Bury Him Darkly Read online

  ‘Yes,’ he said moodily. ‘Let’s get it over.’ Then he brightened. I thought the effort cost him a lot. ‘You’ll be a rich woman, Phil. You could do… well, practically anything. See the world… He allowed it to tail away.

  ‘Richer than you think,’ I told him. I was now certain as to his interest, and what was worrying him, and felt a prickle of anger I had to try not to show. The best thing now was to present him with the lot. Throw it at him. A worst case scenario, it would be, as far as he was concerned, if my guess was correct. ‘I was surprised, Oliver. When I came to sell up the goodwill of the business in New York… the files, the background information we’d built up… heavens, they clambered over each other to make offers. I’m now very rich indeed, Oliver — by my standards, anyway. I don’t know what I’ll do. Harvey will advise me. It’s what a solicitor’s for. I thought maybe I’d buy a yacht. You know, an ocean-going thing. Complete with crew. And go cruising. Drift round the Med and meet people. You never know...’ That’s right, Phil, I told myself disparagingly, pile it on.

  ‘Get married again,’ he muttered, not looking at me. ‘Somebody with an even bigger yacht.’

  ‘Who’s talking about marriage?’ I asked negligently. ‘I want a bit of freedom — look around. Decide later.’

  ‘Of course you do. You’ve earned it.’

  Not all of it, I hadn’t. ‘No encumbrances,’ I agreed. ‘Nothing to hold me back.’ I stared into a space just above his head.

  ‘I can understand your reasoning. You’ve been tied down and restricted by your work.’ His left hand fiddled with a loose end of bandage.

  ‘Do you realize, Oliver, what my life’s been? But of course you do. Dealing with all those up-moving executives without ruffling their self-esteem, praising them, boosting them. It’s as though I’ve been shepherding one lame duck after the other — if you can shepherd ducks. Holding their hands and leading them where they ought to go.’ You’re pushing it too far, Phil. Too far.

  ‘I can see your point. I thought you loved it, though. That’s the impression ... ‘ He let it lie, raising his eyes to mine, glancing away. Again he was disappointing me. He’d underestimated my lying ability.

  But he had been correct. It had been my life. ‘And d’you know what they all had in common, Oliver? They each thought they were God’s gift to big business and high finance. Not a modest claim from any of them.’

  ‘Is that so?’ He moved his shoulder furtively.

  I allowed a little pause to build up, then I said gently, ‘You haven’t told me the truth, have you? About your shoulder.’

  He shook his head, fumbling for his glass although it was empty. I said, ‘I’ll get you another pint.’

  He said flatly, ‘No!’ Then he looked up, directly at me at last. His smile was a poor thing, but he seemed to have relaxed.

  ‘Not the whole truth, Phil,’ he admitted. ‘It’s rather worse than I said. Tendons and muscles and things… hell, it’s all so technical. The fact is, I’m never going to regain the full use of my right arm. They’ll pension me off, Phil. No use for a one-armed copper.’

  ‘You won’t lose it!’

  ‘No! No, no. But I’ll have to learn to write left-handed.’

  ‘It’ll make you stutter, I’ve heard.’

  ‘I’ll be able to write to you, wherever you are. I’ll put the stutters in.’ It was a flicker of his old self.

  ‘Thank you. And where shall you be writing from? A bit of a cottage with a bit of a garden? Which, I suppose, you’ll dig one-handed. And with an old lady to clean for you and cook one meal a day. You make me mad, Oliver. Furious!’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault.’ He seemed puzzled and lost. ‘Old Pearson —’

  ‘Your attitude,’ I explained, clipping my words now. ‘The wounded warrior, pensioned off for life. I’ll tell you what I want to do with mine, shall I! I just want to do one more job. Devote myself to it. Don’t stare at me as though I’ve gone mad. I’m going to find you something. A future. That’s right in my line.’

  ‘Well… fine...’

  ‘Devote, I said. Oliver Simpson, do you want to live with me? Married or not.’

  ‘Come on, Phil! I can’t lumber you —’

  ‘Yes or no.’

  His mouth was set in a grim line, but his eyes danced with amusement. ‘It’s maybe a good idea.’

  ‘Maybe!’

  ‘Maybe a good idea to go and see Mrs Porter, as you suggested. But not this evening —’

  ‘Yes?’ I demanded distinctly. ‘Or no?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘That’s that then.’

