Truth Dare Kill (19 page)

Damn him! It was true enough for whatever case he was making against me. Then a thought struck me. “How did you know I’ve seen your reports on me?”

“I heard about your little breakin. Went a bit far, that. Afraid it sort of bears out what we’re all saying, old chap.”

Who told him? Cassells? I was feeling swamped now; a little truth could become a big lie with clever words. I fought back.

“That still isn’t grounds for sending me chasing wild geese. All you had to do was meet me and tell me what you knew. That’s all. I wanted to find out, Tony. I wasn’t blaming you.”

“But here you are. Wouldn’t let it go, would you. Always saw you as the terrier type. Like the rest of your clan. Get your teeth into something and you’d cling to it till the death. Great spirit. For a war. But not now, do you see? Besides

”

“Besides what?”

“The psychiatrists didn’t have all the facts, did they?”

I knew what was coming. I felt nausea rise.

“They didn’t know about the little problem in France. The little French girl.

Did they? And I ’spect if they had, they might have decided to hang on to you for a bit. I couldn’t take that chance.” He moved out from behind Kate’s chair and stepped closer to me. “Couldn’t let you near me or mine, d’you see? Done it once and you might do it again, right?”

His concerned eyes searched mine. I could feel the weight of his argument piling on me like a rock fall. Wouldn’t I have done the same, in his shoes? I was casting about for a way to fight back. I searched my treacherous memory for the list of questions I’d been planning to pose. I grasped at one. “Do you mean you were so concerned for your safety – and Liza, and your

wife or girlfriend here

” I waved in the direction of Kate who was watching us intently from her chair. “

that you blew up the house you were using? And why were you using another house anyway? Doesn’t this place have enough hideaways?”

I thought I’d connected for a moment, then his smile flickered back into life.

“Serendipity, old chap. The house belonged to a friend of ours. Used to pop in for drinks and such. But the house was empty when it went up. Our friend spends winter in the South of France. Can’t blame him, can you? Must have been a gas leak or something. Gave us the notion of taking me out the picture, d’you see?

Very convenient.”

“Very.” I couldn’t hide the sarcasm. “And the shoes, the beautiful blue shoes?”

I directed this at her, sitting with a smile on her face, or was it a smirk?

“I quite liked those shoes you know. You should have searched harder, McRae. I’d have liked them both back.”

I was getting desperate now, angry with them and myself for my inability to break down their smug façade. My questions were coming out more and more shrill.

“You turned this into a game, didn’t you? It became something to amuse you! What the hell are you doing in this house anyway, Tony? Why is Kate registered as your next of kin? What’s going on here?”

His face lost the contrived smile. “Why, nothing, dear chap. Nothing at all. I’m just a house guest, that’s all.”

They gazed at me, waiting to see if the monkey would jump through another hoop for them. Kate’s face had lost its superiority. She suddenly looked puzzled and anxious. Why?

“I don’t believe you. I don’t know what you’re covering up, here. But none of this adds up. I won’t rest till I find out the truth, Tony. For starters, I need to know what happened in France. You owe me that!”

He shook his head. “I owe you nothing, old chap. Can’t be responsible for the actions of a madman, can I? I saw you, Danny. I saw you coming out of the house where that girl was murdered. I found her there. I came to confront you in your safe house and you were cleaning up. There was blood on your clothes. You looked wild. I asked you what you’d done. You began screaming at me. Said she was a whore, and she shouldn’t have been seeing other men. She was yours, yours alone.

Terrible stuff. So sorry, old man. I think the pressure got to you. And you flipped.” He shrugged and held my gaze.

Every word drilled into me like a stiletto. I could feel the heat of the fire on my face, could sense the tumbler slipping in my sweat-filled hand. I could see it all now, except her face; I couldn’t see her face; just the blood around her head. The tension in my temples was beginning to edge towards one of my turns. I couldn’t fall apart here. I had to get out. But I still hadn’t heard enough; didn’t want to believe what I’d heard. For how can you admit to yourself that you’re a monster?

“I don’t believe it. There has to be some other reason. I’m not letting this go, Tony. I can’t! All these games you’re playing. All you had to do was meet me and tell me what you knew. Or turn me in. I’m not leaving till you to tell me what’s going on!”

