Riding the Storm (2 page)

‘And you were scared of what Dad might do?’

‘That was part of it. But I couldn’t risk losing you. Your father might have taken you just to spite me.’

‘I doubt it. He’s never had much time for me.’

‘So we parted and that was the end of it.’

‘Do you still hear from him?’

‘Sometimes he sent me a Christmas card to tell me he hadn’t forgotten. He’d had an unhappy marriage for years but his wife wouldn’t divorce him. When she died unexpectedly, he asked me once again to join him in England.’

‘Oh, Mum, why didn’t you go?’

‘For the same reasons as before. And I wasn’t certain he would welcome you – he kept talking of boarding school.’

‘I wouldn’t have minded. I like the idea of an English boarding school.’

‘Hmm. Forget those old-fashioned, starry-eyed school stories. Some of those places are more like institutions where people dump their kids when they can’t be bothered to raise them.’

‘Oh.’

‘In the end he got tired of asking me to leave Robert and married somebody else. You should have heard your father crow about that.’

‘Oh, Mum. Why didn’t you leave him then?’

‘And go where? All the money I inherited from my father is tied up in the stables. Robert made certain of that. And I was
the one who had the affair – I was never allowed to forget it.’ She glanced at Chrissie. ‘Don’t look so stricken – it’s OK. Over time we’ve learned to tolerate each other and rub along well enough.’

‘But it’s not really a life, is it?’ Chrissie thought for a moment. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right, Mum? While I’m in Europe with Tony?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Valerie managed a hesitant smile. ‘Robert has better things to do these days than waste time tormenting me.’

They reached the shopping centre but, after all these revelations, neither of them could rekindle enthusiasm for the expedition. They looked around half-heartedly but nothing appealed so they decided to postpone the hunt for another day.

‘They won’t like it at work.’ Chrissie’s smile was rueful. ‘I’ll have to ask for another day off. As it is, I’m taking unpaid leave for the trip to Paris.’

‘It’s for your wedding. I’m sure they’ll understand.’ Valerie smiled.

Chrissie returned it, wishing she could feel as sure. She hadn’t told Val there had been rumours of downsizing the office and, as the newest recruit, she was closest to the door. Her employers didn’t need another excuse to be rid of her.

But they did stop for coffee to restore their spirits before returning home.

‘Courage, Mum.’ Chrissie grinned as she parked her nippy little Honda in the garage next to her father’s Range Rover. ‘He must be over his bad mood by now, even if his trip to Sydney didn’t go according to plan.’

On returning to the house, they found Robert speaking on the landline in the kitchen. Registering their arrival, he hunched away from them, lowering his voice and speaking quickly.

‘Thanks, Tom, I appreciate it. Tell the guy to call me the instant he makes contact. I have a job for him and I’ll make it well worth his time.’ Closing the conversation, he turned to look at them.

‘No parcels?’ he sneered. ‘Thought you were shopping for the big day?’

‘Who were you talking to?’ Valerie said. ‘I didn’t know we were hiring again. Thought we had enough staff.’

Robert ignored the query. ‘Hope you didn’t forget to bring something for dinner. I’m starved.’

‘You could afford to live off your tissues for once, Dad.’ Chrissie folded her arms and looked at his burgeoning stomach. ‘We’ll have you in caftans, soon.’

‘Watch your mouth, Chrissie. Good job you’re getting married. I’ll be happy to see the back of you.’

‘No more than I shall be happy to go.’

‘I suppose you’re all sweetness and light around Tony. Poor old chap. If only he knew. Maybe someone should put him wise.’

‘Now stop it, you two,’ Valerie broke in. ‘I don’t want to spend the evening listening to your sniping at each other.’

‘Sorry, Mum.’ Chrissie grinned. ‘I just can’t resist winding him up.’

