“Did he always come to you as a client?”
“Not always. Sometimes we’d arrange to meet in town, or in London or Portsmouth.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Two days ago, why? We’re meeting again tomorrow, though. He’s bought tickets to the Royal Ballet.”
“Oh.” Meinwen took a deep breath. “I’m ever so sorry, Catherine, but I’ve some bad news.”
“What sort of bad news?” Her face creased as she frowned. “What’s he done?”
“It’s not what he’s done. He’s dead, Catherine. Someone killed him last night. The police are trying to trace you.”
“You’re lying.”
“I promise I’m not. He was in a lot of debt. It’s possible he owed a lot of money to the wrong people...”
Catherine shook her head. “No. It’s not possible. He was sorting everything out. He was going to sell the rights to all his father’s work and pay off all his debts. Then he was going to offer The Larches to Jean and her precious daughter and leave them to it. We were going to go away together and travel Europe. Start a new life in London or abroad, away from all the constant bickering and the god-awful black hole of despair that is Laverstone.”
“He was going to sell his father’s work?” Meinwen reached across to put a hand on Catherine’s arm. “That could be a motive. Was Jean aware of this?”
“How should I know?” Catherine shook off her hand and stood. “That was all sorted out. Richard’s told me he was going to sign his father’s work over as soon as the payment cleared. He’s perfectly fine. You’re making all this up. Get out.”
“Honestly, I’m not. He was identified by Detective-inspector White but they need someone to verify it. Please, Catherine. Who was Richard making a deal with? This is vitally important? You might know who killed him.”
“Get out before I call for security.” She grabbed a crop from the coffee table and brandished it at Meinwen. “I don’t know why you’re saying such horrible things. I thought you were my friend.”
“I am.” Meinwen edged past her toward the door.
“Just get out. Don’t come here again.”
Meinwen took one more look at the rage on the younger woman’s face, picked up her coat and bag and fled.
Chapter 29
Meinwen stumbled past the reception desk, her eyes brimming with tears. She held up a hand to forestall Andrew when she saw him about to speak and pushed through the hotel doors into the night. She stood to one side of the doors to prevent the receptionist seeing her and coming out to make conversation. She fished in her bag for a handkerchief and dabbed the tears away then took several deep breaths of the cold air, the damp suggesting there would be more rain before the night was out.
She looked up and down the road before leaving the safety of the hotel. Mill Street looked deserted but there were plenty of shadows between the parked cars and the low walls of front gardens. She pulled her coat around her and stepped onto the pavement, heading toward the town center.
By the time she reached the end of street she had the nagging feeling of being followed. She used the pretext of checking for traffic before she crossed Markham Road and looked behind. There! Was that a figure by the railings near where they’d parked this morning? She hurried on, grateful for her sensible boots. Stilettos were all very well for the dominatrix who only had to travel as far as the bathroom but give her a pair of sturdy waterproof boots and she’d be happy.
A glance behind showed the figure had followed her. Was she about to be mugged or worse? She was walking against the traffic, the headlights of cars blinding her as they approached and passed, miniature rainbows coruscating across her vision in the vapor-rich air. A number twelve bus appeared in the distance and Meinwen racked her brains to remember where a number twelve went. Chervil Circus! If she hurried, she might be able to catch it as it turned a full circle and headed back into Laverstone.
She began to run.
Behind her the man following sped up as well. He was faster than her and wasn’t weighed down with a voluminous bag. Not that she’d consider dropping it. Much of her day-to-day life was in that bag. If her house burned down, she’d be upset but if she lost her bag...Meinwen shook her head. She didn’t even want to consider the possibility.
The footsteps behind pounded against the pavement and she put more effort into running, clutching the bag against her chest to prevent it either banging into her or being grabbed as an easier means of getting her to stop. Her feet clumped against the ground, her heavy boots forcing her stride to be shorter than she’d have liked. She could hear his breath now, an easy pant as opposed to her own desperate gasping.
She tried to remember what she’d been taught at the self-defense class. She was always confidant there but faced with the imminent prospect of being attacked the knowledge slipped away like a dream in the morning light.
Was it KISS? Knee, instep, shin and...er...something else? She remembered punching upward for the throat and the windpipe, rear head-butt, elbow to the ribs. Using a key as an ad hoc weapon helped but her keys were in her bag and she hadn’t the time to pull them out. What else? Oh yes.
“Fire! Fire!” She shouted at the top of her voice. If she called for help, chances were people would ignore her rather than risk getting involved, but shout “fire” and people generally came out to either help or see the show, and these days take videos to upload to the internet. She would have been better off if she’d stayed on a residential street, though.
She veered left into Chervil Circus. Surely there would be someone willing to help there? The area was full of students and people who had bought into the idea of “urban renewal” in the seventies. She could see the bus on the other side of the roundabout. Too far away to hear her at the moment but give it half a minute and it’d be on this side heading for the bus stop. Flagging it down would be quicker than running as far as Jimmy’s flat. Just a little further and–
She felt a shove from one side and went careening to her right, tripping over the uneven paving slabs and sprawling onto the patch of rough wet grass between the road and the access path to the first maisonette. She gasped and rolled onto all fours, scrabbling to get away. She saw her attacker’s shadow as he loomed over her and a sharp pain flared in her ribs.
