Gift Wrapped (12 page)

Having returned to her flat, she showered again and climbed into bed listening to the sounds of the night, the click of women's heels on the pavement below her window, the ‘hee-haw' of locomotives arriving or leaving the railway station, or just the low, endless rumble of a goods train as it slowly passed through the station without stopping. She lay still and listened until sleep embraced her.

It was Thursday, 22.50 hours.

Friday, 2 June, 10.10 hours – Sunday, 4 June, 02.35 hours

In which a charge of two murders is read, a fifth postcard is received and Hennessey and Yellich and Ventnor are severely at home to the most urbane reader.

‘T
wice in two days.' Muriel Bond smelled faintly of body odour; her weekly shower was clearly imminent, observed Thompson Ventnor. ‘So me,' she said, ‘I can't be all that bad, can I?'

‘We are very glad you see it like that, Muriel.' Somerled Yellich smiled as he and Ventnor sat opposite her in the agent's room. ‘No ... you are not all bad.'

‘Well, that's me, darlin', happy to help, always happy to help. You got me in here so I owe you a favour.' She folded her arms in front of her and sat back in her chair, smiling at Yellich and Ventnor across the surface of the metal table which stood between them. ‘But it also gets me away from sewing mail bags.'

‘You don't do that any more, Muriel, you know that,' Yellich grinned, ‘and it only ever happened in men's prisons.'

‘Well ... if I wasn't here I'd only be on work detail, like picking up litter in the public park as part of my pre-release training. Like when I am back out there am I really going to spend my free time picking up other people's litter ... I don't think so.'

‘You don't want to be out there in the fresh air?' Yellich asked. ‘It's quite stuffy in here.'

Muriel Bond shook her head. ‘It's too hot today. I prefer to stay in here out of the sun, and yes, it's good to get out in the fresh air but you see all the things you miss ... it's not all bad, but then you have to come back in here, and folk out there stare at you, they know who you are ... If you ask me, it's like being on a chain gang with invisible chains. So pre-release training has its downside, darlin'.'

‘But you're cooperating with it? If you want to get out you'll cooperate. You don't want to be in here any longer than you have to, despite all the free food and rent-free living.'

‘Oh, yes, I wouldn't mess up my chances of parole. I'm not so sad that I can't survive on the outside. I just don't like having to do so. It's hard work. One girl did ... she messed up, smuggled half a bottle of vodka in here with her.'

‘How did she manage that?'

‘One of her mates planted it in the park where she knew the girl would be working; put the vodka into a mineral water bottle so it looked like water ... in fact, vodka is Russian for “water”, so I believe. Anyway, she picked it up and put it in her bag and the screw didn't check it on her return. She drank it that evening, half a bottle ... neat ... and she got silly with the drink in her and the screws smelled the alcohol on her breath so her parole was put back for six months. Silly cow. But me, little me, I am out of here asap.'

‘Good for you.' Somerled Yellich rested his forearms on the table top, ‘Will you be returning though? What do you think?'

‘Oh, probably. I mean, knowing my Donald Duck, certainly ... and if I get fed up of struggling I'll let myself get caught. So it's a question of how long I can stay out but I'll be back one day ... got to keep covering my tracks until I want free food again.'

‘Not going straight?' Ventnor asked.

‘Unemployable, that's me, darlin', I can't survive on the dole. If I want to eat I have to shoplift, like I told you yesterday – I have to steal. Mind you, I have decided to learn to dip the skips outside supermarkets. They throw good food away just because it's reached its sell-by date. It's a real waste.'

‘That's better than shoplifting,' Yellich commented. ‘Technically it's still stealing but we turn a blind eye.'

‘There are also soup kitchens too,' Ventnor offered. ‘Churches and charities do soup kitchens ... free food for the hungry.'

‘Aye, I could do that, couldn't I?' Muriel Bond pursed her lips. ‘I am not too proud to do that.'

‘All right.' Somerled Yellich shifted in his chair. ‘I hope you do stay out, Muriel, at least for as long as possible ... but let's cut to the chase. We have arrested your husband.'

‘Ex,' Muriel Bond corrected Yellich. ‘My ex-husband, if you please, sir.'

