Person or Persons Unknown (23 page)

Philip tore his eyes from her to the tear-stained face of his daughter. ‘Sorry I shouted, kids,' he said flatly. ‘I was worried about Mummy.'

‘Is she all right?' Lindsey demanded.

‘She's badly bruised and in shock, but she doesn't seem to have broken anything.'

‘Have you phoned for an ambulance?'

His eyes flickered and he looked away. ‘There's no need for that. She'll be all right after a rest.' He gestured to the children, and, abandoning their bikes, they squeezed past him into the house and ran up the stairs.

‘Then let the Sinclairs have a look at her,' Lindsey urged. The couple at number five were a doctor and nurse.

Yarborough made a dismissive gesture. ‘I'm not having the entire road involved in this,' he said sharply.

He'd not invited her in, but she'd no intention of leaving without learning more.

‘What happened?' she asked.

He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I don't know, she must have slipped. She'd taken up a pile of ironing and put it in the airing cupboard, and the next thing I heard was this – series of bumps.'

‘She didn't cry out?'

‘No. I dashed out on to the landing, and to my horror she was rolling down the stairs.'

‘You were upstairs yourself?'

He swallowed dryly. ‘Yes. I'd just got in from work and had gone up to change.'

There was an electric silence. Then Lindsey said doggedly, ‘I know it's none of my business, but I really think you should take her to A & E. She might have internal injuries, or delayed concussion or something. If it's the children you're worried about, I'll stay with them.'

‘
No!
' he said forcefully. Then, more calmly, ‘If I go, we all go.' Then, reluctantly, ‘But thank you for offering.'

‘You will take her?'

‘Yes, I'll take her.'

A sudden breeze ruffled her hair and she shivered, realizing for the first time that she had no jacket. She turned to go, then looked back at him.

‘My sister met a friend of yours last week,' she said on impulse. And, as he raised his eyebrows, she added, ‘Selina O'Toole.'

The lighted hall was behind him and she couldn't see his face, but the tremor that shook him was unmissable. She continued down the path, crossed the road, and had started back along the opposite pavement before he closed the door.

‘Rona, it's me again.'

‘You're not going to hang up on me, are you?'

‘No, sorry about that. Listen – Philip Yarborough just pushed Adele down the stairs!'

‘
What?
'

‘He wasn't even going to take her to the hospital, but I more or less made him.'

‘You – Lindsey, for Pete's sake slow down! Start at the beginning.'

Rona listened in growing incredulity to her sister's account. ‘Is she badly hurt?'

‘He says not, but if you ask me, it's a wonder she's not dead! He admitted he was upstairs himself at the time.'

‘Admitted, or told you?'

‘Whatever. What should we do?'

‘There's nothing we
can
do. Are you sure he took her to the hospital?'

‘Yes; at least, he took her
somewhere
. I waited at my window till I saw his car leave.' She gave a little shudder. ‘When I got back, the front door was wide open, as, of course, I'd left it. Anyone could have got in.'

‘In that small cul-de-sac, with you standing at the entrance to it?'

‘OK, OK; I'm just a bit jumpy at the minute. I searched the flat, but all was well.' Lindsey paused. ‘It looks as though Max was right, doesn't it? About Philip? Are you going to tell him?'

‘I don't know. I suppose so. Linz, about Hugh—'

‘Oh, and I told Philip you knew Selina,' Lindsey interrupted.

There was a moment's silence. Then Rona said, ‘So not only do you appear on his doorstep at a decidedly inopportune moment, but you make references to a past he'd much rather forget. What was it you said, about not wanting to be murdered in your bath? You're certainly going the right way about it! God, Lindsey, for all we know, he could have killed Gemma!' She paused. ‘How did he react?'

‘He shivered,' Lindsey said sulkily, ‘but I left before he could say anything.'

‘Brilliant!'

‘Oh, come on! You
said
I was in a better position to tackle him!'

‘But under controlled conditions.'

Lindsey gave a snort. ‘You sound like a scientist!'

‘Well, he now knows we're aware of the Gemma connection.' As does Jonathan, Rona thought; had she herself been equally irresponsible? ‘Just watch your back, that's all.'