Kate’s lips were pinched and she took a hurried swig of her drink. Tony sighed and took two steps towards the fire. He placed his drink carefully on the mantelpiece and turned back to me. For a second I couldn’t see what he’d done; he was a dark silhouette against the firelight. Then I saw the glint in his hand. The glint from a big Colt service revolver. A gun that could stop a rhino.

If you got close enough. Tony was close enough.

“I was afraid you’d say that. Don’t you see? This is exactly what we were afraid of. I know your type, McRae. You go on and on and on, chipping away. We could have got the police involved. But what could we prove? It was wartime, in France. Lot of things happened in the war that are best forgotten. But you won’t, will you? You won’t let up.”

“What are you going to do, Tony? Shoot me?” I began edging back and to the side, so that we were both bathed equally in firelight. I could see past him to Kate.

She was hunched in her chair like she was freezing.

“It would be a kindness, McRae. A kindness to us all. Put you out of this pain.

Like a mad dog.”

“Murder, Tony? You’d kill me and think you’d get away with it? How would you react when they started to question Millie, for example? What would she say?”

He chortled. “She’d say what we tell her to say. It’s quite easy, old chap. You forced your way in, became violent, threatened Kate here

self defence.

Inspector Wilson wouldn’t take much persuading.”

“You bastard! How did Wilson get involved?”

He smirked, and held the gun level with my chest.

I cast my eyes past him, in desperation. “Kate! Kate Graveney. Are you going to sit there and watch a man murdered in cold blood?!”

Kate’s eyes were wide. She edged forward in her seat. The leather creaked. It was enough. Tony half turned to see her reaction and I threw my glass of whisky into the fire. The smash of the crystal and the burst of flames made him reel back. The gun lifted and I hit him with everything I had in a desperate shoulder charge. He went over backwards into Kate’s lap. The gun exploded in a huge roar that started Kate screaming. The shot hit the ceiling. Before Caldwell could right himself, I had gripped his wrist and was battering it on the tiled hearth.

He was punching at my face with his free left hand but I kept smashing his wrist and knuckles on the stone till the revolver rolled free.

I grabbed it and tumbled clear. I got to my feet shaking with emotion. Caldwell disentangled himself from Kate’s legs and they both dragged themselves upright.

I had at least wiped the smiles off their faces. Tony nursed his bruised hand. I could feel blood running from an eye. He’d opened up one of Wilson’s cuts. But I had the gun.

“I wasn’t going to shoot you, Danny. Just hold you till the police got here. You know that.”

He kept his face calm but I could hear the pleading note; I liked that.

“Do I? The only thing you’re sure of when you’re looking down one of these

” I waved the gun. “

is that it would make a very big hole in you. Why shouldn’t I use it on you, Tony? You tell me I’ve killed once. It’s probably easier the second time, don’t you think?” I brought my left hand round to steady the heavy weapon. The thought went through my mind that I could do it. It would be easy, and what did it matter anyway?

Some of my thoughts must have registered on my face. Panic flooded his eyes.

“For god’s sake man! The police are probably already on their way. You wouldn’t get a hundred yards. You’d be mad to do this! You’d hang!”

I smiled. “But, Tony, I thought you’d already decided I was mad. Shooting you would be the work of a madman. They’d send me to the hospital, not the gallows.”

Kate broke her silence. “Danny, don’t. It was all a stupid game. This won’t help you. It won’t solve anything.” Her lovely face was creased in fear. Maybe it was the use of my first name; I stopped enjoying having Caldwell at the end of my gun. She pressed her advantage. “Go now, Danny. Before they catch you. The servants are probably on the phone, right now.”

Just as she said this the library door burst open and an anxious face showed round the door.

“Are you all right, ma’am, sir

?”

I cut off any reply. “They’re all right. So far! Get in here. Now!”

The servant edged in, face white. He raised his hands. He’d seen too many gangster films.

“Stand over there! And you two.” I indicated with my gun that all three should get over behind the table, away from the main door. I held the Colt on them. The firm grip and heavy barrel felt good, familiar. Gave a man confidence. I walked over to the rear door where Tony had entered, locked it and pocketed the key.

Then I headed for the main door, grabbing my coat and hat as I went, all the while covering the little group.

