No Mercy (22 page)

‘No one blackmails this family.
No
one. You sort it out, you hear me? It stops right now. And you’re paying back every bloody penny.’

Except in the end she had been the one who had sorted it. Brutally. Finally. She had been the one to make sure that Bo and Greta never spoke of the incident again. Adam closed his eyes as he thought of Bo floating in the Thames, his face blown off, the breath extinguished from his beautiful body. He would never forgive her for that. She had killed the only man he had ever really loved.

Adam blinked open his eyes and slammed shut the drawer. He’d lost interest in the file now. What did it matter? He knew enough. Already he loathed and despised Maddie Layne. She reminded him too much of Greta, with her long dark hair and her wide eyes. Another woman who wanted to hurt him, to cause him damage. He was sick of the whole damn lot of them.

Needing some air, he went back to the living room, opened the French windows and stepped out on to the roof terrace. The rain was pelting down now, flying against the concrete in long, fast arrows. A rumble of thunder rolled through the air. He lifted his face to the sky and let the rain wash over it.

What was his mother doing at this very moment? She was probably discussing the Maddie Layne business with Delia Shields. That dried-up old spinster knew more about what was going on than he did. And how was that right? He thumped his fist against his thigh. It was time to find out the bloody truth – one way or another.

Delia Shields couldn’t sit still. She got up from the sofa again and began tidying things that didn’t need tidying. Her little two-up two-down house was a modest affair – nothing like Lena’s fancy apartment, with its panoramic views – but she was still proud of it. She wanted it to look its best for when her friend arrived.

She glanced at the clock. Ten past six. Lena was ten minutes late already. Perhaps she wasn’t coming. Her heart sank at the thought. She’d been looking forward to the visit all day. Over the years the amount of time they spent together had grown increasingly smaller but, to her at least, increasingly precious. Every word, every gesture was stored up in her mind to be taken out later and examined at length.

As she ran her hand along the smooth surface of the mantelpiece, her eyes alighted on the wedding ring. She reached out intending to touch it, but didn’t complete the action. She felt suddenly afraid, as if the gold might burn the flesh from her fingertips. The ring was a symbol of death and despair. She cursed Eli Glass for having found it, for having brought it back to her.

Delia, hearing the sound of a car, went over to the window and pulled aside the net curtain. Yes, finally, it was her. Quickly she dropped the curtain, not wanting Lena to think that she’d been watching out for her. It was important to maintain the little dignity she had left in the relationship. What she usually got from Lena Bell – Lena Gissing – were scraps, hurried coffees, meetings often cut short by important phone calls, but perhaps today would be different.

There was the sharp click of footsteps coming up the path, followed by the light ding-dong of the bell. Delia made herself count to ten before she went to the hall and opened the door. She hated looking too keen, too eager. It made her feel as desperate as she had been as a schoolgirl to bask in Lena’s glory.

‘Hello. Come in. It’s good to see you again.’

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Lena said, closing and shaking her umbrella. ‘Family problems. I never seem to get a minute to myself these days.’

Delia took the wet brolly – the rain was bucketing down now – and led her through to the kitchen, where the coffee had already percolated and was ready to drink. She opened the umbrella again and left it to dry in the corner of the room.

‘Isn’t that bad luck?’ Lena asked. ‘That’s what my mum always used to say.’

Delia smiled. ‘I hope not. We’ve had enough of that recently.’ She poured the coffee into two china cups and placed them on the tray alongside a plate of chocolate biscuits, two smaller side plates, a bowl of sugar, a jug of milk and a couple of silver teaspoons. ‘Let’s go through to the living room, shall we? It’s more comfortable there.’

Lena sat down on the green cord sofa and gave a cursory glance around the room before settling her gaze on Delia again. She watched as milk and sugar were added to the cups. ‘It’s ages since I was last here. How long is it? Must be about a year.’

Delia could have told her that it was getting on for two, but didn’t want her to think she was counting. ‘Well, you’re welcome anytime.’ She passed a cup over. ‘So, nothing too disastrous, I hope?’

‘Sorry?’

‘You said there were family problems.’

