A Death to Remember (27 page)

I
lifted her on to my shoulder, head and arms dangling behind me. The throb in the floor seemed to mislead my feet, and I had difficulty finding the door. The staircase was a monstrous obstacle. I tended to fall forwards but dared not, nor dared to lean backwards in case I banged her head on the stairs behind. I reached the concrete surface and turned, heading round, now, for the gate.

There,
just inside, was her Volkswagen Golf. If I’d used this gate earlier...if...if. I pushed it open and almost sprawled face down, but staggered across the forecourt and to the pavement, laying her down with her head on my greasy jacket. She still held the book in her fingers, desperately.

It
was then, as I bent over her, that the cylinder blew. I heard it first, and crouched low, looking back. The roof of the rear building lifted, then flew apart, and as I watched, the front of the self-service shop blew out, and a wave of solid air and glass splinters hit me and threw me sprawling across Nicola’s still body. There was a clattering sound as parts fell all round me, a crash as a corrugated sheet of iron whirled past me into the road, then it all tinkled down into silence.

I
lay still. Everything that mattered to me lay beneath me on the pavement.

18

I did nothing, apart from gradually raising myself to a sitting position, and making Nicola more comfortable. The explosion did it all, brought the Fire Service, ambulance, police. Brought Bill Porter.

By
that time Nicola was conscious. She smiled at me. I kissed her, and said we’d never be parted again, which was a bit stupid because they were just about to rush her into hospital, but she knew what I meant. Seeing it was me, she released her precious Day Work Book.

I
showed it to Bill. There it was, BMW 525 – No. CWS 73 P – due for intake 5.30 on 6/11/84. My car, at that time Val’s, being brought in by Michael Orton.

‘
Proof?’ he said. ‘Never. It means nothing. Besides...look at that.’ He prodded a finger. ‘It was actually brought in the day after.’

‘P
ut it all together...’

‘
We’ll question him, of course.’

I
seized him angrily by the arm. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You know I hate him, so you believe I’ve made all this up.’

‘
Get some rest, Cliff, you look terrible.’ He gently detached my fingers. ‘I’ll run you home.’

I
was disgusted with him, bent and gathered my jacket, for what good it might be, the statement, the empty envelope...except that it wasn’t empty.

‘
Hold on,’ I said. ‘Look at this.’

He
’d been standing back, looking at the wrecked garage. His glance at me lacked interest. ‘You’ve told me all about the statement.’

‘
This,’ I said, waving the envelope under his nose. ‘Tessa’s writing on it – the phone number. But it’s sealed, Bill. I think you’d better open it, it feels bulky.’

He
took it from me, weighed it in his hand, raised his eyebrows, then produced his penknife. He slit it open with care, giving the action weight and importance, and slipped his fingers inside.

‘
Money,’ he said. He flipped through them. ‘Sixty notes, in fifties. Cliff, there’s three thousand pounds here.’

I
took a deep breath. ‘You did say six hundred didn’t seem much for a consignment of heroin, Bill. There’s your answer.
That
was what I was supposed to hand over to George. There were two envelopes all the time. And...’ I whistled at the thought. ‘...Tessa told me she’d been able to
replace
it. Well now...fancy that.’

Tessa
had been milking the firm for cash to maintain George’s habit, and for the rent of the room at 17C Rock Street. But she’d also managed to raise £3,000 to cover George’s loss of the consignment, and then, when that disappeared, a further £3,000. And yet, over the past year, the garage had had a face-lift, and was showing a profit. No wonder Tony had been concerned. He had known of her affair with Michael Orton, and had almost dismissed it with contempt. That contempt must have covered a greater worry, though he could only have guessed at the truth.

Tessa
had known too much about the death of Colin Rampton. Had she, then, been handling a continuing affair with a man she was at the same time blackmailing? Perhaps she had even claimed she had George’s statement about the accident. That would have been a dangerous business. It is always risky to blackmail a murderer. I wondered how she had been prepared to lie beside him, with his hands so close to her throat.

