Slated for Death (27 page)

“Got her? You mean she's taken her hostage?”

“Something like that. Anyway, have a word with Florence. Tell her I've got a problem to sort and I've stepped out for a minute. Don't give her any details, though. You and Florence hold the fort here until I get back.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I've got to find Bethan.”

 

Forty-five

Karis said nothing.

“Right, then,” said Penny. “Let's start with this. I know you were at the nursing home on the day Doreen Roberts died and I think at best you helped her die and at worst, you killed her. We found the helium balloon equipment in the cupboard. The hood.”

Karis looked straight ahead into the dark nothingness. The depth of her expression was difficult to read in the dim light from the tunnel, but the air of dull despair that clung to her was unmistakable.

“Tell me!” demanded Rebeccah. “She was my mother and I mean to know how she died.”

“How long have we got?” said Karis, finally.

“As long as it takes,” said Penny.

“All night, if need be,” said Rebeccah.

Karis took a deep breath.

“You could say I helped her die, I guess, but she didn't really want to go, so I'm not sure helping is the right word.”

Rebeccah gasped. “Really? You killed
Mam
? Are you saying you killed
Mam
? Why would you do such a thing?” She let out a low, unearthly groan and inwardly, Penny did, too. This was now all going to go very badly.

“And it wasn't just Doreen, was it Karis? You killed Glenda, too, didn't you?” Penny asked.

Nobody said anything. The eerie silence was broken only by the gentle trickling of water down the walls of the mine. And then Karis raised her head.

“‘I have no sense of being your mother.'” She spat out the words. “That's what Doreen said to me when I met her. ‘I have no sense of being your mother.' What kind of woman says that to her child?”

“When did she say that?” Penny asked. “When did you meet her?” Ignoring the question, Karis continued.

“I'd always known I was adopted. I think most adopted children know without being told. They just do. They don't fit in. They look different. They act differently. Something just doesn't feel right. A feeling of belonging is missing. So I asked my adoptive Mum.”

“What did she tell you?”

“She told me what she knew, which wasn't much. That I'd been put up for adoption as a baby. But these days the records are pretty much open and it didn't take much to find out who my birth mother was and with social media, you can find just about anyone. It wasn't hard to find Doreen. So I contacted her and I came to Llanelen about a year ago and we had a little meeting in a caf
é
over a cup of tea. It was so stilted and uncomfortable. She was very cold and dismissive. I don't know why she even agreed to see me. I asked her about the circumstances of my birth and she said she was married and had two daughters. Then she'd had an affair and fallen pregnant and her husband made her give the child up for adoption because he couldn't raise another man's kid. She said she wanted nothing to do with me, that she'd moved on years ago. Moved on! And then that's when she said it. That she had no sense of being my mother.”

Rebeccah and Penny said nothing as the words sank in and they tried to imagine the unbearable emotional pain and devastation they must have caused.

Penny exhaled softly. “That must have been terribly difficult to hear,” she said.

“Difficult to hear? It was more than that. I boiled over with hate and rage and I knew in that moment that I could kill her. That's how difficult to hear it was.”

No one said anything. The trickling of water and, in the distance, the gentle splash of the waterfall filled the silence. And then Karis spoke, in a soft, ambient tone.

“We were on tour. You know, with The Characters. A huge group at the time. There was a reception in a fancy hotel. Can't remember exactly where it was, America, I think. Atlanta, possibly. The hotels all looked the same. Anyway, I overheard one of the waitresses telling another one that she was planning an away weekend with the women in her family. Sisters, cousins, aunts, daughters … all of them. They did it every year and had so much fun. Stayed in a hotel, all crammed into a couple of rooms, up half the night talking and laughing, drinking wine, and just carrying on. I would have given everything to be part of something like that. With my sisters and my mother.”

Rebeccah started to weep softly.

“I had so much at the time, or so everyone thought. She was a waitress, this woman who was going away with her family. And yet she had the one thing I wanted more than anything.”

