Five Six Pick Up Sticks (Grasshopper Lawns) Page 9

  'I hate to say it, but now it’s my turn to have a theory. I found her car file on her desk while I was hunting around. There was an invoice on the top dated the seventh of the month, so I’m guessing a day or two before her death? She’d had her cambelt changed, and a service done. The garage had only charged her forty pounds. It’s a handwritten invoice, so probably a small one-man shop, and trust me, I had my cambelt changed and a service done the other week, and it cost a lot more than that. It occurred to me that either he did it cheap because she was a cop, but you say she was undercover, or because he fancied her. It makes me wonder whether this was an admirer rather than a burglar. Gets in, goes to the lounge, he could have brought those roses for all we know. Maybe switches on all the lights, very pleased with himself, ta dah!'

  'Then it all goes wrong,' William said in an awed voice. 'She doesn’t call for help because she knows she can handle the situation. He gets a bit caveman, she fights him off, slips and falls and knocks herself out – he panics, picks up the iPad and camera to make it look like a burglary gone wrong, then loses his nerve and makes a run for it. Donald, mate, that’s quite brilliant. You really are coming on very nicely indeed.'

  'That… that actually makes sense.' Kirsty shook herself. 'You guys ARE good. That’s certainly a line to chase up. Thank you!'

  Edge’s phone suddenly set up its insistent chirrup and she dug it out hastily. 'It’s the no-show from last night,' she told them all. 'Should I answer?'

  'Well, we got a good dinner there, so nothing wrong with his taste,' William said fairly. 'And at least it proves he didn’t peer through the window, take one horrified look at you and run back to his car. Worth hearing what his excuse was.'

  Edge pulled a face at him, then answered in the slightly breathy voice she used as Suzi. Her jaw sagged as she listened, and she could feel heat burning in her cheeks, but before he’d finally stopped talking she had remembered why she was doing this and had her voice under control.

  'Okay,' she said meekly, 'I’ll see you there. At six.' She swallowed and with an effort managed to add a husky 'Thanks' before she rang off. She looked up to meet four pairs of expectant eyes.

  'He’d b-better be good for a couple of stories,' she managed. 'Can you believe, he was paying me out for not meeting him earlier in the month? He swears we had a date set up and how did I like sitting all on my own in public like a fool? He was actually b-bullying me!'

  'And you’re meeting him tonight at six.' William was incredulous. 'Wow. Treat ‘em mean and keep ‘em keen. Woman, are you nuts?'

  She met Kirsty’s eyes for a heartbeat, and then started to laugh. 'I think we’re all meeting him tonight at six. What do you think?'

  The other three took themselves off soon afterwards, and Edge looked at Kirsty. 'Was that wrong? I thought a bullying sort of man – some women do like that – would be worth knowing, see who he really is. There was that other case, the one Jayenthi mentioned; her friend who’d been so badly beaten, who died in hospital?'

  'Two like that, in the last year, and one woman who pulled through. You were absolutely right; we’ll set it up now. I’m glad you’ll have the whole gang there, though. There’s more than one bully in the world, and talking to you the way he did would be a good way of screening for doormat types, but it could be the same man. If we could get a name and address, and photos for that poor woman to ID, it would be a major win. We’ve got a few descriptions, including one from Jayenthi Pillay, at the time, and they do seem to point to the same man. Bawbag. Are you going to go now, to get ready?'

  'It’s barely four, plenty of time. And I suspect with this one I don’t want to look too gilded, anyway. He’ll be more confident with someone who looks a bit insecure and downtrodden. We’ll finish up your bedroom, at least.'

  Edge made up Kirsty’s bed while Kirsty hung away the contents of another suitcase, the pair of them working in companionable silence until Edge finished by plumping up the pillows and turned away to perch on the wing chair at the window.

  'We’ve been so busy thinking about the hidden murders,' Kirsty looked across at her aunt, 'I had forgotten there could be an overlap with the more overt nasties. And do you think Susan really had made a date with bully boy and not recorded it? We’ve been assuming her records were perfect.'

  'I think he’s trying it on. I really do. Putting me on the defensive, because anyone who would meet him after a start like that will be absolute putty. I could be wrong, but I think the only mistake Susan made with her killer was thinking she could take him in a fair fight.'

