Unsafe Convictions (29 page)

Chapter Six

Gaynor sat in front of her bedroom window, bewitched by the view. The snow played tricks with her eyes, creating light out of the dark, transforming the landscape into a white desert. Where there had been bracken-rusty moorland, cut by drystone walling into self-contained territories, there was now an expanse of vivid, icy whiteness here, a trench of deep blue shadow there, and all of it seeming to shift as she watched, like the rise and fall of a breathing body.

One
of her many scouts had called earlier with the name of the owners of Trisha’s house. At eight forty her mobile rang again, and she learned that Beryl Stanton Smith had just received a visit from two police officers in a marked car.

The
telephone barely had time to connect before Beryl answered, her voice harsh and breathy. ‘Piers? Is that you?’

‘
It’s Gaynor. Is something wrong?’ she asked innocently.

‘
You!’ Beryl gasped. ‘It’s all your fault!’

‘
Don’t hang up!’ Gaynor said hurriedly. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’

‘
Piers hasn’t come back!’ Beryl was crying. ‘I’m out of my mind with worry,’

‘
Have you told the police?’

‘
They won’t look for him! They say he’s not really missing, but he
is
!’ She gulped. ‘He could be lost on the moors, lying in a snow-drift.’

‘
Have you called the hospital? In case he had an accident?’

‘
The police did.’ Quiet for a moment, except for the sobbing, Beryl asked: ‘Didn’t you see him on the road after you left?’

‘
No.’ Gaynor stared into the night, praying that Smith was already dead under its weight. ‘Could he be with friends?’

‘
I don’t know. I don’t know who he knows.’

I
’ll bet you don’t, Gaynor thought. ‘He might’ve gone to Sheffield to see his mother.’

‘
Don’t be ridiculous! He thought she was dead till you came this afternoon, shouting about being deceived.’

‘
That’s not quite right, is it, Beryl? He knew she was alive all along.’

‘
He didn’t! I won’t talk about him like this.’ She breathed noisily. ‘It’s your fault! You frightened him, flinging all his worst memories back in his face like that.’

‘
I flung the truth in his face,’ Gaynor said. ‘That’s why he’s run off, and if you’ve any sense, you’ll count yourself lucky he’s gone, and be praying he doesn’t come back. And as for being frightened,’ she went on, before Beryl could interrupt, ‘believe me, I was bloody
terrified
! He’s psychotic.’

‘
Oh, you wicked woman!’ Beryl raged. ‘You wicked,
evil
harridan! I’ll report you, you see if I don’t. I won’t let you get away with what you’ve done to Piers. I won’t!’

Beryl
ranted venomously, like her husband and, almost stunned by the ferocity she had unleashed, Gaynor cut the connection and left Beryl screaming at thin air. With juddering fingers she punched out another number, and when she learned that McKenna was out, she felt sick with fear.

‘
Is it urgent?’ asked Ellen.

‘
It’s about Smith. He’s gone missing.’

‘
We know.’

‘
I went to see him this afternoon, to say I was hacked off about being led up the garden path about his mother, among other things, and he went
berserk
!’ She paused. ‘If Beryl hadn’t been there, he’d have gone for me. Anyway, that’s why he’s gone.’

‘
Did he threaten you?’

‘
Verbally, yes.’

‘
And are you afraid he’ll come to the hotel?’

‘
What?’ Gaynor almost vomited her terror. ‘Oh, God! I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘
Then why did you call?’

‘
Because there’s a bloody psychopath on the loose! Suppose he goes after his mother?’

‘
I’ll see that she’s not at risk,’ Ellen assured her. ‘Thank you for calling.’

‘
Just a minute!’ Gaynor all but shouted. ‘I know who owns the house where Trisha lived.’ She read out the names from her notebook.

‘
Superintendent McKenna already knows,’ Ellen told her, ‘but I’ll tell him you passed on your information. Was there anything else?’ Her chilly politeness was cutting.

‘
And I saw something rather strange earlier,’ Gaynor rushed on. ‘It might mean nothing, but it was rather disturbing.’ She related the drama of the man and the woman on the deserted, snowy street. ‘I’ve no idea who either of them is, but I can give you a description of the woman and the car.’

Chapter Seven

Only a few of the residents were still awake at the Willows, watching television upstairs, when Fauvel arrived. His car wheels cut deep tracks in the still falling snow, which had already obliterated Janet’s trail.

Julie
’s colleague ran to open the front door. ‘Father Brett! We didn’t expect to see you so late.’ She smiled, then blushed. ‘Not that you’re not most welcome any time, of course.’