She was taking a ready meal out of the freezer when, once more, she was interrupted by the phone.

Not Lindsey
again
! she thought in exasperation as she caught it up. ‘Yes? What now?'

A voice said with mild amusement, ‘Sounds as though you were expecting me!'

‘I'm sorry,' she apologized automatically, registering that this time it had been her mobile that rang. ‘I thought my sister …' Her voice trailed off as, belatedly, she identified her caller of that morning.

‘Yes, it's me again,' he confirmed. ‘I was wondering if you'd had second thoughts about our meeting? It really would be to your advantage.'

‘I'm sorry. There've been so many replies, I had to take the decision to see no one personally.' It sounded a reasonable enough excuse.

‘Learned anything interesting?'

‘Several things, yes.' Again, not strictly accurate.

‘Nothing as good as what I have, I bet.'

‘Then tell me. Otherwise, I must ask you not to call again.'

He gave a low laugh that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. ‘Oh, I'll be keeping in touch, I assure you. Sooner or later, curiosity will get the better of you.' And he broke the connection.

The next time the phone rang, when she was halfway through her meal, she made no move to answer it. The machine clicked on, and after her own message, Tess Chadwick's voice filled the room. ‘Hi, Rona. Nothing urgent; I just wondered how things were going.'

She lifted the phone. ‘Sorry, Tess; this is the fourth call I've had in about forty minutes, and the last one was a bit dodgy.'

‘How so?'

‘Some bloke wanting to meet me, and not taking no for an answer.'

‘About Gemma?'

‘Yes. He won't say what it is on the phone.'

‘Then forget it,' Tess said briskly. ‘I was ringing to see what kind of response you'd had. I presume you saw the letters last week?'

‘Yes; Selina won't be pleased at being dragged into it.'

‘Did she agree to meet you?'

‘Not only that, I spent the night with her!' Rona explained what had happened. ‘Thanks so much for the intro, Tess. Once she realized Gemma's daughter was involved, she was great. She's even passing on a few of Gemma's possessions that she's come across. Nothing vital,' she added, ‘but it'll be interesting all the same.'

‘So you owe me a meal,' Tess said.

‘Which I'll be delighted to honour on my next visit.'

‘Anything on emigrating families?'

‘Nothing worth following up. Quite honestly, I don't think I've a cat in hell's chance of finding the father.'

‘Which leaves the murderer,' Tess said caustically. ‘Is that part of your brief?'

‘It was suggested,' Rona answered tightly, ‘but I didn't take it on.'

Tess gave a low laugh. ‘Why don't I believe you?'

When she'd rung off, Rona tipped the remains of the cold food into the bin and switched on the kettle.
Had
Lindsey put them both in danger, by challenging Philip Yarborough? Had she, with Jonathan Hurst? This, she reflected, was what both Max and Dinah had warned her against: keep well clear of any murder hunt. And yet, even if she were successful in finding the father, she'd feel she'd accomplished only half her task if the murder remained unsolved.

What could possibly have been the motive for Gemma's death? None had ever been established. The flat had been searched, but as far as could be seen, nothing taken. Had the intruder been interrupted? Or panicked on finding someone at home? Even so, there'd been no need to
murder
her. On the other hand, had he – or she – come specifically to kill Gemma, in which case the cursory search was a red herring? But for heaven's sake,
why
?

The kettle whistled, startling Rona out of her reverie, and she made the coffee. It had been an eventful day: two calls from this unknown man; lunch with Max and James Latymer; Hugh's reported reappearance on the scene, then the business with the Yarboroughs – Adele allegedly falling downstairs, and Lindsey challenging Philip over Selina. And it was only Monday! she thought humorously.

‘Come on, Gus,' she said, picking up her coffee mug, ‘let's go and watch some mindless television. I've had enough of the real world.'

T
he next morning when, having contacted the O'Tooles, Rona set off for Chilswood, she had still not told Max about Adele. It was cold and misty, already more than halfway through October, and her deadline for this project was November the twelfth. Why, she wondered despairingly, had she ever taken it on? At least she'd switched off her mobile before leaving home; she'd no intention of being harassed yet again by her anonymous but persistent caller.

