Breaking Point (24 page)

He heard Grace gasp. ‘You won't tell him, will you, Charlie? Please. Let me call him, and then I'll explain everything to you.' Dressed now, she bent and used the towel to mop up the water on the floor, then pulled the plug. ‘Thank God it was you who found me here. I hate the idea of keeping anything from Neil, but I don't want him to know anything about this. But let's get out of this bathroom and go downstairs and put the fire on. The water was so lovely and hot when I got in, and so relaxing that I must have drifted off, but now I'm freezing.'

She found her handbag, took out her phone and clicked on her home number.

‘Neil, you're home. I thought perhaps—'

‘Grace!' His relief was almost palpable through the phone. He forced himself to keep his voice modulated. ‘I was beginning to worry about you. Where are you?'

‘I'm at the flat. I finally decided it was time to do something with it. Mr Perelli has been after me to turn it back to him, so tonight I decided to come over and sort out a few things. Unfortunately, it took longer than I thought, and I didn't realize how late it was, but I'll be home within the hour.'

She looked across the phone at Charlie. ‘Just one more thing I'd like to sort out before I leave. It won't take long.'

‘Fine, but be careful on the road.'

‘Love you, Neil. I'll be home soon.' She closed the phone and put it away.

‘I owe you an apology, Charlie,' she said softly, ‘and I owe you my thanks for bearing with me and trusting me when you must have wondered what I was up to, and I can't thank you enough for that.' They were downstairs and Grace was standing with her back to the electric fire.

‘But I am going to ask you for one more favour. As I said upstairs, I don't want Neil to know what happened here tonight or what led up to it, so I am asking you not to tell him, and I'll explain why.'

Grace drew a deep breath before going on. ‘You see, Charlie, I had a delayed reaction to the incident here at Christmas. I felt fine for about three weeks after the event, and then it hit me. If I so much as closed my eyes it was there in front of me. If I did manage to fall asleep, I would wake up convinced that Mary Carr was in the room. I could feel the razor on my wrists. If I looked down, I would see the blood; see my life slipping away and there was nothing I could do about it. But worst of all, I couldn't sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.

‘It kept getting worse. As long as I was awake and busy, I could keep the images at bay, but they were waiting for me the moment I relaxed or went to sleep. I thought I could overcome it, but it kept getting worse. Every night I'd wait until Neil had gone to sleep, and then I'd go downstairs and curl up in a chair. I might manage an hour that way, but suddenly I would be right back here again with Mary Carr, and I would wake up in a cold sweat.

‘I really thought I was losing my mind, Charlie. It took me a while, but I finally got up the courage to talk to my doctor. He sent me to see a psychologist, and to make a long story short, he finally gave up on me and sent me to a psychiatrist. That's where I've been going after work these past months.'

‘You should have told Neil,' Charlie said. ‘He loves you, Grace; he would have helped you.'

Grace moved away from the fire to sink into what had once been her favourite chair. ‘I couldn't,' she said. ‘Perhaps I wasn't thinking very clearly, but it seemed to me that if I told Neil what was happening, things would never be the same between us. I know he would have tried to help me, but I honestly don't think it would have done any good. I was afraid that I would become something less in his eyes, and even if I did manage to overcome it, he would be forever watching for signs of it happening again.

‘The trouble was, no matter what I did, things weren't getting any better. In fact, I think going to the psychiatrist was a mistake, because he kept on about regression, about my childhood, how my parents treated me, and all that stuff, when I knew that none of it had anything to do with what I was going through.'

Grace fell silent for a moment, then slowly shook her head as if to clear it after coming out of a long sleep.

‘I don't know why it took me so long to realize it,' she continued, ‘but it finally dawned on me that the only one who could cure me was me!'

Grace spread her arms wide in a gesture encompassing the flat. ‘I was afraid to come here,' she said. ‘Neil has been trying to persuade me to let the flat go, and he couldn't understand why I wouldn't. But I couldn't tell him why without telling him everything, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

‘To tell you the truth, Charlie, I had just about given up hope when it hit me. I
had
to come here, This was where it happened, and this was where I had to come if I was to ever conquer my fears.'

Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper as she said, ‘I didn't know if it would work, but I knew it had to be done. Either it would tip me right over the edge or it would cure me, and I'll be honest, Charlie, I wasn't sure which it would be, and I was terrified.

‘Until I got into that bath, and then it was as if everything melted away. I lay back in that tub and I sang. I
sang,
Charlie, at the top of my voice. Every damned song I could think of from hymns to pop to opera. It's a good thing you didn't come in then or you
would
have thought I'd gone mad.' She paused, frowning. ‘Come to think of it, how did you know I was here?'

‘I saw your car outside when I went back to the office, but it didn't really sink in until Neil phoned and said he was worried about you.' Charlie eyed her critically. ‘I must say you
look
better; you even
sound
better, but how do you feel, really, Grace?'

‘I feel wonderful,' she told him. ‘I really do. The fear is gone and I won't be afraid to go to sleep tonight.'

Charlie rose to his feet. ‘In that case, Grace, this never happened. I was never here tonight, and your secret is safe with me. I'm sure you're right, but if you should ever feel the need to talk . . .'

‘You're a good friend, Charlie.' Grace stood up and hugged him briefly. ‘And thank you for being so understanding.'

‘Yes, well, I'm just happy to have you back,' he said gruffly. ‘But we'd better get going before Neil starts worrying again and sends out a search party. Come on, I'll see you to your car.'

C
louds hung low over the valley and it was trying to rain as Paget drove in to work, but neither clouds nor rain could dampen his spirits this morning, because Grace was back.

It was odd that he should think of it this way, but that was how it felt. It was as if Grace had been away and now she was back. She had even looked different when he'd met her at the door last night. It was as if some dark cloud that had been hovering over her for the past two or three months had been lifted. He couldn't explain it, but she had looked radiant, and she had come into his arms and hugged him as if she never wanted to let him go.

And she was getting rid of the flat! When Grace had called from there last night to say she had decided to let it go, it was as if a great weight had been lifted from his own shoulders. He'd been so afraid that she was keeping it in case things didn't work out between them, but there was no doubt in his mind this morning that Grace was there to stay. No doubt at all after last night.

There was a spring in his step as he entered the building, but the euphoria that had made the drive in to work so pleasant evaporated quickly when he was confronted by the scene of Bernie Green and his wife in the middle of an argument with Tregalles.

‘They're saying they want more protection?' Tregalles started to explain, only to be interrupted by Bernie.

‘Too bloody right we want more protection,' he fumed. ‘They got Gerry right outside our house, didn't they? And they murdered the woman he was living with, so where does that leave us, eh? Are we next? I mean, we hardly slept a wink last night. That young copper you sent over isn't going to be much help if a gang of 'em break in, now is he? I mean he wasn't even bloody armed!'

‘Look,' Paget said soothingly, ‘I know it must be worrying for both of you, but we simply do not have the resources to give you the sort of protection you're looking for. For your own peace of mind it might be best if you found somewhere else to go for a few days. You will still have to be in court next week to face the charges against you, of course, but as long as we know where you are in the meantime, it might be wise to leave the house. Is there anyone you could stay with?'

Bernie snorted. ‘So it's up to us, now, is it?' he said contemptuously. ‘Dunno what we pay you lot for. People all round us dying like flies and all you can say is leave the house?' He turned to his wife. ‘This is all your fault,' he said bitterly. ‘You and that brother of yours. I said we should never have let him in, but oh, no, you wouldn't have it, would you? Well, now, see where it's got us? We're on our bloody own, now, aren't we?'

‘You were keen enough to take anything he brought, though, weren't you?' Shirley flared. ‘It was all right when you thought you could flog that camera, so don't you go saying it was all my fault. If you'd let me go out to make sure he got off safely, he'd still be alive and we wouldn't be here now, would we?'