  'I still don’t get that.' Kirsty sat on the edge of her freshly made bed. 'I mean the tap thing, yes, that explains completely how he got inside. But she knew she was hunting a serial killer. If it was someone she’d met through the investigation, even if she thought she could take him, she would have pressed that button. He obviously wasn’t someone she suspected for a minute. We’ll have to go over every single person she met all over again. It does sort of let out her ex. It was a really bad split, and she would have pressed her panic button without a second thought if he’d pulled a stunt like that. Anyway, he had no visible scratches, and a good enough alibi that we couldn’t insist on a full body check. Whoever it was, he can’t have been a big bloke, or seemed too threatening. I’ve been afraid that it was a colleague, someone she’s worked with – it was so obviously someone she didn’t consider a threat. At least the bucket theory opens that up, an admirer does seem a real possibility and she wouldn’t have wanted that going public. She’d have been sure she could handle it, she was pretty good at Judo, she could have handled most situations.'

  She stood and stretched, groaning. 'Anyway. Time to set up your cover for tonight. I’m going to see if I can talk myself back onto the listening team, it sounds like it’ll be a good one. I hope he pitches up this time. What other dates have you got lined up?'

  'A guy who met with four of the victims. Calls himself Hunter, if you can believe that. He’s on Monday. It was supposed to be Tuesday night but that was a rehearsal night, Vivian made me change it. I don’t think she trusts William to take it seriously enough on his own. If they only knew how well guarded I really am! And then Ben – the one I like the look of – asked me out for Thursday, but I put him off.'

  'Careful with Donald, he’s really quick on the uptake,' Kirsty warned. 'I could kick myself for leaving that photo up in the hall. I thought I’d moved them all. If he noticed the resemblance between you and Susan, he’ll start putting two and two together.'

  They walked downstairs together and Kirsty lifted down the photo. 'Oh, okay, Susan isn’t the most attractive one in the group. I think we’re okay. I’m still surprised he didn’t comment!'

  'Actually, she’s younger in this photo, and you can’t really see the colour of her hair. He could genuinely have thought it was you; you’d already said you were friends. I hope this guy tonight is a good lead. It would be awful if we’re mobilizing the special ops team for nothing! At least we’re picking up others in the net, even if they’re borderline conmen like Nick.'

  'Still want the main guy.' Kirsty put the photo down on a bookshelf rather than hang it again. Her face was grim. 'I really want Susan’s killer, too, if they’re not one and the same. It isn’t impossible. She was unconscious when he left, and the Chronic Ill ran the story as Susan Harrison, aged forty-three, died at her home following an accident. No photo, and it gave only the area, not the address. Even if it was our psycho, he left Suzi-cute, fifty-three, in a heap on the floor. He could even be thirsting to finish the job, that’s why ‘Suzi’ put on her profile that she’d had a fall and had a touch of amnesia. Still a chance.'

  Edge shuddered. 'Don’t even say that! He knows the house, he wants to finish the job, and you just moved in! If any of these whackos had a way of tracking Susan’s mobile phone signal you’re setting yourself up as a target.' She turned a horrified face on her niece. 'You’re not, are you? You haven’t been lying to me about buying the house?'

&n
bsp; 'Eejit.' Kirsty gave her a quick hug. 'I’m not saying she wasn’t half-hoping for that, that’s why her phone wasn’t the untrackable type you have, which was even more reason we knew she’d have been so alert at home. I do wish we could tell William and Donald and get them theorizing, they really have a knack for getting inside the criminal mind. As it is, we’re working on the theory our psycho meets the target on a second date, having secretly followed her home from the first and watched through the windows while she put away her jewellery and valuables. One of the victims told a barman she was feeling really sick and giddy, went outside for some fresh air and never returned. He thought she might have been slipped Rohypnol by a bloke who was trying to chat her up a few minutes earlier.'

  She carefully clipped back the spring lock so she wouldn’t be locked out as they left the house. 'No-one will be following you home here after a date, after all. Even if Susan’s killer pitches up to check, I have the panic button next to the bed, and Iain’s already put through a request for me to be allowed to bring my Airwave home. He’s just as nervous as you. There’s no need; this house is a little fortress. And now that I know, if I hear the tap running I’ll leave it running all night!'