  Thus it was settled. He grinned. ‘If this cottage of Mrs Porter’s is at all isolated, she won’t welcome visitors. I’d have to go with you for protection, but as it is...’

  ‘I could hit you. You’re as bad as the rest, big-headed and complacent.’

  ‘I’ll be guided by you, Phil,’ he promised solemnly.

  ‘Or I by you,’ I agreed. ‘If not Mrs Porter this evening, what d’you suggest?’

  ‘We’ll need to know about this football fiddle that Rowley Fields was operating. A trip round the pubs is the best way of doing that.’

  ‘If you think it would help, and if it’s what you want to do.’

  ‘I’ve made no useful contribution so far.’

  ‘You’ll injure your left arm, too,’ I warned him, ‘lifting all those pint glasses. And you won’t be able to get back here if you stick to shorts.’

  ‘Now you’re being sarcastic. We can all three go.’

  ‘I’d prefer to see Mrs Porter.’

  ‘Then do so. You can take Terry.’

  ‘You’ll need Terry yourself.’

  ‘I’m not letting you go without protection.’

  ‘You’re not letting —’

  ‘And I’m not good at that...’

  ‘Oh, for Chrissake!’

  ‘… Anymore,’ he added, determined to get in the last word. ‘He’s here now. Let Terry decide.’

  Terry slid into the chair beside me, looking all pink and fresh. ‘What’s this? What’s this?’ He looked from face to face, smiling, then it faded when he saw our expressions. ‘What’s going on?’

  We spoke together, then Oliver waved his hand, giving me the floor. I explained the disagreement. Terry frowned. He searched our faces again, then he slapped the table surface.

  ‘It’s easy. The chief goes round the pubs alone. The two of us together would obviously look like cops. So Phillie and I’ll go to see the old lady, then drive back here, and if you haven’t come back, Chief, we go round the pubs with the car and shovel you in, if you’re in that state, and bring you back here. OK? Isn’t that logical?’

  ‘Completely,’ I agreed.

  ‘And it’s got the advantage that I’ll get you on my own, Phillie. Won’t that be great?’

  ‘For both of us,’ I said emptily. It seemed he was managing to forget Jennie already.

  ‘Then that’s settled.’

  ‘Satisfactorily,’ said Oliver, ‘all round.’ But he twisted his lips lugubriously.

  ‘So let’s go and eat,’ Terry suggested. ‘I noticed they’re serving in the dining room.’

  ‘Heavens!’ I glanced at my watch. ‘I’d better just pop up...’

  I left them talking to each other, heads close. No doubt Oliver was issuing strict instructions as to the guardianship of my person. My impression was that Terry would be sticking fairly close, anyway.

  My idea was a quick swill, a change into a skirt, and a dash down again. I burst into the room, and found Bella sitting on the edge of her bed and watching herself on the telly. She looked up.

  ‘Phil, Phil!’ She patted the bed beside her. ‘Come ‘n’ look at this. You’ll enjoy it. One of our shows.’

  ‘I haven’t got —’

  ‘You’ll miss the best bit. Come on.’

  Reluctantly, I sat. I could spare it perhaps five minutes. The setting was some sort of an impressive office. Jay and
Bella were standing facing each other, he with his feet well apart, a sneer on his face, and she raging in fury in front of him, and the more the rage, the worse the sneer. Jay looked magnificently poised, in complete control of himself and the scene. Bella was overacting like mad, but there was something of fear behind it. Perhaps she was a better actress than I’d realized.

  ‘He’s just come back from one of his trips,’ she told me, for some reason whispering as though we were in a cinema. ‘He’s heard I’ve been seen around with that character I told you about, who drives over the cliff. He’s jealous, and he’s been having me watched. Now concentrate on this. This bit coming up. See the expression on his face? It was suddenly personal, you see. Not in the script. Him and me. Because the bastard had been having me watched, and there was this really fantastic feller. Oh Phil… he was divine.’

  ‘You mean —’

  ‘I’m a grown-up healthy girl, Phil. What d’you expect? Look. Listen. This is where he says his insulting line, and I’m supposed to slap his face — palm, right hand. We’d rehearsed it. He rides it and I pull it. But… listen… this is his line.’

  ‘… not even claim to be a low-class whore,’ Jay was saying with passionate disgust. ‘You didn’t even get paid. I bet you had to pay him...’

