Dark Eyes of London (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Amy gasped and put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, no,’ she cried. ‘They’ve found me.’

‘Not yet they haven’t,’ Tom replied grimly.

‘Are they coming in?’ Amy asked. She didn’t want to look.

‘Don’t seem to be,’ Tom said. ‘Seem to be just waiting outside.’

‘For what?’ she asked.

‘Good question.’

The two men, Vine the albino and Carter the fat balding one, were standing on the pavement, at the end of the garden path.  A woman with three young children walked by, the woman shouting at one of the children as he was hitting the parked cars with a long roll of cardboard. Vine was talking to someone on a mobile phone.

Tom saw Vine say something to Carter. The little man walked down the street, out of Tom’s line of sight. Vine stood waiting.

‘There must be a back entrance to this place,’ said Tom, his eyes still fixed on Vine. ‘Fire escape or something.’

‘There is, yes. A metal staircase.’

‘Where does it come out?’

‘All the houses have the same. The staircases lead to the back gardens, which open onto a sort of alleyway behind.’

‘Where does the alley come out? Onto the main street, I mean?’

‘There’s a sort of driveway a few houses up.’

‘Up that way?’ Tom pointed to his right, in the direction away from the High Road.

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘I bet that’s where the other one’s gone.  Not the albino.  They must have guessed we’re here. He’s gone to head us off. Shit.’ Tom looked up and down the road. He scratched his head as he ran his hand through his hair. ‘What’s the house number?’ he asked.

‘One five six. Why?’

Still watching Vine, Tom took out his mobile phone and keyed 999.

‘What are you -?’

Tom put up his hand to shush her as the operator answered.

‘Hello, I need the police, please.’

‘..........’

‘Hello. Yes, I’m at home, and I can hear a lot of shouting and screaming coming from the house next door.’

‘..........’

‘Yes, I think it might be. Can you send someone?’

‘..........’

‘My name is Thomas. I am at 156 Old Devonshire Road.’

‘..........’

‘Next door, number 158.’

‘..........’

‘Oh, right. Thank you very much. Goodbye.’

He hung up and put the phone away. Looked out of the window again.

‘Did you just do what I think you did?’ Amy asked.

Tom nodded and grinned at her. ‘She said a squad car should be here within five minutes.’ He looked back out of the window. ‘Let’s just hope our friends down there can wait.’

‘But why did you send them next door?’

‘Amy, do you think those two are going to try anything with a police car outside? This’ll give us a chance to get away.’

‘It’s going to be a long five minutes,’ she said, resting on the arm of her sofa.

‘Very long,’ muttered Tom, looking down at the albino.

A couple of minutes later they could hear a siren in the distance. They both listened carefully. The siren got louder and louder; eventually a police car pulled up outside the house next door. There were no spaces, so the driver double parked in the street. Tom saw Vine back away towards his own car and get out his mobile.

‘Come on, let’s go. Quick,’ he said, grabbing Amy’s hand and her backpack. She picked up her handbag. Slamming her door behind them, they ran down the two flights of stairs and outside. Once outside, they returned to a normal walking pace.  As they got to the street, Tom looked back. He could see two police officers, each wearing yellow hi-vis jackets at the front of number 158. One was knocking at the front door; the other was trying to see in the ground floor bay window. Vine was hovering outside number 162. He saw Tom and Amy leaving, but seemed powerless. As they hurried down the street in the direction of the High Road, Tom looked back, and gave Vine a brief wave. He could not see Vine’s response.

‘Run,’ he said, as they turned the corner into the High Road.  ‘Let’s not take any chances.’

There are two rail stations in Balham. The tube station has two entrances either side of the High Road, while the mainline station is next to one of these entrances, in Balham Station Road. Amy headed towards the mainline station, the one they used earlier, but Tom stopped her.

‘No,’ he said. ‘The tube. Easier for us to get lost there.’

They ran down the escalator and were lucky enough to find a train waiting at the northbound platform. The doors slid shut just as they got into the carriage, and the train entered the tunnel. The carriage was relatively empty, with many vacant seats. Tom and Amy sat down on opposite sides of the aisle, both out of breath.