  She walked Edge out to her car, and peered into her face. 'You’re not going to take any silly chances tonight, are you? I don’t trust you when you get that thoughtful look. We don’t need him revved up into throwing punches. Just like with the others, we get photos and a registration number to check out. And if he matches the descriptions we have for the bawbag who beats women to death we’ll probably arrest him at the pub, right enough, rather than risk losing him.'

  Edge’s face cleared. 'I didn’t know I had a thoughtful look! I was thinking I’d ask Jayenthi if she’d like to join us for a drink tonight. If this is the same guy, she saw him a couple of times, at least from a distance. I think she’d like the chance to avenge her friend.'

  'Oh aye, good idea. But remember! Be careful!'

  'Not only careful, I’ll be doubly careful.' Edge clipped her seatbelt into place and grinned up at her niece. 'The place he suggested, the Whittle and Plume? Traditional country pub, and they allow dogs in the pub garden. I’d take Maggie if she was fully fit, but I’m certainly borrowing Buster!'

  Chapter 11 - A big boy did it and ran away

  William, who usually wore colour, had opted for a black Jacobite shirt, which exposed some ferocious grizzled tufts of chest hair, while Donald, who arrived a few minutes later, had greased his dark grey hair and slicked it back. He prowled across the grass towards them, his face twisted into an exaggerated sneer. The effect, combined with his inevitable dark clothes and his summer tan, fell somewhere between Danny Zuko and one of the Kray brothers, and made Jayenthi, who was a great admirer of his looks, clap her hands delightedly. Vivian and Edge exchanged weak smiles – Vivian was, if anything, more jittery than Edge, who had chosen a subdued beige twin set and a drab skirt. She wore her hair caught into a clasp low on her neck, and pale pink lipstick. She left the others to settle down at a table which had a clear view of the car park and took her drink over to a table nearer the pub door, feeling exposed and very glad to have Vivian’s excited Labrador pulling eagerly on his lead.

  She smoothed her skirt over her knees as she sat down and realized her fingers were trembling slightly. Buster seemed to sense her nervousness and gave up his effort to check every scent at the furthest stretch of his lead, returning to lean reassuringly against her legs. This was far more frightening than the Nick date, even with her friends and a sturdy and protective Labrador as backup. She’d already seen her big bodyguard pretending to smoke in the car park, and knew that if Jayenthi identified her date as the man who had beaten her friend to death, there was a police unit on standby. There was no reason to be afraid, yet his hectoring voice still seemed to echo in her ears. Perhaps for some this trembling anticipation would be exciting, but she merely felt slightly sick. Her mobile – her own – buzzed suddenly and started to creep across the table and she snatched it up.

  'Jayenthi says it’s him,' Vivian hissed, sounding terrified. 'Oh Edge, do be careful!'

  Even as she switched the phone off and stuffed it to the bottom of her bag, the other started its cricket chirrups and she answered nervously.

  'Suzi? You here, hen?'

  'I – I’m in the garden. I had to bring my dog.' There was a muffled curse and the line went dead. Had he seen the police? Would they intercept him before he even made it to where she sat? He loomed in the garden doorway even as the wish crossed her mind, a burly man in his late fifties, medium height, with a shaven, slightly sunburned, head, and powerful shoulders. He glanced around the almost empty garden. With evening coming on, and a sharpening breeze bringing the temperature down rapidly, the only other people there were the Lawns foursome, all talking animatedly at once. He strode over towards her.

  'A dog? You should have said. Not the best weather for sitting outside. Well, let’s look at you.' His eyes were piercing, and he didn’t offer his hand, just pulled out a chair and sat heavily. Buster, bristling, rumbled deep in his chest and Edge put a hand onto his silver-threaded black ruff to soothe him.

  He laughed. 'Any good as a fighter? Not any more, I guess, at his age. You’re older than you look in your photo, and you never said you was a ginger. What is it about women, you can’t tell the truth? But not bad. You’ll do.' To show this was flattery of the highest order, he grinned at her.

