The Red Chairs Mystery Page 8

  Holly was sympathetic. ‘How awful!’ she said. ‘It must have been a nightmare…What happened?’

  Jack said Brian realized he should simply have left the bar. He went to the toilet and was on his way out, but suddenly couldn’t face spending the rest of the evening alone in that unwelcoming flat. He returned to the table, where another drink stood waiting for him. Of course, he did not know it had been spiked, and that he was now drinking a nutmeg-sprinkled cocktail containing not only brandy, crème de cacao and cream, but also a pulverized Ecstacy tablet. When this began taking effect, he went wild.

  ‘The drug took away his inhibitions and at the same time made him totally paranoid’, explained Jack, ‘To the extent that he got up and started punching people he thought were laughing at him.’

  It had not taken long for a couple of bouncers to throw the hapless Brian out on the street, where he again began aggressively accosting innocent passers-by.

  ‘Then, as luck would have it, I arrived on the scene’, Jack told Holly. ‘If you believe in luck… Maybe it was fate! Anyway, I was doing some overtime in uniform that evening, which was easy to do in those days. Brian was swearing at a young woman and raising his fist threateningly when my partner, John Helmsley, and I came around the corner. It turns out he had already struck the woman once. The first thing I saw was the boyfriend charge into Brian with a rugby tackle, forcing him over backwards onto the plate glass window of a bookshop. Luckily it was reinforced and didn’t break; but as the young couple backed away I could see Brian lying there pretty dazed. I went over to him while John spoke to the lovers, taking their names and contact details and asking for a statement. The woman had a fresh cut on her cheek, and they wanted to press charges, so there was nothing for it. I had to arrest Brian.’

  ‘It must have been fate indeed’, said Holly.

  ‘He hadn’t been knocked out, I don’t think’, Jack continued, ‘But he was clearly in no state to go home; so I cautioned him, then called an ambulance and escorted him in it to A & E. When the doctors at the County Hospital found out he’d been drinking, and the X-ray showed no skull fracture, they weren’t interested in keeping him for observation, so I had to arrange a taxi to take him home, once he had calmed down.’

  ‘Was he still paranoid by then?’ Holly asked.

  ‘No… Just sleepy,’ replied Jack. ‘Anyway, I had booked him for being a public nuisance, drunk and disorderly, possibly also for ABH, so John Helmsley and I arranged an interview at the station a few days later. Brian, of course, was very worried about his new career in public service. He arrived with his solicitor, very sober and sheepish, and told us all about what had happened that evening. He was so apologetic. He was also very grateful to me in particular for, as he thought, protecting him, taking him to the hospital and so on. I found myself feeling a bit sorry for him. In the end, I said in my report that this was out of character, his first offence, and that he was properly contrite. I gave the opinion that the chances were he’d learned his lesson. In the end, despite her boyfriend’s protests, the girl who Brian attacked changed her mind about pressing charges. The magistrate let him off the public nuisance issue with an absolute discharge and no more than a stern warning. His employers were never told.’

  ‘But how did you actually get together then?’ Holly persisted.

  ‘He was so grateful, you see… Brian, I mean,’ said Jack. ‘He knew my name and had my police number, so he had no problem tracing me. Then, after it was all over, he sent me a gift. This was unexpected, and, of course, unnecessary. I knew he couldn’t afford much.’

  ‘It might also have been unethical, Jack’, Holly teased him. ‘Not for him to offer, but for you to accept it.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to… Until I opened it, Angel’, Jack replied. ‘But, after I’d seen that it was not too expensive, and that it was so special, I couldn’t resist. I’ll bet you’ve never tried ‘The Botanist’. It’s Dry Gin from Islay... Wonderful stuff! It’s like ordinary gin but supercharged with masses of extra aromatic herbs from the Hebridean islands. A gift-wrapped bottle of that exquisite nectar was Brian’s thank-you present; so, of course, I had to thank him in return. Naturally I hesitated, but I liked the lad, and felt protective towards him. I didn’t expect him to fancy me or anything; and I didn’t think anything would come of it, but it just seemed the decent thing to do… Anyway, I sent him a card and invited him out for a coffee. That was the start of it.’

