Authors: Fiona McIntosh
‘Four of them,’ Moss finally murmured. ‘That poor girl.’
‘Of course, we can’t be sure exactly,’ Sarah added. ‘These two cases certainly fit together nicely, and the timing is right, but it still remains hypothetical. We have nothing concrete to tie them together.’
He ignored her prevarication. ‘So Anne is hunting them down, eh? I told you there was something more to her, although it’s a long time to wait for vengeance.’
‘Colin, I think our DCI would appreciate being able to speak with you face to face,’ Kate said. ‘Fancy a trip to London?’
At his wry smile, she added, ‘What about your wife?’
‘Oh, she’ll be fine. Her sister and brother-in-law are staying with us at the moment — hence all the shortbread — so she won’t be alone. Er, do you mean now?’
‘Sooner the better,’ Kate admitted. ‘This does all sound a bit too neat to ignore as mere coincidence, and there’s the concern of a third corpse turning up. We’ve got a car here, so we could drive you into London now and have you brought back this evening by, say, eight o’clock. Is that going to suit?’
‘Let me go and change,’ Moss said. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to the Yard — can’t arrive at headquarters in my scruffies, can I?’ He grinned. ‘Eat those wretched biscuits, ladies, please, or I’ll have some explaining to do.’
20
Anne, having recovered her composure, watched, fascinated, as a much older Billy Fletcher emerged from the nursing home. He stretched on the stairs beneath the watery sunlight of this suddenly mild March day. Not that it would last, but it was uplifting to feel that soft warmth, she thought, as she saw Billy reach into his coat pocket and take out a box of cigarettes. He lit one, then dug into another pocket for his phone. He punched in a number, inhaled deeply on his cigarette, put the phone to his ear and waited for the connection. Billy looked even more handsome than Anne remembered; the lines of the decades had only added to his attractiveness. He wore his dark hair short and had a close-shaved beard. His clothes were expensive and stylish. All in all, he had the air of a confident, wealthy man.
Anne surreptitiously removed her wig, hid it in her bag and fingered her own hair into some order. She took off her coat and turned it inside out to change it from a cream trench coat to a chic black one. She added a silk scarf from her bag and took a moment to apply some lipstick and check the rest of her make-up. She needed to look good.
She could hear Billy wrapping up his conversation, so she walked across the grass and then the road as though she was going into the nursing home.
‘Billy Fletcher?’ she exclaimed, feigning amazement and stopping at the foot of the stairs that led up into the home.
He turned to her, phone still to his ear, his expression one of surprise. ‘Er, yeah,’ he stammered, then into the phone, ‘I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later.’
He frowned at Anne, a question in his eyes. ‘Sorry, do I know you?’
She laughed delightedly. ‘Oh, look closer, Billy? You should remember me from schooldays.’
He stared but his expression remained blank.
‘Okay, let me give you a clue. Does the nickname Bletch help?’
The recognition that finally came stretched across his face with a look of wonder. ‘Anne McEvoy? It can’t be.’
‘One and the same.’
‘Bloody hell! You look amazing.’ He clicked a button on his phone and slipped it back into his coat pocket.
‘Thank you,’ Anne said, all smiles.
‘What have you done to yourself?’ he asked, clearly impressed, his glance taking in the knee-length charcoal grey pencil skirt that showed off her slim, toned legs. She noticed how his eyes flicked to the tiny glimpse of cleavage she was deliberately showing, having undone the button on her silk lilac shirt as she crossed the road.
‘I grew up,’ she said.
He whistled. ‘But you were so fa—’ He stopped, embarrassed.
‘I know, you told me often enough.’ She stepped closer. ‘I’ve looked like this for years, although it’s harder to maintain these days. It’s quite a health routine, let me assure you.’ She laughed delightedly at his shocked expression. ‘When did we all get to be in our forties, eh?’
‘You look amazing,’ he repeated, unable to help himself. And then she saw his expression cloud as memories ghosted into his mind, reminding him of his former relationship with Anne McEvoy. ‘What are you doing here?’ he said carefully and she saw him swallow hard. No, Billy had not forgotten any of it.
‘I visit an old friend of the family infrequently. What about you?’
‘My dad’s in here.’
She smiled, ensuring he felt the full force of its warmth. ‘It must be fate — we were destined to meet.’ She glanced up the stairs, praying none of the nurses would see her. ‘Listen, are you free?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, are you rushing somewhere? Perhaps we could have a cup of coffee or something?’
‘Um . . .’ His gaze flicked nervously up and down the street. He looked embarrassed again.
‘Oh, come on, for old times’ sake. How often do you get to meet someone from your teenage years?’
