To Catch a Creeper (26 page)

‘I was, wasn’t I? But you were my dog.’

‘Thanks a bunch. Dog yourself.’

We both laugh, and then she groans again.

‘Cathy, where were you? Where have you been?’

‘Working.’ I turn my head away and stare keenly at the monitor so she can’t read my eyes.

‘So what’s happening at work?’ She writhes again.

‘Well,’ I steel myself, ‘Gurlet took me out to lunch and then Lewis has been so nice lately. And then Honour and I are getting on so much better. I didn’t like her at first but she’s grown on me, funnily enough. And the RNW account’s going really really great and…’

‘Troney baloney. You’ve been suspended, haven’t you?’

‘Yes.’ I drop my head and glare gloomily at the belt strapped to her stomach. ‘Yes I have.’

‘But why hide it from me?’

‘Because it might have stressed you out and caused the baby to arrive too early. I guess I can admit it now.’ I lift my heavy lying eyelids. ‘But it was my fault. I messed up the presentation and…’

‘Oh you poor thing. Aah! Aaaaah!! Where’s Alec?’

I poke my head out the door and peer down the corridor. No sign.

‘He’s just coming, don’t worry. He’ll be here. Hang on.’

‘Speak to me. Speak to me again.’

‘And I’m doing a kind of Full Monty.’

‘Stripping to the music of Hot Chocolate you mean,’ she laughs before her face creases again in pain.

‘No, pretending to go into work so Declan doesn’t find out. That Hugh thing has affected his mind…’

‘In what way?’

So then between contractions I tell her all about Declan and his mental state and what Isobel’s husband thinks and she nods and writhes like an old fashioned heroine in fever a bit more and when I finish she says.

‘What else?’

‘What else? Well, you know that Crouch End Creeper that’s going around…’ So then I begin adding in everything that I told Pimple. I tell her about the times, dates, about the file I created, about joining the Neighbourhood Watch. And as I’m telling her, Alec arrives back with two midwives in tow and they’re all fussing over the monitor and hanging round the bottom of the bed. So I keep talking and squeezing her hand, adding in details like the Quasimodo woman at the dentist’s theory, trying to take her mind off what’s going on below.

‘And now we think we may have a pattern as some of the victims are moving house – although not all. Problem is, if we don’t do something fast…’ I was about to say Neil’s secret would be exposed, but I can’t because then Neil’s secret would be exposed. ‘Then…then…we might all become targets.’

‘Maybe you should set a trap,’ she says between pants. ‘Flush the bastard out.’

‘What sort of trap?’ My eyes swim two lengths. One of the midwives is heading towards her with what looks like a knitting needle in one hand and a pair of nut crackers in the other.

‘Er, not sure. I’ll think of something.’

The first midwife pulls her head out from between Rosa’s legs, ‘How about you spread it round your neighbourhood that someone with a lot of valuables is going to be away and then ambush him,’ she suggests. She’s a Filipino girl who looks about fifteen. ‘After all you keep saying Crouch End is a small community.’

‘But who? Where? I can’t use my house as my husband’s around all day.’

‘Why’s he around all day?’ The second midwife, a large West Indian matron, who looks like she should have retired decades ago, pops her head out.

‘Quit his job. Wants to explore the galaxy or universe or something.’

‘Well,’ says Rosa, between pants, ‘what…about…Ma…Ma…’

‘Ma Baker? Mrs Baker the elder you mean?’

‘No, Maaa Maaa,’ she clutches my hand almost wrenching my arm out of its socket, ‘ma baby’s commmming!!’

Chapter 25

‘Do you want to know what happened at the sodding meeting or not?’ Henrietta’s standing in my kitchen giving me a disapproving look.

‘The meeting? What meeting?’ I’m all starry-eyed. A little bitty baby. Makes me melt every time I think of her. Her tiny fingers, tiny toes. I feel like a grandmother, although not in an arthritic kind of way.

Morning after the birth, Monday, and apart from lack of sleep yesterday night, all is well and I’ve got
the
most brilliant excuse to skip work. I told Declan that last April Younger and Wilding’s HR department decreed every member of staff was entitled to two consecutive fraternity days off per year – when best friends have babies – and he seemed to buy it.

‘Did I tell you I’ve got her middle name?’

‘No, Cathy, but you said about three million times that she’s got
your
name as
her
middle name.’

‘Aw, isn’t that sweet? Meredith Catherine…something or other. Wonder if she’s going to be a Masters like Rosa or an O’Leary like Alec? Maybe they’ll do a combination of both – double-barrel it?’

