When Night Closes in (6 page)

Lowri felt she was invisible. Sarah Brandon ignored her and looked Sally up and down with insulting deliberation.

‘He likes his bits of stuff to have little or no brain, those are the types he can fool easily. Jon likes to play the field, he believes that variety is the spice of life and he boasts about his conquests to me afterwards.' She turned away in disgust. ‘Women can be such fools!'

The door clicked shut behind her. Lowri looked at Sally. ‘Wow!' She took a deep breath. ‘Why did Jon have your name and address, Sally,
were
you involved with him?'

‘No!' Sally sat at her desk and rubbed her face with her hands. ‘No of course I wasn't. I didn't even meet him, you know that.'

Lowri felt tired. It seemed that Jon led a complicated life. Well, perhaps one of those complications had finally caught up with him in the shape of a jealous husband. Perhaps that was why he ran off so suddenly.

‘Let's forget him,' Sally said angrily. ‘All he's brought us is trouble. It would have been better if he had never set foot in this place.' She sounded near to tears and Lowri had shed enough tears of her own without trying to deal with those of anyone else.

She opened her appointment book and checked the time she was meeting the next client. ‘Another one for Plunch Lane,' she remarked. ‘The place is very popular all of a sudden and summer's almost over. Well, I'd better be going.' She picked up her jacket and bag. ‘You'll be all right on your own?'

‘Yeah. I don't suppose there will be much to do this afternoon.' Sally did not look at her and after a few moments, Lowri left the office.

The sunlight was bright and she blinked as she walked round the back to the small parking area where she kept her car. The little red Mazda would be like an oven – there was no shade at the back of the buildings.

‘Can I talk to you?' A hand fell on her arm and she looked up into the face of Sarah Brandon. ‘I'm sorry I was so scathing about your colleague but she is just his type,' she said. ‘I know you must think me a bitter, twisted woman and you'd be right but I have to know what's happened to my husband.' She was pale in spite of the heat.

‘We didn't really get on, you see,' she was babbling, ‘we hadn't slept together for years so it's my fault he had other women. I hated him for being unfaithful and yet I loved him too. If only I knew something about those last hours before he vanished . . .' She stopped speaking as Lowri drew her arm away.

‘I'm sorry, Mrs Brandon, I really can't help you. Please excuse me, I have to meet a client and I'm already late.'

Lowri slid into the driving seat and started the engine and, as she drew away, she could see Sarah standing there like something carved from stone. She was clearly unstable, an odd woman, and yet Lowri felt deeply sorry for her. ‘Jon, you are a first-class shit!' she said. ‘And you deserve everything you get.'

The Ship Inn was situated on the cliff top overlooking the bay. Ironically, it was not more than two hundred yards from Plunch Lane. It was a place that Jon Brandon must have frequented on a regular basis but he had never taken Lowri there. Now she knew why: he was afraid his wife might find out.

‘Looks a nice place,' she said as she slid out of the back seat of Timmy Perkins's car. Below, on the rocks, Lowri could hear the wash of the sea. How many times had she listened to the sound of the waves when she had been in bed with the man she loved, the man she thought she knew?

‘Yeah, it's all right, I suppose,' Sally said. ‘We don't come down this way very often, do we, Timmy?'

‘Not really, it's a little on the quiet side, mostly old fogies,' Timmy said. Lowri smiled. Timmy was all of nineteen, to him anyone over the age of twenty-five would be an old fogey, herself included.

There was a warm atmosphere inside the small lounge bar. The décor was traditional, with horse-brasses either side of the inglenook fireplace. Ships' lamps hung from the beams. Smoke filled the room and the sound of some bland musical tape made a backdrop to the laughter and the raised voices of people enjoying themselves.

‘Evening, folks.' The landlord was tall and swarthy, with thick white hair that seemed to sprout all over his head and face. ‘Nice to see you again.' He was looking at Sally. ‘What'll you have? Your usual?'

‘Please.' Sally shrugged off her jacket and slipped into a corner seat, crossing her slender legs in the shiny black leather boots and making sure her skirt was revealing enough to be interesting.

‘Lowri?' Timmy asked.

‘A glass of red, please.'

