Murder... Now and Then (8 page)

The conductor made his way down once the anticipated hazard of being wedged in the stairway had passed, and the bus had made it round the bend. But Lloyd stayed where he was.

‘Get off me,' Judy said, but there was a lack of authority in her tone.

He smiled, and kissed her. She kissed him back, and he smiled again.

‘More,' he said.

Oh, such a kiss. They emerged from it eventually, and Lloyd sat back. ‘How much of a problem?' he asked.

‘Too much.' She sighed. ‘I thought you wanted to be somewhere we could carry on a conversation.'

‘Only so that I could say what was on my mind. I think I just did.'

‘No, Lloyd. It wouldn't be right.'

‘Not on the top deck of a bus in broad daylight, no.'

Judy closed her eyes. ‘Not anywhere,' she said.

‘I … I can't stop thinking about you,' he said. ‘And when we were working last night I got the impression …'

He left the rest of the sentence to her. Judy stared straight ahead as the bus made its way through unfamiliar streets, praying that it would stop and pick up a chain-smoker, but it just swept past all the stops. Had he known it would do this? She wouldn't be surprised. She could hardly tell him he had got the wrong impression, because he hadn't. ‘ I'm sorry,' was all she came up with in the end.

‘What harm would it do?' he asked.

In different circumstances, perhaps none. She even had access to a flat, and she wanted nothing more than to go there with him, but she wouldn't. Not because it was Michael's flat; some girls might have had qualms of conscience about using their boyfriend's flat for such a purpose, but she wouldn't. Michael was the first and only man whose bed she had shared, but their relationship was fluid; he was away on one of his long business trips, and he wouldn't be going without, of that she was quite certain. He made no secret of it.

And it wasn't because Lloyd was married. Or because he had two small children. She could imagine circumstances in which she might well ignore all the moral objections for a bit of fun that would harm no one.

But she knew how she felt about Lloyd, and that added up to a great deal of potential harm all round. People would get hurt
She
would get hurt. There was no way she could compete with a wife and two children, and she wasn't getting into a destructive relationship of that kind. Self-preservation was the strongest drive of all, and her fear of the consequences outweighed everything else.

‘You're married,' she said softly, getting up. ‘Forget it, Lloyd. Please.'

She made her way downstairs, travelling on the platform until the conductor rang the bell for the next stop. Lloyd didn't follow her down, and she headed for the Underground, not daring to look back at the bus.

Coward, she told herself, as she got her ticket. Coward, said the doors as they closed. Coward, said the wheels, taking her back to her nice safe mum and dad. Coward, coward, coward.

Saturday evening. Catherine looked up sharply when she heard the knock at the hotel door, and might not have answered it had she not realized that it had one of those peephole things.

She looked through it to see Max Scott, and her lips went into a straight line. She should have known he was too good to be true. Reluctantly, she opened the door a little.

‘How are you?' he asked.

She didn't answer.

‘I … I may have a proposition to put to you,' he said.

‘You don't say,' she said dully.

The look that she had got to know quite well during their journey to London crossed his face. ‘I want' he said slowly, ‘to talk to you. That's all.'

Why, though? He'd given her a lift, that was all. Catherine felt certain that other hitchers didn't acquire their drivers for the rest of their lives. He was just trying it on.

‘Oh, yeah?' she said.

‘Look – what I am thinking of doing requires a great deal of trust on my part,' he said. ‘Do you think there's any chance of a modicum of trust on yours?'

He'd been as good as his word so far, she thought, and reluctantly opened the door to admit him.

‘You must be joking,' he said. ‘Come down to the lobby, where there are people. People who can swear, in court, if necessary, that I remained at all times at least four feet away from you.' He turned, and went back towards the stairs.

Catherine looked round the little room, and picked up her bag, in which she had everything that she deemed essential, and which she was not going to let out of her sight. Then she followed him down to the lobby.

He walked over to the small table near the door at which there were two upright chairs. ‘Sit,' he said.

Catherine sat.