N
OT EVEN
J
OANN
E
could resist Tommy’s charm. Somehow the big grey sensed that he needed her acceptance and paid her special attention whenever she came to his stable. Joanne loved the big animals and, because she came from a horse-racing family, she had been taught to ride. But she didn’t much care for it, preferring to leave the men in her life to exercise and train the two horses. Unless they had trials at the nearest local track, Peter liked to take the horses down to the beach to ride along the shoreline or swim in the sea. Both Ryan and Peter were up at dawn long before anyone else was awake, taking advantage of a time when the beach was deserted. Fortunately, the coastal waters remained clear and the annual plague of sea wasps had not yet arrived to curb their activities. Wealthier trainers with more land would fence off special training tracks of their own and install walking machines or equine swimming pools to exercise their horses but Peter Lanigan hadn’t the money for such luxuries.

With the exception of hospitality and tourism, regular work was scarce in the area with little opportunity for young people but Ryan didn’t care. Not that he lacked ambition; he had long dreamed of carving a niche for himself in the racing
industry but for now he was content to stay at home, assisting his father with the horses and earning a modest living from his organic market garden and pineapple patch.

He was returning from working his garden one afternoon when he caught sight of someone acting suspiciously outside the new stables. On a casual basis, Peter employed several lads and a girl who helped out from time to time but this wasn’t one of them. The man was moving furtively as if he wanted to see without being seen. As soon as he realized he was being watched, he left, pulling his hoodie down further to hide his face, taking off with a distinctive, bouncing stride.

Ryan had the impression that he was moving as fast as he could without appearing to run away. Town wasn’t within easy walking distance so he must have a vehicle parked nearby, although he had taken some pains to conceal it in the scrub. Ryan wanted to catch up and find out what he wanted, but the man and his transport seemed to vanish into thin air. Concerned that this visitor might be up to no good, he hurried home to discuss the matter with his father.

Peter was alone in the kitchen having a cup of tea and, to Ryan’s relief, his mother was nowhere in sight. Just as well. She had a nervous disposition and he didn’t want to alarm her unnecessarily. He allowed Peter to pour him some tea before he spoke.

‘Dad, we might need more security at the stables. We have two potential champions now and I’ve just spotted someone snooping around.’

‘A reporter maybe?’ His father was slow to think badly of anyone. ‘I suppose we must expect it now we have Tommy although I’d prefer visitors to ask before going anywhere near
the horses. Did you see if he had a camera?’

‘No, but these days people take pictures on their phones. And the guy was wearing a hoodie and hiding his face. Reporters don’t do that, do they?’

‘I dunno. But don’t let it worry you. Probably just some tourist off the beaten track, getting lost.’

‘Then why didn’t he come up to the house for directions? No, Dad, I have a bad feeling about this and I think it’s time we had better security at the stables. CCTV and an alarm perhaps. To alert the police.’

‘What police?’ Peter sat back and smiled at him. ‘The local force is small and already stretched as it is. And they’ll soon get tired of coming out here every time your mum’s little dog sets it off.’

‘I still think we should do something, Dad. Arm ourselves with a shotgun or two at least.’

‘Come off it, Ryan. Would you really be prepared to shoot someone because you suspected he was up to no good? And while you were hesitating, trying to make up your mind, a hardened criminal would grab the gun off you and shoot you instead.’

‘I never thought of that.’

‘Well, think about it now. Violence only encourages violence. Expect the best of people and that’s usually what you’ll get.’

‘OK, Dad. I get your point. But I wish you’d seen the man for yourself. You wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss what I’m saying.’

His instructions were very specific. His quarry was to be targeted alone and there were to be no suspicious
circumstances surrounding his death. It must seem to be an unfortunate accident with no ongoing investigation and the case quickly closed. The accident was to be staged well away from the man’s home and no harm was to come to his wife.

No mention had been made of the boy and that was probably the reason he had made the mistake of allowing the lad to see him. He must be slipping in his old age; it wasn’t like him to be so unprofessional or make such a basic mistake. Hadn’t he built his reputation on the safe delivery of a quick result with no repercussions? Known in some circles only as ‘Mister Reliable’, he had sent nine men to the grave already and without the slightest suspicion of foul play. He made his moves quickly and quietly, without making a mess. His target would be dead even before he realized he was in danger, and the killer’s conscience troubled him not at all. He reasoned that if someone was willing to pay for a man to die, on some level that man must deserve it. To Harry, it was just business. And a very lucrative one as well, allowing him to holiday in Las Vegas or the Bahamas, masquerading as a wealthy man in between wives. It was amazing how such a reputation endeared him to women.

