Dangerous Promises (20 page)

‘If that’s what you want.’

‘It’s for the best.’

‘All right,’ Mona said. She turned to go but stopped again. ‘Oh, I almost forgot. I left something for you at the flat.’

‘What?’

Mona’s lips slid into that familiar smile. ‘It’s a surprise. It’s in the drawer in your bedside table.’ She raised a hand and gave a breezy wave. ‘Bye then.’

Sadie clutched the gatepost as she watched Mona walk away. Despite the cold, she could feel the sweat running down her back. Now she knew for sure who’d killed Eddie, she had to do something about it. The right thing, the moral thing, would be to put aside all thoughts of her own precarious position and go straight to the police. But what if that meant being arrested too? The more she thought about her own story, the less convincing it appeared to be.

Sadie could hear the sounds of the party drifting from the house. She felt removed from it all. She felt like she was standing on quicksand, that the world as she knew it was shifting and changing, that she was being sucked down into a filthy squelch of lies and horror and madness.

24

Wayne Gissing loved his mother, but he loved her more when she was a hundred miles away. Having her around all the time was proving to be a pain in the arse. If she wasn’t on his back about the scrapyard or the hours he spent down the pub, she was nagging about wet towels left on the bathroom floor, dirty mugs or overflowing ashtrays. And then there was the constant sniping between her and Sharon; it was like living in a bloody war zone. He couldn’t wait for the day she packed her bags and cleared off home to Bournemouth.

However, there wasn’t much chance of that happening any time soon. It was only six days since she’d got here but already her feet were well and truly under the table. Of course it was handy having her to look over the books and provide hot meals every day – no one made a better steak and kidney pie than his mother – but the cons still outweighed the pros. He wanted his life back and the only way to achieve that was to sort out Kelly’s problems. His little sister needed to know for sure who’d killed Eddie, and the filth weren’t exactly making progress.

‘It’s been a bleedin’ week already,’ Kelly said. ‘What’s the matter with them? Why isn’t the bitch locked up?’

‘I dunno,’ Wayne mumbled. It was a question she never stopped asking, as if by constant repetition she would eventually get a satisfactory answer. He flicked over the pages of the road atlas until he came to the one he wanted. ‘Here it is: Haverlea. Shit, it’s fuckin’ miles away. It’s up by Liverpool.’

‘So?’ Kelly asked.

‘So it’ll take hours to get there.’

‘Who cares. You got something better to do?’

Wayne had plenty of better things to do, but he didn’t want to piss her off. ‘I’m not saying that, Kel. All I’m thinking is that we don’t know for sure that she’s even there at the moment. We could drive all the way and find she’s cleared off some place else.’

‘I don’t care. I’m sick of sitting here doing sod all. It’s doing me head in.’

‘Maybe he’s right, love,’ Sharon butted in. ‘It’s a long way to go and even if she is there she might not talk to you.’

Kelly’s face grew hard. ‘I’ll make her bleedin’ talk to me.’

Sharon shared a conspiratorial look with her stepson. ‘Maybe there’s a better way of doing it.’

Kelly glanced at her. ‘Like what?’

‘Like saving yourself the bother of driving halfway across the country. Why don’t you get her to come to you instead?’

Kelly slammed her palms down on the table, her face twisting with anger and frustration. ‘And how the hell am I supposed to do that? Give her a bell and ask if she’d like to pop down for a chat?’

‘Not exactly. Didn’t you say that Eddie’s body is going to be released soon?’

‘Yeah, next week probably. What of it?’

‘So then there’ll be the funeral.’

Kelly still didn’t get it. ‘And? She ain’t going to come, is she?’

‘Why not?’ Sharon said. ‘If she’s as innocent as she claims, if she’s got nothing to hide, then why shouldn’t she pay her last respects?’ She gave a small smile. ‘Especially if Eddie’s parents invite her along. Do you reckon they’d do that?’

Kelly, who had been to see Stan and Marcie Wise that morning, thought about it for a moment. ‘I dunno. I suppose they might.’

‘Well then. Why don’t you ask them? After that, all you have to do is wait a while and she’ll be here in London.’

Wayne put his elbows on the table and rubbed his chin. ‘Sounds like a plan, Kel. What do you reckon?’

‘What if she doesn’t turn up?’