The
sudden thought that he must have been genuinely in love with her shot through my mind. In that case, what would it have cost him to blast her to death with a shotgun?

I
decided I ought to ask him about that.

‘
I’ll take charge of this,’ said Bill, meaning the money. ‘I’ll run you home.’

‘
No.’

‘
The hospital, then.’

But
I needed my own transport. I shook my head. ‘Nicola’s Golf is round the side. Have you looked at it?’

‘
You can’t use that.’

‘
She won’t mind.’

‘
Without permission, it’d be theft.’

‘
What’s the matter with you, Bill? You trying to find an excuse to get me inside? I’m not taking a powder. Is that what you’d call it?’

He
grunted. ‘Nobody does. You’re living in the past.’ Quietly and impassively, he was furious. ‘Let’s go and look at it.’

The
Golf was still standing squarely on its four wheels. Apart from a dent in the roof and a smashed rear window it seemed all right. The keys were in the ignition. I climbed in and tried it, and the engine fired first touch.

‘
I’ll use it,’ I said.

Bill
grimaced, but he went and lifted open the gate, which had been blown off its top hinge.

At
that time of night the parking meters in the centre of town were only sparsely occupied. I parked, got out, and walked along the line. Orton’s Rover was there.

I
approached his office block from the other side of the square. His office would be on the twelfth floor. No windows were lit, as the building was entirely offices. Not discouraged, I crossed to the main entrance. The doors were locked, the lobby dark apart from a small light above the reception desk. I walked round the building, into the alleyway called Shepherd’s Fold, and found the rear entrance. Each resident would have his own key. I touched the door, and it was open.

That
was interesting. Had he left it open for me, thinking I might hunt him out – always assuming I was alive to do so? I went inside, and closed it behind me. At the far end of the corridor there was a tiny light, which I found to be the indicator light for a service lift. I pressed the UP button and the doors slid open.

The
twelfth floor corridor was dark, though street lighting seeped through the glass-fronted office doors. Michael Orton Associates had a suite. Four doors, the end one of which bore his own name: S. Michael Orton. It was half open. I pushed it, and walked in.

I
could see the shape of his shadow outlined against the window behind him. He was sitting at his desk, his double windows flung open. The paltry sounds of the town centre drifted up.

‘
In the dark?’ I asked, reaching for his switch.

The
overhead light was gentle and diffused. He was in his swivel chair, a bottle at his elbow, a glass cradled in both hands. He looked at me calmly, but already the drink had dulled his responses.

‘
It seemed appropriate for what I was contemplating,’ he said in a dead voice.

He
wasn’t drunk; he’d managed that last word perfectly. I looked round. It was a large office, with a fitted carpet and vintage car prints to break up the flat surfaces of the walls. He had a leather easy chair in front of the desk, and a long leather settee against the side wall, both in green to match the carpet. But his desk dominated the room, a massive slab of teak on chromed legs.

I
nodded towards the opened windows. ‘You heard it?’

He
grimaced, inclining his head. ‘Even from here. That wasn’t the reason...’ And stopped.

‘
No,’ I agreed, lowering myself into the easy chair. It almost succeeded in lulling me into friendliness, but not quite. ‘It didn’t work, you know. Nicola’s alive, and we have the Day Work Book.’

‘
We?’

‘
The police. Sergeant Porter, to be precise.’

He
twisted his lips into a sour smile. ‘And now?’

‘
I’d expect the Fraud Squad people, if I were you. Bill Porter didn’t say much, but he hasn’t got any alternative. I’m assuming that was how it started. Fraud. Had to be something like that, otherwise Colin Rampton wouldn’t have had to die.’

He
leaned forward. ‘Advice for you, Cliff. If you’re ever in a position to take on assistants, never employ a person who’s cleverer than you. Rampton got on to it inside a couple of months. I was in deep trouble at that time, and he just about floored me.’

‘
Blackmail?’

