The Beachcomber (50 page)

Tom wanted to be sure. “You will keep me informed every step of the way, won’t you?”

The older man slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Stop worrying. Now that we’ve got a lead, you can be sure I won’t let it go until it leads us to the killer.”

He pointed to the car driving toward them. “Look. Here’s your taxi. I’ll get back to Mr. Rollinson and see if there’s anything else he can tell me about that young William Aitken.”

Still unsure about the old foreman, Tom climbed into the taxi.

It was time to go and speak with Lilian. “I’m sorry,” that’s what she’d said. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

Tom couldn’t get it out of his mind.

On arrival at Lilian’s house, he was not wholly surprised to find she was not at home. Surely she wasn’t still at the police station, though?

He made his way back to the waiting taxi, disappointed and thoughtful. I wonder if she’s at Dougie’s, he mused.

With that in mind he climbed back into the taxi and gave the driver Dougie’s address. Later, when he got back to the hotel, he would call Kathy. God! How he was missing her.

John Martin was a patient man, but when he’d asked for his documents from a file, he didn’t expect to be kept waiting. “What the devil’s going on around here! I called that girl more than ten minutes ago. It can’t be taking her all this time to find one set of documents!”

Alice was back in the office. He thought she’d looked rather subdued, and maybe a little pale since the incident with Lilian, but when he asked her if she was all right, she told him she was fine. Lilian, too, she’d said – sleeping soundly.

Irritated, he picked up the telephone to call again, but, deciding the best course of action would be to go down and “collect the damned documents myself!,” he slammed the receiver back into its cradle. “If you want anything doing, do it yourself!”

Bouncing out of his high-backed leather chair, he marched out of the office and, running down the steps two at a time, was soon in the lower offices.

He went straight to Alice’s desk. She wasn’t there. “Jesus! Where the devil is she now?” Looking round, he could see she wasn’t with any of the typists. He was on the verge of asking one of them where she was when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her.

He glanced through the window of Lilian’s office and there she was.

Seated at Lilian’s desk, Alice was holding something in her hands and staring down at it. “What the hell is she playing at?”

Red-faced with anger, he marched across and flung open the door. “If you can’t do the job anymore, you’d best tell me now!” he yelled.

Startled, Alice leapt up, her face riddled with guilt. The papers she had been staring at were now all over the floor. “I’m sorry, Mr. Martin, only I was just putting these away.” Scrabbling them up, she kept glancing at him, frightened he might see. “I’ll have the documents on your desk in five minutes,” she promised.

Seeing the guilt and worry on her face, and seeing how her hands trembled as she quickly grabbed up the pieces of paper, he became suspicious. “What have you got there?” Leaning down, he collected one of the papers from the floor.

At first he didn’t realize what he was looking at, but then he recognized Tom, smiling and content, with his family. “Where did you get this?” Reaching out, he took the pictures from her, looking through them one by one and growing more curious by the minute. “I think you’d best explain, young lady!”

Tom had only just arrived back at his hotel room, after finding his brother still out, when the phone rang. It was John Martin. “I’m glad I’ve caught you,” he said. “I’ve got Alice here. She has something to tell you –” he lowered his voice to an intimate level – “something I think you should know.”

Intrigued, Tom waited while Alice was put on the phone.

In a trembling voice, she put together all the missing pieces: of how she’d taken Lilian home and stayed with her for a while; how she had been amazed to see the house “like a tip,” and how she had gone upstairs to see if that was the same. “I only meant to tidy it all up,” she explained in tears. “I wasn’t being nosy, only I found something in her bedroom: photographs, dozens of them, all over the walls.”

When she started crying, Tom urged her to take a minute and calm herself. Somehow he had known Lilian had been involved, only his affection for her had clouded his judgment. “All right, Alice, go slowly now. Tell me everything you know. Don’t leave anything out.”

Encouraged, Alice told him everything: about the photographs of himself and his family; about the way Lilian had seemed ready to kill her when she saw her looking at the photographs. “She was like a stranger,” she sobbed. “For a minute I really thought she would hurt me. But then she ran out of the house, and down the street – like a wild thing, she was!”

Feeling like he’d been kicked in the stomach, Tom asked her quietly, “When was this?”

“This morning, about eleven or something. She just ran and ran … I don’t know
where
she is.”

In his mind’s eye Tom saw the hysterical Lilian being charged by the policeman at Dougie’s house; the way she’d looked at Tom, and those words … The long, slow sigh seemed to come up from his very soul. He thought for a minute, then in a quiet voice he thanked her. “Let me speak with Mr. Martin now.”

When the boss came on the phone, Tom explained the situation. “I had a gut feeling she might be involved somehow,” he explained. “But she was a good friend to Sheila … she came to the house, and even went away with us one weekend.” He shook his head disbelievingly. “It just seems too incredible. I had no idea … no idea at all.”

She was obviously ill; needed help – and quickly. “Look, if she comes back to the office, keep her there. If she calls in, keep a track of her. Call the police now. Tell them what Alice just told me. I’ll try and get hold of Inspector Lawson.”

When the other man assured him he would do it, Tom rang down to reception. A moment or two later, having got the number of the breaker’s yard, he quickly dialed it, relieved when Rollinson answered. “This is Tom Marcus,” he told him. “Is the inspector still there?”

“There are all sorts of people here, crawling about the car. I think the inspector was talking to his sergeant. Do you want me to give him a message?”

“Is it possible you could get him to the phone?”

“I should think so. Hang on a minute.” Leaving Tom waiting at the other end, he rushed outside, where he soon found the inspector. “Mr. Marcus is on the phone,” he said. “He’d like a word.”