It took the wind right out of her and she collapsed onto her stomach. All her training went with it leaving her with nothing but “Please? You don’t have to do this. Do you want money? I can get you money.” She twisted to see her attacker but got a punch in the face for her trouble. She cried out as the taste of blood flooded her mouth. “Please...” She was vaguely aware of the bus pulling away without stopping.
Her attacker picked up her bag and upturned it. He snatched her purse from the pile and pulled out her last remaining cash and her bank card. “What’s the pin number for this?”
If she’d retained any rational thought, she’d have told him saying “pin number” was needless repetition but all that came out of her mouth was, “Three-six-two-four.”
She saw the flash of teeth as he smiled and he dived to pick up her phone. “Please? Not my phone.”
Her plea went unanswered as he shoved it deep into the pocket of his coat and his hand snaked down again to snag a paper bag. “’Shrooms? Who’s a naughty girl then?”
“No, don’t. They’re not what you think–”
She received another kick for her trouble but just as she was about to give up entirely there was a shouted “Oy.”
Another set of feet pounded the pavement and her attacker leaped over her and ran off. The heavier tread gave brief chase then stopped and returned. A shadow blocked her vision, a massive frame outlined against the lit street.
“Are you all right, love?”
“Not really.” She managed a weak smile but winced when it pulled at the side of her mouth. “But I’d have been a lot worse if you hadn’t come along.”
“Yeah. Sorry I wasn’t here quicker.”
“Will you call the police, please? He took my things...”
“No police, love. I can’t afford to have the police nosing into my business.” He squatted next to her. “Are you hurt? Can you get up?”
“I think so.” Meinwen held out a hand and he pulled her upright. She hissed with the sudden pain. “Broken rib, I think. He kicked me.”
“Did you see who did it?”
“No. It was dark. It all happened so fast.”
“You need to get to a hospital. Have you got a phone?”
“No. He took it.” Meinwen pointed. “Can you help me to walk over there? My friend lives there.”
“Sure.” He gathered her belongings up and helped her as far as the short path at the front of the block. “Are you sure you’ll be okay from here?”
“Yes. Thank you. You should get a reward Mr.–”
“No names. Sorry.” He patted a pocket. “Can’t afford the police wanting a chat, see?”
Meinwen nodded and, clutching her bag once more, stumbled as far as the door to number eight. She leaned on the bell. She couldn’t think of any particular god to call on so she prayed to any that might be listening that Jimmy would be in. There was no reply.
She tried the bell for flat one, bursting into tears when she heard a woman’s voice answer, even though it was just a tentative “Hello?”
“Mrs. Rogers? It’s Meinwen Jones. From flat five? We met a couple of days ago. Please would you call an ambulance? I’ve been attacked.”
Chapter 30
Meinwen fumbled the key into the lock on her front door. Her fingertips, several covered in plasters from where she’d lost the skin last night, tingled unpleasantly. She pulled at the black iron latch and pushed inside. It was good to be home.
“Ah! The wanderer returns. How was your walk of shame then?” Dafydd called from the kitchen. “What happened to you last night? ‘I just have to make a couple of calls’ you said but when I came out of the kitchen you were gone. No note, nothing.” He appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a tea towel but his face fell as he saw the state she was in. “
Ach-a-fi
, pet, what happened?”
“I was mugged.” Meinwen waved her bandaged hand as she sank into an armchair. “It looks worse than it is. Don’t you fret.”
“Who? I’ll bloody kill the bastard.” The tea towel suffered the possible fate of the culprit as he twisted it through his hands. “Just give me the nod and I’ll do for him.”
“I don’t know. It was dark. I couldn’t see his face. I’ve been at the hospital all night.” She attempted a smile that seemed to curdle before it was done. “I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea, though.”
“Aye. Coming up.” Dafydd ducked under the low lintel to the kitchen but paused. “A proper tea, you mean? With milk?”
“And a spoonful of that sugar you sneaked in.” Meinwen leaned back and closed her eyes. “Just this once.”
“Right you are, love.” He seemed to be only gone for a moment before he was nudging Meinwen awake again. “Here you go. Get outside of that. It’ll do you the world of good.”
“Thanks, Dafydd.” Meinwen struggled to sit properly upright and took the mug from him, balancing it on the arm of the chair whilst she altered her grip on it, the plasters on her fingers not conductive to maintaining a good hold. “Biscuits too?” She smiled up at him as she took one from the plate. “I’m surprised there are any left the way you were going through them yesterday.”
“I bought an extra packet.” Dafydd perched on the arm of the settee. “What did they say at the hospital? How badly are you hurt?”
“I’ll live.” She took a sip of the tea and cast about for somewhere to put it down. Dafydd pushed an occasional table toward her and she lowered it to the surface, heedless of the lack of a mat. “Two broken ribs and a bucketful of scrapes and bruises.” She looked at her hand. “I still don’t remember how I damaged my fingers.”
“But you’re all right? Not in pain?”
“Pain?” She began to laugh but it hurt her ribs. She coughed instead. “Yes, plenty of pain but not right this minute.” She gestured to her bag. “They gave me codeine.”
“Oh yes?” He fished in her bag and pulled a packet out. The foil blister pack had been cut to leave sixteen tablets. “When did you last have some?”
“I haven’t yet. They said to take them if it got unbearable.”
“So you didn’t take them.” Dafydd shook his head as he read the dosage instructions. “What are you like?”