‘Yes, maybe they will. Or maybe they’ll get married. Now as I was saying, Norman scrutinised everything in your file and…’ she begins just as Declan meanders down the stairs, wearing a faded old Grateful Dead t-shirt, his usual baggy cords, mug of tea in hand and four days worth of stubble covering his chin. I give her a look to stop her saying any more. Not that I’ve been particularly hiding our investigations from Declan, just I haven’t been advertising them exactly either. According to Larry, any negativity could send him over the edge.

He chucks Sophie the car keys, then kisses Henrietta on both cheeks. ‘Hey, sweetheart. How are you?’

‘Great.’ She throws a puzzled glance over his right shoulder at me.

‘Flu better then?’

I nod vigorously.

‘Much better,’ she gives a feeble cough to demonstrate, ‘though I still have a bit of a throat.’

‘Good job too, or you wouldn’t be able to drink your coffee.’ He makes a kind of joke. Actually for my husband it’s not bad.

Henrietta gives me another puzzled glance over his left shoulder this time, so I clutch two hands flat to my stomach, bounce my shoulders up and down and feign a silent pretend chuckle, to show her that’s what she must do to placate him.

‘Oh, ha ha,’ she says, in a pretty bad impression of someone splitting their sides. ‘Yes…very funny. Er…isn’t your hair growing long, Dec? Maybe you should stick it in a ponytail?’

Now I screw my eyes at her. Maybe she should just close her cakehole. Next thing I know she’ll be having
him
tottering along the streets at night in a lambswool coat.

‘I might just do that.’ He drains his tea and checks his watch. ‘Right, better be off. Won’t be too long, ma darling. Might just pop to the bookshop on the way back.’ He gives me a peck, then heads out to the carload of waiting kids – Henrietta’s twins, Sophie and Josh.

Henrietta and I both dash to the lounge and watch him from the bay window.

‘All right to drive, then?’ she says thoughtfully.

‘For the moment.’

He puts his seatbelt on, then turns and checks the children are wearing theirs.

‘Any more incidents?’

‘Well no more buying things thank God, but he’s still acting weird. Yesterday he threw out all our vegetables. Donated them to the chickens.’

‘Why?’

‘Because from now on, he says, everything the O’Farrell family eats has to be organic. I told him it’s more expensive and the vegetables are knobbly and full of mud, but he just doesn’t seem to care.’

We both stare at him suspiciously as he flashes his indicators then pulls away.

‘He does look incredibly cheerful considering his condition.’ Henrietta follows me back to the kitchen.

‘Looks can be deceptive, that’s what Isobel says.’ I spoon coffee into two cups. ‘Her Larry’s had clients that seem totally sane one minute and the next they’re being carted away in straitjackets.’

‘Really, gosh.’ She pauses a second, obviously reflecting on the straitjacket comment before she makes eye contact with the cooker.

‘Oh my God! So this is the new range oven you were talking about! I was imagining an old heap by your description. Where did he get it from?’

‘Don’t know. Don’t care.’

Henrietta turns a few buttons and gasps in wonder as the burners light up like she’s a cave woman discovering fire for the first time. ‘It’s tremendous! Two ovens, six places for your pots.’

‘They’re not places, they’re heat zones,’ I say bitterly.

‘But what would you use all six for?’ she says dreamily.

‘Two are for woks, then there’s rapid, standard and economy.’

‘You know your stuff then?’

‘Declan’s trying to indoctrinate me. Keeps reading from the leaflet when we’re in bed so I can’t get away. I’m still refusing to use it though.’

‘But why?’

‘Because not only did he buy it without asking me,’ I attempt to explain, ‘but it cost a hell of a lot of money. Money that I helped to…to…ear…’ I swallow, ‘…er…ear…mark.’

‘Earmark?’

‘Yes, you know, you stick aside some for clothes, cornflakes – buying this oven put it right out.’

‘Maybe it’s also because of your role swap. You were the boss and keeper of the kitchen and now he’s the boss and keeper of the kitchen. It happens to a lot of women whose husbands have gone “house”. It’s hard adjusting to losing control. At least he’s not borrowing your clothes.’

‘Oh, Henrietta.’ I squeeze her shoulder.

‘What a pair we are.’ She smiles. ‘You with your husband verging on insanity, mine verging on being sent down for burglary.’

‘Still walking the streets?’

