A Deadly Imperfection: Calladine & Bayliss 3 (17 page)

‘No, she’ll stay here until…., until the end,’ Calladine said sadly. ‘She will have a police guard, a PC on the door, but it’s just protocol,’ he explained.

The truth was Harriet Finch was hardly going to do a runner.  They’d be lucky if she lasted the night.

Ruth had had it with the day and didn’t even go back into the nick when they arrived back.  She said goodbye to Calladine in the police car park, got into her own car and left.

‘Get some sleep,’ she called to him.  ‘Let’s try and have our friendly head on tomorrow,’ she warned.

He shrugged off the remark but it was fair enough.  He wasn’t good company recently.  He checked his watch - it was nearly seven, he should pick up Amy.  Calladine had planned to go home and change – make an effort, but the Exhibition finished at eight so he didn’t have time.  He decided to take his car and leave it outside Amy’s for the night.  She had invited him to stay after all.  Things were looking up, he should feel better, but he didn’t.

‘You still look dreadful,’ she greeted him.  ‘Grey around the gills.  If you’re not careful, Tom, the job will make you ill.’

‘I’ll be fine, need a little down time, that’s all.  But despite the way I look it’s been a productive day.  We caught our killer, and found the two little girls,’ he smiled.

‘That’s great news,’ she kissed his cheek.  ‘The girls – they’re okay?’

‘They’d been drugged and they were very cold when we found them, but yes, they’re fine, or they will be.’

‘You’re a good man,’ she kissed him again.  ‘You do a dangerous job - did your killer get rough?’

‘Hardly,’ he smiled.  ‘Our killer is a very sick middle aged woman.  In fact I’m surprised she had the strength to do what she did.’

‘Prison is still too good for her,’ Amy retorted.

‘She’ll never see the inside of a prison.  I doubt she’ll last much longer – she has terminal cancer.’

‘A deadly imperfection, that’s cancer,’ she said thoughtfully.  ‘But why kill those people, I don’t understand, and why the cards?’

‘We know why she killed – she wanted her own brand of justice.  It was pay-back time for incidences in the past, crimes left unpunished.  But the cards,’ he shrugged.  ‘My theory is that they were left to ensure that we pinned the killings on the same person.  The methods were all different, you see.  There was no common element as with most serial killers.’

Amy shuddered, ‘we should go.  You need to think about something else – relax a bit.  I’m sure all this involvement with cold hearted killers does you no good at all.’  With that she took his arm as they left the shop.  She locked up and they walked the few hundred yards to the Community Centre.’

The exhibition had been going since three that afternoon and a number of the paintings adorning the walls in the main hall had little red stickers on them.  The local art group and other independent artists had had a good day.  Calladine slowly browsed along the displays as Amy went to get them a glass of wine each.  There were many local scenes.  Some were of the surrounding countryside and hills, which were beautiful, but predictable.  It was the gritty depictions of the towns, particularly Leesdon and the Hobfield that got his attention.  He was particularly drawn to one of them.  It had a raw realism he could identify.

‘Good, isn’t it,’ a female voice asked from behind him. 

Calladine simply nodded but didn’t look round.  Something about the picture had him gripped – the artist had captured the atmosphere of that hell hole perfectly. 

‘The young man has real talent.  He’s an employee of my son’s, well was an employee,’ she laughed lightly.  ‘Now we’re sponsoring him through University so he can do a fine art degree.  So he’s lost to the pharmaceutical business, I fear.’

Up until that moment Calladine wasn’t really taking much notice, but now the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.  He turned around slowly, his heart pounding, like in his worst nightmare – Eve Walker! 

‘I know who you are,’ she smiled apologetically.   ‘I’ve always known, I’ve always lived locally so how could I not?  I hoped that one day we’d meet, have the opportunity to talk, but while your mother was still alive I didn’t think I had the right.’

‘Tom, you okay,’ Amy asked, appearing with two glasses of red wine.

‘Yep – fine.  I like this one,’ he said, turning to the picture, and completely ignoring Eve.  ‘Reminds of my job - It’d look good on the wall in my office.’

‘It’s already sold, Tom,’ Amy pointed out.  ‘Red sticker – see.’

‘Actually I bought that one,’ Eve told her.  ‘I would be only too happy to give it to you, Inspector.  Be my guest, take it, hang it on your wall.’

Calladine didn’t say a word but took the wine, and strode off in the direction of a small anti room where people had put their coats.

‘I’m sorry,’ Amy apologised. ‘He’s not normally so rude.  I think he’s had a heavy day, perhaps I shouldn’t have brought him here.’

