Blood Ties (26 page)

‘He's not been here in several days, according to neighbours.'

‘Any of them talk to him?'

‘Only to say good morning, that sort of thing. They said the dad kept himself to himself in recent years. Sullen was the way one described him, which, when you reckon people don't like speaking ill of the dead, probably tells us something.'

Blezzard nodded and he and Alec went inside. The house was cold and Alec was reminded of Eddy's place after just a few days of non-occupancy. It didn't take long for the chill to set in or the sense of abandonment. Unlike Mrs Symonds' place, which was neat and tidy to the point of emptiness, this little house was crammed. Newspapers scattered across the coffee table. Abandoned mugs on the floor. Pizza boxes from the local takeaway on the kitchen counters.

Gavin had been camping here, not actually moving in. Alec wondered what it had looked like before. Glancing at the shelves he noted books and music and films in various formats. An ageing video recorder sat beneath the television, a DVD player resting on top. Cable television, represented by a black plastic box set beneath the video. The books were leftovers from Mel Symonds, he guessed, unless Gavin or his father liked romances and family sagas. He was struck by the same lost-in-time feel that had pervaded Eddy's house. Another man stuck in a time warp, he thought, but with the difference that Eddy's had been because he wanted to record the best of times. Symonds' because, from the appearance of things, he was holding on to the worst.

Blezzard called to him from the kitchen. It was larger than Alec expected, the house having at some time been extended and the kitchen also knocked through into the coal hole and old outside toilet. There was still a fire grate, and that surprised him. In Eddy's rural location the use of open fires seemed appropriate, but he'd rarely seen an urban terraced property that had kept its grate, especially not in the kitchen.

‘I'm guessing this is what set the cat among the birds,' Blezzard said, pointing to the stacks of paperwork and the two supermarket bags set on the kitchen table.

Alec looked, slipping on gloves and sifting through one stack, which turned out to be birthday cards. In each one was written, ‘Another year, another birthday she didn't get to have.'

Christmas cards had the same message.

‘Presents,' Blezzard said, inspecting the bags. ‘And letters, newspaper clippings. There's a form of service from the funerals and obituaries for the four kids.'

Alec took the papers as Blezzard passed them to him. He noted the one identical to that which he'd found in Karen's dressing gown pocket and wondered again what made it so unusual that Eddy had been moved to separate it out and keep it from the rest. Skimming the others, he found that it seemed to be the only one that made any mention of a drunk driver being picked up or any real speculation of what may have happened had help been summoned at once. Was that what made it special; added to its potency?

‘I can imagine something like this would have worn anyone down,' Blezzard said. ‘It would have been easier on him if he'd come and confessed. Served his time, been out of jail again by now.'

‘He got locked in,' Alec said. ‘Set the course of action that first day and couldn't see a way back out. I think Eddy did the same, though for Eddy this became the thing that kept him going. It makes you think, doesn't it?'

‘In particular?'

‘Well, if Eddy hadn't died the night. If he'd had to go on living in a world with no James Symonds, no one left to blame or to persecute, how long do you think he'd have carried on? So, what now. Can we take this lot back with us?'

‘
I
can take this lot back with me, if that's what you mean.'

Alec chuckled. ‘Force of habit. That's what I meant, of course.'

They waited while a uniformed officer listed and tagged the material Blezzard would be taking away, then, armed with a half-dozen evidence bags, they turned back for home.

‘You'd better call that wife of yours,' Blezzard said. ‘Stop at the next services and I'll get us both a coffee.'

Alec nodded, abruptly aware that he really needed one. He was weary now, as tired as he'd been when he'd first driven down here. The work tiredness he had hoped to leave behind was once more enveloping him, bringing home to him just how much he really was ready for a change.

At the services just outside of Bristol they stopped and Alec tried Naomi's phone, got no reply. He tried Susan's, thinking they would still be at The Lamb, and again received no reply.