  She half turned away from him, to her left. I couldn’t see how a right-hand slap could come from there. As I’d been primed, and as Bella’s fingers were digging into my arm, I was prepared for it. There was a split-second of blank incomprehension on Jay’s face, then she whipped back, bringing her right hand up and across, her knuckles lashing his mouth. His head went back, his eyes were for a second blank, then blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  Bella laughed weirdly, and clapped, turning towards me. ‘Did you see! I caught him unprepared. It made a lovely shot! They kept it in. But Jay was wild, mad. They had to hold him, or he’d have killed me. It was his face, you see. His precious face. It’s not all face-lift, you know. In his early days he did his own stunts, before he became valuable, and he crashed a motor bike. Or so he told me. Mashed his face up good and proper, it did, but when they’d put it all together again, it was better than the original. Came out all craggy, you know, and kind of twisted. Sexy. So he looked after his face, and I’d dented it. His precious face.’

  And her own face was aglow with the recalled pleasure of it. ‘Bella!’ I whispered, because I could think of nothing more to say.

  She showed me the back of her right hand. ‘My mother’s ring,’ she told me. It was multi-stoned, like diamond chips. ‘Father gave it to me when I was sixteen.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘How nice. I’ve got to rush.’ To be away from her.

  Rapidly I sorted through what I had. Not too formal, not too plain. I was going to visit an old lady, who would want to be reassured by the presence of another woman, and not have to guess as to sex. There was a two-piece I had hardly worn, a double-breasted blouson top with a hip-snatching basque and a nicely co-ordinated pleated skirt. I clambered into it, stood in front of the wardrobe mirror, and wasn’t displeased. Earrings? No. Make-up? It would do. Mrs Porter wouldn’t go for elaborate make-up.

  ‘You’re surely not going down to dinner like that,’ cried Bella. ‘I shall be wearing shoes,’ I said with dignity, meaning my low-heeled wedges.

  ‘Your neck, darlin’!’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Bella, stop worrying about my neck.’ ‘Borrow my rhinestone necklace, Phil. What it’d do for your eyes!’

  ‘And forget my eyes.’

  ‘You’re just hopeless.’

  I laughed. She really was the limit. ‘Oh,’ I said, my hand easing open the door, ‘you can probably help me, Bella. Waterford Farm. You’ll surely know where it is.’

  She looked away. ‘Why d’you want to go there?’

  ‘To see an old lady. Mrs —’

  ‘Porter,’ she cut in, and there was a snap in her voice.

  Gently I reclosed the door, moved towards her, and tried to sound casual. ‘You know her?’

  ‘Of course I do. She’s my grandmother.’ Then her eyes were coldly on mine. She fingered her mother’s ring. ‘What d’you want from her?’

  I realized I had to be careful here. I ought to have guessed who Mrs Porter had to be, if she was in a position to supply information about Dulcie, Bella’s mother. Stupid of me! I’d slipped up.

  ‘Just something another old lady said in the fish and chip restaurant.’

  She nodded. ‘You can bet! They all know everybody and all their business, the old uns. What d’you expect dear granny to tell you, anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s just a matter of groping in the dark.’

  ‘Then I’ll warn you, Phil.’ There was bitterness in her voice. ‘Don’t believe a word the old bag tells you. Oh, she’ll fill your ears right enough, with dirty rotten rubbish. Don’t believe one soddin’ word, that’s all. Me… I’ve had some. She’s got a nasty vicious mind, believe me. All smiles and soft words, and every one of them dipped in poison. She was one of the reasons I had to get away from this blasted town, the rotten-minded old cow...’ She jerked her head up and away. There had been a catch in her voice.

  I sat down quietly on my own bed. ‘Did she drive you away, Bella?’ She was grabbing for her cigarettes, her usual refuge when emotion intruded. ‘I had a bad time like that with my husband,’ I confided. ‘A complete misunderstanding, it was.’

  ‘This was no misunderstanding, believe me. She sat me down, and I felt as though I was tied there. She pinned me to the chair with every word, all dripping with hatred and acid. She was set to turn me against Dad. Oh, her poor Dulcie! My ma, that was. She’d had to put up with his brutish behaviour. Brutish! The very word she used. And his mockery. She said he’d mocked her, jeered at her, wept at her! Oh Christ, the bastard!’

