled the gun. Sutton appeared. Somehow, I had the time to notice how drawn he looked. His eyes flicked from Jones to me. ‘Is this him, Polo?’
‘Yes, boss. Sorry.’
‘What d’you want?’ he said to Jones. He didn’t look worried, just tired. His casual clothes were good quality, yet he somehow looked untidy.
‘You fixed the brakes on Miss Farewell’s car. Do anything, anything, like that again and I’ll fix you.’
‘Not me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t fix her brakes. But you’ — he pointed at him — ‘are a dead man.’
Jones smiled and shook his head. ‘Not me, Sutton. I’m a friend of Major Hatherleigh’s. Remember him? Hereford’s not a million miles from here.’
Silence, then, ‘He know you’re here?’
Jones nodded. Sutton drew a breath.
‘We’d better talk, then. There’s no need for that.’ He waved at the gun and Jones lowered it. ‘No, Polo!’
Polo had started forwards, but Sutton’s voice stopped him. ‘Not a finger. Right? You’d better come through,’ he said to us.
The house was very warm, I noticed, the carpets very thick. He led us down a hall and into a large living-room, indicated a leather sofa. We both sat on the edge. Everything was bright colours and money, and yet, in a strange way, it had a style. Sutton went over to a sideboard.
‘I had nothing to do with that robbery at his sister’s place,’ he said. ‘Drink?’
‘Whisky,’ said Jones. No nonsense about ladies first, I noticed. ‘Unfortunately for you, he thinks you did. So do I.’
‘Sister?’
I realized he was talking to me. ‘Oh, I’ll have a whisky too, please.’
He brought the drinks over.
‘The villains that did it are banged up; what more’s he want?’
‘The man behind it.’
Sutton looked at me. ‘I didn’t fix your car, Sister. Why should I?’
‘As a frightener,’ said Jones. ‘A warning.’
‘Tell me what happened.’
‘You know what happened.’
‘Tell me.’
I said, ‘My brakes failed at the junction of Manor Road and Tolworth Road and I rammed the back of Mr Jones’s car.’
‘Tra
ffic lights near the hospital?’
‘Yes.’
‘So if he hadn’t been in front, you could’ve been killed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why should I want to kill you, Sister? If I wanted to frighten you, I’d frighten you, not risk killing you.’
‘It was a calculated risk,’ Jones said. ‘You thought she’d probably realize the brakes weren’t working before anything —’
‘I buried my wife this morning,’ Sutton interrupted. ‘The sister says someone killed her. I want that bastard. I’m not likely to get him with her dead, am I?’
Jones hesitated. ‘I still say you were trying to —’
‘Oh, for Chrissake! If someone fixed her brakes, it was probably the bastard we’re after.’
In a flash, I believed him. Jones had pushed someone too far.
‘Then why didn’t they do my car as well?’
‘How long have you been up here?’
‘Since yesterday.’
Was that all? I wondered.
‘Then he don’t know which your car is, does he, you berk?’
‘You can cut that out.’
‘Well?’
‘I need to think about it.’ It was the first time I’d heard Jones on the defensive.
‘You do that.’ He finished his drink. ‘An’ not in my house.’
‘I’m not through yet.’
Sutton just looked at him.
‘I’ll find the person behind these killings, then I’ll hand them over to the law. I’m sorry about your wife, but it’s for the law to handle, not you.’ He finished his drink. ‘Thanks for the whisky.’ He stood up. ‘We’ll see ourselves out.’
Sutton didn’t move, just said quietly, ‘Don’t push me too far.’
My legs were still shaking, or had they started again? In the hall, Polo said, ‘I’ll remember you, mister,’ as he opened the door.
‘So you keep saying.’
In the car, I said in a shaking voice, ‘I told you after the mortuary not to do anything like that to me again,’ then burst into tears.
He held me, rocked me. ‘I’m sorry, Jo, but it was worth it.’
I hated him for that, but there was nowhere else I could turn for comfort. After a while, I said, ‘Can we go back home, please?’
I smoked as he drove back through the town, thinking, is this really the place where I grew up?
I said, ‘What about my car?’
‘Tell the police about it when we get in. Tell them you’ll shift it tomorrow.’
After another pause, I said, ‘They know, don’t they? Whoever’s doing this — they know about you.’
‘Looks like it.’
‘What’s to stop them trying again?’
‘Me.’
‘You didn’t stop them fixing — is that the word? — my brakes!’ I shouted.
He didn’t reply and a few minutes later, he stopped outside my house. I got out, slammed the door and found my housekey. He joined me as I was inserting it.
I said suddenly, ‘How do we know there isn’t somebody in there now?’
He knelt and took something from the bottom of the door.
‘There’s nobody in there.’ He took the key from me and opened it. ‘See?’
I followed him inside.
‘What did you do?’
‘Stuck a piece of Sellotape across the crack whenever we left.’ He held it up. ‘Still intact. No one inside.’
I had to smile. ‘You took a hell of a risk with Sutton though, didn’t you?’
‘Not really. I knew he wouldn’t do anything once I mentioned Hatherleigh.’
‘Who is Hatherleigh?’
‘A major in the SAS. Sutton didn’t know that when he set up the robbery at his sister’s house.’
‘What happened?’
