Deadly Reunion (14 page)

When they reached the station, Cyrus led them all straight to the platform. Rafferty volunteered to get the tickets but Cyrus told him he'd already got them.

‘Ah bought them on Abra's laptop last week. Ma treat.'

It didn't take long to reach Liverpool Street, where they switched to the underground. They all filed out at St Paul's, again with Cyrus confidently in the vanguard.

‘You seem to know your way about,' Rafferty commented. ‘Have you visited London before?'

‘No. But Ah've studied your London A – Z, which Ah bought on the internet and Ah've pored over the maps and Ah have all the streets up here.' He tapped his forehead. ‘What say we start at St Paul's Cath-ee-dral?'

‘OK. Whatever you say.' Cyrus seemed to know not only where he was going, but what he was doing, so Rafferty left him to it.

They reached St Paul's just in time for a service and Rafferty said, ‘We can come back later, so we can see over the church.'

‘Hell, no,' said Cyrus. ‘Ah've done ma homework and Ah came here at this tahm deliberately to attend a service. Hush, now, Joe. Let's grab a seat. The service is about to begin. We'll see over the church after.'

Cyrus marched up to the front as if he owned the place, slotted his portly body into the pew and stared expectantly at the priest. The rest of them sat where they could find a place. Rafferty, two pews behind him, could hear Cyrus intoning the priest's part as well as the congregation's responses and he smiled to himself. At least Cyrus seemed to be enjoying himself. Wendy, Angel and Louis were gazing around taking it all in. Then the choir started up and even Rafferty found himself joining in, much to Abra's amusement.

The priest droned on a bit in his sermon. He seemed to be on Cyrus's wavelength, for he pontificated about the youth of today and their myriad faults and Cyrus nodded his agreement with every point. But eventually, it was over. Rafferty let the others wander round to check out tombs and statues and the rest, while he took his ease in his pew. Finally even Cyrus accepted that he'd thoroughly ‘done' St Paul's and they all filed out.

‘Right. Westminster Abbey is next on ma list. Follow me.'

Obediently, they all fell in behind and Cyrus, without referring to a map once, led them unerringly to the required church.

Abra and Rafferty lingered outside. They found a shady spot and took root. Abra took the opportunity to light up and Rafferty, who had given up smoking some time ago, appreciatively sniffed the smoke and yearned for a few drags. He sighed. It was hot and he was getting thirsty. He studied his watch. Surely even Cyrus must be getting hungry by now. He knew one or two good pubs in or around the City: There was the Prospect of Whitby at Wapping Wall or Dirty Dick's in EC2. Either would do for lunch.

Rafferty could almost taste the cool bitter and by the time Cyrus and the rest trailed out of the Abbey, an hour and a half later, his tongue was hanging out.

Before Cyrus could stride out towards another centre of religion, Rafferty said decisively, ‘Lunch. I'm sure you're all getting hungry by now.'

The others, all but Cyrus, nodded agreement, but Wendy persuaded her husband to fall in with the majority.

It was time for Rafferty to take the lead. ‘Follow me. I know a few good pubs around here.'

‘Pubs? We don't need no pubs, Joseph,' Cyrus told him. ‘Ah've got lunch raht here.' He patted the heavy shoulder bag and opened it to reveal packed lunches. ‘Ah made the sandwiches maself. Ah went to the supamarket specially.'

So that was what Cyrus had lugged around all morning. He'd wondered what was in the bag. Now he knew. ‘But surely you all want a drink?' Rafferty was getting desperate as he saw the prospect of a cool bitter slipping away. ‘I know I do.'

‘We can bah drinks on the way. It's too nahce a day to be cooped up inside. I thought we'd get the subway to St James's Park. Ah have it on good authority that you can see Buckingham Palace from there. Is that right, Joe?'

Rafferty confirmed that it was. But at least, as Cyrus surged in the direction of his latest tourist destination, Rafferty had some commiseration because Wendy nudged him and said, ‘Don't worry, Joe. Ah've got a coupla beers in ma bag. They've got your name on them.'

At the prospect of an alcoholic drink, Rafferty brightened. And when they got to the park, he even helped to spread the tablecloth on the grass and hand out the plastic picnic plates. That done, he took a swig of the can that Wendy handed him and took the opportunity to ring Llewellyn.