Lena pulled a face. ‘Oh, that. Yeah, just Adam giving me grief again. He’s got wind of this whole grave thing and won’t leave it alone. He’s like a dog with a bone, yapping away in my ear all the time.’

Privately, Delia believed that Adam Vasser was as psychopathic as his father. She’d disliked and distrusted him even when he’d been a child, and now, as an adult, he was a thousand times more dangerous. ‘Does he know about Cato coming out of jail?’

‘Not yet. Maybe he won’t have to.’

‘And if he comes back to Kellston?’

Lena drank some of her coffee. ‘Why would he do that? He’d have to have a death wish.’

‘But Adam knows about Maddie Layne, about the flowers on the grave? What if he talks to her? What if —’

‘Then I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’ Lena looked around the room again. ‘Where is the damn ring, anyway? It’s like a bloody boomerang. Just when I think I’ve got rid of it…’

Delia stood up and fetched the gold band from the mantelpiece. ‘Here,’ she said, quickly passing it over. ‘What are you going to do with it?’

Lena held the ring in her hand, her face looking weary suddenly. ‘Find a bin to throw it in, or the bottom of a river. Someplace, anyway, where I won’t have to set eyes on it again.’ She prodded it, nudging it across her palm. ‘The trouble with Jay Cato is that he never lets things drop. Even after all these years…’

‘He was crazy then and he’s crazy now.’

Lena dropped the ring into the back pocket of her handbag. ‘Probably.’

‘So how’s Tony?’ asked Delia, not the slightest bit interested but wanting to get the subject off Jay Cato.

‘Same as always: fat, stupid, lazy. But I suppose I’m stuck with him.’

Delia had never figured out why, when she could have had her pick of men, Lena had chosen Tony Gissing. He was an ugly brute, a villain without a single redeeming feature. It had been the shock, perhaps, of Brendan Vasser’s murder. And then the subsequent conviction of Cato for the killing. Had she turned to someone who could protect her, who could keep her safe?

Lena leaned her head back against the sofa and gave a sigh.

Delia frowned. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Not really,’ said Lena, sitting upright again. ‘He sent me a letter, you know, a year or so after he got sent down. Cato, I mean.’

‘You never said. Is he allowed to do that, write to you? I’d have thought —’

‘He didn’t send it from the jail. He got someone who was being released to post it for him.’

‘Still protesting his innocence, I suppose? Was that it? Was that what he wanted to say?’

‘No, not exactly.’

Delia had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. ‘What, then?’

Lena fixed her blue eyes on her, her gaze oddly cool. ‘He said he’d worked it out, who it must have been. He said he was sure.’

‘The murderer?’

‘No,’ Lena said. ‘Not that. The letter wasn’t about that.’

‘Oh?’

‘He said it was your fault, that you’d done it. That you were the reason it had all gone wrong.’

Startled, Delia shifted forward, the cup clattering against the saucer in her lap. ‘What? I-I don’t understand,’ she stammered. ‘What did he mean? How could…? It wasn’t anything to do with me. He was the one who —’

‘I didn’t believe him, of course. He’s a liar. Everyone knows that. Always has been, always will be.’

Delia’s lips had gone dry, and she could feel the colour rising into her cheeks, a hot flush making her face burn. ‘Why would I…? I wouldn’t…’ But her throat had grown tight and she could barely squeeze out the words.

‘Of course you wouldn’t. Why would you want to hurt me like that?’

Delia glanced away, unable to bear Lena’s piercing gaze. It was as though she was staring right into her soul. And suddenly, as if the burden she had been carrying around for so many years was too much to bear, she felt a desperate need to confess. It was welling up inside, a surging volcano about to erupt. ‘He was never good enough for you,’ she blurted out. ‘I did you a favour.’

Lena’s voice was low and incredulous. ‘A favour? A fuckin’ favour? Is that what you call it?’

‘He was a murderer! That’s the kind of man he was. He killed your husband.’

‘You know nothing,’ Lena hissed. ‘Nothing at all.’ Her hands, clenched into two fists, lay on her thighs. Her knuckles were white. ‘
You!
’ she spat out as if she could still barely believe it.