Chilswood was known for its thriving industrial estate, rather than as a desirable place to live. The town itself had been designed in grids of parallel roads full of small semis, each with a patch of garden front and back. To Rona's jaundiced eye, they seemed to have no distinguishing features.

She pulled up outside that corresponding to the address Selina had given, walked up the path and rang the bell. It was opened by a small woman in a neat jumper and skirt, who gave her a shy smile.

‘Well now, Miss Parish, isn't it?' She spoke with a lilting brogue entirely divorced from Selina's rasping tones. Had her daughter deliberately shed her accent when she made first radio and then television her career? ‘Could I offer you a cup of tea, since you've driven all this way?'

Rona returned her smile. ‘It's not that far, Mrs O'Toole, and I don't want to put you to any trouble.'

‘Sure, it's no trouble. Isn't the kettle already boiling, since you said you'd be here at eleven?'

‘Then thank you, that's very kind.'

Everything in the house seemed to be as small and neat as its mistress, including the elderly man who rose to his feet as Rona was shown into the front room. He was wearing an obviously home-knitted Fair Isle sweater and corduroy trousers and looked, Rona thought facetiously, like a leprechaun, with his red hair and puckish face.

‘My husband,' Mrs O'Toole introduced – though he could hardly be anyone else. ‘This is Selina's friend, Miss Parish, Dermot.'

He shook her hand gravely, with an old-fashioned little bow. ‘A pleasure to meet you, miss.'

‘Selina told us you're looking into that old murder,' Mrs O'Toole said, pouring the tea.

‘For Gemma's daughter, yes,' Rona replied, feeling the need to defend herself.

‘A terrible thing it was.'

Rona took her tea with a murmur of thanks. ‘Did you ever meet Gemma?'

Man and wife shook their heads, and Dermot, seeming to feel an explanation was called for, offered one. ‘Stokely's a long way from here, Miss Parish, and we'd no car. Selina came home every month or so, but we never visited her.' He accepted the bun his wife passed him. ‘When the – tragedy happened, we were worried she might be next, and tried every which way to get her out of the flat, but she wouldn't budge. “It's my home,” she said.'

‘How long did she stay there after Gemma died?' Rona enquired.

‘A year or so, wasn't it, Kathleen? Till she married that chap, anyway.'

Selina's first husband; Rona wondered who he was, but didn't like to ask. Had he, she wondered suddenly, been one of the tennis-club crowd? And if so, could that be important?

She said tentatively, ‘I suppose Gemma must have known him?'

‘For sure she would, for wasn't he her boss at the time?'

‘He worked at County Radio?' At least that exonerated the group.

‘That's right.'

In all conscience she could ask no more. In any case, it felt uncomfortably like checking up on Selina, which had not been her intention. Finishing her tea, she rose to her feet.

‘I believe you've some things of Gemma's for me?'

‘Yes, they're ready waiting on the hall stand. But will you not take another cup, before you go?'

‘Thank you, no. That was very welcome, but I must be on my way.'

Out in the hall, Mrs O'Toole handed her an old shoe box. ‘Not much to show for a life, is it, now?'

‘Nevertheless, her daughter will be pleased to have it.'

She nodded, satisfied. ‘That's as it should be.'

They stood side by side on the step, waiting to wave her off, and Rona wondered what they made of their daughter's high-profile lifestyle. She reckoned it had done little to change their own, and perhaps, as Mrs O'Toole had said, that was as it should be.

Lindsey sat nervously in the Gallery Café, watching the street below. Hugh, sounding surprised to hear from her, had not been free for lunch, as she'd suggested, but had promised to slip out for a quick cup of coffee. She wished he'd hurry; she had to be back in her own office in half an hour. Then she caught sight of him approaching from the direction of Windsor Way, watched him glance at his watch and cross the road towards her. Minutes later he appeared in the doorway and made his way over to her table, looking slightly apprehensive.

‘This is a surprise,' he said as he seated himself. ‘What's it all about?'