He smiled, dragging his mind back to the present. There’d be time enough to think of the next holiday when he’d disposed of number ten. He must keep his mind on the job now until it was done. Observation was always the key; to learn his victim’s habits and use them to his advantage. Unlike the city where people weren’t so inquisitive about strangers, it wouldn’t be so easy to disappear into this smaller community where people had grown up together and knew one another at least by sight.

Staying longer also meant he would have to camp out. He
couldn’t risk booking into a local motel for more than a night or so. If anyone asked, he could say he was birdwatching; it would also explain the binoculars worn constantly around his neck. As an ex-marine, he knew many outdoor survival techniques but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy them. He reminded himself to ask for a bonus to cover the discomfort when he made up his final account. Then he applied himself to the task of watching the daily habits of his quarry.

Two days later, he was up at dawn, watching the two men exercising a pair of racehorses on the beach. Fucking hell, he thought, stifling a yawn, do these banana benders never sleep? The elder Lanigan was never alone; his son was always there with him, close as a shadow. The only time they separated was when the younger one took the mare off on a gallop to the far end of the beach and Peter rode the big grey into the sea to swim in the deeper water offshore. Their routine was so boringly predictable that Harry had to stifle another yawn as Peter steered the horse back to the beach and dismounted in the shallows, leading him ashore.

All of a sudden, Harry was wide awake, all boredom forgotten. Something had startled the grey, which jumped aside in panic, tossing his head and striking Peter under the chin. Perhaps a crab or a small ray had wriggled out from under the horse’s hooves. Momentarily dazed, Lanigan staggered, shaking his head to clear it.

‘Dad! Dad, are you all right?’ Already on his way back, the boy saw the incident, coming swiftly to his father’s aid and taking charge of both horses while the older man recovered himself.

‘Yeah. But we really should think about wearing helmets
when we exercise the horses.’

‘Too hot.’ Ryan wrinkled his nose.

‘I know. But remind me to order some when we get home.’

Watching them, Harry had seen enough to give him the germ of an idea. He punched the air with glee. He could see now that this job could be wrapped up a whole lot sooner than he’d thought.

Later that evening, his head still aching from the trauma earlier in the day, Peter found himself exhausted. And he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation he needed to have with Ryan. Recently, he had taken Joanne to see Doctor Richards and the doctor had called him back into the room without her, wanting a private word. The news wasn’t good and he’d needed time to come to terms with it himself before sharing it with Ryan. He waited until Joanne had gone up to bed, having taken one of her new pills designed to help her sleep through the night.

‘Come on, Dad, what’s wrong? You haven’t been yourself all evening and I don’t think it’s only because of what happened with Tommy.’ His son had gone to the fridge. He took out two beers, cracked the top off both and handed him one. ‘Is it money again?’

‘I wish. That would be a problem I could do something about. No.’ Peter sighed. ‘It’s your mother.’

‘What? I thought she was so much better lately.’ He bit his lip, struck by a horrible thought. ‘She hasn’t got cancer, has she?’

‘It’s not that.’ Peter shook his head. ‘You know she’s always been fragile. Impractical. Charmingly vague, some people liked to call it.’

‘Her artistic temperament, you’ve always said.’

‘Yes. But lately, it’s been a lot worse. Doctor Richards thinks it might be a form of early dementia.’

‘What rubbish. Doctor Richards is talking through her hat. Take Mum to see someone else. She’s far too young to have that.’

‘I know. That’s what makes it so tragic. Her body will continue in good health long after her mind has packed up. Eventually, she won’t even recognize us.’

‘You can’t accept it – not just like that.’

‘This isn’t a new thing. Doctor Richards has been monitoring your mother’s progress for years. Some days are better than others but eventually, she’s going to need proper care in a nursing home.’