Delia hadn’t wanted it to come out like this. She shouldn’t have said anything. It had been a mistake. She should have kept her mouth shut. But maybe that nugget of doubt had been in Lena’s mind for a long time, ever since she’d received the letter from Cato. And now that it was out, there was no point in holding back. ‘Someone had to stop you. Can’t you see? He was no good. It was never going to work.’

Lena pulled in her breath in an audible gasp. ‘And the alternative was better?’

Delia opened her mouth and smartly shut it again. She could see the expression on Lena’s face, a hard, cold rage that sent a shiver through her.

‘Well?’ Lena pressed.

Delia gave a small shake of her head.

Lena glared at her for a few seconds more before snatching up her bag, getting to her feet and walking out of the room.

Delia hurried after her. ‘What are you doing? Where are you going? We need to talk, Lena. You can’t just leave like this.’

Lena flung open the front door and stepped out on to the path. She turned and said, ‘Leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you, nothing at all.’

‘Lena!’

But already she was through the gate and getting into the car. Delia might have run after her if she hadn’t noticed Mrs Kent peering out of the window from the house opposite. She hesitated and in that moment the chance was lost. The MG roared into life and disappeared down the road.

Delia’s heart was hammering as she went back inside the house and closed the door. What had she done? Lena would never forgive her. There was no going back from here. If only she had been able to explain properly. Maybe when Lena calmed down, when she… But already she knew that it was hopeless.

Automatically, she gathered up the cups and took them through to the kitchen. She ran the hot water and half filled the bowl. As she washed up, her regrets were pierced by a feeling of resentment. How come it was always about Lena? Everything was about Lena Bell, Lena Vasser, Lena Gissing. When had Lena ever stopped for one single second and thought about
her
?

Delia slammed a cup down on the draining board, hitting it with such force that the fine porcelain shattered in her hands. She felt the tears rise to her eyes. It had been one of her mother’s cups, part of a set that she’d kept intact for the past twenty years. And now… now suddenly everything felt broken. Leaning against the sink, she gripped the cool, smooth metal and gulped down the sobs.

Maddie was eating pasta with a creamy mushroom sauce, but she could have been chewing on cardboard for all the notice she was taking of it. Her thoughts were elsewhere, her mind still on the visit with Cato. What he had told her continued to spin round in her head. And even now, hours later, she wasn’t sure how much of it was true.

‘You should have called me,’ Rick said. ‘I’d have taken you over to Thornley Heath.’

‘You’ve done enough. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your Saturdays than play chauffeur. Anyway, it’s not that hard to get to.’

Rick twisted the long strands of spaghetti expertly round his fork. He raised the fork to his lips but paused before putting the food into his mouth. ‘So what do you think? You reckon he could be right about this blackmail scam?’

‘Hard to tell. He seemed convincing enough. The story’s credible, but…’

‘But?’

Maddie toyed with the pasta, shifting it around in the bowl. Slowly she raised her eyes to him again. ‘I suppose I just don’t want to believe it about Greta. That she could have done something like that.’

‘Even if the guy is a vicious thug?’

‘Does that make it okay?’

‘Is it okay for some geezer to try and get into your boyfriend’s pants?’

Maddie gave a faint smile. ‘Well, it’s hardly polite, but there are better ways of dealing with it.’

‘Perhaps if you live on the Mansfield, you grab what you can when you can. Your prospects aren’t too great in a place like that. And your moral compass probably shifts a little when you’re stuck in a concrete tower all day with a kid to raise, bills to pay and no money for the meter.’

‘You’re defending her?’

He gave a shrug. ‘Just playing devil’s advocate.’

‘She didn’t have to live on the Mansfield. She and Zac could have moved in with my mum. There’s enough room in the house.’

‘And what about Bo?’

Maddie knew that her mother hadn’t been keen on Bo Vale. Kim Layne would put up with most things – she was as liberal as they came – but she drew the line when it came to dealing drugs. It was doubtful if any invitation for Greta to come and live in Morton Grove would have extended to her boyfriend. Everyone knew that Bo sold dope on the estate. ‘Greta could have still seen him.’