‘Then I’ll drive you up there and we’ll have it out with her. She can’t hide for ever.’

Kelly gave a sigh, disappointed at the prospect of not being able to take immediate action, but aware that this was probably a better option. She rose to her feet and shrugged on her jacket. ‘I’m going round to Tina’s for a while. I’ll see you later.’

‘See you, love,’ Sharon said.

Wayne waited until the front door had closed before speaking again. ‘You really think that Sadie bird’s going to show?’

‘Why not? She’s the widow, ain’t she? And if Stan asks her she won’t have much choice. It’d look kind of weird if she refused. No, she’ll be here, you mark my words.’

‘And then?’

‘And then what?’

Wayne rubbed at his face. ‘What do we do with the bitch when she does show up?’

A smile crept on to Sharon’s lips. She lowered her voice and asked, ‘Where’s your mother?’

‘Out.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Listen,’ he said, cupping a hand to his ear. ‘Can you hear anything?’

‘No.’

‘So she’s definitely out.’

Sharon grinned. ‘Well, this is what I’m thinking: that Nathan Stone, he’s got a few bob, ain’t he?’

‘What of it?’

‘So he owes you. Well, he owes Kelly and it’s the same thing. Family’s family. You can’t let people take the piss. You play this right and you could earn yourself a few quid. We could
all
earn a few quid.’

‘And how’s that going to happen?’

‘She’s Stone’s tart, ain’t she?’

‘What of it?’

‘So he’s not going to want to see her get hurt.’

Wayne thought about this for a while, the effort creating furrows on his forehead. ‘But if the two of them are at it, he’ll be watching out for her.’

‘Yeah, well, he can’t watch her twenty-four hours a day.’

Wayne gave a nod. ‘Pym reckons she was staying at a guesthouse near Kellston station. Oaklands, it’s called. She might book in there again if she does come down. We could always —’

‘I’ll tell you how we’re going to do it, hon.’ Sharon leaned across the table, her eyes bright and greedy. ‘Listen to me. I’ve got it all worked out.’

25

Gerald Frayne shook the snow from his shoes and brushed the rain from the shoulders of his heavy overcoat before stepping inside the pub. A blast of noise hit him as he opened the door, a mixture of conversation, laughter and music from the jukebox; the White Swan was popular with the locals and this evening it was doing a brisk trade.

He made his way to the bar and while he was waiting to be served took the opportunity to look around. The usual faces were in evidence, including a few minor villains chatting in the corner. It was the kind of pub where the women dressed to impress – there were lots of miniskirts, plunging necklines, big hair and shiny costume jewellery on view – and the men, more casually attired in shellsuits or jeans and T-shirt, quite blatantly eyed them up.

It was a habit of Gerald’s to have a drink in the Swan from time to time. This wasn’t because he was particularly fond of the place – he wasn’t – but it was where the gossip did the rounds and he liked to keep his ear to the ground. It was surprising how much you could learn in the twenty minutes it took to drink a pint.

‘Evening,’ the barman said. ‘Nice to see you again. The usual?’

‘Thank you.’

‘Still raining is it?’

‘A little.’

While the Guinness was settling, a middle-aged man sidled over from the other side of the bar. He drew close to Gerald, lifted his pale blue eyes, smiled and gave an almost obsequious nod.

‘Ah, Inspector Frayne. Fancy seeing you here. Great minds think alike.’

Gerald didn’t much care for Peter Royston. Some reporters he could get along with, the ones that played fair and didn’t twist the truth, but this man was a scandalmonger; he liked to dig the dirt and didn’t give a damn about the consequences. Despite his antipathy, Gerald smiled back. It didn’t do to let your personal feelings get in the way of the job and Royston often had useful snippets of information. ‘Nasty evening,’ he said. ‘It’s good to get into the warm.’

Royston sipped on his drink, watching Gerald with a sly expression on his face. ‘I hear you’ve been busy.’

Gerald lifted his eyebrows, already suspecting where this was going. ‘We’re always busy. No rest for the wicked.’

‘You’re investigating the Eddie Wise murder, aren’t you?’

Gerald had long since ceased to be amazed at how quickly news travelled in a small town like Haverlea. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. We’re just helping with a few enquiries.’

‘And is there likely to be an arrest soon?’

‘I really couldn’t say.’