He sat.

Nothing was said.

‘What?' said Catherine, eventually.

‘Do you swear to me that you are sixteen years old?'

‘Why?'

‘Because it's against the law to employ someone under sixteen,' he said.

She delved into the bag for her birth certificate, and handed it to him.

He smiled. ‘You were sixteen last week,' he said, then frowned a little. ‘ Have you left school?' he asked.

‘Yes.' She had now.

‘Fine,' he said, then looked at her again, the way he did. ‘Am I likely to have the police round looking for you?'

She shrugged.

‘I'll have to tell them, if I do.'

‘They won't find me.'

‘Have you broken the law?'

‘No.'

He looked at her with every bit as much suspicion as she felt about him, then carried on. ‘Well, I've got a vacancy for a … well, I would have called it a Girl Friday in the ad, but that's a bit … well, anyway. Someone to do a bit of typing, answer the phone when I'm not there, keep the files in order – that sort of thing.'

‘I can't type.'

‘No … well. Maybe I could run to … an evening class. Or something.'

She thought about it. ‘Why are you doing this?' she asked suspiciously.

He smiled. ‘That's what I keep asking myself,' he said. ‘ I think it's because I don't like the alternatives on offer to you. Your money won't last for ever, and … well, runaways are prey to a lot of very unsavoury characters.'

‘What's it to you?'

He shrugged. ‘Nothing, I suppose. But there you are. That's the offer. I can't pay very much, but it'll be what other sixteen-year-olds are getting.'

Catherine thought about that, and its implications. ‘ Would you pay me in cash?' she asked. ‘No forms, or anything like that?'

His eyebrows rose, and then he mulled the idea over for a few moments. ‘It would save me money,' he said. ‘But it's illegal. You wouldn't be properly insured, you wouldn't get state sickness benefit if you were ill … and I'd be in deep trouble if I got found out.'

‘But will you?'

He seemed to be going to refuse; if he had, she would have turned down his offer. But in the end, he nodded. ‘OK,' he said.

‘I'll take it,' she said.

‘Good.' He smiled. ‘I've done you a little plan of how to get to the office from here – it's just a few streets away. And you will have to look for somewhere else to live, of course. You might be able to find somewhere to share—'

‘No,' she said. ‘Ill find something on my own.'

‘Rent is high in London.' She nodded. ‘It's up to you,' he said, and stood up. ‘Till Monday then,' he

said, and held out his hand.
For the second time, Catherine shook it. For the second time,

she remembered her manners. ‘Thanks', she said, and, for the second

time, she smiled.
But for the first time, she had lied to him.

Night shift again. And having to face Judy Russell; Bannister didn't think he could take it. She had had to rescue him from a girl who didn't come up to his shoulder; he had frozen, when he saw the sheer rage on Annabel's face. Russell knew it, and he knew it. And the little whore had had the nerve to make a complaint and that had put him in hock to Russell again. Bannister pulled on his uniform jacket his face grim.

‘What's up, Dave? Russell been giving you a ticking off again?'

He grabbed the speaker by the lapel and pushed him against the metal lockers, rocking them. Someone grabbed him from behind before he hit him.

‘Come on, Dave!' said the arbitrator. ‘It was just a joke.'

He turned. Horton. Bloody Horton. He'd got him into this. He should have been getting the women into the van, but the fat sod was too busy letting them make a fool of him.

‘Sorry,' said the first, whose lapel he still grasped. ‘I didn't mean anything by it.'

Bannister let him go, and shook off Horton's restraining arm. The others, robbed of their entertainment, began to drift out to get their instructions for the evening; Horton stayed behind.

‘Come on – we'll be late.'

A cheap little street-walker showing him up. Making a complaint about him. Bannister slammed the locker door, which merely opened again. He locked it and followed Horton out.

She'd be sorry. He'd bide his time, but she'd be sorry she messed with him.

‘She's fine,' said Charles Rule. ‘I've just checked on her again. She wants to be left alone for a little while.'

