Dangerous Promises (12 page)

‘When are you coming back?’

‘How should I know? Later. This evening probably.’

Petra gave her a son a steely look. ‘Don’t do anything stupid, huh?’

Wayne picked up his jacket from the back of a chair and shrugged himself into it. ‘You just worry about Kel, I’ll take care of the rest.’

It was another few hours before Petra was finally able to persuade her daughter to take a sleeping pill and go to bed. She sat beside her until she fell asleep thinking that the hardest thing about being a mother was seeing your kid in pain and not being able to take that pain away.

Since moving to Bournemouth, Petra missed Kelly more than anyone else. Perhaps she should never have gone away, but after being ditched by Roy, the thought of staying in Shoreditch, of constantly bumping into him and his tart, was just too much for her. Not to mention the pitying looks from the neighbours.
Oh, have you heard about poor Petra Gissing…
No, she couldn’t have borne it. What she’d needed was a fresh start, a new beginning.

Once she was sure that Kelly was out for the count, Petra took the opportunity to have a snoop round the house. A few changes had been made since she’d been living there and none of them were to her taste. She wrinkled her nose at the deep-pile cream carpet and red walls of the master bedroom. The sheets on the king-size bed were black silk, the cover a deep shade of scarlet. Like a tart’s boudoir, she thought, although it didn’t come as any great surprise. Sharon was as common as they came.

Petra went into the bathroom and noticed that it needed a good clean. She ran a finger along the window ledge, picking up a smear of grease and dust. ‘Lazy cow,’ she muttered. The loo didn’t look too sparkling either. She’d have to give the whole place a good going over if she was going to stay for a while. There were enough germs in this one room to start a bloody epidemic.

Petra was on her way downstairs to get some cloths and a bottle of bleach when the front door opened and wife number two stepped into the hall. Sharon, a small busty blonde, looked up and stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping.

‘What the… what the fuck are you doing here?’

Petra scowled at her. ‘Taking care of my daughter. You got a problem with that?’

‘I’ve got a problem with you being in my house.’

‘I think you’ll find that it’s Roy’s house, darling. How is he, by the way? Enjoying a bit of peace and quiet I should imagine.’

‘Get out!’ Sharon ordered, jerking her thumb towards the door. ‘Get your bloody coat and fuck off!’

Petra shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t think so, love. Kelly’s in a state, in case you hadn’t noticed, and I’m going nowhere until she’s back on her feet again.’

‘You ain’t staying here!’

‘And who’s going to stop me?’

Like two cats preparing to fight over territory, the women glared at each other, their hackles up and their claws out. Petra was the first to make a move. She swept down the stairs and pushed her face into Sharon’s. ‘If you want me out, you’re going to have to throw me out.’

For a moment Petra thought she was actually going to try – the slut was certainly stupid enough – but quickly she backed off, resorting instead to empty threats.

‘You wait ’til I tell Roy about this.’

‘Yeah, and what’s he going to do about it?’

‘He ain’t going to be happy.’

‘Try talking to someone who gives a shit.’ Petra strode off towards the kitchen with a wide smile on her face. Ding dong. First round to her. But she didn’t intend to get complacent. The fight, she suspected, was only just beginning.

15

It was after nine before Gerald Frayne finally made it home and sat down at the table to eat his dinner. He sipped on a glass of beer while his better half dished out the beef stew she had kept warm for him. He was lucky, he knew, to have a wife like Nina, a partner who never whined or complained about the antisocial hours he often had to keep. Since their move his workload had, naturally, lessened considerably – Haverlea was hardly the crime capital of the north – and although a part of him missed the faster pace of London it was a sacrifice worth making to keep Nina happy.

For over twenty years, she had put up with the stress and fear of being a cop’s wife, of wondering whether he would be another statistic, the subject of the next news flash, the one who never came home. His being part of the Flying Squad hadn’t done much for her peace of mind either. Now, as he neared retirement, he was content to return to uniform and spend his days dealing with less dangerous adversaries.

