Murder... Now and Then (9 page)

Charles increased the pressure on her arm. ‘Sit down, Gerry,' he said. ‘I won't allow you to make a scene in here.'

She sat down again, and he relaxed a little.

‘You speak to him then,' she said.

Charles didn't want to speak to him, but his behaviour really was so remarkable that someone ought to say something, he supposed. He finished his wine, and took another glass from one of the girls. ‘All right,' he said.

Max stood on his own, looking out of the window at the darkening sky.

‘Don't you think you should go to see how Catherine is?' Charles asked.

‘With two doctors and Zelda attending her, she would seem to be being adequately looked after,' said Max, not turning round.

‘People are talking about it,' Charles said.

‘Oh, and that's the worst thing that can possibly happen, isn't it, Charles? People talking. My God, how will I ever get over the shame of it?'

Charles drank some wine before he spoke. He really didn't want a scene, but Max was spoiling for a row, and if he wanted one, he'd damned well get one if he wasn't careful.

‘You did know, did you?' he asked. ‘About Holyoak being Catherine's stepfather?'

‘Oh, yes,' said Max, his voice low and angry. ‘I knew. I found out yesterday.'

Ah. Charles could see that could have led to marital discord. But it didn't really explain the way he had behaved today. Hitting her? Ignoring her when she fainted? ‘Don't you even want to know how she is? he asked.

‘She fainted. She'll get over it.'

‘I think you could be showing a little more concern.'

Max turned to look at him. ‘Why?' he asked. ‘Is she ill?'

‘Well, she has been seeing Gerry for some time …'

‘She's always had trouble with that! It's hardly life-threatening.'

‘Always?' said Charles, emboldened, perhaps, by the extra glass of wine which he had now almost finished, stung by Max's attitude, and angry. Very angry. ‘Or just since the abortion?'

Max stared at him. ‘What the hell are you talking about?' he said.

Lloyd let himself into the flat, throwing his coat over the telephone table. It wasn't enough to have one phone these days. He'd got one in the hall, one in the sitting room, and one in the bedroom. The flat wasn't the size of twopence; Judy made fun of him about that. Judy came out to meet him, picked up his coat and hung it up tidily on the coat rack.

‘It went on long enough,' she grumbled, kissing him. ‘This was supposed to be a day off. How did it go?'

‘Well – it was all a bit odd,' he said.

‘Oh?' She stood aside as he headed for the kitchen. ‘ How?'

‘He announced some sort of reunion with his estranged stepdaughter, who promptly fainted dead away,' said Lloyd, surveying the fridge. ‘Lamb chops?' he asked.

‘Lovely,' she said. ‘I'll make them, if you like.'

‘No, thanks,' he said, with a grin.

Judy and food were virtual strangers to one another. She could cook breakfast, and did a fair steak and chips, but there her talent, and her appetite, seemed to end. She ate if there was food going, but if there wasn't, she didn't seem to bother. Lloyd looked at his waistband, and wished that he was like that.

‘So then what happened?' she asked, coming into the kitchen. ‘Don't leave me in suspense.'

‘Her husband took no notice of her at all,' said Lloyd, lighting the grill.

‘When?' she asked, frowning.

‘When she fainted. Totally ignored her.'

Her eyebrows rose. ‘Fancy,' she said. ‘ So – what's the story?'

‘There's more,' said Lloyd. ‘Finch tells me that before all that happened, he saw Mr Scott – that's the husband – laying into Mrs Scott round the back of the office block. He had to sort him out. She's a lot younger than him, incidentally.' He selected two lamb chops each, and placed them on the grill pan.

‘Well? Stop being so annoying! What was it all about?'

Lloyd pulled out the salad drawer and took out mushrooms and tomatoes. ‘I don't know,' he said.

‘You mean all that was going on and you didn't stick your nose in?' she asked incredulously.

This was it. The moment he had been putting off. ‘No,' he said. ‘Because something odder than that happened.'

His recollection had an unreality about it that bothered him. He was seeing the beard and the scar, but the face wasn't clear. He just knew it wasn't Holyoak's face. And he remembered looking
away
, just as he had today, as though he shouldn't have been looking at all.