Kevin picked up. ‘No,' he said. ‘They left about an hour ago. Susan was still upset and Naomi suggested she'd be better off at home. The policewoman left and I promised to hang on here until the evening staff arrived. She can't afford not to open tonight, so I'm just holding the fort.'

‘So, Naomi is at the B&B?'

‘No, sorry, she left with Susan. She said to tell you to pick her up from there when you got back. I think you've got a very expensive dinner to buy,' he added slyly.

‘Oh, I'd bet on it. Thanks, Kevin. Give me the address, will you, and do you have the phone number?'

Alec wrote them down, accepted a large takeaway coffee cup from Blezzard, who'd just come back to the car.

‘Problem?' Blezzard asked.

‘Susan and Naomi have gone to Susan's place. Neither is picking up the phone. Susan's probably driving and Naomi's phone is probably in the bottom of her bag and her bag somewhere on the back seat. I'll try Susan's home phone; they might be there by now.'

No response there either.

‘They might have gone for a coffee or a walk or something,' Blezzard said, but he could see Alec was concerned. ‘Look, I'll get someone to swing by, just to make sure.'

Alec nodded his thanks and started the engine; the strongest feeling that something was very wrong had settled on his shoulders. ‘Here,' he said, passing Blezzard the phone number for Susan's flat. ‘Keep trying, will you?'

‘Alec, I'm sure they're fine.'

‘Are you? Well, humour me. Please.'

Blezzard shrugged. ‘Consider yourself humoured,' he said. ‘I'll get Dean to call round too,' he added, and Alec looked sharply in his direction.

‘So, you're sure they're fine, are you?'

Blezzard shrugged again. ‘Doesn't hurt to have a backup plan, does it?'

TWENTY-NINE

‘
A
re you sure you're OK to drive? We can ask Kevin . . .?'

‘No, I'll be fine. You're right, I will be better off at home. Thanks for coming with me, though.'

‘You don't know it's him,' Naomi reinforced.

‘Well, who else is it going to be in Brian's car? I don't get it, though, he was a good driver. How fast would he have to go for the car to blow up or whatever it did?'

Naomi said nothing. Susan seemed unable to even countenance the idea that Brian's death was not accidental, and no one had pushed the other theory – that the cause was more sinister – but Naomi had heard it in Blezzard's voice. Had felt it in Alec's attitude. Something wasn't right. Something in the way the car had burned, perhaps, which told them this wasn't a matter of a crash followed by the tank exploding.

On the back seat Napoleon huffed and snored. ‘At least he's happy,' Susan said, almost managing a laugh.

‘He has a contented nature,' Naomi agreed. ‘And pretty basic needs really. Uncomplicated.'

‘Pity humans can't be more like dogs. Oh, God, another funeral to arrange.'

Maybe they can do a two for one, Naomi thought, then chastised herself for flippancy and felt relief that she'd not said that out loud. Alec would have understood this need to break the tension; she doubted Susan would. ‘Surely this one won't be down to you? Doesn't Brian have family?'

‘He has a mother, but she lives abroad and he's not had much to do with her since she remarried. He didn't approve of her choice.' She laughed harshly. ‘God, but for a man with the morals of an alley cat, boy, could he be judgemental.'

‘No siblings?'

‘No, he was an only child, which probably explains a lot.'

‘Alec was an only child,' she said blandly.

‘Oh, I didn't mean . . . Only that . . .'

‘I know. Sorry, couldn't resist.'

‘Oh.'

Silence that was suddenly spiked with frost descended and Naomi groaned inwardly, wondering if it was too late to change her mind and to ask to be driven back to the B&B. Maybe she could feign a migraine or something. Instead she took refuge in sympathy again. ‘Do you have someone you can call, maybe go and stay with for a few days?'

‘Yeah, I suppose that might be a good idea. I'll have a think about it, but there's the pub to run and—'

‘And you were telling me what good staff you've got. They'd cope.'

‘I suppose they would.' The thought seemed to deflate her even more.