Holyoak nodded, and thanked Charles and Geraldine for their part in bringing the minister to his opening day, and for their professional services with regard to his stepdaughter.

Geraldine was Margaret's doctor; her prognosis in his wife's regard was not optimistic. But Margaret had known that; that was why she agreed to come back to Britain, though the travelling hadn't helped her. To Stansfield, to be where Catherine was. And Catherine had been to see her. But only once.

Holyoak had always kept an eye on Catherine, from a distance. He had tried anonymously to buy his way into Driver's several times, to be met with resistance from Zelda. He had acquired some shares, but nothing to give him any kind of control. But the recession had weakened both the company and her resolve, and he had finally bought her out. A move dictated by the heart and not the head, but he would make it work. Margaret's health had grown steadily worse, and he had judged the time right to move back. He had done it for Margaret not for her ungrateful daughter.

He had known what Catherine's reaction would have been if he had done it all openly, so he had sent Anna ahead, to put all the pieces in place before he came himself.

‘I suppose you think it's odd that I haven't gone up to Catherine,' he said. ‘But she and' – with difficulty, he used the man's first name – ‘Max seem to have had some sort of …'

‘Yes,' said Geraldine.

‘I think perhaps I shouldn't interfere,' he said.

Geraldine gave a brittle smile. ‘That's what Charles says,' she said. ‘Isn't it, Charles?'

‘Well – husband and wife, you know,' said Charles.

‘Has he even asked how she is?' said Holyoak.

Charles Rule got out of answering as they were interrupted by the man Holyoak had come to think of as Anna's policeman, so much of her time had he monopolized.

‘I'd better be off, Mr Holyoak,' he said. ‘ Thank you very much – I'm glad we weren't needed.'

Holyoak had to see the man off the premises; he nodded an apology to the Rules, and forced a smile as he followed Chief Inspector Lloyd to the lift.

‘I'm going to speak to Max,' said Gerry, making to get up from the table. ‘Find out what's going on.'

Charles caught her arm, and shook his head. ‘ Even if we're right, it's none of our business,' he said.

‘You sound like those people who live next door to battered children,' she said.

‘She was hardly' – Charles realized that the words were carrying – ‘battered,' he continued, lowering his voice. ‘And you said she denied it anyway. Whatever's going on, I'd rather it wasn't discussed here.'

‘I'm worried about her. I don't want Max going home with her in this mood – I've never seen him this angry.'

Charles sighed. ‘ I have,' he said. ‘Once or twice.' It took a lot to rouse easy-going Max to anger, but it wasn't totally unheard of. Hitting a woman was. ‘But it'll blow over, whatever it is,' Charles said, more confidently than he felt. ‘It's probably something to do with this business about her stepfather.' He looked at Gerry, watching for her reaction when he asked the question he was about to ask. ‘You didn't know, did you?' he said.

‘Know what?'

‘That Holyoak was Catherine's stepfather?'

She looked uncomfortable, ‘Why would I have known?' she asked, asking another question instead of answering his.

‘You treat her mother,' he said. ‘I thought …'

‘Oh,' she said. With relief. ‘ No. I didn't know.'

‘Do you think Max knew?' he asked. ‘Before Holyoak made the announcement?'

‘I … I don't know. He must have done, surely.'

‘It might explain why he's behaving like this,' said Charles.

‘It doesn't explain what happened before he made the announcement,' said Gerry. ‘And he has to have hit her, Charles,' she added, in a low voice. ‘Whatever she says. What else could those marks be? And it worries me. I've never seen him like this – neither have you, or Zelda—'

Charles dismissed her fears with an impatient wave of his hand. ‘You're getting as bad as she is,' he said. ‘Why don't you just pop over and ask him if he's going to murder this wife too?'

‘Really, Charles—'

‘Well, that's what you're thinking, isn't it? No one's ever seen him like this – except maybe Valerie?'

‘I didn't say that!' She flushed slightly, and tried to rise again. ‘I'm going to have it out with him,' she said.