“She was probably filled with envy for you because of all you had in your life,” said Penny. “You achieved a tremendous amount, Karis.”

“That's the funny thing,” Karis said. “When I met Doreen that one time, she said she had a feeling years ago I might be her daughter when she saw me performing with the group on television. Wouldn't you think if a woman saw someone on television she thought was her daughter she'd be…” Karis made a vague gesture. “Interested? Proud even? But nothing.”

“She wasn't much interested in me, either,” said Rebeccah. “It was all about Glenda with her. Glenda this, Glenda that. There was the two of them, and then there was me. Oh, they invited me to the Christmas dinner and all that, but there was never closeness. I was always the outsider. They didn't take much notice of me.”

“But at least you got to grow up with your own family,” said Karis.

“Oh, if that's what you're thinking you missed, you should be glad you weren't there,” said Rebeccah. “It was a horrible childhood. She was a vicious, controlling bully. I hated going home. I hated being there, listening to her fight with my dad. Different story for Glenda, of course. She got all the nice things, the new things. I got whatever was left over. Mum would ignore me at night, but she'd tuck in Glenda, sit on her bed, and they'd talk and giggle and I had to lie there and pretend to be asleep. It was awful.”

Karis started to say something, but Rebeccah interrupted her.

“Look, Karis, it was a terrible thing they did putting you up for adoption and telling everyone you died. I'm so sorry for that and I wish it hadn't happened. I wish I could have got to know you before you did all these terrible things. I wish you'd told me sooner that you're my sister. Maybe if you had,
Mam
and Glenda would still be alive. But I don't want you thinking you missed out on a perfect childhood because you didn't. Dad drank too much, there were terrible fights, and
Mam,
” she glanced at Karis, “our mother lavished everything she had on one daughter and ignored the other. Others. Me and you. So, yes, that might have been the family you were born into but let me tell you, you didn't miss much by not being there.” Her voice was breaking up.

“Rebeccah, when did you learn that Karis was your sister? Was it on the market day when you left your stall and went to the caf
é
with Karis?” Penny asked.

Rebeccah nodded. “How did you know?”

“You two were seen going off together.”

Rebeccah thought for a moment. A picture of a grey-haired woman in a burgundy-coloured coat crossing the town square flashed through her mind. Rebeccah let out a little groan.

“Of course. Mrs. Lloyd,” she said.

Karis looked from one to the other. “Who's Mrs. Lloyd?” she asked.

“Where to begin,” said Rebeccah, as Penny managed a half smile. For a moment, the atmosphere became calmer and a little more relaxed.

“You two will have a lot to talk about,” said Penny. “But Karis, tell me. I'm curious how you came to be performing at this concert. Did you contact Glenda or did she contact you?”

“She contacted me. She didn't know who I was, at first, but I knew who she was. And I told her she was my sister just after I signed the contract. She was shocked. And like her mother, our mother, she didn't want to know.”

“But after she knew who you were, the concert plans still continued?”

“Well, they had to, didn't they? After the contract was signed she had to go through with it. So did I. I needed the money.”

“And Glenda,” said Penny. “Did you kill her, too?”

“I didn't plan to. I just got so enraged with her. I followed her here and when I saw the slate splitter lying there I picked it up, and…”

“But why?” Rebeccah shouted. “I don't understand how you could kill them!”

“I think I know why she killed Glenda,” Penny said. “I think Glenda really brought all the feelings of loss and hatred that you had against Doreen into focus. And I think Glenda's rejection was a huge additional source of pain for you when you were down and vulnerable.”

Rebeccah started to cry.

“How am I doing, Karis?” Penny asked.

“Really good,” said Karis in a low voice.

“In fact,” said Penny, “I bet you didn't even know why you hated Glenda. You just did.”

Karis nodded. “Yeah. I just did. I tried reaching out to Glenda. A couple of days before the mine visit I went round to her house to talk to her. I wanted us to have a relationship but she didn't want to know me, either. We got into a fight and it got ugly. She started hitting me and I bit her on the arm. I'm not proud of that, but yeah, I guess you could say hated her. But I hated Doreen more.”