‘Sorry.' Yellich nodded. ‘Your ex-husband. We have just arrested your ex-husband for the murder of James Wenlock.'

‘Silly man,' Muriel Bond glanced to her left, ‘the silly, silly man ... but at least that means he won't be on the outside when I am let out. That's a relief. I won't have to worry about running into him.'

‘Yes ... yes.' Yellich nodded. ‘I dare say it will be something you won't have to worry about, but he wrapped himself up very tightly in a pack of lies about not seeking James Wenlock or assaulting anyone and then he was proven to have attempted to kill someone he believed was James Wenlock for “messing with his wife”, and tried to kill him in exactly the same way that James Wenlock was then subsequently murdered, with a dull blade. It's all there – means, motive and the opportunity. As neat as neat can be.'

‘Aye ... I remember him going down for that. He was lucky not to have been charged with attempted murder.' Muriel Bond spoke with barely concealed anger. ‘He was trying to kill that guy in the pub car park, and he would have done if those other guys hadn't pitched in and stopped it.'

‘Our feelings too,' Yellich replied. ‘We also thought that he was lucky but it does seem that there was a forty-eight-hour window between that assault and his arrest, during which he found and murdered James Wenlock.'

‘I see.'

‘But, Muriel,' Yellich continued, ‘the reason why we have called on you is that when he attacked the man in the car park of the Fleece in Selby he was heard to say, “I always kill people who mess with my wife”.'

‘He said that?' Muriel Bond replied with some surprise. ‘Is that what he said?'

‘Yes,' Yellich confirmed. ‘Now it might have been hot air, heat of the moment stuff, and he equally might just have been putting the frighteners on the man he thought was James Wenlock ...'

‘Oh,' Muriel Bond paled, ‘you know, gentlemen, I can see where you are going with this.'

‘Yes.' Yellich nodded solemnly. ‘It is because he said that we cannot now overlook the possibility that there might be earlier victims of your ex-husband, earlier murders we have not linked to your ex-husband and which remain unsolved.'

‘Oh ... yes ... I see ... I thought that's where you were going,' Muriel Bond sighed, ‘but really I can't help you ... I'm really sorry.'

‘So you didn't have any other extra-marital affairs with another man or men? Man or men who also disappeared?' Yellich asked. ‘You must tell us if you did.'

Muriel Bond shook her head vigorously. ‘No darlin', I did not, I promise ... hand to God I never. Honest to God I didn't. The only man I ever played away from home with was James Wenlock.'

‘So,' Yellich sat back and sighed with relief, ‘it was just hot air after all. I dare say that's something.'

‘Oh, I dunno about that, darlin',' Muriel Bond held eye contact with Yellich, ‘I can only speak for myself. I am wife number two. I am the second Mrs Shane Bond.'

‘Number two wife!' Yellich remained still as Thompson Ventnor leaned forward.

‘He was married before he was married to me,' Muriel Bond explained, ‘and that's only his two legal marriages that I know about. He's had a few common-law marriages with women he would refer to as his wife – they never had no proper piece of paper but they lived together as man and wife and he has quite a few children of various ages living between York and Hull. So I can only speak for myself ... so sorry, darlin'.'

‘Oh ... just when we thought it was getting easy,' Yellich groaned. ‘What can you tell us about his other, legal wife?'

‘Gloria? Well, I can tell you that he thought she was a much better catch than little old me.' Muriel Bond shook her head. ‘I never measured up to her in any way, so he kept telling me. She was older than me so she'll be a real old bird now. Gloria, like I said. Gloria Bond. They divorced.'

‘Do you know where we can find her?' Ventnor asked, still leaning forward in his chair.

‘Don't ask me, darlin'.' Muriel Bond shrugged her shoulders. ‘She'll be in the wind somewhere; you'll find her in the wind.'

‘You must know something,' Ventnor urged.

‘Do you want to win parole?' Yellich asked. ‘You sound as though you do.'

‘Yes, darlin', as you say, it's stuffy in here.' Muriel Bond clasped her fleshy hands together. ‘I do want my parole and I'm working for it. You can get fed up with prison grub, even if it is free.'

‘Well, in that case, Muriel,' Yellich spoke sternly, ‘stop playing games. You help us and we can put a word in for you.'

‘You can do that?' Muriel Bond looked at Yellich.