‘One change, and we’re home and dry. Almost,’ said Tom, trying not too successfully to be reassuring.

The train they had caught was a West End branch train of the Northern Line. The first interchange with the Bakerloo was at Waterloo. Amy started to get up.

‘No, not here,’ said Tom. ‘I’d rather we changed further up. Say Charing Cross.’

Amy sat down again.

Onto the Bakerloo at Charing Cross, and the journey to Willesden Junction took them another half an hour. By the time they got off the train and climbed up the steps to street level, it was dark. They both shivered in the cold wind.

‘It’s about ten minutes’ walk,’ Tom said, taking Amy’s arm and leading her across the main A404 road.

‘I thought you said ten minutes,’ Amy said, as they arrived at Tom’s building twenty minutes later.

‘Maybe more like twenty, yes,’ he replied, as he led her up the stairs, hoping that Mrs da Costa would not be on the landing. She was not: he could hear her television set from the landing.

‘Make yourself at home,’ said Tom as he let Amy in. ‘Sorry about the mess.’

‘Don’t worry. Seems tidy enough for me.’

She put her backpack down on the sofa. ‘I’ll be okay to bed down here later,’ she said.

‘No way,’ said Tom. ‘You take the bed. The sheets are clean. I’ll take the sofa. No trouble.’

‘I don’t want to impose. You’ve gone to so much trouble for me already.’

‘It’s no imposition. Unless...’  He scratched the back of his head again.

‘Or we could do what we did last night,’ Amy finished for him. ‘But just what we did. Nothing else.’

‘If you’re happy with that, so am I,’ he answered, relieved. He knew from experience that his sofa was uncomfortable to sleep on.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Tom broke the silence. ‘Right. I’ll fix us something to eat. I know it’s early, but neither of us have eaten since lunchtime.’ He looked in the kitchen cupboard. ‘We’ve got - beans on toast, or spaghetti on toast. Or microwave prawn curry and rice.’

Amy laughed. ‘Let’s go for beans on toast.’

Tom rubbed his hands together. ‘Beans on toast it is then.’

A while later, as they sat down to eat, Amy asked Tom what he planned to do next.

‘Not sure yet. It’s a pity that all the evidence, or at least all the paperwork that Lisa had, had all been taken.’

‘Hm. Would she have anything at her place?’

‘Her sister Jane said no. She told me that she took all Lisa’s personal stuff in a box over to her place. I was thinking of asking her if I could go over - if we could go over - to have a look through it.  Lisa’s landlord told her no rush to empty the place. He said in the circumstances he would be happy to leave things until the New Year. Jane’s got the keys, so it wouldn’t hurt to ask Jane if we could go to Lisa’s place too.’

‘Would she agree? You know her dead sister and all that.’

‘Don’t know. Tell you what: let’s call her now.’

He took out his phone and dialled Jane. It went straight to voicemail.

‘Hello, Jane; it’s Tom. Hope you’re well. Look, you told me you had taken Lisa’s stuff. I wonder if I could pop round to have a look, if you don’t mind. There’s something I’m looking at. Tell you more later. Wait to hear from you. Bye.’

‘Just have to wait for her to ring back,’ he said, putting the phone down.

Amy took a mouthful of toast. ‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Any brothers or sisters? Family?’

Tom took a deep breath and sat back. ‘Lisa and I didn’t have any children, for a start. I’m an only child. My parents - well, they moved to France years ago. Bought an old farmhouse in a place called Villefontaine. Near Lyon. Did it up. I only went there once.’

‘Only once?’

‘We’re not a very close family. A phone call at Christmas and my birthday, that’s all. What about you?’

‘Much the same.’

‘What’s your surname by the way? Mine’s Raymond. We didn’t even...’

‘Spicer. Anyway, my father - well, he pissed off when I was three or four. My mother got involved with some bloke five or six years back and moved out to Cyprus with him. He owns a bar out there.’

‘Brothers or sisters?’

‘No brothers. Got a sister, couple of years younger than me. She went to Cyprus with them. Like you, not a close family.’

‘Ever been out there?’

‘Nah. Like you again, I get a phone call twice a year. Mum kind of invites me, but I can tell she wants me to say no.’

She shook her head, and sadly stared into her mug of tea.

