Текст книги "Dangerous Promises"

Автор книги: Roberta Kray

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

All Royston knew was what the girl had told him at the party. ‘You don’t remember her?’ He gave the description again. ‘Young, in her early twenties, short black hair.’

‘Unless she came back after ten or left early in the morning I wouldn’t have seen her.’

Royston reached out for the book, but Pugh clamped his hand down on it. ‘I’m telling you there’s no one called Anne registered here.’

‘Any women at all, women on their own?’

Pugh went through the list again. ‘Just the one,’ he said. ‘A Mona Farrell. She booked in on the Saturday and left on the Sunday.’

‘Let me see,’ Royston said impatiently. This time Pugh gave in and let him take the book. He turned it around and stared at the name and the London address. Was it her? He flipped back through the previous week. Well, there were no other women booked in on their own. Maybe Anne was a diminutive of Mona. Or maybe… He had a sudden flashback to the party, to Sadie Wise dragging her friend away from him. She’d seemed on edge, nervous, alarmed even to find the two of them talking together. Maybe Anne wasn’t the girl’s name at all.

Royston scribbled down the Hampstead address and pushed the book back across the counter along with the five-pound note. ‘Let me know if she shows up again. I’ll make it worth your while.’

Pugh palmed the note and slid it into his trouser pocket. ‘Always a pleasure, Mr Royston. Have a nice evening.’

Royston left the hotel with a spring in his step and a good feeling in his guts. If ‘Mona Farrell’ and Anne were one and the same person then it could be the break he needed. Something was off and all he had to do now was follow the smell.

43

If it hadn’t been for the Christmas decorations springing up around town, Sadie wouldn’t have been aware of November passing into December. As she walked home from work, her gaze took in the shop windows with their artificial snow, plump red Santas, swags, garlands, trees and garish baubles. There had been a sudden explosion of glitter and glitz.

Despite the colourful show, she still felt devoid of any festive spirit. It was two weeks now since Eddie’s funeral and she’d spent the entire fortnight in a state of distraction, constantly worried that the police would turn up again. Instead of getting less fearful as time passed by, she was growing increasingly anxious, sure that they must be gathering evidence and the net was gradually closing around her.

To make matters worse, Mona Farrell had embarked on a campaign of letter writing. These letters, which came through the post almost every day, were long and rambling, often threatening, sometimes pleading and always thoroughly disturbing. If you don’t stick to your side of the bargain, then I’m going to tell everyone what you’ve done. Don’t think that I won’t. I don’t care if I live or die. I’ve got nothing to lose, you’ve got everything.

Included with the letters were more roughly drawn plans of the Hampstead garden with instructions on where to wait, where to go to and the exact position she should be standing in when she raised the gun and fired through the study window at Mona’s father.

This had all started on the Saturday after Eddie’s funeral. Joel had been working downstairs when the phone rang in the flat. As soon as Sadie had heard the voice on the other end of the line, her heart had sunk.

‘Why are you calling me here? I thought we’d —’

‘You haven’t been in touch,’ Mona had said peevishly. ‘It’s been over a week. What’s going on? You said you’d call.’

Sadie had taken a deep breath, pressing the phone close to her ear before delivering her answer. ‘I think it’s better if we don’t… if we don’t talk any more. I can’t do what you want me to do. I won’t. Do you understand?’

There had been a short silence. ‘You can’t renege on a promise.’

‘I didn’t promise anything.’

‘Yes, you did. Why are you doing this? It’s not fair. It isn’t.’

‘Please don’t call me again. It’s over, all right? I can’t do this any more.’ And then before she could say anything else, Sadie had hung up. The phone had rung again almost instantly, but she hadn’t picked up. She had turned the answer machine off too. When Mona had continued to call, over and over again, Sadie had got down on her hands and knees and pulled out the lead. While she’d been sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs the harsh sound of the phone had continued to echo in her ears.

Joel had been bemused by her refusal to take any further calls off ‘Anne’ and Sadie had had to offer up a feasible explanation.

‘She wants to talk about Eddie all the time. I can’t… I don’t want to think about it any more.’

‘Can’t you tell her that?’

‘She never listens.’

And so Joel had continued to say that Sadie wasn’t in and a few days later the letters had begun to arrive. Sadie was in the habit now of always going down to pick up the post – she didn’t want him to know how often Mona was writing – and every time she saw that childlike scrawl her heart would skip a beat.

‘No,’ she would groan. ‘Not again.’