“You hated her for some time, apparently,” said Penny. “So why now? Why did you kill her now?”

Karis shrugged. “When my life was going okay I pushed all this to the back of my mind and didn't really think about it. But lately, I started thinking about Doreen. Thinking about her a lot. I was drawn to Llanelen and I wanted to see where Doreen lived. How they lived. So I started watching them, following them.”

“The way you do,” scoffed Rebeccah.

“And then she moved into the nursing home, so I went there, just to look around.”

“Didn't anyone stop you or question what you were doing there?” Penny asked.

“No I just put on a pair of scrubs I bought at a charity shop that looked vaguely like the uniform they wear at the nursing home, except they were the wrong colour. But no one took any notice. I went wherever I wanted to.”

“And why did you leave pieces of slate in Doreen's and Glenda's hands?” Penny asked.

“Oh, that was just a bit of fun to wind up the police.”

“I thought you might have left them as a kind of calling card. A souvenir, almost. Something to remember you by.”

Karis closed her eyes and turned away.

“Think whatever you like. Doesn't matter to me.”

“Karis, why did you do a runner after the concert? You must have known you couldn't escape,” asked Rebeccah.

“I could tell by the way that man in the wheelchair gestured to that cop that he'd recognized me from the nursing home. I recognized him, too. Nosy Parker. And I could have made it out of the mine through an emergency exit if you two hadn't got in the way.”

A silence filled with sadness and hopelessness settled over them until Karis spoke.

“I'm very cold and I've had enough of your questions. How much longer do you think we'll be down here?”

“She can have my jacket,” said Rebeccah. “I've got a jumper on.”

“No,” said Penny. “Don't untie her. They won't be long.”

“You don't know that,” said Karis. “Maybe they'll never find us.”

“Oh, they will,” said Penny. “They've got a device called a CO
2
detector. It detects the slightest trace of human breath. Border-protection people use them to scan lorries coming into the country for illegal migrants. If anyone goes missing down here they can find them, no matter how deep in the mine they may be.”

“Listen!” said Rebeccah. “I think I can hear them now.” She went out into the tunnel and called out.

“They're down this way,” said a disembodied male voice. A moment later, the focused beam of a strong torch lit up the chamber and two men and a woman ducked their heads against the low entry and entered.

“Told you we'd find them,” said Bevan Jones.

“Is everyone all right?” asked DCI Gareth Davies. He avoided looking at Penny for a moment and then stood in front of her, holding out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet.

“We're all right,” said Penny. “Karis here has a lot to tell you about the deaths of Glenda and Doreen Roberts.” Davies nodded at DS Bethan Morgan, who moved toward Karis with handcuffs.

“She's very cold,” said Penny. “She's just got on stage wear. Can we fetch a blanket for her?”

Bevan Jones nodded. “Anyone else want one?” Rebeccah and Penny shook their heads.

“What's all this?” Davies asked, shining his torch on the stack of wooden boxes.

“Cheese,” said Bevan Jones. “The ambient temperature down here is fifty-four degrees and it's perfect for maturing cheese, apparently. The North Wales Dairy stores cheese here for fourteen months while it ripens. It'll be on the market next year.”

“What's that box doing down there?” His torch had picked up the box, now dented in the corner, that Rebeccah had hurled at Karis. Penny explained where it had come from and Bethan bent over to bag it.

“You must be hungry,” she said to Penny as she straightened up. “The reception's over, but should we see if we can find you something to eat?”

Penny shook her head. “I'm tired and I just want to get home.”

As they made their final journey aboveground in the little yellow train, Penny turned to Davies.

“I completely missed the reception. How did it go? And what about Florence and Mrs. Lloyd?”

“We weren't sure what we'd find down here, so they've been driven home. In fact, everyone's gone home. Except for Jimmy. He simply would not leave until he knew you were all right. He'll be happy to see you. He thinks the world of you.”