She sat beside Sally and wished she had not worn trousers. She felt drab and unexciting, part of the older element that Sally and Timmy so scorned. ‘Why did you suggest this place, Sally?' she asked conversationally.

Sally looked guarded. ‘I just thought it might suit you, that's all.' She lit up a cigarette, more to display her well-shaped, colourfully varnished nails than because she enjoyed a smoke, Lowri thought.

‘And you don't come here often, then?' Lowri played with the beer-mat, pretending she was making small talk and fooling no-one.

‘Don't go getting suspicious of me now, Lowri!' Sally said. ‘No, I haven't been here very often, have I, Tim?' She smiled. ‘I suppose the old man noticed me because he thinks I'm pretty.'

Underneath her incredible display of vanity it was clear that Sally had picked up on Lowri's thoughts. The landlord knew what she drank: that suggested that she was more than a casual customer.

Perhaps she was becoming paranoid, Lowri thought, accepting her drink from Timmy with a murmur of thanks.

‘But why did Jon have your address and phone number on him?' She only realized she had spoken her thoughts aloud when Sally sighed in exasperation.

‘I told you I don't know! Probably the old bat made it up; she didn't show us the paper, did she? She's just clutching at straws, jealous of anyone younger and prettier than she is.'

‘Don't go being over-modest, now, Sal.' Timmy laughed as he sat astride a bar stool facing the women. ‘And what's this about someone having your number, eh?'

‘Oh, nothing,' Lowri said quickly. ‘As Sally says, the woman is disturbed, she's probably making the whole thing up.'

And yet doubts and questions as elusive as a butterfly's wing ran through her mind. Was Sally lying, could she have been involved with Jon, had she slept with him? Lowri rubbed her cheek; she was getting more and more confused. She must pull herself together.

‘Wake up! Do you want another drink, Lowri?' Timmy was leaning forward, holding out his hand for her glass. She looked down at it and saw to her surprise that it was empty.

‘Yes, why not?'

‘For goodness' sake, Lowri!' Sally hissed. ‘You're acting like a wet week! Cheer up can't you?'

‘Evening, folks, mind if I join you?'

Lowri looked up to see Jim Lainey standing over her. He was wearing a casual open-necked shirt tucked into slim-fitting trousers and he was smiling at her as if liking what he saw.

‘Oh hello!' Sally smiled enthusiastically. ‘Come and sit here next to me and tell me your name and explain why I've never met such a handsome hunk as you before.'

‘A pint, mate?' Timmy was standing beside the table, a tray in his hand, and he was looking pointedly at Jim Lainey.

‘That's very good of you,' Lainey said smoothly before turning to face Lowri. ‘I'm glad I found you here, I was hoping to see you,' he said and Timmy visibly relaxed. Soon the four of them were sitting together, cramped into the small corner space as the room filled with people. Lowri wondered if DI Lainey was following her. She was very much aware of his thigh, hot against hers. She wished again that she had worn a skirt. Her legs were shapely and long, and they looked good in sheer stockings.

She knew what she was doing, she was trying to bolster her self-esteem. Sally was right about that, Lowrie's confidence had taken a beating. She drank her wine and allowed her glass to be refilled. Soon, she felt pleasantly relaxed.

She and Lainey became engrossed in conversation and, to Lowri's relief, he did not mention Jon once.

It was a surprise when the ship's bell rang through the room to call time. Lowri glanced at her watch: it was after eleven.

‘Can I drive you home?' Lainey asked quietly. Behind his back Sally was making faces, mouthing encouragement.

‘Thank you, I'd like that very much.'

It was good to sit beside a man, to feel relaxed, to hear the soft hum of the engine and to know that she was being looked after, if only for a short while. Neither of them spoke but the silence was a comfortable one. All too soon the drive was over, and Lowri waited while Lainey switched off the engine. It was all going to end now, in a minute she would step into her little house and she would be alone again.

‘Would you like a coffee?' she asked quickly, afraid that she would lose her nerve. ‘I could do with one myself – I feel a little light-headed.'

‘I'd love a coffee,' he said.

Lowri was filled with a sense of euphoria as she gave Lainey the key to open her front door. Her life was not over after all – she was young and she had a handsome man at her side. She must forget Jon, forget he ever existed.