‘Yes,' Yellich nodded, ‘we do it all the time and our word counts for something. You're in for shoplifting, and if you gave information which helped solve a murder inquiry, that will pretty well guarantee your parole at the first hearing.'

‘My first hearing!' Muriel Bond gasped. ‘That never happens. Not ever. No one gets their parole at the first hearing. It's the rule. I know that. Don't make promises you can't deliver on.'

‘It's a rule which can be interpreted and it has been known to happen if the person has been particularly cooperative in respect of an important case,' Yellich explained. ‘So we can deliver ... not guaranteed, but we can put in a heavyweight word for you.'

‘Such as this one – this case,' Ventnor added. ‘I mean, you're already on pre-release training, so any help you give us will grease the wheels. You'll be out by Christmas.'

‘Hope not, darlin'. I want to be inside over Christmas. If I'm out I'll be alone in my little damp bedsit. In here we get turkey and all the trimmings and a lovely carol service in the chapel. But spring ...' Muriel Bond smiled at the thought, ‘yes, a spring parole – that would be good. Come out as the crocuses are appearing, stroll along the river bank looking at the new flowers and the blossom ... summer and winter in here, then out with spring. All this for a few woollen pullovers.'

‘A few woolly pullies.' Yellich smiled. ‘We understand that it was more in the manner of distributing a lorry load of stolen clothing.'

‘Whatever.' Muriel Bond shrugged. ‘Whatever, darlin', whatever you say.'

‘So, come on Muriel,' Yellich urged, ‘you scratch our back and we'll scratch yours.'

‘Well ... as I said ... Gloria, she's in the wind ... in the wind, darlin',' Muriel Bond smiled vacantly. ‘She's out there somewhere.'

‘Muriel,' Yellich growled, ‘come on, this is serious.'

‘Well, she is in the wind like I keep telling you, but you'll know her sons, David and Goliath.'

Yellich sighed. ‘Look, Muriel, as well as scratching your back we can also make things difficult for you. We can prosecute you for wasting police time. How about another couple of years in here for you? Do you fancy that?'

‘I am serious – I'm as serious as a heart attack,' Muriel Bond protested. ‘I am helping you. Listen to me, will you? David is the real name of one of her sons and he's quite small, but his older brother takes after his father – he's massively built. His real name is Patrick but they're both well known to the police, both have got criminal records, both have a lot of track, and they're known round York as David and Goliath, except they don't fight each other.' Muriel Bond smiled broadly. ‘You see, I am helping you, but old Gloria, she never ever stays still – one address, then another, then another. She just can't seem to settle anywhere. So any address you'll have for her will be well out of date. She's in the wind, darlin', but you'll know where her boys are, especially Patrick, because he's inside right now, doing bird at Full Sutton, so I hear, and him, Patrick, he'll know where his mother, Gloria is.'

Yellich nodded. ‘Well, thanks, Muriel. We'll check that he's there and if he is we'll pay him a visit ... and if this helps us, then, like I said, we'll help you.'

‘But not before Christmas, darlin',' Muriel Bond pleaded. ‘I don't want to be out before Christmas, not if it can be helped.'

Driving away from the prison with its dull grey medium-rise walls and the light blue flag of Her Majesty's Prison Service hanging limply from the white-painted flagpole above the main gate, Thompson Ventnor commented, ‘You know, Sarge, I feel a bit sorry for her.'

‘Oh?' Yellich brought the car slowly to a halt at the end of the prison approach road before driving it on to the public highway. ‘What do you mean? No one asked her to fence a lorry load of stolen clothing; she's a volunteer in a sense.'

‘Yes, I know, but if she's doing pre-release training now it means she's been earmarked for parole in the autumn, a couple of months from now.'

‘Ah, yes, I see what you mean.' Yellich observed the vehicles on the public highway, searching for a gap that he could exploit in order to join the traffic stream. ‘In fact, I thought exactly the same but also thought the better of commenting, as you also clearly did. So, come the twenty-fifth of December it will be a damp bedsit and beans on toast for Christmas dinner for our Muriel.'

‘Unless she's back in there,' Ventnor used his thumb to indicate the prison behind them, ‘and I tell you I wouldn't bet on which one it will be.'