*****

The silver Honda CR-Z was standing at a Shell petrol station while Ashley Merchant was filling the tank. She reattached the hose onto the self-service pump and climbed back into the car. As she sat down, her phone rang.

‘Speak to me, Vine.’

‘..........’

‘How the fuck could you let that happen? Jesus Christ, what do you think we’re
paying you for?’

‘..........’

‘The police? How did the police get to know?’

‘..........’

‘For Christ’s sake - and you two just stood there?’

‘..........’

‘Do you know where they went?’

‘..........’

‘And of course we don’t know where that is.’

‘..........’

She paused a moment to think, and then said, ‘You’ll just have to come back in. It’s pointless you two scouring London for them. I’ll talk to Fleming; let him decide what to do about them.’

She hung up, and flung the phone down. Ignoring the man in the car behind who wanted to get to the pump she was occupying, she picked up the phone and dialled. It answered after three rings.

‘Sebastian? It’s me. They lost her.’

‘..........’

‘Don’t ask. But she’s not on her own. There was a man with her, helping her.’

‘..........’

‘Don’t know. But she’s probably staying with him. Wherever that is.’

In his office, Fleming stood up and walked over to his window. ‘Tell them to come back in,’ he ordered.

‘I already have,’ Merchant replied.

‘You too,’ Fleming spat. ‘We all need to talk. It’s time to take things to the next level.’

He ended the call and looked out of the window again. On the window ledge, there was a glass ornament. It was of a ballerina holding a purple flower. Fleming picked it up and held it for a moment, checking the detail on it.

Then he flung it against his office wall, whereupon it smashed into a dozen pieces.

Chapter Twenty-Four

After their meal of beans on toast followed by some chocolate roll washed down with two mugs of tea, Tom and Amy spent the rest of the evening sitting in his lounge chatting. He spoke about his experiences growing up, school, university, and some of his relationships, including his marriage to Lisa. Amy then did the same, although her growing up experiences were clouded by her being raised by a single parent after her father abandoned the family, and her mother being more interested in her succession of boyfriends until she met her current partner, with whom she had now emigrated. Amy had reached the age of twenty-five having only had three boyfriends, only one of which was really serious and lasted longer than a few months. She declined Tom’s offer of a drink; Tom drank a can of lager while they were talking.

At around ten, Amy looked at her watch. ‘I know it’s only ten, but it’s been a long day - for me at any rate. I’m shattered. Do you mind if I go to bed now?’

Tom put down his can of lager. ‘No, of course not, he said, stretching. ‘You must be knackered. Tell the truth, I might call it a night soon. We were both up early this morning, too.’

‘Yes, we were. I might be asleep when you come in. Just exhausted.’

Tom stood up, and brushed some imaginary dust off the sofa. ‘Are you sure you’re okay about - well, you know.  I’ve no problem kipping down here.’

Amy shook her head. ‘Stop worrying. It’s fine. As long as you promise not to...’

‘Promise. You can trust me. I think I’m too tired to do anything, in any case,’ he laughed.

Amy yawned. ‘Good night, then, and thanks again.’

‘No worries. Night.’

As she passed him on her way to the bedroom, she reached up and gently kissed Tom on the cheek. She smelt good. Tom smiled and let his hand brush down the side of her arm.

After she had gone to bed, Tom switched on the television, quickly turned the volume down low, and surfed the channels. After a while, he settled on a re-run of an old seventies comedy.  He watched for twenty minutes or so, then he had had enough. Rubbing his eyes, he switched the television off. Checked and double-checked the windows and door. He checked his phone to see if there had been any response from Jane, a missed call or text message, but there had been none. He switched off the living room   light and walked back to the window. Slowly moved the curtains and looked down onto the street. The road was quiet: cars parked all along both sides of the road; no pedestrians. A couple of cars passed by and he could hear the sound of a train in the distance. After checking all the locks again, he went to the bathroom, and then to bed.

Amy was fast asleep, lying on her front, her head and hands resting on her pillow. She looked as if she had fallen asleep as soon as she had got into bed. He got undressed and slipped under the covers as quietly as he could. He lay still in bed, listening. Listening to the faint rumble of traffic from the main road, a car door slamming somewhere, Amy’s gentle breathing.