She started to cry.

‘You should count yourself lucky that you didn't go out there, Mrs Green,' Paget told her, ‘because there's a good chance you would have suffered the same fate as your brother.'

Shirley caught her breath, and even Bernie seemed to find the thought sobering. Some of the fire died in his eyes as he said, ‘I've got a sister who lives in Hereford, but that's still a bit too close for comfort. Besides, she and Shirl don't get on all that well, so that's no good.' He thought for a moment. ‘There's an old mate of mine living in Hull. Retired early a couple of years ago and moved there to be near his daughter and grandkids. He's always said he'd put us up if we ever got round that way. I could give him a ring.'

‘Too far away,' Paget told him. ‘You're bail conditions won't allow it. I suggest your wife either makes peace with your sister, or you find a hotel in the local area. But don't tell anyone where you're going, and don't phone anyone.'

‘And who's going to pay for a hotel, I'd like to know?' Bernie snorted. ‘Not you lot, I'll be bound.'

‘No, but on the other hand, do you really think the price of a hotel for a few nights is more than your life's worth?'

Rose Ryan was thirty-seven, and she had a record. Petty theft and prostitution for the most part, and she had lived in many of England's major cities at one time or another. Somewhat surprisingly, Rose Ryan was her real name, and even more surprising was the fact that she had kept in regular contact with her parents. They lived in Stockton-on Tees, although as far as Tregalles could tell from cards and letters found in one of the sideboard drawers, she hadn't seen them for a number of years. The job of notifying her parents of her death had been handed off to the Stockton police, and Ormside was now waiting to hear if her parents or a family member would be coming down to formally identify and claim the body.

‘I see the last time she was picked up was in London two years ago,' Ormside observed, ‘and her address then was in Shoreditch. How long have she and Fletcher been living down here?'

‘They moved in four months ago, according to their neighbour, Tom Hawkins.'

‘Odd sort of couple,' Ormside mused. ‘I wonder how the two of them got together? I can see him living out there close to his job, but not her. Not after spending all those years on the game in the cities.'

‘Getting a bit past it, I expect,' Tregalles said, ‘so she decided to get herself a boyfriend and settle down. Mind you, she was still in pretty good nick for her age, and she could still pull the men, according to young Nichols; in fact I wouldn't be surprised if he fancied her himself, even if he won't admit it.'

‘You're not suggesting that he had anything to do with her death, are you?'

Tregalles dismissed the idea with a shake of the head. ‘I think it was the same people who did for Fletcher and Mickey Doyle, and probably Mark Newman as well, but I suppose there's always an outside chance that she was killed for some other reason. I mean for all we know she might have got a bit bored with country life and was playing away from home, but it would be more than a bit of a coincidence if that turned out to be the case. I'm going out to talk to the people she worked with at this Hide and Seek shop in Lyddingham this morning; they might be able to tell me something about her. And I think I'll have another chat with Skinner and the blokes at RGS Removals on my way back to see if they can give me any leads. Fletcher just might have said something to one of his mates that would give us a clue about what he was into.'

‘Take Lyons with you,' Ormside suggested. ‘He's still stewing over letting Fletcher get away, and he's convinced that's why he's been stuck in here ever since.'

‘Right,' Tregalles said as he shrugged into his coat. ‘Have we heard anything more on that tip Emma Baker phoned in to Molly the other day? About the bloke she thought she recognized in the bar. Somebody was going to check up on the registration of the car he was driving.'

‘It's one of a fleet belonging to a company in Hammersmith,' Ormside told him. ‘They sell everything from packing boxes and padded blankets, to full-size containers, so it looks like this bloke is some sort of sales rep. Sinclair's handling it. Check with him when you get back.'

Tregalles and Lyons arrived at the gates of RGS Removals and Storage at the same time as one of the firm's larger vans. Tregalles followed the van in and parked in a space reserved for customers, then sat for a moment to watch and marvel at the skill of the driver backing the long van into one of the narrow loading bays with seeming ease.