‘She was pregnant at the time and the shock nearly lost her the baby. If she had have, Sutton would be dead by now. As it was, the villains were caught, but nothing could be proved against Sutton. Hatherleigh found out though, and … communicated with him to the effect that it would take very little to persuade him to kill him. Sutton believed him. Still does.’
‘Evidently. And you’re a friend of this Major Hatherleigh? Were you in the SAS?’
He laughed out loud. ‘No, and no. I was in the army for three years, before my time in the police, but nothing like that. I have — let’s say a contact, who told me all this.’
‘Would that be the Andy who rang just after you arrived?’
The smile left his face. ‘I’d prefer you forgot that name. Why don’t you make us some coffee?’
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to make his own damned coffee, but he was being unusually forthcoming and I wanted him to go on talking.
‘Tom, who cut my brakes?’
‘The person we’re after.’ He followed me into the kitchen. ‘How did they know?’ I filled the kettle.
‘They must have picked it up sometime today.’
‘At the meeting?’
‘Perhaps,’ he said slowly. ‘I wouldn’t have thought they’d have had enough time, though. Who knows your car?’
‘Stephen, obviously. Maybe Debbie Hillard, maybe Miss Whittington.’
‘Did you notice Wall talking to Miss Shenstone just before we left?’
‘Yes. But if they know each other, so what? And I know Stephen. He may be a shit, but he’s not a killer.’
He thought about that for a moment. ‘How long have you known him?’
I spooned coffee into mugs. ‘About three months, I suppose.’
‘I mean, intimately.’
‘Two weeks,’ I said reluctantly. ‘Three.’ The kettle boiled and we took our coffees back to the living-room.
‘Tom, why were you so offensive to all those people?’
‘Provocative — not the same thing. Because it makes people react. As I told you earlier, I’ve found it very useful in the past.’
‘Well, they certainly reacted tonight, didn’t they?’ I said bitterly.
‘I’ve said sorry. Haven’t I?’
‘Not that I remember.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Did you see any other reactions?’
He made a face. ‘Not that add up at the moment.’
‘If it wasn’t for the fact of my brakes,’ I said, ‘I couldn’t believe it was any of those people. Not those people. It’s someone lower down. A psychopath.’
He sighed. ‘You could be right. But I just can’t get it out of my mind that seven of those eight victims had their organs transplanted.’
‘But that would have to mean Miss Shenstone, and I can’t believe that. Nor could I believe Mr Chorley.’
‘Whoever it is, we’ll start eliminating them tomorrow. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t go in tomorrow, is there? Researching for facts?’
‘No. Except that one person’ll know why.’
‘They do already. Jo,’ he looked up, ‘you haven’t phoned the police about your car yet, have you? Better do it now.’
They already knew it was there and asked how long it would be before I removed it. I told them I hoped tomorrow. They told me they hoped so too. I stuck my tongue out at the receiver before putting it down.
‘They told you by tomorrow,’ Tom said from the sofa. ‘That’s right.’ I glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven, late enough, but I felt as though it should be later.
‘I’m going to bed,’ I said.
‘Fine. See you tomorrow.’
I used the bathroom and climbed into bed. But not to sleep.
Although I was so tired, as soon as I closed my eyes, I found myself re-living that split second when I realized my brakes weren’t working …
Shouldn’t have had the coffee. Tried reading for a while, but I was so tired that I couldn’t concentrate, and yet I still couldn’t sleep.
I heard him come up to the bathroom. As he came out, I called his name.
‘Yes?’ He was outside my door.
‘I can’t sleep. I’m scared.’
He came in and sat on the bed.
‘I’m sorry about today,’ he said awkwardly. ‘About my methods. Your brakes. That won’t happen again, I promise you.’
‘I keep going over it … if you hadn’t been in front … Tom, please hold me.’
He hesitated, then kicked off his shoes.
‘It’ll be all right, I promise.’ He put his arms around me.
It was so warm. He was so compact. I found his mouth, kissed him. He responded, then drew away.
‘Don’t think I don’t want to,’ he said in a low voice. ‘But it wouldn’t help us. Not now.’
To my relief, he didn’t go, just lay beside me, holding me until I went to sleep.
17
I slept late, which probably didn’t do me any harm, and came down to find Tom in the kitchen.
‘I’ve made a mess of pottage,’ he said. ‘Want some?’
‘I’ve no birthright to offer.’
‘Well, actually, it’s porridge. Still a mess, though. You can have some for nothing, if you like.’
‘You forget how nice it is,’ I said, a few minutes later.
‘What’s the plan for today?’
‘First, phone the garage about your car, and then I’ll run you into the hospital.’
‘Why? Oh, the nursing rotas.’
‘Yes. Check them as best you can, then see if you can put together a timetable for the doctors and paramedics for the last couple of months.’
‘As I said yesterday, it’ll take me a while. What will you do?’
‘Oh, there were a couple of things I wanted to check out,’ he said noncommittally. ‘Which reminds me: the lab tests. I’ll try Guy’s now.’
I made some coffee while he went to the phone.
‘Really?’ I heard him say. ‘That is good news … yes … thanks.’
‘Well?’ I said as he came back into the kitchen.
‘Eureka!’ he said softly, grinning.
‘Well, what?’
‘Insulin. At least four times the amount needed to kill her.’
‘Did they say what type?’
‘They haven’t done that yet. But it’s the evidence that you were right all along, Jo.’
*
He dropped me a little way outside the hospital gate. The first person I saw when I arrived at the ward was Emma.
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