Royston put his glass down on the counter. He cleared his throat and ran his tongue over his plump fleshy lips. ‘I saw her this afternoon over at the Hunters’.’

‘And who was that?’ replied Gerald, feigning ignorance.

‘Sadie Wise, of course. She was at Emily Hunter’s birthday bash. I’m surprised you weren’t there.’

Gerald gave a shrug. ‘Too busy, I’m afraid.’ He had received an invitation but had graciously declined, claiming – untruthfully, as it happened – that pressure of work meant he was unable to attend. The Hunters were one of the more influential families in Haverlea and he’d suspected that either Frank or Emily would try to bend his ear about the innocence of their future daughter-in-law. Although he would have been interested in seeing Sadie Wise again, he had decided, on balance, that he was better off keeping his distance. It could be awkward, after accepting the Hunter’s hospitality, if he later had to arrest the girl.

‘It’s an interesting case.’

Gerald, although he was of the same opinion, gave a light shrug. He was always cautious around Royston. Any comment he made could be taken and twisted and splashed across the front page of the next edition of the local rag.

‘She’s a pretty girl,’ the reporter continued, undeterred by the lack of feedback. ‘A bit jumpy, though. She looked positively horrified when she saw me talking to her friend. I wonder why that was?’

Gerald lifted his pint of Guinness, took a long draught and put the glass back on the bar. ‘Everyone is horrified when they find you talking to their friends, Peter. It’s a natural reaction.’

Royston sniggered. ‘Now that’s not a nice thing to say, Inspector. It’s lucky I’m not the sensitive sort.’

‘No one could accuse you of that.’

‘Odd thought though, a slip of a girl plunging a knife into the chest of her husband. Still, appearances can be deceptive. You wouldn’t think she was capable but —’

‘Good do, was it?’ Gerald asked. ‘Many people there?’

‘Not bad. Not bad at all.’ Royston, who was used to people trying to deflect him, carried on regardless. ‘Still, a woman scorned and all that. I hear he walked out on her a few years back. Must have been tough to take. Is it true that he stole from her too?’

‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’

‘Of course Emily Wise made a point of showing her support, but then she would, wouldn’t she?’ Royston paused for a few seconds before adding, ‘You had any of the nationals sniffing round, the
Sun
or the
Mirror
?’

‘Not yet.’

‘That’s something, I suppose. If you do make an arrest —’

‘We’ll be sure to let you know.’

Royston rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation of what might be to come. ‘I’d appreciate it. You don’t often get a decent story round here. It’d be good to have a head start on the London boys.’

Gerald gave a thin smile. ‘Of course. I understand.’

‘Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy your pint in peace.’

As he watched Royston lumber away, Gerald’s smile quickly vanished. The man reminded him of one of those cane toads, large and ugly and toxic to anything that got too close. Still, at least he hadn’t got wind of the news that had come through from McCloud this morning. Gerald frowned as he thought about it. There had been an anonymous phone call to Cowan Road police station insisting that Sadie was involved with a man called Nathan Stone, a villain who worked for the Kellston gangster Terry Street. But was it the truth or was someone just trying to stir up trouble?

‘She was seen with him, apparently, down the dogs last Saturday night.’

‘Any way of verifying that?’ Gerald had asked. ‘She certainly didn’t mention it to me.’

‘We’re working on it.’

They’d had a brief discussion as to whether Gerald should confront her, but decided it was smarter to hang fire.

‘She’s not going to admit it, is she?’ McCloud had said. ‘And at the moment this is only hearsay. We haven’t got any proof.’

‘And as soon as she realises we’re on to her, she’ll be careful to stay away from him.’

‘Exactly,’ McCloud had said. ‘Let’s back off for a while, make her feel safe and see what happens next.’

Gerald swallowed the last of his pint. Was Sadie Wise in a relationship with Stone or had she just employed him to get rid of her husband? Whichever way you viewed them, things weren’t looking good for her. No, they weren’t looking good at all.

26

Sadie, turning her head to peer through the darkness at the green luminous dial of the alarm clock, saw that it was four o’clock. Her stomach sank. This was the loneliest time of the night, she thought, when dawn still felt like an eternity away. She longed for the daylight but dreaded it too. When morning came she would have to go to the police. She should have gone last night after the party. She should have gone as soon as she got home and pulled out the drawer in the bedside table and found…