Still, he had to admit that this morning’s phone call had set the adrenalin flowing. DI Ian McCloud, an old colleague, had rung from Cowan Road station to tell him about a murder that had taken place in Kellston, and a possible suspect living in Haverlea. Sadie Wise had apparently paid a visit to her estranged husband and later he’d been found stabbed to death in his flat.

Nina laid the plate in front of him and sat down on the opposite side of the table. ‘So what did you think of her?’

Gerald dug hungrily into the stew, chewing on a mouthful while he considered his answer. Although it would probably be frowned upon in certain circles, the two of them often discussed cases and he always welcomed her input. Nina was smart and insightful and very discreet. He valued her intelligence and her judgement. ‘She seemed genuinely shocked, but then she could be an excellent actress. If she did do it, she had twenty-four hours to prepare for our visit.’

‘Don’t they know what time he died?’

‘Not exactly – they’re still waiting on the autopsy – although they think it was between ten and one.’

‘Which puts her in the clear, doesn’t it?’

‘Probably,’ he said. ‘She claims she left the victim’s flat at around nine and the landlady of the guesthouse confirms that she checked out at about ten or just before.’

Nina placed her elbows on the table and put her chin in her hands. ‘But?’

‘But there’s nothing to say she didn’t return to the Mansfield. She might not have gone straight to the station. Perhaps she changed her mind and went back over to her husband’s flat instead. Perhaps she was still unhappy about something. There’s no proof that she actually caught the train she said she caught… or that she got home at the time she said she did.’

‘Apart from the boyfriend. Do you think he’s lying?’

Gerald tapped his knife against the side of the plate. ‘In all honesty, I don’t know. He seems a decent type but people do all kinds of stupid things for love.’

‘Like moving to Haverlea,’ Nina said, grinning.

Gerald smiled back at her. ‘That was smart, not stupid. I get to see a lot more of you, don’t I?’

‘Ah, well batted, Frayne.’ She paused and then added, ‘I think I know her. Sadie Wise, I mean. Did you say she worked in Peterson’s?’

‘That’s right.’

‘A pretty girl, yes? Blonde?’

‘Is she?’

Nina grinned again. ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t notice. I’ve seen her in the bookshop. She seems nice.’

‘Even nice people do bad things sometimes.’

‘I suppose. What was this Eddie Wise like?’

Gerald took a sip of beer before replying. ‘It’s all a bit sketchy at the moment. No criminal record, but he might just have been lucky. He’d been dating a girl called Kelly Gissing. Her dad’s inside for robbery, doing a five-stretch. Mind, that’s nothing new for him; Roy’s been in and out of nick all his life – just like his brothers. The Gissings are what you’d term habitual criminals. She was the one who found Eddie.’

‘But she’s not a suspect?’

‘She’s not been ruled out, but it seems unlikely.’

Nina inclined her head, her face becoming thoughtful. ‘Maybe Eddie got involved in something dodgy. This might not have anything to do with either of the women.’

‘Now you’re just being sexist.’

She smiled again, her brown eyes creasing at the corners. ‘It’s possible, though, isn’t it?’

‘It’s also possible that if Sadie Wise didn’t do it herself, she got someone else to.’

‘What, straight after she’d been to see him? Why would she put herself in the frame like that? It’s not very sensible. If she was going to hire a killer, wouldn’t she wait a few days, a week, a month? Enough time, anyway, for her visit to seem disconnected from the murder.’

‘I know,’ Gerald said. ‘But there’s… I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s just a feeling. Maybe I’m wrong, but I sensed she was holding back, hiding something.’

‘Gut instinct.’

‘Pretty much.’ He felt his nose starting to run, gave a loud sniff and got up to fetch a tissue. ‘Perhaps I need to talk to her when the boyfriend isn’t there.’

‘Are you all right? It sounds you’re coming down with a cold.’

Gerald blew his nose, feeling a dull headache tugging at his temples. He threw the tissue in the bin and sat back down at the table. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll take an aspirin before I go to bed.’

Nina gave him a concerned look. ‘You’ve been up since six. Maybe you should have an early night.’

‘I might just do that.’ He stretched out his arms and yawned. The long day was finally catching up with him. When he was a younger man, he’d been able to work all sorts of ridiculous hours, but now they took their toll on him. The idea of an early night was tempting, although he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep. The interview with Sadie Wise threatened to keep revolving in his head while he tried to figure out why he was certain she was lying.

