Текст книги "Dangerous Promises"

Автор книги: Roberta Kray

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

She paid for the food, grabbed the bags and went back out into the cold evening air. The wind whipped around, the icy air stinging her face. How was she going to ask that all-important question? She tried to choose the words as she walked. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could come right out and say. Even the thought of broaching the subject made her feel sick inside.

Sadie stepped inside the phone box and placed the carrier bags by her feet. Her heart was pounding again as she took the slip of paper from her pocket and laid the coins out on the ledge. All she had to do was to establish whether Mona was guilty or not. And if she was, if she definitely was, then Sadie would go and see Inspector Frayne and tell him everything. She may have bottled it before but this time would be different.

Carefully, she dialled the number. As she stood there listening to the phone ringing, she muttered a prayer that this nightmare would soon be over. Please God. The phone rang eight times before it was eventually answered.

‘Hello?’

Sadie pulled in a breath, her lips feeling dry. The pips went and she quickly pushed the change into the slot. ‘Mona?’

‘Hey, Sadie. Hello. How are you?’

Mona sounded so bright and breezy, so normal, that Sadie felt a wave of relief wash over her. ‘I’m all right.’

‘Thanks for calling me back. I’m glad you got the book.’

‘Yes, but I don’t really understand why… why you sent it to me.’

‘Because you said you liked it. On the train. Don’t you remember?’

‘I said I’d read it.’

‘But you wouldn’t have read it if you didn’t like it.’

Suddenly Sadie caught an edge of slyness in the girl’s voice. ‘Oh, I see.’

‘Did you enjoy your walk this afternoon?’

‘What?’ Surprised by the question, Sadie glanced over her shoulder as if Mona might be watching her. ‘How did you…’

‘Joel told me,’ Mona said softly. ‘And you’re right. He is nice. We had a long chat. He mentioned how upset you were about Eddie.’

Sadie swallowed hard. ‘I am upset,’ she said. ‘We might have had our differences but I never wanted him dead.’

There was a short pause on the other end of the line before Mona spoke again. ‘I’ve got something else to send you.’

‘Why would you send me anything else?’

‘I’ll put it in the post tomorrow.’

‘What is it?’

But Mona didn’t answer directly. ‘Your picture was in the paper. Did you know?’

‘What? What picture?’

‘You and Eddie on the day you got married. It was in… I don’t know, one of the evening papers, the Standard or the News. Would you like me to post it to you? It’s no trouble. I can send it with —’

‘No,’ Sadie said sharply. ‘I don’t want you to send it. I don’t want you to send anything else.’

‘Oh,’ Mona said. She left a short pause before adding, ‘Right, yes, I understand. That was silly of me.’

Sadie wasn’t sure what she meant. That it was insensitive or something else entirely? She took another deep breath, knowing that she had to ask but not entirely sure how to do so. ‘Look, er… do you know anything about how Eddie died?’

‘Of course,’ Mona said.

Sadie felt her heart miss a beat. Her hand tightened around the phone. ‘You do?’ she croaked.

‘It says in the paper that he was stabbed. But they don’t always tell the truth, do they? Most journalists make it up as they go along.’

‘How did you hear about it?’

A soft sigh floated down the line. ‘In the paper,’ Mona said. ‘Didn’t I just tell you that?’

‘So you didn’t… I mean…’ But Sadie didn’t have the nerve to ask her outright. ‘You haven’t…’

‘Haven’t what?’

‘The police came to interview me,’ Sadie said. ‘I’d been to see Eddie just before he was murdered.’

‘Had you?’ Mona paused again. ‘But they can’t think that you had anything to do with it.’

‘Why not? I was the last person… almost the last person to see him alive.’

Mona released a peel of laughter. ‘Even the cops aren’t that stupid. Why would you do it? You don’t have a motive.’

‘I wanted a divorce.’

‘You don’t kill people because you want a divorce. Anyway, if they thought it was you, you’d be locked up by now. And you’re not. You’re a free woman. There’s nothing to worry about.’

‘There’s plenty to worry about.’

‘You’re not too upset, are you? About Eddie, I mean.’

Sadie frowned. ‘Of course I am.’

‘It’s probably just the shock. But there’s no point crying over spilt milk, is there? What’s done is done. You just have to get on with your life.’

Sadie couldn’t believe how blasé the girl was, as if the murder of a husband was nothing more than a temporary inconvenience. Spilt milk? Mona didn’t seem affected at all by the enormity of what had happened. Was that because she had killed him or because she wasn’t capable of any kind of empathy? Both, perhaps.