She nods. ‘And we’re still arguing about it. I mean, it’s not much to ask, is it, Cathy? I’ve stood by him all these years when I know many wives would have long scarpered. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t love him less because of his “habit”. It’s part of him and it’s never ever bothered me until now.’ She pulls a pack of Camels and a book of matches from her back pocket, flips out a lone cigarette and lights it. ‘But for the very first time, because it threatens our children, it’s driving this enormous wedge between us.’

‘Henrietta…I can’t believe it. You’re smoking?’

‘Yes, I’m smoking,’ she shrugs and inhales deeply. ‘Big whopping deal.’

‘But…you never smoke. You’ve
never ever
smoked.’

‘Well maybe it’s about time I did,’ she says bleakly. ‘Maybe I’m going to start doing what I’ve never done before. Maybe I might go off tonight and get roaring drunk or…or score a line of dope or…’

‘You can’t.’

‘Try stopping me!’ she says fiercely, before starting a long coughing fit.

‘No, I mean, you have ounces of dope, lines of coke,’ I pat her on the back, ‘hits of heroin, rocks of crack. Not that I want to encourage you, but Henrietta, please don’t be like this. It’ll turn out OK. We’ll find an answer soon. Tell me about the meeting yesterday, what happened? What did you find out?’

‘Find out?’ she sighs. ‘Well apparently the victims weren’t just moving. They were all
selling
their houses.’

‘And that means?’

‘That the burglaries might be something to do with that new estate agent opened on the Broadway.’

‘Which new estate agent? There’s hundreds on the Broadway.’ In fact sometimes we joke, it should be renamed Estate Agent Broadway.

‘Hardwick and Wiles.’ She drags on her cigarette once more and almost simultaneously lets out another big cough.

‘Why them?’

‘Because after you left for the hospital we stuck our Neighbourhood Watch hats on our heads and did some phoning around. All bar two of the houses and flats burgled are on their books.’

‘Bar two you say?’

‘Dead banker and gay bachelor.’

‘The exceptions that prove the rule. Sugar?’ I offer her the bowl, but she declines. Not taken up all vices then. Hope for her yet.

‘Although it’s not that the dead banker wasn’t definitely selling or selling through them but we didn’t think we could ring up his widow nine p.m. on a Sunday night to ask. Janet said she’d ring her friend today. Get him to put out sensitive feelers.’

‘You know what, Henrietta,’ I rub my hands together, ‘I’ve got the strangest feeling that at long last light might well be entering our eerie tunnel.’

‘I sincerely hope so.’ She sips her coffee and perches herself on a stool. ‘And the other thing is…what we decidedwas…that we needed somebody…who’s preferably not working during the day… Someone who can twinkle their eyes, or act a bit dumb, to go visit the estate agents. Make discreet enquiries.’

‘You mean like Declan.’ I consider the suggestion but quickly dismiss it. ‘You know I can’t pressurise him in his state. And his flirtatious twinkle’s more like a demented shine these days.’

‘No, I mean – like
you
.’

‘But…but… How? Where? Who?’ My mind races. ‘Damn Pimple, damn her to smithereens.’ Never ever trust your cleaner.

‘It wasn’t Pimple who told us you were suspended,’ she laughs. ‘It was you, Cathy. You told us yourself last Wednesday night when we went to Tropicos. After you made everyone swear on various codes of ethics not to say about Neil. After your third white Russian…’

Curse my liquor loosened lips.

‘Sorry, Cathy,’ she continues on, ‘but a vote was held in your absence. And you were the chosen one.’

***

‘Mrs O’Farrell?’

‘Speaking.’

An hour later, Declan still hasn’t returned from the book shop and I’m just about to head into town to visit the estate agents when the phone rings.

‘It’s the vet here. Diane.’

‘So?’ I say sullenly, feeling my hackles bristle.

‘So. I found something.’

‘Oh.’ Instantly her loose morals, nymphomaniac behaviour and greedy gum-drop attitude are cast aside as the more urgent crisis takes over. ‘I was worried something like this would happen.’ All the vomiting, Tic-Tac’s great age, the further tests.

‘You were?’

‘You’re talking about…’ I say it through the side of my mouth as I catch Tic-Tac looking at me unblinking and all-knowing. ‘The “C” word?’

‘What “C” word?’ She sounds shocked and a mite insulted. ‘You mean four letters ending in “t”?’

‘God no, not that “C” word,’ I say hurriedly, ‘the six-letter one.’

‘Six letters, eh? Circle?’

‘Ending in er.’

‘Oh yeah, um, what about copper?’

‘No.’