‘The fault is entirely mine,’ Eve Walker insisted.  ‘I should never have spoken to him.’

‘Why - what on earth did you say?  Does he know you?’

‘I was speaking about the painting - perhaps I shouldn’t have approached him, it’s too soon.   It’s a difficult situation, but he does know who I am.’

Amy looked long and hard at the woman.  She’d put her age at somewhere in her seventies, not that that detracted from how attractive she was.  She was tall - her hair straight, mid length, and despite her years, dark.  She had regular features and high cheekbones, and she was expensively dressed too.

‘Are you a relative,’ Amy asked?  ‘I ask because I think he looks like you.’

At that Eve smiled and dipped her eyes from Amy’s all seeing ones.

‘Yes I am,’ she admitted, ‘but it’s obvious that he doesn’t want to know me, not yet anyway.’

‘You said the two of you had never spoken – if you’re related and local - how can that be?’

Eve Walker said nothing but looked towards the other room.

‘You and Tom, you have a link despite what you say.’  Amy half closed her eyes for a moment.  ‘You are the Queen of Pentacles,’ she gasped.  ‘I should have known.’  With that she put her wine on the nearest table and went to find Tom.

Eve Walker had no idea what the woman was talking about, but if she had any influence with Tom, and could get him to talk to her, then she’d be grateful.

‘You can’t hide away in here all evening,’ Amy said, closing the door shut behind her then leaning against it so no one else could come in.  ‘She’s the one you’re scared of, isn’t she?’

‘I’m not scared – I just can’t do this yet.’

‘Who is she, Tom.  She’s a relative, I guessed that much, and you are very like her.’

Tom Calladine looked at Amy full in the face.  Was it that obvious, in all these years who else had realised that, he wondered?

‘Has she gone?’

‘I don’t think so, but what of it.  You’re behaving like a child.  Whatever demons these are you need to face them head on.  Do that and you’ll feel tons better.’

Good advice, but could he act on it – could he let Eve Walker, or Buckley as she was now, into his life?

‘She’s my birth mother,’ he admitted soberly, ‘but until today, we’ve never met, never spoken.  I’ve only known about her for a few months, since my mum, Freda, died.  She left me that tin, the one you kept for me, it had all the gory details in it.’

Amy’s blue eyes widened in surprise.  ‘That’s some secret, Tom.  You should go and speak to her, she seems nice.  She’ll be as uncomfortable about the situation as you are.  You need to stop hiding from this and get out there,’ she insisted.

She sounded just like Ruth – another woman with the ability to make him feel like a naughty kid!

‘Will you come with me?’

She smiled and reached for his hand, ‘of course I will.  Do this and you won’t regret it.  You were meant to meet her.  It was in the cards – remember – The Queen of Pentacles?’

‘I don’t know what I’ll say.  Part of me hates her, but the other part, the sensible side of me knows that it’s not her fault.  She was just doing what my parents wanted – keeping out of my life.’

‘Your parents are gone now, meeting her can’t hurt anyone,’ Amy reminded him.   ‘She’s over there,’ she said, opening the door and peering out.  ‘Come on, let’s go and say hello properly.’

This was one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do, and that was saying something.  Without Amy at his side he’d probably have done a runner.

Eve Walker, or Buckley as she was not, was staring up at the painting he’d admired so much.

‘It’s very good of you to let me have it – you must let me pay,’ he said politely.

She spun round and gave him a dazzling smile, ‘I wouldn’t hear of it.  Take it with you when you leave.’  She looked at him, stared into his face for several seconds. ‘Do you want to talk, Tom?’

‘Not really,’ he cleared his throat, ‘but we’ll have to at some stage, I expect,’ he sighed.  ‘Don’t misunderstand,’ he added hurriedly.  ‘I have questions, it’s the answers I might not like - that’s what’s stopping me.’

She put a comforting hand on his arm.  ‘All in good time then, there’s no rush,’ she smiled at them both.  ‘Easy does it, we have a lot of catching up to do.’

Tom Calladine looked into the face of the woman who’d given birth to him and smiled weakly.  Eve Walker was a looker now so he could imagine how she must have looked when his dad knew her.  He’d never really thought about it but perhaps his dad had had the same trouble with women that he did – Eve was his Lydia and Freda …? 

Freda Calladine had been his rock, his steadying influence.  She’d guided him, taken him in hand.  She’d run their home, worked, and loved both him and his dad unreservedly.  He looked at Eve Walker – no matter what she turned out to be like – no matter how fond of her he became over time – Freda Calladine would always be his mother.
 

The End

xxx