He knew why he'd looked away today, but why would he have done so before?
Had
he done so before? Was the whole thing a figment of his imagination? If so, when had it lodged itself there? Just today? Then why the feeling that it had happened a long time ago?

‘What?' she demanded.

He knew what her reaction would be. But he had to tell someone, and Judy was the only person in the world that he could tell. Even if she was looking at him the way she was looking at him now, as he related his strange experience.

‘The wrong
face
?' she repeated.

He nodded, pouring cold boiled rice into sizzling oil in the pan. He wondered if he should get a wok.

‘Lloyd—'

She didn't say whatever she had been going to say. If she had been going to say anything. Just saying his name more in sorrow than in hysterical laughter was enough, really.

He stoically made her dinner. Why, he wasn't sure. She was supposed to be sympathizing, understanding. But no one had ever told her that, unfortunately.

‘So,' she said. ‘What do you think? He lends the beard and scar out? Perhaps someone stole it – perhaps
he
stole it. He could be the leader of a gang of international beard thieves. Maybe it was false – did you try to pull it off?'

‘Very funny,' said Lloyd.

‘Any funnier than thinking he has a
doppelgänger
?'

‘It can't be a
doppelgänger
', Lloyd said seriously. ‘Or it would have had the same face.'

‘
Don't
', she said, looking uncomfortable.

‘I tell you,' he said, ‘I've seen that beard and scar before. And it—'

‘Yes – don't say it again, Lloyd, please. Perhaps you just saw someone else once who—'

‘Who had a beard and a scar exactly like his? What do you suppose the odds are against that?' he asked. ‘It's a very particular kind of beard and it hasn't been fashionable since Edwardian times.'

‘Then you saw
him
! He's changed, that's all. You said yourself it seemed like a long time ago.'

‘Yes. Ten, fifteen years ago. It was London. I'm sure it was London.' That had come to him on the way home. The feeling that accompanied the half memory was London. A feeling of not being very happy, of the world lying heavy on his. shoulders. He'd only really felt like that in London. By the time he and Barbara had come back to Stansfield, they had known the marriage was over; it had just been a matter of playing out the last act.

‘Well – he probably had a business in London.' Judy looked at him. ‘Maybe he's got a twin,' she said.

‘With exactly the same beard, and exactly the same razor scar?' He put in the mushrooms and the tomatoes, and turned the chops.

‘A
razor
scar?'

Lloyd shrugged. ‘It looked like one,' he said. ‘On both of his faces,' he added.

‘Don't keep saying that!' she said. ‘Why would someone like him have a razor scar?'

‘I don't know,' said Lloyd, putting in a dash of Worcester sauce. He grinned. ‘ It's a mystery' he said, in a stage whisper.

Judy filled the kettle. ‘I'm surprised you didn't ask him,' she said. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Holyoak, who slashed your face with a razor?'

‘I tried to find out,' he said. ‘But the girl didn't know how he'd come by the scar.' He put plates in the oven.

‘What girl?'

‘The one he's supposed to be having an affair with, according to Zelda Driver,' he said, with a grin.

‘Oh, that woman should be put down!'

Lloyd laughed. ‘Heart of gold,' he said. ‘It seems that Holyoak's wife is an invalid – Zelda excuses him on those grounds.'

‘You do realize she's told half the town about us?' asked Judy.

‘No one takes any notice,' said Lloyd. ‘It's all guesswork, anyway.'

‘It's good guesswork. We could do with her in CID.'

They were eating when she returned to the subject of Victor Holyoak, as he knew she would.

‘It could be a twin,' she said. ‘You read about it. Twins separated from birth, one in Australia and one in Manchester. Breaking their legs at the same moment. Or giving birth on the same day.'

‘Getting into razor fights and receiving the same injury?' asked Lloyd.

‘Mm.' She frowned, then returned to her lamb chop. ‘I'm being infected by you,' she said. ‘ You saw him, that's all. A few years ago. He's changed – people do.' She grinned, and tapped what he still liked to think of as his receding hairline, though in truth it had receded practically to the back of his head. ‘Look at you,' she said.

He stuck his tongue out at her.

