Jazz and Die (14 page)

Ross? No, he was not the present-giving type.

‘We’ll get you out,’ I promised.

‘Save me, Jordan!’ she howled.

‘I am saving you,’ I said.

M
addy was not a happy bunny when she was released in the early hours of the morning. She was wet and cold and terrified out of her mind. Her teeth were chattering, her skirt and blouse torn, and she was barely coherent. It took time to wake up someone who could unlock the old jail house and the custodian then took further time trying to find the key.

I wrapped my everpresent fleece round her shivering body when she stumbled out and tried to rub some life into her arms. She needed a warm bath and hot tea and fast.

‘I’ll take Maddy back to her hotel,’ some young man volunteered from the crowd.

‘No!’ she screamed, clinging to me. ‘I’m not going with anyone except Jordan. I won’t leave her.’

My car was parked down along the front, near the clock tower so that we could have made a handy escape from the party. Not so handy now. It was a ten-minute walk away. I doubted if Maddy could walk that far. Nor could I, with Maddy clinging to me.

‘Can you phone for a taxi?’ I asked the same helpful young man. ‘I’ll pick my car up later.’

‘OK,’ he said, taking out his mobile. ‘If I can find one at this hour. It’s pretty late.’

‘Please try.’ I didn’t want to phone James. The man needed his sleep.

There was one taxi driver still awake and driving. He’d taken
a couple back to Wareham after a show at the Mowlem Theatre. He was relieved that we only wanted to go to the Whyte Cliffside Hotel.

‘Get in,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t stay awake for another long drive.’

It was only a short journey through the town and up the hill and the back of his car was still warm. I paid him twice what he asked for. He was worth it.

The night receptionist looked curiously at the bedraggled Maddy.

‘A little mishap,’ I said.

We went up in the lift to the top floor. ‘Don’t wake your father,’ I warned her. ‘We don’t want to worry him.’

She was still shaking from shock and it was easy to propel her into the bathroom and run a warm bath. There were several bottles of complimentary bath foam and I poured them all in. The mixed fragrances might be soothing.

Her fancy dress outfit was torn and dirty. I peeled it off and tossed it into the waste bin. The hospitality tray was well stocked. I made two cups of tea and took them into the bathroom.

Maddy was up to her neck in foam. She was beginning to look better and took the tea. A few sips were reviving.

‘You must never, ever leave me,’ she said, her foam-covered hand clutching my arm. Suds dripped onto the floor, making a puddle on the bath mat.

‘I have to go home. I have my own life to lead, a business to run. Your father only employed me for the jazz festival.’

‘I’m not safe any more. Someone wants to kill me. I know it. But why? I haven’t done anyone any harm.’

I didn’t know how much she knew and I wasn’t going to tell her. That was up to Chuck Peters and I felt sure he did not want his daughter alarmed.

‘So what on earth makes you think that?’ I said lightly. ‘It was just a silly joke to lock you in the jail house. Some stupid drunk. Nothing sinister.’

She was calming down a bit, leaning against the back of the bath, drinking the tea. I had to admire her recovery.

‘The same drunk that shouted at Ross?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘It was more than a silly joke,’ she said. ‘The monk had a knife to my throat. He said he would kill me. He said I knew too much for my own good. But I know nothing! Nothing at all. I am ignorant and thoughtless, only clothes mad.’

‘You are being very harsh on yourself,’ I said. ‘You are intelligent and observant. You may have seen something, perhaps unconsciously, that he doesn’t want you to have seen.’

‘Tell me, tell me,’ she said urgently. ‘What could I have seen?’

‘Did you see Sarah and Roger, the art teacher, here at the jazz festival three years ago?’

‘I can hardly remember last week,’ she howled. ‘Only saw that photograph that you showed me at the library. How can I remember three years ago? Have a heart.’

She had a point.

‘Before you forget, Maddy,’ I said, hating that I had to do it, ‘can you give me a description of the man, the monk? Any detail might be helpful.’

‘I don’t want to think about it any more,’ she protested.

‘I know. That’s why you have got to tell me now. Tomorrow might be too late. A fresh memory is always more reliable. Try and be sensible about this. We want to catch this awful man, don’t we, even if it was a joke?’

