A Question of Identity (29 page)

The sound reached them of the front door opening and closing, and Rona and Magda tensed.

‘Mr Cooper?' Mrs Frodsham called. ‘Could you come to the kitchen for a moment? There's someone to see you.'

There was a short silence, followed by cautiously approaching footsteps. Magda stood up, her fists clenched at her sides. And suddenly he was there, framed in the doorway, his eyes widening as he took in Magda.

‘
You!
' he said in a strangled voice.

‘He seems to recognize you,' Mrs Frodsham murmured incongruously.

If he turns and runs, Rona thought, we've had it. Why did that never occur to us?

But Kevin Coombes showed no sign of running. His feet seemed rooted to the spot as he stared unbelievingly at Magda, his fingers tugging to loosen his tie, and those few seconds gave Rona the chance to study him.

She'd wondered how anyone could fail to recognize him when his face had been in the papers and on TV throughout the country, though admittedly context would be a key factor; people simply wouldn't expect someone going about his business among them to be a hunted killer. Now, though, she acknowledged that she wouldn't have known him herself. The blond hair, brushed forward in a different style, changed his appearance to a surprising degree. It was only the groove between his eyes that he couldn't disguise, and that was a common enough feature.

Magda was about to speak when, abruptly emerging from his trance, Kevin stepped quickly into the room, pushed the door shut and looked wildly about him. On one of the counters was a chopping board, the remains of a cooked chicken, and a small sharp knife – Mrs Frodsham's interrupted preparations for supper. He darted forward, caught up the knife and spun to face her.

‘Lock the back door,' he instructed, ‘and give me the key.' And as she stared at him, transfixed, he snapped, ‘Do it!'

Fumblingly she obeyed, holding out the key at arm's length, and he snatched it from her and slipped it in his pocket. There was a look in his eyes that made the hairs rise on the back of Rona's neck. God, what were they
doing
here?

Gus growled softly. She slipped her hand inside his collar and pulled him close, conscious of her bag lying open at her feet. Were the police getting this?

‘There's no need for the knife,' she said clearly. ‘Please put it down.'

Kevin ignored her and turned to Magda. ‘I don't know who the devil you are, but you must be from Marsborough.'

‘It's your wife, Mr Cooper,' Mrs Frodsham ventured timidly, hoping to calm troubled waters.

Kevin swung round and she shrank back against the sink. ‘My
wife
? Did you say
my wife
?'

‘She doesn't know anything!' Magda said quickly, her voice shaking. ‘I'm the one you need to speak to. You recognize me, don't you?'

Kevin's eyes flickered, but he didn't reply.

‘
Why
do you recognize me, Kevin?' Magda persisted. ‘Where have you seen me before?' Rona could see a pulse beating in her throat and hoped the tactic she was employing was the right one.

He gave a violent shake of his head. ‘In my dreams, goddammit! How corny is that? Except they were nightmares!'

‘And you were in mine, but as you were the dreamer I never saw your face. How did you see mine?'

He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Just shut up, will you, and tell me how the hell you found me?'

‘
How did you see my face?
'

He stared at her, nonplussed, then, with a what-the-hell gesture, answered truculently, ‘Because in one dream I looked in a mirror, didn't I? And it was your face staring back at me!' He rubbed the back of his free hand across his mouth as though to negate the words.

‘Ah!' Briefly, Magda closed her eyes.

‘So how did you find me?' he repeated. ‘Are you a goddamn witch or something?'

‘Our minds are linked,' Magda said.

He gave a snort of derision, but she went on quickly, ‘It was the hypnotist, Kevin. You were sitting next to me on stage, and when he released us our memories must have merged.'

‘Women's bloody fashions,' he said slowly. ‘Was that down to you? Luce thought it was hilarious.' A spasm crossed his face and he looked about him blankly. ‘Lucy – is she with you? She is – all right?'

Magda said, almost steadily, ‘I've come to break that connection, to free us.'

He gave his head a shake and his eyes refocused. ‘You don't seriously expect me to believe that rubbish? OK, so we met on stage, but as for
minds merging
– give me a break!'

Before she could reply the doorbell clarioned into the room, making them all jump, and was immediately followed by a knock on the front door. All four of them froze and Gus started to bark.

Rona, who was facing the window, caught a brief movement, as though someone were pressed against the wall just out of sight, but her relief was short-lived.

‘Nobody move!' Kevin rasped, raising the knife menacingly.

The four of them remained motionless, staring at each other, and Gus continued to bark. Mrs Frodsham cleared her throat. ‘It could be my husband,' she whispered. ‘He's due home about now.'

‘Since when did he ring the bell?' Kevin demanded.

As though in answer, it rang again. There was a clatter as the letterbox was pushed up and a voice called, ‘Mr Coombes? This is the police. We know you're inside. Could we have a word, please?'

‘Police!' Kevin spat. ‘All that nonsense about merged minds! You were filling in time till they got here!'

‘No, it's true!' Magda choked, ‘but now we've—'

‘Shut up!' he snarled. ‘Instead of wasting time listening to you, I should have got the hell out while I still had the chance.'