What a day for her: no wonder she was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. As he was thinking about her, he could smell her perfume again, and realised he was getting aroused. Not unexpected: there was no denying she was physically attractive, and vulnerable. Last night, she turned over and they slept holding each other. Would she do the same tonight, he wondered. If so, would it go any further?  He had no intention of abusing her trust, but if she started things, what then?  Pondering all the possible scenarios, Tom drifted off to sleep himself.

*****

It was still dark when he woke. He would normally wake about seven, and at that time of year it was still dark then, but there was already a lot of traffic noise from outside. This time it was silent outside. He sat up and squinted at the clock radio he bizarrely kept on a dresser. The display read 02:55. He groaned, turned on his side, and patted the pillow before settling down to get back to sleep. The smell of Amy’s scent was on the bedclothes: half asleep, he realised that she was not there. He sat up quickly. He put his hand on where she had been sleeping: it was still warm. Hurriedly he got out of bed, various thoughts passed through his head: he dreamt that she came back with him; the albino had broken in and taken her; she had second thoughts about everything, got up in the middle of the night and gone home.

As he wandered into the living room he saw that none of these was the case. She was sitting as she had done at her place the night before: on the floor, leaning back against the sofa, holding her raised knees. The living room light was off and she was bathed in the light coming from the kitchen.

‘Sorry to disturb you,’ she said.

‘You didn’t,’ he said softly. ‘Back in a mo.’

A quick bathroom visit later, he joined her on the floor.

‘This situation seems familiar,’ he said.

‘How so?’ she asked, looking at him puzzled.

‘I seem to recall us sitting in your living room just like this last night.’

She thought for a moment, and then said, ‘So we did.’ Then laughed softly and rested her head on his shoulders. He put his arm round her. He was about to lean round and kiss her but decided against it.

‘Couldn’t sleep again?’ he asked.

‘No. I’d been awake for about an hour. I’m so tired, but couldn’t get back to sleep.’

‘A lot on your mind?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, sitting up as Tom retrieved his arm. ‘Tom, when I got called into Fleming’s office and I saw that white haired guy, I was really scared. And that look on his face when I was in the lift...’

‘I know. I think I got that same look when we bumped into each other in that Gents. It was if he - I don’t know - was so pissed off that I came out when I did and he was rumbled.’

‘Rumbled?’

‘Well, if we assume he was following us, he must have needed a leak himself, otherwise why follow me in there? He could have waited outside.’

‘I’m glad he didn’t.’

‘Quite. But once we’d met, there was no way he could have carried on following us.’

‘I keep thinking - what if he had got into the lift after all. There was nobody else in there, and he could have...’

She started to cry. Tom put his arm back round her and pulled her closer. ‘It’s all right. You’re safe now. You’re safe here. It’s okay,’ he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

She turned and looked up at him through her tears. She sat up slightly and her lips brushed gently against his. She tasted as good as she smelt. With his free hand, he stroked her cheek and then her chin. After a moment, however, he pulled away.

‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ he said, sitting back onto the sofa.

Amy sat back too, sniffed and wiped her eyes. ‘No, you’re right,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’

‘Stop apologizing. Let’s go back to bed. Back to sleep.’

Amy swallowed and nodded, wiping her eyes again.

‘Come on then,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her back into the bedroom. ‘At least we’ll respect each other in the morning.’

They climbed into bed and settled back down. Tom lay there for a moment, and then realised the kitchen light was still on. He couldn’t be bothered to turn the light off. He turned on his side and into a foetal position. From her breathing pattern, he could tell Amy was still awake, but decided it was best to lie there in silence. Very nearly, he thought, but it didn’t seem right at that time. He didn’t want to screw things up.

*****

When Tom woke again, it was daylight, and there was plenty of traffic outside. The clock radio said 9:48.

‘Jesus,’ Tom exclaimed, shooting out of bed.

Amy had been fast asleep: Tom’s sudden movement woke her up. She stirred, raised herself so she was leaning on one elbow, and rubbed her eyes. ‘What time is it?’ she asked, sleepily.

‘Nearly ten,’ said Tom, indicating over to the clock.