‘Anything?' he asked.

‘No. Nothing new. The reunees have all packed up and gone, as has the headmaster. He's given me the spare keys and told me he'd collect them from the station on his return from holiday.'

‘OK. See you later.' Rafferty snapped his mobile shut. It soon became clear that Cyrus was a dedicated tourist, for he urged them all on to eat and when they had finished, he packed everything back in his bag and got to his feet. ‘Right, y'all. Let's go and do St Giles-Without-Cripplegate.'

Rafferty, with no pub in the offing, would have happily remained in the park for the afternoon, but there was no gainsaying Cyrus once he was set on something, so, once again, they all trooped behind him till they reached St Giles.

Rafferty hadn't been in this church before and when he was foolish enough to admit as much, Cyrus took it as his job to make sure he missed nothing. He dragged him round the church, from memorial to memorial, from tomb to tomb, till Rafferty felt he knew the church as well as he knew his own living room. Cyrus wanted to do the Palace next, but thankfully, Wendy, who seemed to be drooping, vetoed this latest idea and insisted that Cyrus call a halt, with the words, ‘tomorrow's another day, honey. Ah'm pooped.'

Rafferty breathed a sigh of relief. He certainly didn't fancy trudging around Buck House. And tomorrow he'd be back at work.

It was still hot and the tube back to Liverpool Street was an airless Hell. Rafferty just shut his eyes and endured till they got on the train to Elmhurst.

As the others piled into a taxi at their destination, Rafferty said he'd walk the short distance into town and get a takeaway Chinese for their evening meal. He ordered a good variety of food, paid up and headed home. He rang Llewellyn again on the way. But, like Wendy, Rafferty was pooped and he hadn't sufficient energy left to take anything in, so he cut the call short.

Cyrus, for all that he was a similar age to Rafferty's ma, seemed to have bundles of stamina, for he had already transferred the photos from his camera to the computer and copied them to a CD by the time Rafferty got home. It seemed they were all to get a second taste of the day's doings. Rafferty, hot and tired, grabbed the Jameson bottle and a couple of glasses and prepared to sedate himself and his bride as Cyrus began the narration to the pictures on the TV.

SEVEN

M
onday dawned with the steamy heat still hovering over Elmhurst. Rafferty peeled himself away from his sticky sheet and, hoping he had beaten the early rising Cyrus to the bathroom, went in search of a cool shower. Luckily, the bathroom was free, which probably meant that Cyrus was in the kitchen again, making tea. He'd tried to teach the American the finer points of tea making, but Cyrus seemed to have a blind spot where this particular beverage was concerned. Leastways, he still produced undrinkable cat's piss every morning, much to Abra's disgust.

Rafferty lingered in the shower, partly from a reluctance to leave its cool embrace and partly from a desire to let the Cyrus-made tea go cold and give him an excuse to make his own. But eventually he had to turn it off and step out of the stall. He felt sweaty again five minutes after leaving the shower, so he put on a double dose of his Pavanne's ‘Cool Man' and went to get dressed.

Abra was awake and gasping for tea. So Rafferty threw on his clothes and went down to the kitchen. Thankfully, it was a Cyrus-free zone. Rafferty quickly made tea for six, gave his four guests their mugs, hoping that, this time, Cyrus would remember what a cup of tea
should
taste like, and went back to his bedroom. A sight to gladden the eye met him on his return, for Abra had thrown the sheet off and was wearing the flimsiest of baby doll nighties.

‘You know,' he said, ‘I could always come back in for a cuddle. I've got time and with Cyrus and the others here we haven't done much cuddling, for fear they'll hear.'

‘It's too hot, so don't even think about it. Sticky skin against sticky skin and I haven't even had a shower yet. I just want to drink my tea and then get in the bathroom before Cyrus.'

‘Spoilsport.' He hunted in his wardrobe for his lightest jacket, finished his tea and said, ‘right. I'm off.' He kissed Abra. ‘See you later, sweetheart.'

He went downstairs and stuck his head round the living room door. Cyrus was up and insisted on telling him, at length, about his and Wendy's plans for the day, which recitation resulted in Rafferty being late for work. He could only hope the heat had made Long-Pockets Bradley sluggish or he'd be waiting for him to give his report with steam coming out of his ears.