She swallowed the mini lecture. ‘He was medium height, not tall like Ross. He was thin, I think, although it was difficult to tell. He was wearing a monk’s dark clothes and a hood thing pulled down and a mask over the lower half of his face. I only saw bits of his eyes. They were horrible, glinting with evil.’

Too many vampire films. ‘Age? Voice?’ I prompted.

‘Not actually old. Sort of twenty to thirty, I suppose. I don’t know ages really. His voice? Just an ordinary male voice. No foreign accent. Full of menace and threatening, as if he was full of hate. He hated me. Why should he hate me?’

‘Did he say anything special?’

‘Just that I knew too much and he was going to kill me.’
Her voice was trembling. She lay back in the suds. She had had enough of the cross-examination.

‘Did you see his hands?’

‘No, he had gloves on. But I think he was wearing one of those string bracelet things on his wrist, like for a religion or a charity.’

‘What did he call you?’

‘Nothing. Perhaps he had the wrong person.’

‘So he didn’t kill you, did he? It was only words, a threat. He bundled you into the jail house and left you there. Somehow he had a duplicate key.’

‘I could have died if no one had found me.’

‘You would have been found the next morning. There’s a cafe in the same yard, behind the town hall.’

I made more tea, wrapped her in warm towels, put her to bed like a baby. I had never had a baby. I might be a good mother. There was still time. But a baby needed a father and James had too much personal luggage. He might not want another family.

‘Don’t leave me,’ said Maddy, snuggling down against the pillows.

‘My room is only a floor below.’

‘No, no, Jordan. Sleep here, please.’

I was longing for the comfort of that bed, bones aching. I took the spare pillows and blankets from the wardrobe and laid them on the floor. The floor was hard but would be good for my back. I eased off my boots and wriggled out of my jeans.

‘I won’t leave you,’ I said. It was my job.

Chuck Peters woke me some time before dawn. An eerie grey light was filtering through a crack in the curtains. I blinked hard, wondering where on earth I was.

The floor had got harder during the night, as floors do. I doubted I could unbend myself and stand up straight.

‘Jordan,’ he whispered. ‘Jordan? Wake up. Come into the sitting room where we can talk.’

The sitting area was the adjoining factor of the two bedrooms of the suite. I followed him in a bent, decrepit state as if my spine
had fused unnaturally during the night. I grabbed a towelling robe for decency.

Chuck had made coffee from the hospitality tray and two cups stood on the small table. I was immediately uplifted. Wonderful man, and he could play the trumpet.

He closed the door carefully as I sank into an armchair and reached for a coffee.

‘Your DCI James phoned this morning. Apparently he had a plain clothes constable at Maddy’s party who reported back what happened. I am eternally grateful that you found her and took care of her back here. She could have died of fright in that creepy jail house.’

‘Your daughter is made of sterner stuff,’ I said. I felt a mild glow, the way Chuck had said ‘your’ DCI. If only he was.

‘Tell me all that you know.’

I went through it all again. Perhaps I should have had Maddy tied to me with reins like they use with toddlers. Too late now. Chuck nodded now and again, poured me some more coffee.

‘Maddy is a wilful girl, a handful. But perhaps now she will be a little more amenable. She’s had a fright.’

‘Quite a fright.’

‘I understand you’ve left your Mazda MX5 somewhere along the front. You ought to go and collect it before it gets vandalized by some mindless thugs.’

‘But I can’t. I promised Maddy I’d stay with her.’

‘I’ll be here with Maddy. I’ll sit in an armchair in her room and compose a line or two. It will be good for me. I don’t write enough new stuff these days.’

‘Dancing Ledge?’

I was back in my 410 bedroom, and out again in five minutes. A quick face wash and hair brush and I was jogging down to town. Everywhere was empty. Only me and a few early-rising seagulls. Daylight was edging behind the Jurassic cliffs, throwing them into strange formations and colours, embedded with the fragmented bones of dinosaurs. The sea was brushing the sand soundlessly, as if forbidden to make a noise too early.

My footsteps on the promenade were muted. I ran along the front, along the harbour wall cobbles and the quarry rail lines towards the old Wellington clock tower. All signs of the party had gone apart from a mound of bottles and cans by a council refuse bin.

The wasp was all right, glistening with dew. It looked forlorn as if it did not like being left out all night in a strange place. I unlocked the car and slipped into the driving seat.