‘Mr Coombes?' the voice came again. ‘Kevin? We only want to talk. If you let the ladies go, it will make things easier.'

‘I bet it would!' said Kevin between his teeth, then, his voice rising, ‘Can't you shut that bloody dog up? How can I think, with that infernal racket going on?'

‘He always barks at doorbells,' Rona said helplessly, scratching Gus's neck in an attempt to calm him.

‘Well if he doesn't stop, I'll take this knife to him!'

Knowing it to be no idle threat, she jerked the dog on to his hind legs and clutched his warm, vibrating body against her. ‘
Hush
, Gus!' she whispered frantically, burying her fingers in his fur, and, seeming to sense her urgency, he subsided with a final yap. At which moment the telephone on the wall suddenly shrilled, and her hand closed quickly over his muzzle, stifling a resumption of barking.

‘That really
will
be Jim!' Mrs Frodsham maintained shakily, moving towards the phone.

‘
Don't answer it!
'

Terrified, she came to a halt. The phone went on ringing and Rona could feel Gus's jaw muscles straining to remove her hand.

‘All
right
!' Kevin exclaimed after another couple of minutes. ‘Anything to stop that din!' He nodded at his landlady. ‘Bring it over, but don't try to say anything or it will be the last thing you do!'

Tremblingly she lifted the phone and held it out to him, but he made no attempt to take it. A disembodied voice reached them in the sudden silence of the room.

‘Kevin? Please speak to me.'

Pause.

‘Look, we're not going to try any tricks. We just want to have a chat, lower the tension in there.' Another pause. ‘Tell me about your boys. You must be missing them.'

Kevin shut his eyes involuntarily, raw pain on his face.

‘We know why you took them,' the speaker continued. ‘It wasn't abduction, was it? It was to spare them walking in and finding their mother in the morning.' A longer pause. ‘Their grandparents say they've been asking for you.'

‘Shut up!' Kevin shouted. ‘Just bloody shut up about my kids!'

‘Look, suppose we discuss this face-to-face? I'm going to come round the back of the house. I won't wear a jacket, so you can see I'm not armed. You don't even have to open the door, we can—'

‘No!' Kevin shouted, his face contorted. ‘I warn you, if anyone appears I'll use this knife!'

And in one movement he swept the phone out of Mrs Frodsham's hand so that it skittered on to the floor and, reaching forward, grabbed hold of Magda and pulled her roughly towards him, spinning her round and pinioning her against his body, the point of the knife at her throat. And as their bodies made contact a simultaneous shudder shook them and both gave an audible gasp. Mission accomplished, Rona thought sickly, but at what cost?

‘Kevin, listen to me!' Magda gasped. ‘You're not responsible for all this – none of it is your fault! It was the hypnotist – that quarrelling he made us do. Something went wrong – he didn't free you from it, so your aggression kept on growing.'

He continued to hold her, though he lowered the knife and his expression had changed, become frightened and unsure.

‘But we've broken the connection now,' Magda continued desperately. ‘You felt it, didn't you, when we touched? You're free now, and so am I!'

‘Lucy?' His voice was strangled. ‘I never meant to hurt her, but when I saw the papers Roger'd brought round, and realized they'd been alone in the house . . . I
knew
she'd never . . . oh God,
Lucy
!'

Tears were coursing down his face, and all the time the disembodied voice, calm and measured, trickled into the room from the phone on the floor. Then everything happened at once. Kevin gave a great cry of grief, despair and frustration and kicked out at it, sending it skidding across the tiles; Magda, taking advantage of his distraction, tried to free herself from his grip, and Gus, barking wildly, launched himself across the kitchen and leapt up at Kevin, his front paws landing forcefully on his chest. Totally disorientated, Kevin stumbled and fell, cracking his head on the sharp edge of the cooker as he went down.

Anxious faces appeared at the window and the doorknob rattled ineffectively, and while Rona and Magda ran to hug each other convulsively, it was Brenda Frodsham who, steeling herself, slid her hand into Kevin's pocket, retrieved the back-door key, and stumbled across to open it.

It was two hours later, and Rona, with Gus beside her, was sitting in the foyer of the local police station, waiting for Magda to finish giving her statement. Kevin, even more dazed after the bump on his head, had been taken under police escort to have it checked at A&E. With luck, she thought, his temporarily diminished responsibility at the time of the murder would make for a more lenient sentence. His children would need him.

She leant her head back against the wall, feeling thoroughly drained. It had been a traumatic day – the long, anxious drive, the confrontation with Kevin, and Magda held at knifepoint. All she wanted now was a hot bath followed by bed, but they had yet to find somewhere to spend the night.

She was startled out of her reverie by her mobile, its low battery warning flashing. Max! She glanced round, but no one was paying her any attention.

‘Hello?'

‘Hi, there, sweetheart! What have you been up to today?'

She fought down hysterical laughter. What should she tell him? That she and Magda had driven a hundred and fifty miles to confront a murderer, and been held at knifepoint in a locked room? That . . .?

She drew a steadying breath. ‘Sorry, darling,' she said, ‘my battery's about to give out. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.'