‘
He simply suggested it was time he had a pay rise. I doubled his salary. He suggested I should treble it. They’re never satisfied. And that was just for the fraud.’

‘
There was more?’

‘
It started with fraudulent conversion. It’s so easy for an accountant. We handle investments for our bigger customers, and all you have to do is borrow a bit here and there, playing the stock market with their money. Grand if it works. They need never know. If it doesn’t – and in my case I lost one packet after the other – then you have to feed one client’s funds to cover the other’s losses, and by then you’re only playing for time.’

‘
But fortunately, there was Val.’

‘
Ah yes. Valerie. Dear Valerie, she just loved bailing me out – and owning me. But even she’s never known about the drugs.’

I
slid down into the leather, shoulders down and knees up. It was a surprise, but I pretended it wasn’t.

‘
Was this before or after the marriage?’

‘
Oh...long before. I was approached. Lord, how did they get to know I was desperate for money! A partner was needed, one with a fluid access to money and looking for quick profits. That was me. I found the capital and shared the profits. My partner’s been scrupulously fair with me – until that idiot George Peters lost a consignment. The supplier wanted his money. Three thousand. That consignment would’ve fetched fifty thousand on the streets. My partner was livid. George had to pay, he said. So George was pressured – oh, not by me, by our street agents – I never came near the actual handling aspect of it.’

He
took a drink to clear his voice. He seemed to think he’d produced something in his favour. I said nothing.

‘
So of course,’ he went on, ‘Tessa had to find it for George, and so Tessa pressured
me
, and I supplied the money myself. Go on, you can laugh. It’s funny, Cliff, so stupidly funny.’

I
didn’t feel like laughing. ‘And
that
was lost?’

He
grimaced. ‘You were supposed to be carrying it, and you weren’t. Nor the statement that that idiot George had made out. But I took your keys. You can see, I had to search your car for them.’

‘
And you had to find a home for George’s body?’

‘
That too.’ He shrugged. ‘I seemed to be stuck with that damned car. I’d had to put it out of action, to delay you, and give me time to get to George, and persuade him to sign a withdrawal. Then I had to get back to your office to wait for you, but there was no statement in your briefcase, and nothing on you, and no bloody money, so I had to take your keys and go back and search the Volvo. They’d got it round the back by that time, so I had a clear run at it. Nothing in the Volvo – but you know that. But by that time I’d got George’s body in the boot of my Rover, and I had to unload him somewhere, so the Volvo’s boot was the obvious place.’

He
stopped. The memory of that night still harrowed his face.

‘
It wouldn’t start when I tried it,’ I prodded gently.

He
gave a short, dry laugh. ‘The old potato trick, stuck in the exhaust. I’d heard it worked, but I’d never tried it.’

‘
It works.’

‘
And when I finally left it, I pulled a wire loose, just to make it look good.’

‘
Got it all worked out,’ I commented.

‘
A mind for detail,’ he said complacently. ‘An accountant’s mind.’

‘
And the keys?’

‘
Hung ‘em on the rack, when I was round there, a day or two later.’ He glared at me. ‘What’s so damned funny?’

I
straightened my face. ‘When you did that, you were only a yard from the envelope of money
and
the statement Peters made.’

‘
That blasted statement! Tessa told me later that she’d got it.’

‘
As she had, I suppose, though she didn’t know it.’

‘
Oh God! Why did she insist? But, statement or not, too many people knew, and from then on it just grew. When you came back to the real world, and started working on your memory, things seemed to fall apart. I’d raised the three thousand again, though of course there was Val’s money to draw on then. But Tessa had got her teeth in. She wanted more and more. For the garage, that was, as a special gift for Tony when he came out of prison. She said something ought to be done for Tony.’

He
was silent, contemplating what he’d done for Tony. I spoke gently.

‘
I wonder she dared.’

The
glass banged down on the desk surface, spirit splashing out and ruining the polish. ‘Don’t take that tone with me. I’m warning you.’