‘Are you still there?’ Mona asked.

‘Yes.’

‘It went all quiet there for a while. What were you thinking?’

‘Nothing,’ Sadie said. She shuffled from foot to foot, exasperated by her inability to reach the truth. ‘Nothing much.’

‘When are you coming back to London?’

‘I’m not. I mean, I haven’t got any plans. Why would I —’

‘No,’ Mona quickly interrupted. ‘Maybe you’re right. Best not, I suppose.’

The pips went and Sadie put another ten pence in. Her frustration was reaching breaking point. ‘Mona?’

‘Yes?’

But still Sadie couldn’t find a way to ask the all-important question. It hung on the tip of her tongue like a drop of poisoned water. With her left hand, she raked her fingers through her hair. ‘I thought I saw you,’ she said eventually. ‘When I was in Kellston, I thought I saw you going into the station.’

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. And then that odd laugh came again, more of a giggle this time. ‘Who, me?’

‘Yes.’

‘How strange.’

‘So you weren’t there?’

‘Why would I be there?’

‘I don’t know,’ Sadie said, defeated. ‘Look, I have to go. I’m almost out of money.’

‘Bye then,’ Mona said. ‘Take care of yourself. And don’t forget.’

‘Forget what?’

But Mona had already hung up.

Sadie replaced the receiver, aware that she was no closer to learning the truth than when she’d picked the damn thing up. She ran through the conversation in her head as she gazed out through the smeared glass panels at the street. Mona had not said anything that directly implicated her and yet…

As she bent to lift the carrier bags, Sadie had a sudden thought. Perhaps there was another way of finding out about Eddie. She stood upright again and rummaged in her bag for a pen. Failing to find one, she had to resort to an eyeliner pencil. Then, after flipping over the piece of paper with Mona’s details on, she dialled Directory Enquiries.

‘Yes, could I have the number for Ramones, please? It’s a bar on Kellston High Street. That’s Kellston, East London.’

There was a short pause before the number was relayed to her. Sadie quickly scribbled it down, said thank you and hung up. She took out some more change from her purse and picked up the receiver again. Would he be there? She glanced at her watch. It was after six now and so hopefully he would be.

The phone was answered smartly after only a couple of rings. The pips went, Sadie put her money in and a male voice said, ‘Ramones.’

‘Hello, is… er… is Nathan Stone there, please?’

‘Who’s calling?’

‘Tell him it’s Sadie.’

‘Hang on. I’ll see if he’s here.’

Sadie hung on. She could hear music in the background, Marvin Gaye singing ‘I Heard it Through the Grapevine’. Kind of apt, she thought, hoping that Stone might have heard something too. The seconds ticked by and she began to wonder if he was ever going to come. She was also starting to wonder if this was a smart thing to do. The last time she’d seen him they hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms.

Eventually she heard a murmur of voices and then the phone was picked up. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mr Stone?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It’s Sadie,’ she said. ‘Sadie Wise.’

‘I know. What the hell do you want?’

Sadie bristled at his rudeness. ‘Well, I can see your manners haven’t improved much.’

‘Unlike your marital status.’ Stone gave a loud snort. ‘Thanks for getting me involved in all this by the way. I really appreciate it.’

‘I didn’t get you involved. All I did was to ask for his address. And anyway, there’s nothing to be involved in. I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill him.’

‘Oh, yeah? Try telling that to Wayne Gissing.’

Sadie gave a start. ‘What? Who?’

‘He’s Kelly Gissing’s brother. Kelly was the girl who was going out with Eddie when —’

‘Yes, I know who she is but I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.’

‘Don’t you?’ Nathan Stone made a harsh clicking noise in the back of his throat. ‘Well, you should. The Gissings are the family from hell and they’re not best pleased about what’s happened.’

‘But —’

‘But nothing,’ he said. ‘You know what? I really don’t want to discuss this over the phone.’

‘So how else are we supposed to discuss it?’

‘The usual way. Come and see me. We’ll talk face to face.’

Sadie gave a sigh. ‘And how am I supposed to that? I’m two hundred miles away.’

‘So get in a car, get on a train. It’s not that hard.’

‘I can’t. The police don’t want me to leave Haverlea.’

‘You’ve got a problem then.’

Sadie, gritting her teeth, tried to keep her voice polite. ‘Look, all I want to know is whether you’ve heard anything, any rumours about who might have murdered Eddie.’

‘Apart from you, you mean.’

‘It wasn’t me.’ She felt a sudden flurry of panic in her chest. ‘Is that what people are saying? That I did it?’