‘Sorry,’ I said as I turned the ignition. ‘Hadn’t forgotten you.’

It responded easily without a single early-morning cough. I drove slowly back to the hotel, relishing the empty roads. Daylight was on its way now. I wanted to stay up and watch the dawn but I knew it would be foolish. I needed a few more hours’ sleep before that long drive home to Latching.

I didn’t go into breakfast for a very good reason. I overslept and the dining room had stopped serving. There was only tea and biscuits from the hospitality tray. Chuck and Maddy had ordered room service.

They invited me to join them to finish up their croissants, which were good even when cold, although butter wouldn’t melt on the flaky bread.

Maddy was not quite her old self. She looked subdued but she was wearing a new fringed cotton top and new straw sandals, both loot from yesterday’s shopping spree, so that was a good sign.

‘So everyone is going home today?’ I said brightly.

‘We are not quite sure of our plans,’ said Chuck. ‘DCI James is coming to see us this morning and has asked us to wait till he gets here.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Maddy stubbornly. ‘I’m never going to leave this room again. I’m going to stay here until I am very old, at least eighteen.’

‘You’ll soon get bored, stuck in this room with only books to read and repeats on television. I could get you some jigsaws. Perhaps your school will send classwork for you. You could do it on your laptop.’

‘I need police protection,’ said Maddy. ‘I shall get that detective to arrange it. A woman constable, sitting here with me, day and night. Or I could go home with you, Jordan. That’s a great idea. My father would pay you to look after me all the time.’

My heart sank. Run my shop, investigate cases, put my new flat straight and take care of Maddy, day and night? I’d get more than vertigo. I’d get chronic bi-polar.

‘It’s a one-bedroom flat and extremely small,’ I said weakly.

‘I won’t take up much room, promise. We could buy a camp bed and a sleeping bag,’ she said with growing enthusiasm. ‘I can sleep somewhere. I’ve always wanted to go camping. I won’t be any trouble. It’ll be such fun.’

My mobile rang. It was DCI James. ‘I’m here but don’t open the door until you’ve checked who it is,’ he said. ‘They had room service in room 520 this morning. Who delivered it?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘I’m coming up now.’

He rang off. No enquiry about my health. Nothing had changed.

‘That was DCI James,’ I said. ‘He’s on his way.’

‘Good,’ said Chuck. ‘Now we’ll get something done.’

I didn’t quite know what that meant but I felt sure he didn’t mean to sound so blunt or lacking in confidence in my ability.

‘Hopefully they will have already caught him,’ he added hastily, reading my expression.

There was a knock on the door and Maddy got up to open it but I stopped her.

I went to the door and spoke through it.

‘Who is it? Identify yourself, please.’

‘Detective Chief Inspector James. I phoned you from downstairs.’

‘Password, please.’

‘We didn’t arrange a password.’

‘You could have a gun jammed into your back.’

‘No gun.’

‘Or at your head.’

‘Open the door, you idiot. I’ve got work to do.’

I turned the key and opened the door a fraction. He was alone and he looked only slightly amused. ‘Come in,’ I said. ‘You’re in time for a cold croissant.’

‘My favourite.’

Maddy retold her story and gave her description of the man. DCI James made notes and asked a few questions. The young man who had offered to drive Maddy to the hotel was his undercover police constable.

‘How did you know the party was on?’ I asked.

‘Maddy put it on Facebook,’ he said. ‘Not a sensible thing to do these days, young lady. You were lucky that hundreds didn’t turn up.’

‘I might have been safer with hundreds of people there,’ she said morosely.

DCI James ignored the interruption. ‘We found a brown monk’s robe rolled up and stuffed into a refuse bin. We need you to identify it and then it will be taken to forensics.’

‘I won’t even look at it,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I’m not going out.’

‘You’ll do as you are told,’ said Chuck.

‘You won’t have to, Maddy. I’ve brought it with me.’

James had left a green M&S carrier bag by the door. He opened it up and laid a dusty brown robe on the floor. It was creased and muddy. Maddy took one look at it and went white. Then she began to cry, quivering sobs, hiding her face in her hands. Chuck put his arms round her.

‘I think you’ve got your answer, James,’ I said.

‘I guess so. We’ll get it checked out. Might be a trace on it.’

A trace of what? I didn’t like to ask.