‘Just for a few days, anyway,' Naomi added. Lord, her tact seemed to be failing on her today . . . or was this just perverseness on Susan's part? Was she determined to take everything the wrong way? She reminded herself that Susan hadn't exactly had an easy time of it lately. She deserved a bit of a wallow.

‘We're here,' Susan said, sounding relieved. She waited for the traffic to clear and then made a sharp turn into the car park. ‘I'll just park up.' She steered carefully into her space and switched the engine off.

Right, Naomi thought. Hurry up and come back, Alec. I need a good dose of sanity and normality here.

Behind them a car engine sputtered into life. ‘Should we get Napoleon out first and then you or . . . What!'

‘Doesn't matter much. If there isn't much room then it's probably easier if I—'

‘Oh God!'

‘What is it?'

‘It's Gavin.'

The sound of the car engine, Naomi realized, had got louder. She'd registered it behind them, had assumed the car was turning or heading out of the car park. Now, she understood, it was directly behind Susan's car. ‘Stay calm, lock the doors and—'

Too late for that. The passenger door was jerked open and a strong, bony hand seized her by the arm. ‘Get out,' Gavin said. ‘You'd better get out too,' he told Susan.

‘Stay where you are and call the police,' Naomi told her, trying to keep as calm as she could.

‘I said get out.' A sharp point and the feel of cold metal against her throat.

‘Better do as he says,' she said grudgingly. ‘Gavin, this is a really stupid thing to do, you know that, don't you?'

‘Just do as you're told. I don't need an opinion.'

Naomi got out of the car, telling an anxiously whining Napoleon that he should stay. The last thing she wanted was to risk harm to the big black dog. She could hear Susan, whimpering and fearful, and a sudden wave of impatience overwhelmed her.
For God's sake, woman, I'm the one with the knife at her throat!

Actually, that qualified not just for impatience but for downright anger.

Naomi had been in tight spots before and against far more experienced and competent assailants than Gavin. She could feel his shaking, hear the tense, short breaths, and knew he really hadn't thought this through. He'd probably expected Susan to come back alone; Naomi was not part of the plan. She knew that what made the likes of Gavin dangerous was that they were totally unpredictable. Scared and overwhelmed, there was no telling what they might do in the heat of the moment.

‘Gavin, I'm not going anywhere, how about you put the knife down?' She tried very hard to sound calm; succeeded, she felt, only in sounding slightly strangled. The blade was cold against her skin and the hand that held it trembling so violently there was a real danger he might cut her without even meaning to.

Gavin tugged on her arm. Stretching out her fingers she could feel the glass in the windows of Susan's car. She remembered the care with which the other woman had parked and guessed there was only a small gap between this and the neighbouring vehicle. Experimentally, she pushed back against Gavin, pretending to stumble as he tugged on her arm. He moved, but only a little, barked at her to ‘watch it' and confirmed her guess about the small space. If she could get Susan to run, to get help, maybe they could gain back some control. Question was, would Susan take the hint?

Of course, there was always the danger that should Susan flee, Gavin would take it out on her, but Naomi thought it was worth the gamble. She couldn't resolve this alone and she didn't rate Susan as a useful companion in peril. The other woman was crying now; Naomi, uncharitably perhaps, was finding the sound just a bit annoying. She could well imagine that Gavin, nerves already stretched taut, would be even more irritated by it.

Gavin moved crabwise, dragging Naomi with him. ‘Get in my car,' he told Susan. ‘Get in my bloody car.'

Now or never, Naomi thought.

She reached out for Susan's car, then shoved back against Gavin, jerking her head away from the knife. She felt the painful crack as the back of her head hit his chin, felt him lose balance, just enough. She pulled sideways, against the pressure of his hand on her arm and shouted at Susan, ‘Run, dammit, get help, just bloody run.'

‘I can't!'

Oh, for fuck's sake
. ‘Susan. Run!'

Gavin had already recovered, tightening his hold on her and pressing the blade more tightly against her skin. She felt the prick and cut and the blood run, tried not to think about it. Tried to listen out for what Susan may have decided to do. Heard shuffling steps and then running feet, but she knew the moment was lost.