I could feel the fury draining from me, along with my energy. The headache was starting. My vision was beginning to go. I fumbled for the key on the main door and walked outside. I closed it and rammed the key home and locked them in. I could hear their voices rushing towards the door. Kate and Tony were furious.

Good.

“Is everything all right, sir?” Millie’s anxious little face met me halfway across the floor. She shrieked and held her hands to her mouth when she saw the gun in my hand. “You haven’t killed them, sir, have you? You didn’t

?”

“No, Millie. They’re all right. Just get the front door will you?”

She fled in front of me, darting her eyes round a couple of times in case I was going to shoot her in the back. Her chest was heaving and she was snivelling with fear. I wondered how it had been for the French girl. I shook my bursting head, pulled on my coat and stuffed the revolver into its big pocket. I jammed the hat on and stepped into the night past Millie’s terrified face. I paused.

“Show me your hands, Millie.”

Her mouth gaped and gulped, but her gloved hands came up in supplication, palms up. The white cotton was immaculate.

I took the gun out of my pocket and laid it across her stiff fingers. She held it like a dead fish.

“Don’t pull the trigger, Millie, There’s a good girl.”

She just nodded, tears streaming down her round face, her round lips pursed with terror. I almost kissed them.

I stumbled down the stairs and off into the night, wondering where I could go and how long before they caught me. For I had no doubt that Caldwell would unleash the hounds on me, and Wilson would be coming after me with glee in his vicious little heart.

EIGHTEEN

I headed north – homing instinct? – home to mother? It was starting to rain, that steady drizzle that soaks right through. Some Ayrshire clouds must have strayed south. I half-ran, half-stumbled, clinging to the park railings for support as I broke clear of Onslow Gardens, and came to the lit area round the underground at South Kensington. Two policemen were watching the crowds pouring into the station hall. Were they on to me already? I couldn’t risk it. I pulled my brim down further and detoured round the corner and away, still heading north. It was getting harder to walk straight; I saw splintered images, fractured lights through the downpour. A car blasted its horn at me.

“You drunken fool!” he shouted.

And that’s how it looked; this clown in a drenched coat and hat, crashing off railings and holding on to walls, lurching across roads, one foot forward, two to the side, in a drunken dance. Like the famous parties with the boys back home. Big Tam and Archie and me – fu’ as monkeys. The three musketeers. Here’s tae us, wha’s like us, damn few, and they’re a’ deid!

A’ deid. They’re a’ deid. And I might as well be. Valerie, Valerie, where are you? I need you.

I floundered into another set of railings. They forced me to turn off my course, pushed me to the right. Where was I? The map in my head wasn’t working. Then I saw the tall memorial, and the seated man, the golden man, shining in the moonlight. Albert. The love of Vickie’s life. It was Hyde Park. The railings were high, and I was dissolving. But I was also desperate. I found the gate which gave me easier footholds and hauled myself up and over, crashing in a heap on the other side.

I smelled grass and horse-shit, and crawled and staggered across the riding track. There were trees and shrubs, blessed camouflage but no place to spend a filthy night. I flopped across the soaking grass like a landed fish. Moonlight on water ahead. The Serpentine. The boathouse. Where Val and I walked the other day, the other life.

I felt my feet hitting boards, and clung to the wooden walls looking for a door or a window. Couldn’t be conspicuous. The park police would check later, on their rounds. Had to do it quietly and carefully. Nothing to show. There was a door. With a big padlock and a chain. I didn’t have my burglar’s kit and even if I did I didn’t have fingers that worked anymore. I kept searching. Nothing.

I smashed my shins on something, a wood bench. Cursing I sat down and nursed my pain till it ebbed. I leaned over feeling sick. When it passed I straightened up and patted the rough slats. At least I was under the shelter of the porch roof.

I had no choice. The band was tightening and the bad taste thickened my tongue.

I collapsed on the bench, pulled my wet coat around me and sank into hopeless dreams.

I wasn’t sure whether it was the cold in my bones, or the daylight or the sound of voices that woke me. I lay under a coarse tarpaulin. I flung it off in panic and peered round in the gloom. I was inside, in a shed of some sort, shivering in a filthy shroud and wanting to be sick. Though I lay on the ground I was surrounded by piles of folded deck chairs. I hadn’t been able to set one up and sit in it. I’d become a seaside joke. My coat was still soaking, as was my suit.