‘That late?’ she said. ‘We must have been tired. I haven’t slept in like this for ages.’

‘Me neither,’ Tom replied. ‘But neither of us is going into work today, so there’s no rush to get up.’

‘No, there isn’t,’ she said, lying back down again.

‘I’ll get in the shower first,’ he said. ‘Then I’ll fix some breakfast while you get up.’

They were eating breakfast at ten thirty. Amy took another mouthful of toast. ‘Did you hear anything from Lisa’s sister?’

‘I hadn’t when I went to bed,’ he said through a mouthful of toast, as he stood up and walked into the living room. Picked up the phone and walked back into the kitchen, checking the screen.

‘No, nothing from her,’ he said, sitting down again. ‘Unusual for Jane. I seem to recall she was pretty good at returning calls. Let’s try again.’

He redialled. Again, it went to voicemail.

‘Hi, Jane,’ he said. ‘Me again. Not sure if you picked up the message I left last night. Just wondering if I could pop round and take a look through Lisa’s stuff. Just after one thing. And if you do still have the key to her place, could I borrow that as well? Explain why and all that when we speak. So give us a call back when you can. Cheers.’

‘Well,’ he said, putting the phone down, ‘we’ll just have to wait for her to come back to me. Again.’

‘Is she likely to say no?’

‘I can’t think of any reason why she should. She wasn’t happy about the verdict and the idea that Lisa committed suicide.’

He paused and swallowed.

‘You okay?’ Amy asked, putting her hand on his wrist.

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ he said, sniffing.

‘You must have been upset by it all,’ she said.

‘Upset? Yes, I was. Still am, I guess.  Not burst into tears upset, although there was a bit of that. Just - just angry I guess at what happened to her. Whatever did happen, somebody caused it, and there’s no way they’re going to get away with it.’

His voice started to tremble as he finished the sentence. Amy squeezed his wrist. ‘Sorry I brought it up,’ she said. ‘Insensitive of me.’

‘It’s okay. Don’t mind me. Now: to change the subject - more toast?’

‘No more for me, thanks. It’ll soon be lunchtime anyway.’

‘Lunch?’ Tom grinned. ‘Coffee break first.’

‘What are you going to do about work?’ Tom asked, as he cleared away the breakfast things.

‘Shit!’ Amy exclaimed suddenly.

‘What’s up?’

‘I meant to call in sick,’ she said, reaching for her bag and fishing out her phone. ‘I probably won’t ever go back, but just in case...’

She dialled and waited. It was over a minute before somebody answered.

‘Oh, Theresa,’ she said, looking up at Tom. ‘It’s Amy. I should have phoned in earlier, but I’ve been up all night. Can you tell Gerald I won’t be in today? Some sort of stomach bug. Sickness and diarrhoea. Will be a couple of days at least.’

‘..........’

‘All right, thanks. See you soon.’

Amy hung up and put the phone away again.

‘Well?’ asked Tom.

‘Theresa’s one of the other girls there. She’ll tell Gerald. Thank God it wasn’t him who answered.’

‘Hmm,’ agreed Tom. ‘Well, at least you’ve got yourself a little breathing space. Both of us have. Couple of days now, then it’s the weekend. Hopefully, that should -’

He was interrupted by the sound of his phone.

‘It’s Jane,’ he said, picking up and answering. ‘Hi, Jane,’ he said. ‘Thanks for getting back to me.’

‘..........’

‘I’m just looking into something concerning Lisa, and I wondered if there was anything in her personal effects concerning her work.’

‘..........’

‘It could be anything. Won’t know until I see it.’

‘..........’

‘Well, that’s why if you’ve still got the key to her place, I’d like to look over it. There might be something there.’

‘..........’

‘Jane, you don’t believe that Lisa jumped. We’re just trying to get to the bottom of it.’

‘..........’

‘We? Oh, I’m with someone Lisa worked with. She agrees with me that it was no accident.’

‘..........’

‘But that’s all the more reason -’

‘..........’

‘But Jane, listen. Jane?’

Tom stood staring at the phone, then slowly ended the call and sat down.

‘I can’t believe it,’ he said slowly.

‘Can’t believe what? What did she say?’

‘She said no.’