After she’d read the letters, she would tear them into tiny little pieces and shove them in the bin under the leftovers and the wet tea bags. It was crazy, mad, but she didn’t know what else to do. A part of her realised she should be keeping them as evidence of Mona’s guilt – these were clear plans for the murder of her father – but she was too afraid that they would make her look guilty too. If the police ever got hold of them, they would jump to the obvious damning conclusions.

There was Joel to worry about as well. How long before Mona started dripping her poison into his ear? If she was drunk and angry, there was no knowing what she might say. Sadie had returned the gifts, the book and the scarf, without any sort of note. But if she’d been hoping that Mona might get the message and stop harassing her, those hopes had been quickly dashed.

As she reached Buckingham Road, Sadie slowed her pace, not wanting to get home any faster than she had to. There was an awkward atmosphere between her and Joel at the moment. None of it was his fault. It was all entirely hers. She had chosen to lie, to deceive, and now every day she felt a little more distant as if she was being carried on the tide and gradually drifting away from him.

Joel was in the kitchen, sitting at the table. He looked up as she came in and from the expression on his face she knew that something was wrong. Immediately she thought the worst, that the police had been back or that Mona had called and told him about the imaginary ‘pact’.

‘What’s happened?’

He hesitated, his mouth twisting. ‘It’s… well, I wasn’t sure if I should tell you or not but —’

‘Tell me what?’

‘I don’t want you to get upset.’

Sadie felt a jolt of alarm. ‘Oh, just tell me, Joel. Please.’ She pulled out a chair and sat down opposite to him. Her lips were going dry, her throat tightening. ‘I’d rather know, whatever it is.’

Joel took an audible breath, glanced down at the table and then up again. ‘My mum rang earlier. They got a letter this morning, an anonymous one. It was about you.’

‘What?’

‘Just some rubbish accusing you of… of being involved in Eddie’s murder. They know that it’s nonsense. They don’t believe a word of it. It’s just some crank trying to stir up trouble.’

Sadie put her elbows on the table, lifted a hand and chewed on a knuckle. She instantly guessed that it was Mona, but couldn’t say it out loud. ‘My God, why would anyone do that?’

‘Don’t worry about it. Some people… they’re just… they’ve got nothing better to do. Nobody believes it, not for a minute.’

Sadie jumped up, went over to the sink and poured a glass of water. She took a sip and then, with her back still to him, asked, ‘What else did it say? The letter?’

‘Nothing much.’

She turned to look at him again. ‘What’s nothing much?’

Joel pulled a face. ‘Some jibes about how you couldn’t be trusted, that you were using me, that all you care about is money – or, to be more precise, my parents’ money.’

Sadie shook her head. ‘So now I’m a murderer and a gold digger. Was there anything else?’

‘That was pretty much it, I think. Look, I know it’s cruel and nasty, but you just have to put it out of your mind.’

But that was one thing Sadie couldn’t do. Mona wasn’t going to stop until she got what she wanted. ‘Are they going to take it to the police? Did your mum say?’

‘I don’t think so. Do you think they should?’

Sadie gave a shrug, wondering how careful Mona had been. There would be a postmark on the letter, maybe even fingerprints. What if they managed to trace it back? She shivered at the thought, aware of how unstable the girl was. A rush of panic made her hands shake and she quickly put down the glass on the side of the sink. ‘I suppose it would be a waste of time. I doubt if they could find out who sent it, could they?’

‘I shouldn’t think they’d even try.’

‘No,’ Sadie said, hoping he was right.

Joel stared at her, his eyes full of concern. ‘Are you okay? I feel really bad about… I mean, you’ve got enough to deal with without this as well. I wasn’t sure if —’

‘It’s not a problem,’ she lied, attempting to keep her voice steady. ‘Like I said, I’d rather know.’

‘At least we can get away from it all tomorrow.’

‘Huh?’

‘The Lake District,’ he said. ‘You hadn’t forgotten, had you?’

Sadie had forgotten. It had gone clean out of her head. Every year, before Christmas, Joel’s parents rented a large rambling house in Grasmere for a week. During that time friends and relatives came and went and the house was always full to overflowing. Although she’d enjoyed it in the past, this December the thought of all that socialising, all that endless smiling and chatting, filled her with dread. ‘I was wondering… would you mind if I gave it a miss? After everything… I just fancy a quiet weekend.’