  Jack smiled, giving a small suppressed sigh. Holly noticed his eyes growing a little misty.

  ‘We met at the garden centre by the race track one Saturday morning’, Jack went on. ‘There’s a nice café there, and it seemed a safe neutral place. The lad seemed a bit low, so I asked him if his job was the problem; but no… The work was fine. He was doing well and already hoping for promotion; but he was upset about the terrible place he was living in. I said it couldn’t be all that bad, but he challenged me to go and see for myself. So I did… And it was genuinely awful, Angel. An utter disgrace!’

  ‘You know those elegant, white-fronted Regency buildings in Adelaide Crescent near Palmeira Square, built long ago for the gentry? Some of them are now real rabbit warrens inside. Those money-grabbing landlords have divided and sub-divided them into numerous one- and two-roomed hell-holes, many of them with no proper plumbing, just a single wash-basin within and a communal shower/toilet facility shared by four or five flats along each corridor. It’s shameful, Holly! Some of them don’t even have a window. They are all filled by people on benefits or low incomes, of course. Brian’s flat, on the ground floor, at least had three rooms, including a small bathroom and kitchenette. It was one of the better apartments, but it was still dreadful.’

  ‘The funny thing, when I told my Mum about it later, is that it was she who insisted we offer the boy a room in our house. She always had a good heart, my Mum. When I called him to make the offer, I don’t know who was more grateful when he jumped at it: him or me.’

  ‘My big sister, Carol, had moved out, you see’, Jack continued. ‘She’s an architect and lives in London now. After Dad died, Mum asked me to come back and live with her for a bit, so she wouldn’t be lonely, and I was still there. We had plenty of room. It’s the house we still live in now, if you hadn’t realized. Brian moved into Carol’s room, once we’d had it redecorated.’

  ‘And what did your Mum think of it, when you and Brian became an item?’ Holly asked, friendly curiosity getting the better of her.

  ‘Ha!’ Jack chuckled. ‘It was Mum who spotted it. She saw what was going on between me and Brian, our feelings for each other, before we did; well, before I did anyway… Come to think of it, I wonder if she always knew I was gay. She never said anything when dad was alive; and I never said anything either. I’d barely even admitted it to myself by then, and I’d never had any close gay friends. On the other hand, Brian didn’t try to conceal it, like me. He was always open about his sexuality and, to my pleasant surprise, Mum was alright with that. She was a very warm, loving person; and she probably found it easier to show him affection than me. She definitely came to love Brian as much as me in the end. Anyway, she must have said something to him because, after he’d been living in the house just a few weeks, he came into my room one evening. I was nervous; for several reasons, as you can imagine. I must have said something like, “We’d better not, because Mum wouldn’t like it”; but he just laughed, kissed me on the mouth and told me to stop worrying, “It was all her idea”, he told me. “She’s downstairs now watching ‘Strictly’ with the sound up… Told me to pay you a little visit! I don’t think she could bear you not to have what we all know you really want.” And, do you know, Angel? I think I cried with relief. Afterwards, when we went downstairs, Mum just made us all a cup of tea.’ Jack sighed again. ‘It was meant to be, Angel, don’t you think?’

  Holly knew the pair had been happy together for years, too late by far – even if she had wanted �
� to issue any words of caution. ‘I think it’s a lovely story’, she said, ‘But I can understand why you haven’t told many people in the force about the relationship. They probably know, though. Don’t they? I mean… You told me once about your unmentionable nickname.’

  ‘It can come out properly when I retire’, Jack offered, ‘But I’d prefer you to keep the details to yourself for the time being, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘When are you going to retire, Jack?’ Holly asked, suddenly inquisitive. ‘You must be nearly fifty by now, aren’t you? You could go soon, couldn’t you? We only have to do thirty years on the force.’

  ‘You’re right, as usual’, said Jack. ‘I could go in two years, but it’s about Brian again. I don’t want to retire much before he does, which won’t be for ages. I’ll do another ten years at least… I enjoy the job mostly. It’s satisfying… And I’m not cut out for gardening, sitting at home watching daytime television and that sort of thing.’