‘
I’ve been sick visiting at the hospital.’ Fauvel handed her his cloak, and scuffed his feet on the doormat. ‘I see somebody’s been hard at work outside.’

‘
Jools did it earlier, with some of the residents.’ She glanced outside. ‘Thank goodness she put down the salt! The snow won’t stick quite so much, will it?’

‘
You’ll still need another work party in the morning, I’m afraid.’ Fauvel offered the charming smile which many thought lit up the world around him. ‘Snow’s snow, and there’s plenty more on the way.’

‘
Come into the sitting-room,’ she urged, her hand on his arm. ‘I’ll make a hot drink.’

‘
Is Julie on duty?’

‘
No, but she’s still around. Then again, she nearly always is. I’m sure she lives for her work.’ She switched on the electric fire in the sitting-room, then went to the kitchen, where Julie, rubber gloves on her hands, was washing the supper dishes.

‘
Leave those for now, Jools. Father Brett’s just arrived. Talk to him while I make a drink.’

Julie
’s whole body stiffened. ‘What does he want?’

‘
Nothing special, I imagine. Mind you, he
did
ask if you’re on duty. Still, he
always
wants to see you, doesn’t he?’ She nudged her arm. ‘Lucky you, eh?’

Slowly,
Julie peeled off the gloves, and placed them on the counter. When she reached the sitting-room, she found him standing by the uncurtained window, hands behind his back. Light flickered across the top of the viaduct as a train made its way to Dentfield station. She watched her reflection advance towards him, and his reflected eyes meeting hers.

‘
What a little work-horse you are!’ His voice was soft. ‘Shovelling snow, scattering salt, on duty night and day. You must be exhausted.’ He bared his teeth. ‘All the more reason to accept a lift when it’s offered, don’t you think?’

‘
Not when
you’re
offering. I had a lift, anyway, from that woman who scared you off.’

‘
No one “scared me off”.’ He frowned. ‘You shouldn’t take lifts from strangers.’

‘
I’ve told you, it was a woman.’

‘
And you think that makes you safe?’ He turned towards her, black cassock swirling, the crucifix glinting in its folds. ‘That’s how Myra Hindley duped her victims.’

‘
Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not a child.’ She stared at him. ‘Why are you here? What d’you want?’

‘
What I ever want,’ he said quietly. ‘To be with you.’

She
flinched when he stroked her cheek, and when he twined his fingers in her hair, she wrenched herself away.

He
looked at the strands of golden-brown hair in his hands. ‘I’ve hurt you!’ he whispered, tears glittering in his eyes.

‘
No, you haven’t!’

He
closed in on her, his body hard against hers, backing her into the panelled wall, and as she prayed for the miracle of a witness stark against the snow, he once more wrapped her hair about his fingers, pulling with a savage intensity.

Chapter Eight

‘Freaky!’ Jack commented. ‘Fancy Holbrook trying to help
us
. She must be hoping to redeem herself.’

‘
She’s scared witless,’ Ellen said. ‘And so she should be. Serve her right if she finds Smith hovering outside her bedroom window like a vampire.’

‘
He’s more likely to be outside his mother’s front door, with a pickaxe.’ McKenna’s voice was sharp. ‘Sheffield police
do
understand that Bunty could be in real danger?’

Ellen
nodded. ‘I told them to put a guard on Ida as well. Better safe than sorry.’

‘
That’s about it for tonight, then.’ Jack yawned. ‘And with luck, Smith won’t resurface until the snow thaws.’

‘
The world won’t be quite so conveniently rid of him,’ McKenna said. ‘He’ll be holed up somewhere safe and snug.’

‘
While Beryl goes mad with worry,’ added Janet. ‘That’s no doubt his intention. How did you fare with Julie?’

‘
As you said, sir, she’s at least ten steps ahead.’

‘
And I could’ve stayed indoors, for all the good trudging up to Dugdale’s place did,’ Jack said. ‘I had to leave the car at the bottom of the hill, then hike through knee-deep snow for about a quarter of a mile. After the first few yards, all I wanted to do was fall over and go to sleep.’ He yawned again, and his jaw cracked. ‘And metaphorically speaking, it was like an icebox inside the house. The atmosphere between Dugdale and his wife was cold enough to crack.’

‘
How was Wendy Lewis, sir?’ Janet asked.