“Dammit!” Though he appreciated Tom’s concern, he still had a job to do. “Tell him I’ll ring him back when I can.”

“Sure.”

But as Rollinson made his way back, the inspector had a change of heart. “No, wait!” He went after him. “It’s all right.”

In the office, he listened to what Tom had to say.

Afterward, he had two questions. “And you say you can’t find her – either at her home, or at your brother’s?”

“No, and, like I said, the last time I saw her she was being taken off to a police station.”

“Okay, I’ll check at the nearest one to your brother’s house whether she’s still there, or whether they know where she is. Also, give me her home address.” He waited for Rollinson to bring him pen and paper. “Yes, I know she wasn’t there when you went, but she’s bound to turn up there sooner or later, and when she does, I’ll have one of my officers waiting.”

He wrote down Lilian’s home address. “And your brother, where does he live?”

After giving him Dougie’s address, Tom asked, “Do you want me to go and see if either of them are back?”

“No. I’ll deal with it. You just sit tight. I might have need of you before the night is out.”

Tom had some questions of his own. “The car … is it the one?”

“We can’t be sure yet, Tom, but yes, it does seem that way.”

Tom took a minute to speak, and when he did it was with another question. “What about that young man … the one Mr. Rollinson said came looking for a job? Have you found him yet?”

“No. But we will. I’ve already got two officers on the case.”

“What about the other one … William Aitken?”

“He’s being pulled in even as we speak. I’m on my way back to the station now.”

When the conversation was over, Tom went down to the hotel bar, where he ordered a whiskey short. Sitting quietly at a corner table, he mulled over the events of the past few days.

After a while, when he began to grow lonely, his thoughts turned to Kathy.

He decided to give her a call.

With that in mind he went back up to his room and dialed the caravan site. This time it was the manager who answered. “You’ve just missed her. She and Rosie aren’t working this evening – they’ve gone off together … things to do and all that. I’m sure you understand.” He lowered his voice. “Rosie’s been a godsend. I thought it only fair to give her a night off, since it’s quiet.”

“Thanks,” Tom said. “I’ll try her tomorrow.” Replacing the phone, he mused aloud. “Rosie’s been a godsend.” He wondered about that. “Hmh! Strange thing to say.” He knew Rosie was a good friend, and he supposed what with him being here and Kathy being there, she was feeling every bit as miserable as he was, but it sounded … Oh, maybe he was being over-analytical about everything at the moment. He shook himself. “I’m glad Rosie’s keeping her company. But it should be me!”

He wished with all his heart that he was back there, with Kathy.

He reminded himself that he had a job to do. After it was over, he and Kathy would have all the time in the world. The rest of their lives together. Yes! That was worth waiting for.

He decided to try Dougie’s number again, but there was no answer.

Disappointed, he rang the station. The officer at the desk knew him straight away. “I’m sorry, Mr. Marcus, but the inspector is busy, and he’ll be busy for some time yet. Look, if you want to leave a message, I’m sure he’ll ring you back when he’s finished interviewing.”

Tom pounced on that particular remark. “So, have they brought the young man in? William Aitken, the one who worked at the breaker’s yard? Is he the one being interviewed?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Marcus, sir, I can’t give out that kind of information.”

“For Chrissake, man! You know what it’s all about. I’ve been with the inspector for most of the day. I already know they were onto Aitken. All I’m asking is for you to confirm that they’ve got him.”

The officer’s voice took on an officious tone. “Sorry, sir. I’ll tell him you called.”

The conversation was abruptly ended.

Frustrated, Tom paced the floor. “Jesus! I’ll go crazy if I have to sit here waiting!”

In minutes he was out of the door and into a taxi, heading for the station, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for a sight of Lilian or Dougie.

Some way across town, the police were cruising the streets, searching for the woman who was to be taken in for questioning. They had her description; they knew she had been arrested once before for causing a public nuisance, and, having been given a detailed description, they would recognize her if they saw her. So far, though, they had seen neither hide nor hair of her. But they wouldn’t give up. This was a murder hunt. She must be found, and taken in for questioning.

Oblivious to the fact that she was being tracked down, Lilian strolled along the street, talking to Dougie, pouring out her heart. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been a real problem to you.”

“You’re not a ‘problem.’” Dougie was surprised at how much she now meant to him. He smiled. “Well, maybe just a
little
‘problem.’”

She laughed.

Serious again, she confessed how it had been with Tom. “From the first minute he walked through the door of the office, I loved him. He’s such a fine man … so caring. When my mother was taken ill, he was wonderful … both him and Sheila.”

She paused, thinking of Sheila and the children, and of what she had done. “I hurt them … Sheila and the children. I shouldn’t have done what I did,” she whispered. “That was so wicked of me.”

Dougie had heard her say that over and over, and yet she would not admit to what she’d done. “Do you want to talk about it?” If he was to help her, he would have to know.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then shook her head. “I can’t. But if I tell you something else … you won’t tell Tom, will you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” He was shocked to learn how obsessed she had been with Tom. He had seen a side to Lilian that frightened him, and yet at heart she was just like a small child, needing love and reassurance.

She went on. “I used to go and see his family. I took a lot of pictures of Tom; he didn’t know I was taking them. And when I was invited to his home, I took pictures of his children, and his wife.” Frowning, she momentarily lapsed into a deep, thoughtful silence. “Sheila was a really good friend to me.”

“I know.” That much, at least, he had been aware of.

“She was a lovely person, so kind … so pretty.” Her face hardened. “Tom adored her.”

He nodded, a hard expression shaping his homely features. “I know that, too.” He smiled encouragingly. “But go on … you were saying … about the pictures?” Now that she was beginning to open her heart to him, he needed to keep her talking.