Joel looked disappointed, but gave a nod. ‘Yeah, I understand. If that’s what you want. It’s been a tough few weeks. I’m sure they’ll be fine about it. We can just stay here and take it easy; maybe we could catch a film or go for a meal.’

‘No, you should still go. I want you to. Your mum and dad will be really disappointed if you pull out now.’

‘I can’t leave you here on your own.’

‘Why not? I’ll be fine, honestly I will.’ Suddenly the prospect of solitude, of having time to think, filled her with a wondrous sense of relief. She wouldn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or letting something slip. Just for a while, she’d be able to breathe and maybe get her head in order.

‘It’s not because of the letter, is it? Because if it is —’

‘It isn’t,’ she insisted. ‘I promise.’ Although that wasn’t strictly true. The subject was bound to come up at some point and she couldn’t bear the strain of lying. She’d be under scrutiny at the Grasmere house and that was the last thing she wanted. ‘I might go and see Mum on Sunday. She’s been worried, you know, after all this stuff with Eddie.’

Joel sat back and folded his arms his arms across his chest. ‘Are you sure you won’t come? It won’t be the same without you.’

‘I just feel… I feel really tired, exhausted, like I want to sleep for a year. I wouldn’t be good company. You’ll apologise for me, won’t you?’

Joel opened his mouth as if he was going to try and persuade her to change her mind, but then almost immediately closed it again. Perhaps he realised that the decision had been made and that it was pointless to argue. He left a pause and then said, ‘Everything’s all right, though, isn’t it? I mean, between us?’

‘Of course,’ Sadie said, a bit too brightly. ‘That’s not why I don’t want to come. It’s not that at all.’ All her instincts told her to lean across the table, put her hand over his and make some physical contact, but instead she looked away. Somehow, when it came to it, she just couldn’t give him the reassurance he needed.

44

Sadie felt a twinge of regret as she waved Joel off the following morning. She’d had a restless night full of strange disturbing dreams in which she was constantly trying to find her way home but never succeeded in getting there. Wisps of those dreams still lingered as she stood on the doorstep and watched him leave.

Over breakfast she had come close to changing her mind – perhaps it would be good to get away, to try and forget about things for a while – but she knew it was hopeless. She had gazed at his face and her stomach had twisted. How could she go on deceiving him? Eventually the truth would come out and he would see her in a different light. He would find out that she’d shot a man, that she’d known who murdered Eddie, that she’d lied to him and to the police. How would he reconcile this Sadie with the one he thought he loved?

‘I’ll call you,’ he’d said.

‘Have a good time. Give my best to everyone.’

Sadie went back upstairs and sat at the table for a while. Then she picked up her bag, went through to the kitchen, took out the latest letters from Mona Farrell and burned them in the sink.

Once she had cleared away the ashes, Sadie put on her coat. Despite the cold, she walked down to the front, hoping that the sea air would clear her head. She braced herself against the wind as she strode along the promenade. It was the doing nothing that was getting to her. She felt helpless, out of control, as if she was simply waiting for things to happen.

There was a red phone box next to the boating pond and she was tempted to step inside and call Nathan Stone. Had the police talked to him? What had they said? Had he got rid of the gun? What was going on with the Gissings? There were so many questions and only one way of finding out the answers. But she knew he wouldn’t be at the bar – it was far too early – and she had no other way of contacting him.

For a while she stood by the pond and watched the wind whip across the surface, rippling the water. There were no kids playing here today. There were no boats bobbing about, no tiny yachts with graceful white sails. The bad weather was keeping almost everyone indoors.

Sadie glanced over at the phone box again, but knew it was pointless. Even if she did manage to reach him, he wouldn’t tell her anything. I’m not talking about this over the phone. Wasn’t that what he’d said last time she’d called? No, he’d be tight-lipped about it all, wary in case the police were listening in. She sucked in a breath. She didn’t want to think about Inspector Gerald Frayne and his cool, suspicious eyes.

It was only when the cold started seeping into her bones that she began walking again. She went past the swimming baths with their wafting chlorine smell and then the arcades with their flashing lights and music until she reached the end of the promenade. Here she turned and headed for home. The rain started on her way back and by the time she reached the flat she was drenched. She went upstairs, ran a bath and stripped off her clothes.

While she lay in the hot water, Sadie reviewed her options. When it came down to it there were only two: either she went to the police and came clean about everything, or she kept her mouth shut and waited to see what would happen. Except in her heart she already knew what would happen: at some point the truth would come out and her world would fall apart.