‘Anne, it’s been a long time but I can’t help feeling odd about seeing you. I don’t really know what to say to you about . . .’ His voice trailed off, then, to his credit, he rallied. ‘About what happened all those years ago.’
‘You mean the rape?’
Billy blanched. ‘I . . . yes . . .’
‘Billy —’
‘It’s actually Edward these days.’ His voice was suddenly strained. More memories, no doubt. ‘I, er, I changed to my middle name. No one knows me as Billy these days — other than my dear old parents and they agreed to call me William.’ Again his gaze roved. He was feeling very awkward.
Good
, Anne thought. ‘Alright . . . Edward . . . Look, let’s just ignore the past. Something awful happened. It was thirty years ago and I’ve moved on.’
‘I find it impossible that you can stand to talk to me.’
‘Let’s talk somewhere else. We’re blocking the doorway, I think.’ Billy allowed himself to be walked a few metres away from the nursing home. ‘Look, it’s such a surprise to see someone from the past. I’m happy to have a chat over a cuppa — why can’t you be?’
‘Anne, I can’t pretend it didn’t happen and act perfectly normal with you.’
‘Why not?’ she asked brightly. She couldn’t lose him now. ‘I can, and I was the victim. This is good for me. I’ve never seen anyone from my schooldays — I’d really love to hear about your life.’
He stared at her, baffled. ‘No grudge?’
She crossed her heart. ‘I promise. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a lot of therapy, but it was a lifetime ago, and really, I remember very little of it.’
He shook his head, understandably unnerved. ‘This is very awkward. You know I didn’t —’
She pulled an expression of mock exasperation. ‘Come on, we can do this over a cup of coffee — or better still, ignore it and talk about what we’re both up to today. Yes or no?’
Could he resist her? She was sure she’d marked him right, had employed just the right amount of sex and confidence to lure him into her web. Billy was a handsome, virile-looking guy and he didn’t have a ring on his finger. She was certain he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to be seen with a gorgeous woman.
‘Okay,’ he said reluctantly and Anne knew she’d cornered him. ‘What about your friend?’ He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to the nursing home.
‘Oh, I can come back any time. I’d kill for a hit of caffeine right now.’
He shrugged. ‘Do you have a car?’
‘No, I came by taxi. What about you?’
‘Hop in,’ he said, squeezing the button on his car keys. A sleek black car close by lit up.
Anne raised an eyebrow. ‘I see you’ve done okay,’ she said, sensing it was what he’d like to hear.
‘Yeah, cheers, I have.’
He opened the door for her and Anne made sure he got a lingering look at her legs, bending deeply into the seat so he could also have a peek at her lacy bra beneath her shirt.
He joined her in the car. ‘Looks as though you’ve done okay too.’
‘Oh? What makes you say that?’
He smiled. Billy had lost none of his boyish charm. Seeing him grinning at her shot Anne straight back into the days of fear. She had to force back the anxiety and dig deep to paste a similar look of pleasure onto her own face.
‘Well, expensive clothes, no doubt very pricey perfume and loads of confidence,’ he said. ‘Money breeds confidence. I know from my own experience.’
He winked. ‘There’s a pretty good cafe near Hove Park —’ He looked at her, suddenly mortified.
‘No, not Hove Park,’ she murmured, carefully not showing any overreaction. ‘Somewhere on Church Road perhaps?’
‘Yeah, okay, I know somewhere.’ But the chasm had opened between them. She felt his awkward silence descend upon her. He shook his head again. ‘I must be mad . . .’
Anne waited, wondering at the best approach. She had almost lost him again.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he finally added, and swerved the car over to the kerb. ‘Let’s not do this.’
‘Billy — sorry, Edward . . .’ Anne loaded her voice with a gentle, soothing tone. ‘Please, I’ve dealt with it,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve had help over the years and one of the main things my therapist told me was if I could ever meet one or two of the boys involved, it would help enormously towards my healing. I’ve never had the chance until now.’ She reached out tentatively and placed her hand on his wrist. Took it away again almost immediately.
‘You’re serious?’ He looked to where her hand had rested. ‘How can you possibly forgive us?’
She took a deep, shaking breath. ‘It was either that or kill myself. I chose to live, chose to move on. And today, seeing you again, reinforces that I have moved on and built a good life. I’ve never been more satisfied or focused.’
Anne smiled. Billy could never understand how much she meant those final words, although he’d soon find out.
‘You’re amazing, Anne.’
‘That’s the third time you’ve said that.’ She smiled warmly at him. ‘But thanks, it means a lot. So, come on, tell me about yourself. Are you married?’
She felt intense relief as Billy indicated right and pulled smoothly into the traffic of Sackville Road.
‘Divorced. I’m enjoying bachelorhood again. You?’