  ‘You could always get some voluntary work’, Holly suggested; but Jack did not seem interested in pursuing that line of thought. She was silent for a few minutes, then, looking out of the window, she noticed a field full of Peruvian llamas, as well as a few sheep.

  ‘Look at those daft creatures!’ she said. ‘I wonder if they’re missing the mountains.’

  ***

  They reached the picturesque seaside town of Sheringham at about one-thirty. Finding a place to park near The Esplanade, they strolled along until finding a bench, where they sat to eat sandwiches and drank bottled water. The September sun shone brightly, but there was a chill in the breeze. Nearby, a couple of seagulls were taking turns foraging for scraps in an overfull waste bin. ‘Just like Brighton’, said Jack. To while away time before their appointment with Rita McInnes, he took from his pocket the crossword he’d been working on.

  ‘Come on, Angel’, he said. ‘Give me a hand with this clue: “Tender working with surgeries”; two words, the first word has ten letters beginning with “r”; the second word has five letters. Any ideas?’

  ‘I’m not very good at crosswords’, Holly replied, turning her attention to a man on the beach, struggling to put up a wind-break while his wife and two small children stood by with worried looks on their faces. ‘I expect it’s an anagram of “tender” and “surgeries”’ said Jack.

  ‘Who do you think you are?’ Holly asked, teasing, ‘Inspector Morse?’

  ‘I’ve got it… “Registered Nurse”. How about that?’ Jack was delighted. ‘That helps… Now, “butter” – that’s the clue: four letters beginning with “g”.’

  At two o’clock sharp, the duo stood outside a small, odd-looking house in the Driftway, a cul-de-sac running south-west from the seafront. Looking around, Jack noted that this strange dwelling must have started out as half of a fisherman’s winter storehouse for boats, nets and tackle, a simple rectangle with corners of brick and walls of inlaid flint-stones. The frontage of the northern half of the divided building was dimpled, the flints heavily over-painted in cream. Lintels had been engineered into the original plain walls to allow insertion of attractive white-framed windows and a single, cheerful blue door. Incongruously, the southern side of the building in no way matched its twin, except in dimensions. The flints here were exposed, and fewer, smaller windows fronted the lane. The only door in that half was set around the corner into the southern side wall. Once part of the very fabric of this coastal village, the cottage now seemed sadly out of place. Modern, brick-built houses hemmed it in on either side, and opposite stood an unprepossessing 1960’s four-storey apartment block. Time on that spot seemed momentarily to be holding its breath. Everything was perfectly still and silent in the roadway as Holly leaned forward and gave the bell a firm press.

  The two detectives listened as the sound of chimes died away. Nothing appeared to be moving. Nevertheless, a few seconds later, the door swung quietly open. The woman confronting them with a steady gaze seemed youthful. She had short blonde hair. Her clothing, although colourful, was simple and plain. Her calm look radiated confidence; and none of this – except perhaps her hair colour – was what they had expected. Holly, Jack noted, seemed suddenly disconcerted. He was about to step forward and break the ice with introductions, when the person they had travelled all morning to see stepped back and beckoned them in.

  ‘I’m Rita McInnes’, she said in a clear, mellifluous voice. ‘Usually known hereabouts though as Rita Punnett’.

  The doorway led directly into a small, neat kitchen. There were fresh flowers in a vase on the dresser. The sickly-sweet scent of lilies filled the air in a way that Holly found unpleasantly stifling, reminding her of funerals. Their hostess ushered them through into the other downstairs room and asked them to sit. A wooden staircase in one corner clearly led to the upstairs apartment, where there could only have been room for a bedroom and small bathroom. The ceiling was low and Jack had to bend forward. A couch and two arm-chairs stood either side of an empty wood-burning stove, a low table between them. Jack, taking command, decided on one chair, motioning the house’s occupier to the other. Holly busied herself with the tape-recorder; finding somewhere to plug it in, attaching the microphone lead, and placing the microphone stand on the table; then took her place on the couch. When all were seated, Jack conducted the necessary formalities. Without further prompting, the machine whirring softly, Rita McInnes began telling her story.