‘How would I know what people are saying?’

‘I thought you knew everything.’

‘Not everything,’ he said, ‘just enough.’

Sadie felt like banging her head against the phone box. ‘Okay, put it this way. If I was to come and see you, could you tell me anything useful?’

‘Define useful.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Maybe,’ he said.

‘Do you have any idea of why he was killed?’

Nathan Stone gave a grunt. ‘Sadie, I’ve already told you. I’m not talking about this over the phone. I’ve got to go, okay?’

‘Can’t you just —’

But the line had gone dead. Sadie slowly replaced the receiver. What was it with people hanging up on her today? She thought about calling him back but decided it would be a waste of time. Nathan Stone wasn’t going to give her any more than he already had – which was very little. There was only his comment about the Gissings to think about, a comment that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The family from hell. Did they really believe that she’d killed Eddie? It wasn’t the most comforting thought.

Sadie picked up her carrier bags and left the phone box. She had made two calls but was no further forward than when she’d started. Joel would be wondering where she was; it didn’t take this long to buy a few groceries. It was time, regretfully, to tell a few more lies.

20

It was dark and cold outside and the snow, although it had more or less cleared from the streets, was still lying on the garden. Mona smiled as she made her second circuit of the grounds, her Wellingtons crunching on the ice. She hadn’t been sure if Sadie would call – some people had a habit of reneging on their promises – but now she felt guilty about ever having doubted her. A deal was a deal and Sadie Wise wasn’t the type to go back on her word.

Mona thought about the day they’d met on the train. She couldn’t say exactly what it was that had drawn her; it was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, a feeling deep inside, an instinct, a gut reaction. And it hadn’t just been that Sadie was attractive – there were plenty of pretty girls in the world – but because she had a kind of aura about her. Fate, she decided, had thrown them together.

‘Fate,’ Mona uttered into the silence of the garden. Now that was something else her so-called father didn’t believe in. It could be added to a long list that included coincidence, premonition and even chance.

‘You make your own luck in this world, Mona. If you work hard, you’ll get rewarded. Nothing’s going to fall into your lap.’

‘Well, we’ll see,’ she murmured.

It had to be fate that she’d seen that film a few weeks before bumping into Sadie. It was an old Hitchcock movie, black and white, and she’d only stayed up to watch it because she wasn’t feeling sleepy and had nothing better to do. But gradually she’d got drawn in, fascinated by the plot. The perfect murder. What could be more compulsive viewing than that? And while she’d been watching, the seed of an idea had started to grow inside her.

Mona scuffed up the snow with the toe of her right boot. Sending the book to Sadie had been a nice touch, she thought. It had taken her a while to find it in the shop as she hadn’t had a clue as to who the author was. After searching for ten minutes, she’d asked an assistant for help, a plain girl with glasses and stringy brown hair. The girl had gone straight to a shelf and passed the book over to her.

‘Is this the one you’re looking for?’

It turned out the writer was called Patricia Highsmith, an American author Mona had never heard of. She’d made a quick scan of the synopsis on the back just to make sure that it was the right novel. Even reading the description had given her a kick, as if she was studying the blueprint for her own future plans.

‘Yes, this is the one.’

While she’d been paying, she had wondered if the assistant would remember her. But why should she? And even if she did, there was no reason why she would ever make the connection between the purchase of a crime novel and two murders committed months apart and in completely different areas of London. No, that wouldn’t be a problem. She was sure of it.

Mona had used the name Anne when she’d called Sadie’s flat because that was the name of the girl in the book – and because she hadn’t wanted to reveal her real identity to Joel. And Sadie had realised of course. Sadie had got it straight away. That was because they were on the same wavelength. Their understanding went beyond mere friendship; they were bound by mysterious threads, by ties that could never be broken.

Sadie was smart too. Of course she couldn’t come to London. Not right now. And it wouldn’t be sensible for Mona to send the Beretta through the post. What if it got lost or Joel was there when she opened the package? God, that would be a disaster. She would have to find another way of getting the gun to her.

Mona strode on towards the high wall that surrounded the garden. As she tramped around the perimeter, she took a half bottle of vodka from her pocket, unscrewed the lid and took a swig. Various schemes were revolving in her head. Over the past few days she had drawn numerous maps of the house and grounds, trying to work out the best way of Sadie gaining access. When the time came there could be no room for error; everything had to be perfect.