Lowri made the coffee and sat beside Lainey on the sofa, close but not too close. Lainey put his head back and closed his eyes.

‘It's so peaceful here,' he said.

She closed her eyes too, drinking in the companionable silence. There was no sound except for her own breath and the sound of Lainey breathing evenly at her side. She slept.

She woke and looked at her watch. It was half past three. Lowri stared around her in confusion. Lainey was still asleep.

Lowri watched him for a moment before bringing a blanket from upstairs and putting it over him. Then she switched off the light and went to bed.

Before she went back to sleep, she wondered if Lainey would feel embarrassed in the morning, if the easy closeness between them would vanish with the sunlight. She need not have worried. In the morning, Lainey was gone.

Lowri was about to leave for work when she heard an urgent knocking on her door. She opened it, expecting the postman, but it was Jim Lainey standing on her step. Lowri felt a prickle of apprehension run down her spine. Lainey looked so formal, his expression was grave, with no sign that he'd spent most of the night on her sofa. Standing behind him was another, younger officer.

‘Detective, come in but I can't stay talking for long, I've got to get to work.' She had a busy morning ahead and her mother had rung last night before she'd gone to the Ship, asking to be met at the station. Clearly she'd rowed with Charles again. Mr Watson was a compassionate boss but he would not let anyone take advantage of his good nature.

‘What can I do for you?' she asked when the two men stood in her small sitting-room. Jim gestured towards the other officer. ‘This is Sergeant Brown, perhaps you could take a look at the items he's holding.'

The sergeant obligingly held up the plastic bags and Lowri stared at them, waiting for an explanation.

‘We've found some clothes' Lainey's tone was businesslike. He was now the policeman at work. ‘At the foot of the cliffs below the Swan Hotel. I would like you to see if you can identify any of them.'

‘I'll have to ring work.' Her mind shied away from the implications of Lainey's question. ‘Though it's going to be difficult to explain to my boss that I need time off to help the police with their inquiries, isn't that what you call it?'

It was Sally who answered the phone at the office. ‘Morning! Watson Jones and Fry, Sally speaking, can I help you?'

‘It's me,' Lowri said. ‘I'm going to be late, will you be all right?'

Sally was silent for a moment. ‘I don't know what's wrong but you'd better get in here as soon as poss.' She lowered her voice. ‘Old Watson's got a lady visitor and he doesn't seem too happy about it.'

‘Too bad,' Lowri said. ‘The police want to talk to me.' Before Sally could ask any questions Lowri replaced the receiver. Jim looked at her.

‘Trouble?'

‘No, not really, just Sally panicking as usual.'

‘Will you take a good look at these things?' he said. She suddenly felt intimidated by Lainey. He seemed so focused, so serious as he took the plastic bags from the sergeant and held them towards her. Inside, she could see a creased shirt, a pair of buff chinos and a solitary shoe.

‘Recognize anything?'

She recognized the shirt all right, it belonged to Jon. A renewed sense of loss swept over her. Whatever Jon had done, he had been her lover, her friend and she missed him like hell.

‘I think so,' she said. ‘The shirt is the right make. Jon – Jon always wore good shirts, crisp and clean as the day they were bought. That was one of the things I liked about him.' She was not aware of Lainey self-consciously touching his own collar as if to assure himself it was in place.

‘And the trousers?'

‘Well, I don't know, they all look the same. Jon is size 32-inch, are those the right size?'

Lainey did not answer. He seemed disappointed that she had not been more positive. A thought struck her and she looked at the shirt again. It was white, slightly crumpled but clean.

‘That shirt hasn't been worn,' she said.

‘It doesn't look like it.' Lainey waited for her to speak again.

She closed her eyes momentarily. ‘What do you think has happened to him?'

‘That's what we are trying to find out,' Lainey said. ‘Are you all right?' He seemed to move closer to her, his brow furrowed, as if he was genuinely concerned. Lowri wished she did not remember the closeness that had been between them so briefly.

‘Yes, I'm all right,' she said, ‘just a bit hung-over.' She looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time that morning. ‘And I'm confused. I don't know if I should be angry at being deceived by the man I thought I loved, or if I should be grieving for him.'