  ‘I was unhappy in my marriage as soon as I realized my husband had never intended to remain faithful’, she began. ‘Soon after he left college, Wayne started working for my father. Dad had always wanted a son and Wayne knew how to play on that. He was often at our house. Mum and Dad always made a great fuss of him, which he adored. I was only sixteen when he first came into our lives. He was handsome and charming, so of course I fell for him. I don’t think he noticed me at first, but later on he did. My parents trusted him, and we were quite often left alone in the house. He was the first boy I kissed; and the first I went to bed with, if you could call it that; more of a fumble on the sofa that led to something I wasn’t ready for… Not at seventeen.’

  She spoke in matter-of-fact tones, not like someone on the lookout for sympathy.

  ‘Soon’, she said, ‘I was pregnant.’

  ‘How did you feel?’ Holly, although schooled to avoid interrupting, could not stop herself asking.

  ‘I was angry… A bit scared. I felt too stupid for words to have let it happen… But mostly I was angry with Wayne. He should have prevented it, I thought; but it eventually dawned on me that he had planned the whole thing. His intention had always been to marry the boss’s daughter; and that’s what happened. My parents were a little bit shocked by the pregnancy, but I could see my Dad was secretly delighted; and Mother went along with him in this as in all things. No-one cared about my feelings or what I might have wanted. We were married, and then I lost the baby on the honeymoon. It would have been funny if I hadn’t been in such a dreadful predicament.’

  ‘I became seriously depressed afterwards’, she continued after a brief pause. ‘Daddy had set Wayne up as a partner in the business and given us a brand new house to live in: one of the company’s latest upmarket developments. Everyone said how lucky I was; but I felt wretched inside. They insisted I see a doctor, who said I was depressed and prescribed medication. When that didn’t work, they sent me to a psychiatrist, a woman as it happens, who also said I was depressed and gave me stronger medication. All that did was to make me sleep all day and go around feeling like a zombie. In the end, I refused to take the tablets. There was talk of giving me shock treatment, but I refused that as well. I said I wanted a job. I was eighteen. I needed something to do. My Dad arranged for me to start, part-time at first, for a chain of estate agents he used for selling some of his properties: Derringers. It was easy work and I found I got some satisfaction from it. Later, I went full-time, doing sales and lettings. Then Hazel came along and I stopped.’<
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  Holly, Jack noticed, was sitting quite still, absorbed in the unfolding tale.

  ‘Wayne was never short of girlfriends’, Rita McInnes went on. ‘Typical of the man he is, he blamed me for his infidelities. When I was depressed, of course, I wouldn’t let him near me. Naturally, he accepted this as the perfect excuse to find satisfaction elsewhere; although I’m convinced it would have come to it anyway. When, one day, I accused him of seeing someone else, he threw it back at me. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said. “I could have any woman I want.” After that, he used to come home and boast of his conquests, as if to rub my nose in his stinking behaviour.’

  ‘I tried to tell my mother about it once.’ Rita looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, as she spoke. ‘She said she didn’t believe me. She told me that, if it were true, it was only to be expected. Wayne had been shocked by the loss of the pregnancy too. He’d told her that he’d been convinced it would have been a son. So it was my job to help him recover from this grave injury to his manhood. “You should get pregnant again”, Mother said. So I did… Actually, I had enjoyed sex with Wayne at first; really enjoyed it, I mean. He can be very passionate, and very inventive. So, once I was working and feeling better, I decided to seduce him all over again, even though my enthusiasm for the physical act had waned appreciably. I kept track of my periods, worked out when I was likely to be most fertile, and gave myself to him at those times… Unfortunately, it was a long time before I fell pregnant again. By then, to my certain knowledge, he had been with five or six other women at least. After Hazel was born, he never touched me again, by the way. I dare say I discouraged him; but I think he had lost interest in me for sex. I was just there to mother his child and keep house.’