Sadie was still racking her brains for smarter ways to address the situation when the doorbell rang. She closed her eyes and sank down under the water. Whoever it was would have to come back another time. It rang again and again, but she continued to ignore it. What if it was the police? She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t. Please God. She wasn’t ready for them yet. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready.

Half an hour later, Sadie got out of the bath, dried herself off and pulled on her dressing gown. She opened the door to the flat, went out on to the landing and peered down the two flights of stairs into the hallway. A white envelope was lying on the floor and she wondered if it had been the postman who’d rung the bell.

Sadie padded downstairs in her bare feet and picked up the letter. The minute she saw the handwriting on the front, the breath caught in her throat. She’d know that scrawl anywhere. Mona Farrell. What made it worse was that there wasn’t a stamp – it had been hand-delivered. Quickly, with her heart thumping, she tore open the envelope and read the contents:

Dear Sadie,

Meet me tonight at the fairground by the Big Wheel at eight o’clock. If you don’t come, you’ll be sorry. I won’t keep quiet – you know I won’t. Come on your own and don’t bring Joel. Please come. I need to see you.

Your dear friend,

Mona

Sadie stood for a long time staring down at the note. Her hands shook as she read and re-read it. She didn’t have to go. But Mona would come round again if she didn’t show up. Well, so what? She could turn off all the lights, pretend she wasn’t in – but she couldn’t hide for ever. The girl would keep trying until she got what she wanted. No, it was time to stop running, to turn and face things head on. It was time to take back some control.

45

Mona gazed into the mirror as she carefully styled her hair, gelling it up into short neat spikes. After the disappointment of finding that Sadie was out, she had spent the day exploring Haverlea. In truth, she didn’t think much of it. It seemed a slow, sleepy sort of town, although that was maybe due to the time of year. The place was one of those touristy seaside spots, busy in summer but dead in winter. Hopefully, it would perk up a bit at night.

If the town was dull, the hotel wasn’t any better. The only other guests were virtually geriatric, old women with tight blue-rinsed perms and disapproving faces. She gave a shudder and reached for the red pill on the dressing table. Quickly she popped it in her mouth and washed it down with a gulp of vodka.

Sometimes it was hard not to get angry at Sadie; she was forever saying one thing and then doing another. In Hampstead, Mona had checked the post every day waiting to hear from her, waiting for a single reply to any of the letters she’d sent. And then there were all the phone calls she’d made. Well, no one likes being ignored, do they? In the end she’d had no choice but to write to the Hunters. She hadn’t wanted to do it, but Sadie needed reminding of the promise she’d made. It had been the only way, the last resort.

Mona put on some lipstick and sat back to view the effect in the mirror. She inclined her head and smiled at her reflection. Even though Sadie drove her mad at times, she wouldn’t be without her. And everyone had their faults. The trouble with Sadie was that she was too kind, too forgiving. Take Eddie, for example. Why should a man like that be allowed to get away with what he’d done? She recalled the way he’d looked at her when he’d opened the door to his flat, the quick appraising glance that had raked her body from head to toe.

‘Yeah?’

‘Are you Eddie?’ she’d asked, smiling sweetly. ‘Eddie Wise?’

‘What’s it about?’

‘My name’s Anne Faulkner. I’m here about your wife, Sadie.’

‘Oh, you’ve just missed her.’

‘I know,’ she’d said. ‘It’s you I want to talk to. Could we do this inside? It won’t take long.’

And just like that, he’d stood back and let her in, even taken her through to the kitchen and offered her a coffee. She wondered what he’d been thinking about in the last few minutes of his life. Nothing much, she imagined, and certainly nothing of importance. Men like Eddie Wise only ever thought about themselves.

Mona had no regrets about what she’d done. His worthless, pitiful existence had been snuffed out in a matter of seconds. What had she felt as she’d slid the knife between his ribs? Very little. It had been an act of mercy, like putting down a rabid dog. When she looked back, which wasn’t often, the whole event had a slightly surreal quality to it, sharp in places, misty in others. Anyway, she had simply done what she had to do and now Sadie was free of him for ever.

As the effects of the pill kicked in, Mona’s mood started to lift. She glanced at her watch. Soon it would be time to go. She felt the same stirring excitement as a child would feel as she anticipated not just the lights and the rides, but the joy of sharing those things with a friend. It would be good to see Sadie again. This evening she would make her see sense and persuade her to go through with her side of the bargain.