‘Maybe she didn’t want to go running back to her mum. It’s not always easy to admit you’re in trouble.’

Maddie speared a slice of mushroom, dipped it in the sauce and popped it in her mouth.

‘How’s the pasta?’ he asked.

‘Oh, lovely,’ she replied guiltily, realising how little notice she’d been taking of it. ‘Really nice. How’s yours?’

‘Mm, good.’

And Maddie was suddenly aware that it wasn’t just the pasta she was taking for granted. Here she was in a swanky restaurant with a funny, good-looking guy and all she was talking about were her own problems. She let her eyes roam over him for a moment, taking in his handsome face, his solid shoulders and the smart dark blue suit he was wearing. His shirt was white, and he had even put on a tie. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve been droning on, haven’t I? Tell me what you’ve been doing today.’

‘Nothing as interesting as you. It’s been seriously dull in comparison. And if you’re suggesting that you’re boring me, you’re not. I want to hear about it, really I do.’

‘I think I’ve just about covered everything.’

‘It’s fascinating, though, isn’t it? Something that happened all that time ago and —’ He stopped abruptly, his mouth twisting.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I didn’t intend that to come out, so… Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound callous. I know this is about your sister and what happened to her.’

‘You didn’t. I know what you meant.’ Maddie found that she liked him even more for considering her feelings. ‘The whole Cato thing
is
fascinating. Although it’s scary to think that he could be innocent. Imagine spending all that time in jail, being convicted of something that you didn’t do.’

‘Not a happy thought.’

Maddie gazed around the restaurant, which was somehow smart and rustic at the same time. It was ages since she’d been here. She thought it must have been when her father had last visited, back in 2012. The place was packed, with every table taken. ‘It’s busy,’ she said.

‘That’s because it’s the place to be on a Saturday night in Kellston.’

‘Come here a lot, then, do you?’

His eyes glinted with amusement as he looked at her. ‘Are you probing, Maddie Layne? Are you trying to discover if I often wine and dine beautiful young women in these pleasant surroundings?’

‘And do you?’ she asked, keeping her voice as light as his.

‘No,’ he said.

‘Well, I’m flattered.’

He picked up his glass, took a drink and grinned. ‘Although I haven’t lived here for long.’

‘Not that flattered, then.’

‘Hey, we gravediggers like to try and retain at least a modicum of mystery.’

‘It’s not working,’ she said.

He placed his hand on his chest. ‘Now you’re shattering my ego.’

‘Eat your spaghetti,’ she said. ‘You’ll get over it.’

A waitress walked past holding a plate in each hand and one balanced on her arm. Maddie followed her progress as the woman glided effortlessly across the room. It was only as she shifted her gaze a little that she noticed Solomon Vale sitting at a table near the window. He was sharing a candlelit supper with a very attractive black-haired girl. Was she his girlfriend? Maddie, curious, peered between the heads, trying to get a better look.

Rick glanced over his shoulder and back at her. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Sorry?’ she said, focusing on him again.

‘You’ve been staring at that guy for the last thirty seconds. If I was the insecure type, I might start to get a complex.’

‘Ah, how sweet. Are you feeling threatened?’

‘What, just because the guy’s a little bigger than me?’

‘Yes.’

Rick grinned again. ‘Come on, then. Who is he?’

‘That,’ she said, ‘is Bo’s older brother, Solomon.’

‘Really?’ He turned to look again. ‘Not the kind of guy you’d want to get on the wrong side of.’

‘Best not get on his wrong side, then.’

Solomon, as if instinctively aware of eyes being on him, tensed and quickly glanced around the room. He saw Maddie, relaxed and raised his hand. She waved back. The girl he was with gave her a long, hard stare as if assessing the possible competition. Maddie smiled. The girl didn’t smile back.

‘Who’s the woman?’ Rick asked.

‘No idea. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her. Pretty, though, don’t you think?’

‘Ha!’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’m not falling for that one. I learned a long time ago never to say anything complimentary about another woman.’

‘Someone trained you well.’

‘I trained myself. I’m a very fast learner.’

Maddie looked towards the table again. ‘I wonder who she is.’