‘
Intent on sending me on a guilt-trip, once Fauvel left,’ McKenna replied. ‘When I arrived, he was engaged in hand-holding, hair-stroking, and promising to make sure her bungalow doesn’t collapse under the snow, or get flooded out by burst pipes.’ Lighting a cigarette, he added: ‘Lewis reckons my putting a guard outside the ward is tantamount to placing her under arrest, particularly in the eyes of press and public, who don’t understand the nuances. She says she’s being pilloried for telling the truth, and she intends to consult the Federation with a view to taking legal action against me.’

‘
She hasn’t told the truth,’ Jack said irritably. ‘She’s given us an opinion, of sorts, which is different from other opinions she’s had.’

‘
And that’s the best we’ll get from her. She won’t even
consider
the possibility that Fauvel could he lying. In her eyes, he can do no wrong, and by the time he’s done with looking after her bungalow, I expect she’ll willingly self-immolate for him.’

‘
Don’t!’ Ellen shuddered. ‘I’m already having nightmares about Trisha and Julie.’

‘
According to Julie, it only hurts where the burns don’t go deep enough to destroy the nerves, and she should know,’ Janet commented. ‘She seems to know an awful lot about pain.’

‘
Ryman said much the same,’ McKenna said, ‘although not with any compassion.’

‘
Fauvel’s short on that as well,’ Janet added. ‘He told Julie her flesh was burned to cleanse her soul.’ Idly, she picked up Ellen’s report on Gaynor’s telephone call and, coming to the description of the woman under attack in the snowy street, caught her breath. ‘Julie’s got a coat just like the one this woman was wearing. She had it on tonight.’

‘
Really?’ Looking over her shoulder, McKenna said: ‘It might be worth asking her where she was this afternoon.’

‘
You’re clutching at straws,’ Jack told him. ‘There must be dozens of coats like that in Haughton alone.’

‘
Straws are all we have,’ McKenna replied. ‘Bring Holbrook in tomorrow to make a full statement. And I’m going to see Ryman again.’ He glanced outside. ‘That’s if we’re not roof-deep in snow by morning.’

Chapter Nine

Estelle Ryman was proud of her home, her husband, and Shelley, her undergraduate daughter and, until this week, believed that the hard work and the necessary deceptions put into creating the family would always, like a charm, ward off misfortune. Like Susan Dugdale, she had married a young police officer in whose high hopes she could believe. For her the hopes were realised, whereas Susan’s were now only fit for the scrap heap.

When
her husband was promoted, they had bought a smart detached house with an enormous garden on the outskirts of Ravensdale. Now, she wandered around the sitting-room, moving ornaments, primping cushions, tweaking the folds in the deep-green velvet curtains as she passed the window. He was sitting in one of the chintz-covered chairs which so nicely toned with the carpet and curtains, gazing vacantly at the hearth, his head resting on his right arm, his face so pale he looked like his own ghost. He had hardly moved since the last telephone call, and anger suddenly flared in her, bringing another of those terrifying flushes which heated her whole body to boiling point and threatened to blow off the top of her head. Since that damned McKenna came with his shadowy band of interfering foreigners, the telephone had rung incessantly and, every time, her husband rushed to answer. He hardly dared to fall asleep in bed in case another summons came, but there was never any relief when he finished speaking, or, as was more usual, simply listening, to whoever called. He was like a man possessed by demons, but she flatly refused even to
think
that Dugdale suppressed Smith’s alibi evidence on her husband’s instructions. The consequences of that possibility were, as yet, only a meaningless scribble on every wall which loomed before her.

‘
You could have gone to the Lodge meeting after all,’ she said, twitching the curtains together after peeking outside. ‘The snow isn’t too bad.’ Her laugh tinkled bravely. ‘This must be the first one you’ve ever missed. Wild horses wouldn’t usually keep you away, never mind a few inches of snow.’

There
was no response.

‘
Are you ready for supper?’ She clutched at normality, while another hot flush suffused her body. ‘What would you like? I got fresh salad earlier, there’s some ham, and there’s cheese, of course, if you think it won’t keep you awake, or I could hard-boil a couple of eggs.’

‘
Anything,’ Ryman muttered. ‘You decide.’

Terrible
questions seethed with the overheated blood inside her head. ‘Are you all right? Only, you’ve seemed awfully out of sorts all week. Are you sickening for something, d’you think? There’s a lot of flu about.’

‘
I’m all right.’ His tone was dismissive.

‘
I’ll do supper, then.’

The
kitchen was her absolute pride and joy. She decided to make egg mayonnaise, and was reaching for the saucepan she used only to boil eggs when the scribble on the walls began ominously and irrevocably to resolve itself. If he lost his job because of some stupidity, she would lose not only her wonderful kitchen, but her entire home.