She had dropped the idea of simply turning off the alarm. It would look too suspicious. And anyway, there was nothing to say that her father wouldn’t notice and turn it on again. No, it wouldn’t do. It was a sloppy, careless plan that could too easily go wrong. Plus, the slightest hint that it was an inside job and the police would immediately turn the spotlight on the family.

Mona drank some more vodka, feeling the rush as it hit the back of her throat. She would have to make sure that both she and her mother had cast-iron alibis for the time the bastard was despatched. A Thursday would be good because that was the night her mum went to play bridge; she’d be out from seven until after eleven. And as for herself? Well, she could always arrange to meet some friends in a bar, up West perhaps or in Chelsea.

But that was all detail, stuff that could be sorted later. What she really needed to figure out was how Sadie was going to get into the house. It might be possible to smuggle her in during the day while her father was out at work, for her to hide her in Mona’s bedroom until everyone else had gone out, but that would be risky. What if one of the neighbours saw them together or they bumped into her mother on the stairs? And then, of course, a break-in would need to be faked. She pulled a face. It was overly complicated. There had to be a better way.

Slowly, she made her way back across the lawn. She paused by the pool, empty of water now it was winter, and gazed into the eerie oblong of black. There were blue tiles on the bottom but they had merged into the darkness. The hole was like a giant grave waiting to be filled. Lifting her eyes, she looked across at the timber chalet, the place where people changed into their swimming things when it was warm enough to bathe. And it was then, suddenly, that the germ of an idea came to her. Her fingers tightened around the bottle and her lips slid into a smile.

Mona turned away and hurried through the snow towards the back of the house. There was a light on in one of the ground-floor rooms – the study – and as she grew closer she could make out the figure of her father. He was there every night after dinner, on the phone or sorting through his papers. He was a man of habit, never changing his routine.

She slowed when she was a few yards away, moving as quietly as she could. She could see him clearly now. The desk was at right angles to the wide mullioned window and he was hunched over, reading through some documents. Would he realise she was there? She waited, holding her breath, but nothing happened. He didn’t even lift his head.

With the bright light on in the study, Mona guessed she was invisible. Even if he did glance up, all he would see in the panes of glass was a reflection of the room. Smirking, she raised her hand and pointed with her forefinger. Bang bang. How easy would that be? The bullets would pass straight through the window and into his fat, disgusting flesh.

Mona stepped to one side, making sure her feet didn’t crunch in the snow. This was the way, wasn’t it? Her heartbeat had accelerated, her pulse starting to race. Sadie wouldn’t even need to be inside the house. She could shoot him from out here. If Mona got a copy of the key to the back gate – the one the gardener used – Sadie could come through the grounds and wait in the pool house until the time was right. Then, when she left, she could lock the gate behind her again. It was simple, perfect. All they’d have to do is to make it look as though someone had come over the back wall.

Mona grinned as she imagined coming home and finding the cop cars parked outside the house, their blue lights flashing. How would she react when she heard the news? There would have to be a show of shock, of grief, of tears. Her poor daddy murdered in his own home. Well, she could manage that. She could manage just about anything when she put her mind to it.

21

It was Sunday morning and Petra Gissing had already been up for four hours before her son finally dragged himself out of his pit and staggered downstairs. She had heard him come in late, pissed and cursing, banging against the furniture as he tried to negotiate the living room. Now, as he slumped down at the kitchen table, she showed no mercy in noisily clattering the saucepans together.

‘Jesus,’ said Wayne, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. ‘What’s with the racket?’

‘You want to eat, don’t you?’

‘Do I look like I want to eat?’

‘You look like something the cat dragged in.’ She gave an exaggerated sniff. ‘Come to mention it, you smell like it too.’

‘Ta very much.’

‘Just saying it like it is.’

‘Well, don’t bother. I’m not in the mood.’

Petra began chopping the carrots, hammering the knife rhythmically against the board. ‘What’s the matter? Got a headache?’

‘So I had a few bevies. Since when did that become a crime?’ He gave a thin groan. ‘For fuck’s sake, do you have to do that right now?’

‘I could have asked the same thing of you at two o’clock this morning.’

Wayne peered at her. ‘What?’

‘When you came in. You were making enough noise to wake the bleedin’ dead.’

‘It wasn’t that bad.’

Petra gave a snort. ‘As if you can remember. I’m surprised you even found your way home.’

‘Yeah, well, I needed a drink after what I’d heard.’ He paused and glanced around the kitchen and then towards the living room. ‘Where’s Kel?’

‘She’s gone to Romford to see Eddie’s parents. What did you hear?’

‘I’ll tell you if you give me some peace and quiet for five minutes.’