  ‘Your father?’ This wasn’t sounding like Rowley.

  ‘No. That rotten old bitch. Didn’t she see! Didn’t she see that all she was doing was turning me against her instead of against my dad, her and that nasty vicious tongue of hers. I hated her then. Hated her. And just… Lord, this was just the time I’d worked myself up to going away… and she had to hand me that.’

  Once again, this didn’t quite line up with what she’d already said about Rowley, he of the jovially loose and grasping hands. ‘When was this?’ I asked quietly.

  ‘Just before he… my dad… disappeared himself. Oh, don’t you see, Phil. If that was the mother-in-law he’d had to contend with, and if my mother was… blast it, Phil, use your imagination for once, will you! I’d heard about my mother. Dulcie. The wonderful Dulcie. D’you know what they used to call her? Duck-out Dulcie. Now ain’t that bleedin’ lovely! My mother, and they sneered at her, and poor old Dad… I was… It was that last week or two and I was desperate to go. Jay had turned up — come back into my life.’

  ‘You’d met him in Birmingham,’ I reminded her, reminded myself.

  She wagged the hand holding the cigarette. ‘That’s right. I’d met him at a party in Birmingham. I’d had a bit part at the Alex, and gave him my address. You know how it is. You meet dozens. Hell, I don’t have to keep records.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘So he came. I wanted to go. Then Tonia’d got something lined up. It was all laid on, and that rotten bag… oh, Phil, Phil, how could I leave Dad after that? I felt sorry for him, blast it. D’you know, I took a good look at him, for the very first time, and you’ll never guess what I saw behind all that happy slap-on-the-back bouncy jokey stupid face of his.’

  ‘I couldn’t guess. Tell me.’ I barely breathed it.

  ‘He was unhappy and he was alone, and he was afraid, Phil. Afraid. And suddenly I didn’t want to go. Jay had come and everything seemed to be opening up, and all I wanted to do was stay with that poor lost old bleeder — and that was what dear Granny Porter had done for me. Ruined everything. And I didn’t know what to do.’

  I stared at the top of her head. She had been flin
ging it about, and her hair fell like a curtain between us.

  ‘Then it’s convenient your father went away himself, and made the decision for you,’ I murmured.

  ‘Went away!’ The head came up. ‘He was killed, you fool.’

  ‘We don’t know that.’

  ‘Of course we do. That was him. That skeleton. You daft or something?’

  ‘Nobody can be certain of that, yet.’

  She snorted. ‘Want a bet?’

  I said, ‘Not on that subject, Bella. You know too much.’

  She was watching me as I got to my feet, and again she managed to halt me at the door. Her voice was dull and uninflected. ‘D’you want me to come with you, Phil?’

  There was perhaps a hidden yearning to repair an old breach. I said, ‘I don’t think so. But thank you, all the same. I’ll let you know what happens.’

  ‘I don’t want to know.’

  I’d closed the door behind me before I remembered she hadn’t told me how to locate Waterford Farm. I didn’t go back.

  They were waiting in the bar. Terry came to his feet. ‘Oh oh! We ought to change, Chief, and I didn’t bring my dinner jacket.’

  ‘Idiot,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and eat.’

  When we’d ordered, I told them what had happened, reversing the order so that I could keep the back-hander I’d watched Jay receive until last. Terry seemed eager to meet this old dragon up at the farm. He claimed he had a way with old ladies, which I could easily accept. Then I told them about Jay’s cut mouth.

  ‘Why,’ asked Oliver, who didn’t miss much, ‘did you leave that until last?’

  ‘You guessed!’

  ‘It’s your sense of the dramatic, Phil. Why?’

  ‘It’s the ring. Her mother’s ring. And she’s wearing it.. She says her father gave it to her when she was sixteen. So, how did Rowley happen to have it? If Dulcie had gone away, as he said to them first, why would she have left it behind?’

  ‘Her engagement ring,’ suggested Oliver. ‘Left as a gesture of rejection. I can manage soup with my left hand. Why the hell did I order a lamb chop?’

  ‘Aren’t you missing the point?’ asked Terry. We stared at him, and he smiled. ‘Bella’s wearing it. She knows all about her mother’s reputation, she knew her mother for only four years, yet she wears her ring — and it doesn’t sound as though it’s very valuable, so it’s not for that.’