Bradley's Lexus wasn't in its usual spot in the car park, he noticed as he pulled up and he gave a relieved smile. It might give him a chance to further discuss the latest murder with Llewellyn after their too-brief and lethargic conversation late on the steamy Sunday.

Llewellyn, not discombobulated by the heat or any other weather a variable climate might throw at him, was at his desk, looking cool in a pale green linen jacket.

Rafferty's second tea of the day was on his desk and he drank it gratefully, parched from the heat of the car whose air-conditioning hardly had a chance to get started between home and his arrival at work. ‘Right,' he said, his immediate wants met, ‘let's be having your report again. I had a thumping headache yesterday evening and could hardly take it in.'

Llewellyn duly obliged, repeating the few things he'd learned during his day of sole responsibility for the case.

Rafferty quickly cut to the chase. ‘It's not much, is it?' he complained. ‘I can just hear the super pulling his usual holes with it and this heat's likely to make him fractious.'

‘It's about as much as we got during the past week,' said Llewellyn, in a blithe reminder that they were in this together.

‘Hmph. I suppose so. You certainly managed to make it sound more than it is. I suppose that's the benefits of a university education.' He got up and gave the air-conditioning unit a thump. ‘Bloody thing.' He walked back to his desk and slumped in his seat. ‘I suppose, once I've got Bradley off my back, we ought to think about doing something, though what, with the suspects flown on the four winds, I don't know. Did you get Ainsley's computer over to the boffins?'

‘Yes.'

‘What about the phone company? Have they let us have a list of his calls in the last month or two?'

‘Yes. I've got the team checking them out. I've also taken the liberty of asking them for those of Sophie Diaz as well.'

‘On the “just in case” principle? Good man.' His mobile went. ‘Rafferty.'

‘Oh. Hello, Mr Rafferty.' It was a young girl's voice. ‘I'm Karen. I'm ringing about the room. Is it still available?'

He'd forgotten all about his advert and now he sat up expectantly. ‘Oh yes. The room's still available. Both of them are, actually. I only put the card up a few days ago.'

‘I know. I saw it this morning. I've been looking for lodgings for ages, so I pop in a couple of times a week in case Miss Cartwright had added anything to the board. How much is it a month?'

Rafferty told her.

‘That's good. And it's inclusive of an evening meal, phone and utilities?'

Rafferty confirmed that it was.

‘Could I come and see it?'

‘Of course.' He told her the address and they arranged a mutually convenient date and Rafferty had no sooner said goodbye and shut his mobile than it went again. ‘Rafferty.'

It was another enquirer about the rooms, a young man this time. Rafferty arranged to show him the rooms at the same time as Karen. He had a key to his ma's so could show them both round without having recourse to sleight of hand with a credit card. With a bit of luck Ma's American cousins would be out at the time he'd arranged for the viewing with the two youngsters. He grinned. Divine retribution wasn't in it. This was the Rafferty version.

‘So you've done what you threatened?' Llewellyn's voice was disapproving and Rafferty frowned.

‘You bet.'

‘I hope you've told your mother.'

‘Not yet. I will. Eventually. By the way, I wanted to ask if you can help me download a short-term tenancy agreement off the internet later.'

Llewellyn turned huffy. ‘I want nothing to do with it. I don't think it's a nice trick to play on your mother. She's not a young woman. You should have asked her permission before arranging these viewings.'

‘Get away. She's tougher than you and me put together. Besides, I want to teach her a lesson. She's way too fond of organizing my life.'

Just then the landline rang. It was the expected summons from Superintendent Bradley and Rafferty slunk off, expecting the usual critical reception of his efforts. But he was pleasantly surprised. Because, once he'd given his report, Bradley, instead of the expected bawling out after a second murder with no suspect in view, was quite complimentary.

‘Heard from that headmaster at Griffin School. He rang up this morning from his holiday villa, specially to thank me for all your efforts this past week.' Of course he had to add his usual twopenn'orth. ‘Though I'd have thought you might have come up with more than you gave me in your report.' Unfortunately, Bradley, too, was adept at sorting the wheat from the chaff. ‘So what are you doing now?'