‘New girlfriend?’

Maddie hoped not. There was something about the girl, about the way she’d stared, that she didn’t like. She thought about the conversation she would need to have with Solomon at some point. It wasn’t a talk that she was looking forward to. Would he simply dismiss what Cato had told her, or would he confront Adam Vasser? That could mean trouble and she didn’t want to be the cause of it.

‘So,’ Rick said, ‘you fancy a sweet?’

Maddie’s thoughts were still with Solomon. ‘Huh? Sorry?’

‘A sweet,’ he said. ‘Or coffee?’

‘Yes, a coffee. That would be nice. Thanks.’

‘Or…’ he said.

‘Or?’

‘You could invite me back to your place for one.’

Maddie inclined her head, studying his face. She waited a moment before replying. ‘Well, I could, but then you might get the wrong idea.’

‘If I was that kind of guy,’ he said. ‘But of course I’m not.’

‘Aren’t all guys that kind of guy?’

‘Isn’t that a sweeping generalisation?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t mean it’s not true, though.’

‘And here was me thinking I was the perfect gentleman.’

Maddie had to admit that he hadn’t tried to take advantage on what she had come to think of as the Day of the Box. The image of the dead impaled sparrow jumped into her head again. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to invite him back. With Zac staying at his grandparents’, she would be alone overnight and it would be reassuring to have some company for an hour or two.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘But
just
a coffee, okay?’

‘What, no biscuits?’

‘I’ll think about it.’

Rick asked for the bill, and when it arrived, Maddie went through the obligatory motions of reaching for her bag and offering to pay half. She was relieved when he refused; she couldn’t really afford it. Adriano’s, although not extortionate, wasn’t the cheapest place to eat.

‘No, this is on me. I invited you, didn’t I?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely sure.’

‘Well, thank you,’ she said. ‘It was lovely. I’ve enjoyed it.’

As they left the restaurant, she waved goodbye to Solomon. This time the girl, who by now must have discovered who she was, gave her a thin but in no way friendly smile. Maddie found herself hoping that it wasn’t anything serious between the two of them.

Outside, the air was heavy. They had barely got a hundred yards down the road when they heard the first roll of thunder, quickly followed by a bright lightning flash. Maddie glanced up at the dark sky, regretting that she had left her umbrella at home. After returning from Thornley Heath, she had left it to dry in the kitchen and forgotten all about it.

At first, it was just a few big drops splattering on the pavement. And then, gradually, the rain gathered pace. Suddenly, the heavens opened. They began to run even though it was pointless. The rain was fast and torrential, a deluge that was impossible to escape. As if a tap had been turned on, it fell from the sky like a waterfall.

By the time they reached Morton Grove, they were both drenched. Stepping into the hallway, they shook themselves like wet dogs, laughing at the sight of each other soaked to the skin. Maddie rushed through to the kitchen, flicking on the lights as she went.

‘Coffee,’ she said. ‘We need hot coffee.’

‘You know what I think?’ he said, coming up to her as she switched on the kettle and started reaching for mugs.

She turned to face him. ‘And what’s that, Mr Mallory?’

He came very close to her and placed his arms round her waist. ‘I think the first thing we should do is get out of these wet clothes.’

‘I bet you do,’ she said, gazing up at him.

He pushed a sodden strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Purely on health and safety grounds, you understand.’

She smiled, about to wriggle out of his hold, when she suddenly had second thoughts. Perhaps it was time to stop running away from things, to take a risk, to grab a little happiness.

For Greta, all those opportunities had gone. Her life, all her hopes and dreams, had been snatched away from her. Sometimes there were no second chances.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ she murmured. ‘I mean, we wouldn’t want to go breaking the law.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘That’s the last thing we’d want to do.’

As he bent his head, she closed her eyes and felt his lips brush hers. Light kisses at first, slow and thoughtful, tender and coaxing, until he felt her respond, until he felt her need growing as forcefully as his. And then his hands began to roam over her abdomen, exploring her back, her thighs, her breasts, searing a path along every plane and curve of her body. With her senses reeling, with her breath no more than a moan, she gave in to desire and pulled him closer.