‘So will you see her again tomorrow?’

‘Maybe. It depends what news there is from London.’

‘Poor girl. It must be dreadful for her.’

‘Not as dreadful as it is for Eddie Wise.’

‘Yes,’ she said solemnly, ‘you’re right. But I hope she didn’t have anything to do with it. She seems such a nice girl. I can’t imagine her… And how awful to just throw your life away like that. All those years in prison and for what?’

‘Revenge?’ he suggested. ‘A woman scorned and all that.’

‘If that’s true then she waited a long time.’

‘Maybe she’s the patient sort.’

‘Do you really believe that she’s capable of murder?’

Gerald wasn’t sure exactly what he believed right now. His gut might be telling him one thing, but his head was full of doubts. Maybe he was searching for guilt where there wasn’t any, something juicy to get his teeth into, something more challenging than the usual petty crimes of a small seaside town. ‘Well, we’ll find out soon enough.’

‘I don’t suppose she’ll be getting much sleep tonight.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t suppose she will.’

16

Sadie felt like her head was full of fog, as thick and dense as the morning air. A mist had swept in off the sea and covered the town in a cold shroud of grey. Beneath her boots, she heard the crunch where the snow was turning into ice and felt the threat of the slippery surface. Twice now she had almost fallen, her feet skidding out from under her. It was madness, she knew, to keep on walking, but she didn’t want to go home yet.

Last night she had barely slept, slipping only occasionally into a doze from which she had woken with a start, her mind full of Eddie, the image of his dead body as clear as if she had actually seen it. She shuddered at the memory. Who had done that to him? Who had felt such hate, such anger, that they’d put a knife through his chest? The girlfriend perhaps. Kelly had to be a suspect too.

It was unnerving, scary, being under suspicion.
A murder suspect.
Sadie recoiled from the thought. What if the police got it wrong? What if they arrested her, charged her, put her on trial? Innocent people had gone to jail before. She wished now that she had never gone to London. If she could only turn back time, she would.

The ordeal of the fingerprint taking was over at least. She had been embarrassed, humiliated, when less than an hour ago the officer had placed her fingers one by one in the ink and made the black marks on the piece of card. She had felt like a criminal. It was the first time she had ever been inside a police station and she had no desire to repeat the experience.

It wouldn’t be long before everyone in Haverlea knew. She could imagine the looks she would get, the things that would be said about her. Joel had called his parents yesterday to break the news about Eddie and to warn them that the police would be round. Sadie had listened as he’d given them a clear and concise summary of the situation. And then he had said, ‘Would you like to speak to her?’

Sadie had frantically flapped her hands, shaking her head and mouthing the word ‘no’. She liked the Hunters and wanted them to believe in her innocence but she hadn’t been able to face the inevitable questions and expressions of sympathy.

‘Actually,’ he’d said quickly, ‘we’ll be seeing you soon anyway. We can have a proper catch-up then.’

After he had put the phone down, Sadie had apologised. ‘Sorry, I just…’

‘It’s all right, I understand.’

Joel was the only person keeping her going at the moment. So long as he believed in her, what did it matter about anyone else? She had to stay positive, keep her head held high. The investigation was only beginning. Eventually the police in London would find out who the murderer really was. Wouldn’t they?

She walked to the front and stood on the promenade peering through the mist at the sea. The waves pummelled the shore, the surf grey and scummy. The cold air crept around her, slipping under the collar of her coat and sliding down her spine. She pushed her hands deeper into her pockets.

Last night, after Joel had rung his parents, she had bitten the bullet and called her mother too. The response had been pretty much what she’d expected, a concern more with what the neighbours would say than the horror of Eddie’s death or what Sadie might be going through. Jean Wilson was a narrow-minded woman who took pleasure in finding fault in others. She was most often to be found lurking behind the net curtains, watching the road and looking out for something to disapprove of.

‘I don’t see why you had to go to London in the first place. Couldn’t you have got a solicitor to sort it out?’

‘That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past five years.’