‘You can’t do that. I won’t let you shut Mum away with a lot of barmy old people wetting themselves. She doesn’t deserve it.’

‘Nobody does, Ryan.’

‘There must be some medication. Something to halt the process and stop it from happening.’

‘Doctor Richards is exploring all avenues. But she says we must be prepared for the worst.’

Feeling helpless in the face of this news, that night Ryan punched his pillow, unable to sleep, and felt incipient tears stinging the back of his throat. The following morning he awoke in the early hours as he always did, except he was plagued with a pounding headache, his eyes were streaming and he was feeling as if he’d picked up a summer flu.

‘Go back to bed, son,’ his father said. ‘You look awful and you’ll be no good to me or to Sprite today. I’ll phone Melia and
get her to come out instead.’ And, before his son could raise any further objections, Peter reached for his phone and called her. She was a pleasant but ordinary girl who helped out at the stables and also rode track work for them. Nothing was too much trouble and she loved the animals, always anxious to please. An early riser like most horsewomen, she didn’t seem to mind being called at such an early hour – still the middle of the night to most people.

‘Love to help out, Mr Lanigan. Give me ten to get in and out of the shower and I’ll be there.’

‘Good girl, that,’ Peter remarked when he came off the phone. ‘Always willing to fit in.’

‘Only because she’s sweet on you.’ Ryan reached for the box of tissues and grabbed a handful before sneezing into them.

‘Bed,’ his father ordered, ignoring that last remark. ‘I’ll make breakfast for all of us when I get home.’

At the beach, Harry was already hidden behind a rock, waiting for the two men and their horses to arrive. With any luck this job could be wrapped up today and he could head south to claim his reward. With what he had planned, he wouldn’t get more than one chance and it would have to look right – the horse must be blamed. He had a few anxious moments as they were later than usual, but eventually he saw the two horses coming through the dunes to the beach. This time there was a girl riding the mare. He waited a while to see if the boy turned up which would mean he’d have to abandon his plans for today: he couldn’t keep an eye on three people at the same time. But he saw Peter gesticulate, instructing the girl to ride off up the beach while he himself led the big grey into the sea.

This morning, even the weather was on Harry’s side. A wind had got up, muffling sound, and the sea was quite choppy. The girl was an unknown factor in the equation; he could only hope she would keep riding on up the beach and wouldn’t look back until she returned.

As the girl disappeared into the distance, Harry ran swiftly towards Peter, who was leading the horse into the sea. Wearing only a pair of Hawaiian-patterned board shorts, he hoped to be taken for a tourist enjoying an early-morning swim.

‘G’day, mate.’ Peter smiled as Harry approached him. ‘You’re up bright an’ early.’

Those were the last words he said in this life. Before he had time to register any alarm, a fist came at him, delivering a knock-out punch to the jaw. He collapsed without so much as a murmur, and Harry caught him to make sure he was still breathing before holding his head under the water until no more bubbles came to the surface. There must be no suspicious marks or any evidence of an attack. His victim must appear to have been knocked out by the horse and swept off his feet to drown in the sea.

Spooked by this turn of events and the stranger among them, the big grey lurched out of the water and went to stand on the beach, shivering and regarding them. The animal sensed that something was terribly wrong.

While he was making quite sure his victim’s lungs were filling with water, Harry turned to look back up the beach to check that the other rider wasn’t on her way back. This was the tricky part. He couldn’t afford any witnesses. If the girl happened to see what he’d done and he had to dispose of her
too, it would cause complications. It was reasonable to believe that one horseman could be knocked out and accidentally drown – but two? He squinted up the beach where he could just make her out, still riding away although the rocks were coming up fast; she wouldn’t be able to travel much further without turning back. When he was satisfied that no life remained in Peter Lanigan’s body, he tried to push it out into deeper water but it was no use: the tide was moving in and it kept coming back. The sun had risen properly now, lighting up the whole scene, and Harry needed to get out of there fast. He waded ashore and loped away from the beach, trying not to make too much haste and congratulating himself on a job well done. Riderless and unsure what to do, the big grey stood on the shore watching him leave, the only witness to his latest crime.