Geraldine found Zelda sitting alone, and joined her; Max and Charles were deep in conversation, and Holyoak was busy. She hoped Charles was finding out what had been going on with Max and Catherine; she had hoped he might calm Max down a little, but his presence seemed to be having the opposite effect.

Zelda gossiped about the ones who had left, including the policeman who had been so taken with Anna Worthing. He, it seemed – according to Zelda – had been having an affair for years with a married colleague, who had left her husband as a result. How Zelda knew the intimate details of everyone's life Geraldine didn't know, but it was always good fun to listen. She never believed a word of it.

Now Zelda began to look round for likely targets among those who remained, and her eye fell on Max and Charles; the conversation seemed to be getting a little heated. ‘Surely Charles isn't
arguing
with Max?' she said. ‘I always thought that Max could do no wrong in your husband's eyes.'

‘I think Max shocked him a little,' said Geraldine. ‘Not going up to Catherine.'

‘Perhaps he's discovering that his idol has feet of clay,' said Zelda. ‘At last.'

Geraldine had known Zelda all her life; she wasn't offended. Charles had always hero-worshipped Max; Geraldine had heard all about him before she ever met him, which was on her wedding day, when he was Charles's best man. Max's feet of clay were obvious to everyone but Charles. She watched as Holyoak saw off another group of guests, seeing him glance at his watch.

‘I think I'll pop up to see Catherine, and tell her it's just friends down here, if she wants to come down,' said Zelda.

‘Good idea,' said Geraldine. ‘ I'm just going to tear these two away, anyway. Victor must be shattered.' She smiled as she realized he had heard her.

‘No!' he said, with forced bonhomie. ‘No, not at all. It's a party. I want you to enjoy yourselves for as long as you like.'

Geraldine wasn't enjoying herself, neither was he. Catherine obviously wasn't and Zelda was only enjoying being able to gossip aloud about everyone now that they had all gone. Max and Charles were having a public row, something that she wouldn't have believed possible. But then she would have thought that Max hitting a woman was impossible, too. Anything, it seemed, was possible now.

After a few moments, Zelda reappeared with the intelligence that Catherine had already left.

‘What?' Victor turned away from Geraldine to look at Zelda.

‘She was probably too embarrassed to come back in here,' Geraldine suggested. ‘People feel like that about fainting – it's silly, but they do.' Too scared of her husband would be more to the point, but she thought there was little point in worrying Victor more than he already was.

‘Yes,' he said. ‘Probably. You must excuse me, Geraldine,' he said. ‘Do you have the keys, Zelda?' he asked. ‘And perhaps you could play hostess to our guests? I have to have a word with Anna.'

He went to where Anna Worthing was standing alone, and led her firmly out to the lift, just as Max pushed past Charles, and headed for where Geraldine sat with Zelda.

‘Where are these keys?' he said to Zelda, his face pale and angrier than ever. ‘I want to talk to Catherine.'

‘Catherine's gone,' said Zelda.

He gave a short sigh. ‘Then I'm going too,' he said.

‘It's time we all left,' Geraldine said quickly.

Zelda walked towards the lift. ‘I quite agree,' she said, pressing the button to recall it.

Geraldine couldn't let Max go home to Catherine in this mood, though she wasn't at all sure how she could stop him. She would have to say she wanted to make a house-call on Catherine. No one spoke in the lift, not even Zelda, as it took them to the basement and they walked into the cavernous car park. But only Charles and Zelda's cars remained, where their three cars had been parked side by side.

‘She's taken the bloody car!' said Max.

‘We'll give you a lift,' Geraldine said, her relief almost audible in her tone. The words had no sooner been uttered than Charles's pager bleeped.

‘Sorry,' he said. ‘I'll have to go and find a phone.'

‘I'll come with you, Zelda,' Max said. ‘I want a word with you, anyway.' His tone was less than friendly.

‘Do you mind if I join you?' Geraldine asked, using her original excuse. ‘I'd like to see how Catherine is.'

Charles sighed loudly, and went back into the lift as the others got into Zelda's car, the doors banging. Geraldine sat in front with Zelda; Max was in the back.