  She dug her nails into the palm of her hand and forced a simper in return. His own photo was at least ten years out of date, but his physical presence was intimidating and she had to fight down the impulse to jump up and run away. He glanced impatiently at the half empty glass in front of her.

  'No point having another drink here, we’ll bloody freeze. My real name’s Reg, by the way. Pleased to meecha. Bring the dog over to my place, it’s not far, and we can have a drink there. Get to know each other a bit better.'

  Buster rumbled again, his hackles rising under Edge’s hand, and Reg laughed again, not very pleasantly.

  'Don’t worry that he doesnae like me. He’ll come round. There’s an old saying, bit of truth in it – a woman, a dog and a hazel nut tree, you know it?'

  She did. 'The harder you b-beat them, the better they b-be?' The wobble in her voice wasn’t entirely assumed, and he beamed at her.

  'Exactly. Just a joke, see, I never hit a woman in my life. You going to finish that drink, or leave it?'

  'I’m not going anywhere.' She had friends here, there was an enormous policeman in the car park, and she was not, and never had been, a coward. She lifted her chin defiantly. 'But thanks for the offer.'

  'Aw, don’t be like that.' His face darkened but he made an effort to keep smiling. 'Don’t mind my manner. I’m a take-charge kinda guy. What you see is what you get, but I’m a good bloke to have around. Lonely widder like you, you’re looking for someone to take care of you, am I right?'

  She shook her head, and Buster snarled, his lip curling up from his teeth. He glared at them both and leaned forward, hunching his big shoulders.

  'You think you’ll get a better offer, you and your geriatric dog?'

  'Lots better offers.' William, who despite his bulk could move quietly, had come up behind him. 'We don’t like the look of you, pal. Or your attitude.'

  Reg’s head snapped round belligerently. William, leaning lightly on one of his heavy sticks and holding the other halfway up the shaft, was huge and angry, and Donald looked like a man born to wield a flick knife. Reg glanced from one to the other, then back at Edge.

  'Friends of yourn?' he sneered, and she nodded. 'Hen, you don’t know what you got yourself into.'

  He pushed himself to his feet, measured himself against the two men, and hesitated. William was taller, bulkier, and had two heavy sticks. Donald, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, looked quick, mean and dangerous. Edge swore afterwards she could read his thoughts. Either man, maybe, but both, plus a Labrador, albeit elderly, now we
ll launched into a snarling bark which revealed a generous supply of healthy teeth, and two interested spectators at another table…

  'This isn’t over,' he warned, and William leaned forward, thrusting his big face into Reg’s so that the shorter man had to lean slightly back, and bringing the handle of his stick under the other’s chin to forestall a Glasgow kiss.

  'You’re wrong there, Jimmy. My friend here saw you before. The police have been looking for you. They’re on their way.' Never taking his eyes off the other, he stepped slightly back out of range and gestured toward the door with the stick. 'I’m wrong. They just arrived.'

  'Thank God for Kirsty, the police must have been waiting round the corner.' Vivian, who had been walking round the garden looking at shrubs, was still flushed when Edge and Donald returned with the next round of drinks. 'I wish you had a police escort for every date.'

  'It would be handy,' Edge agreed demurely and smiled at Jayenthi. 'You were an absolute star. No hesitation at all.'

  'Once seen, never forgotten.' Jayenthi looked slightly strained. 'My poor friend. But at least he will not be beating any other women for a while. Vivian, what is wrong? Why are you still looking so distressed?'

  'Oh, it’s nothing,' Vivian said hastily, then when both Edge and Jayenthi persisted, shrugged. 'Well, probably nothing. It’s my ankle.' She delicately tugged up the leg of her cotton slacks, to expose a massively swollen red ankle dwarfing her neatly-sandaled foot. 'I haven’t had ankles per se for years, but this is different. I sat for hours last Sunday on the computer, between my weekly Skype chat with the family and going a little bit mad on eBay, and it’s been like this, and throbbing, ever since. I didn’t think much of it, but the swelling seems to be moving up my shin, with all the running round today.' Her lip quivered through her attempt to smile. 'My ankles have puffed up before, but never just one. And the swelling never moved before. The throbbing’s driving me mad. I keep having to jump up and move around.'