‘Divorced,’ she grinned, as if to say snap. ‘But happy,’ she went on, keeping it simple. ‘Do you live in Brighton still?’
‘Hastings at the moment — for about three months probably.’
‘Oh, not too far from your dad. That’s good.’
‘I’m in hospitality. I’ve set up a chain of B&B selfcontained accommodation throughout East Sussex and I’m now moving into franchising the name so guesthouses can use it. I’m doing up some apartments in the Hastings area just now — “the new Brighton” they’re calling it.’
‘That’s fantastic, congratulations.’
‘What about you?’
‘Interior design. I have my own business and work for well-heeled London clients who want to know whether a colour called broken white, for instance, works better for them than eggshell white.’
He laughed and Anne heard the relief in his voice. She knew her attitude confused him but she had to get this right.
‘What about this place?’ he asked.
Anne saw that it was a nondescript cafe. Perfect. ‘That’s fine.’
Billy parked close by and within minutes they were seated opposite each other at a wooden table that
wobbled. A small silk pot plant sat next to a bowl stuffed with packets of sugar.
Anne reached for a sachet of sweetener as their coffees arrived. Over a couple of very ordinary cappuccinos, she fabricated the past three decades of her life for Billy, carefully steering well clear of their schooldays, keeping her voice light, her humour sparkling. She could tell he was unsettled, but also helplessly captivated by the lovely-looking woman opposite him.
‘I’ve travelled a bit too,’ Billy said, after she’d finished telling him about living in France.
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah, I’ve just come back from six months on the other side of the world.’
No wonder he hadn’t heard about the other murders. She had been waiting for him to mention them. Seemed her luck was running. ‘Holiday?’ she asked.
‘Bit of both. I’m a ski freak. Discovered it about ten years ago and decided I wanted to do some skiing in New Zealand. I ended up staying longer, touring Australia, and stopped off in Asia to look at the health spas. No one does it better.’
‘And did you pick up much for your own business?’
He nodded. ‘The spas in Thailand were magnificent. Once this franchising thing is up and running, I want to take a look at setting up some luxury health resorts. The holiday itself was brilliant, especially Queenstown. They filmed
The Lord of the Rings
there and all over New Zealand. Did you ever see it?’
He was gabbling, still a bit nervous.
‘No, but I’ve always wanted to get to that part of the world,’ Anne said, draining the last of her coffee. ‘I should get some info from you. Are you in town for a couple of days?’
‘No, I’m driving back to Hastings. Why?’
She shrugged, making sure her breasts pressed against the silk shirt. ‘Oh, I just thought I could hear more about your trip over dinner.’ She saw him open his mouth to say something and waved a hand in apology, ‘Of course, you’ve probably got a lot to do —’
‘No,’ he interrupted. ‘If . . . if you don’t feel funny about us having dinner, I’d love to.’
‘Tomorrow evening?’
‘So you’re up for a day or so?’
‘Several,’ she lied and smiled, knowing it was the perfectly timed tease.
‘Shall I meet you in Brighton somewhere?’
‘Sure. Is seven okay?’
‘I’ll book a restaurant,’ he said.
‘No, let me. My treat,’ Anne insisted. ‘Give me your mobile number and I’ll text you the details.’
Billy looked bemused — probably unused to a woman taking charge, Anne thought. He gave her his phone number, which she put straight into her mobile.
She glanced up from the keypad. ‘I hope you don’t mind, I’ve put you under Billy — I can’t think of you as Edward.’
He looked mildly embarrassed. ‘It’s okay. Just don’t call me that in public,’ and they both smiled. ‘Right, let me get you back to the nursing home.’
‘No, look, I’ll go up there tomorrow. Now that I’m already this close to town, I’ll do some shopping. I love
the Lanes and never get enough opportunity to enjoy them.’
‘Pick up some nice pieces for your clients, I suppose, and sell them for twice the price?’
‘Yes, that sort of thing,’ Anne replied sheepishly. She held out her hand. ‘Well, until tomorrow then. Look out for my text.’
‘I already am,’ he said, a little more confident now, a hint of brazenness filtering into his voice. She remembered that tone well.
‘I hope you don’t mind me mentioning that I’m really impressed you’ve lost your stammer,’ she said as they moved out of the cafe onto the pavement.
Billy’s expression lost its assuredness. ‘You never lose it, Anne. It tends to come back when I’m under a lot of stress or anxiety.’
‘The divorce?’
He nodded.
‘Well, you’re obviously very happy and stress-free now,’ she said, imagining how she was going to bring that stammer back in force. ‘If I didn’t know you, I’d have no clue. See you tomorrow.’
She gave him a last coquettish smile, a small wave, and then she turned and walked away from the man she was going to kill tomorrow night.