Unraveled Visions (A Shaman Mystery) (36 page)

I gasped and pointed. “The doors are opening.”

Punters streamed into the chill of the night, their breath chuffing out as they laughed and chattered. They were like a stream of minor dragons.

“Smallish turnout,” I remarked.

“Not surprising. It’s no one’s idea of a fun party.”

“Yeah. And a bitter night. They’re saying it might snow for Santa.”

Minutes later, the Atkinson harem came through the big doors. Eric locked them while the women and children went ahead, shrouded in hoods and scarves against the weather. But I could spot Drea’s outline among the pack, and so could Andy, his forehead was almost touching the windscreen.

Eric pocketed the key and strode after them, towards the car park.

There was no sign of Rey.

I had been so sure when I’d swapped a proper date for a night of sleuthing. Rey had seemed keen, ready to take the risk. He hadn’t contacted me to say otherwise. Naturally, he’d told me not to be anywhere in sight for this raid. He’d made it clear I should stay away, tuck myself up in bed, which was why I’d been unable to get any details.

I checked the replacement mobile Marianne had got for me. It was brand-new and I wasn’t competent with it yet. But no, he hadn’t called. I rang him. Mobile switched off. He was probably at home watching the news and drinking a whisky.

He’d promised. He’d
promised.

“Right.” Andy put his hand on the door. “That is it.”

Some little cord twanged in my head.
Softly, softly
…

“Stop!” I hissed. “Don’t get out! Drive!”

“What?”

“I know what’s wrong. The police aren’t here!”

“Yeah,” said Andy. “That’s the problem.”

“No! They’re not here because that’s not where things will happen!” My heart yapped with my stupidity. “They’ll be waiting in the car park.”

Andy fumbled with the key, forgetting the car was still running for the heat, turning so hard so the engine ground. His feet jerked on the pedals. The car stalled and bumped.

“Come on!” I hissed, gripping the dashboard.

The wheels screeched as they finally found their grip. We sprang forward. Bony Elbows turned her head, a casual glance towards a noise.

“We shouldn’t pass them. Keep the lights off and reverse. Go the long way!”

“What? You nuts?”

“It’s too risky. Eric’s got more eyes and ears than Brahma. And we can still be there before them.”

Andy did a long, whining reverse and pulled out into a slow stream of traffic that steadily took us to the car park. There was no sign of the harem, but Andy pointed a finger from the steering wheel at a dark-blue Discovery standing alone close to the exit. “That’s Eric’s.” He drove past it to the opposite end of the car park and tucked the Punto in behind a white van. “Where’s your boyfriend’s car?”

Rey drove a sporty Nissan, but I couldn’t see anything so low-slung from my position.

Atkinson was leading the women and the children through the car park entrance when a jocund tune staccatoed into silence of the car. I’d yet to find out how to put the new mobile on silent.

“A text. It might be Rey,” I whispered.

I worked my way through to my messages.

Wish me luck. About to go out with bang!

“Sabbie?” hissed Andy. “What does he say?”

I stuffed the phone into my pocket. “It wasn’t Rey.”

_____

I’d had another visitor, after Rey had left on Thursday. Fergus had called bringing flowers of his own—gas station chrysanthemums dyed in garish colours.

I’d felt guilty about Fergus. Since I’d got out of the hospital, he’d been on my mind. I had imagined things about him that one should not imagine about any innocent man. “Is it my fault, Sabbie?” he’d asked as we sat down on the sofa. “Did you find yourself in such trouble because of anything I said about Papa Bulgaria?”

I had shaken my head. “I stepped into danger with my eyes wide shut. I knew the Papazovs were nasty. You told me that. I knew they were suspicious of me and that I’d outstayed my welcome. But I would never have guessed the truth if I hadn’t seen it for myself.” I kept going over and over things like that; thinking about them, talking about them. It wasn’t doing me any good. “Tell me about your plans, Fergus. Are you going back to Belfast?”

“I’ve got a string of interviews lined up, so I’ll be fine. And the folk music scene is even bigger over there.” He’d given me a sideways look. “I was going to go out with a bang, d’you remember?”

“Yeah.” I had needed to suppress a shudder. “I do remember.”

“But I guess you won’t be at the Curate’s Egg for a while.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Kev has offered me a late-night spot. Tomorrow night, Christmas Eve, he thought he might throw a party, put out some free food, have some extra turns. My own songs I’m singing. I’ll be last on.”

I had beamed at him. “That’s such good news!”

“I practice my songs in the flat, but no one has ever given me the chance to sing in public before.”

“You’ll be wonderful. They’ll love you. But I can’t promise I’ll get there.”

“You said you were doing something Friday. But I can imagine that now you’re planning to stay in.”

“Oh, I’m always up for adventure, Fergus, surely you know that by now?”

_____

Andy gestured across the nighttime space of the car park, to where Atkinson’s harem had reached their vehicle.

I could hear Eric’s voice carry on the night air, and Bony Elbows’s reply. Simple stuff …
put the buggy in the boot … get the babies strapped in
. Silently, Andy opened his door and stepped out, while they were busy.

The doors of the Discovery slammed. They were all in the four-by-four. The engine was starting up. The Discovery’s lights went on, aggressive bulbs front and back that would blind adjacent drivers.

I slid out of my door, too, and tucked myself in next to Andy, who was kneeling behind a blue Fiesta. We watched the action by peering over the Fiesta’s bonnet, like a couple of gangsters in a Hollywood movie.

“The police are a washout,” said Andy.

Andy was right. Rey hadn’t come. He wasn’t a maverick after all. He
was
a washout.

Andy stood head and shoulders clear of our hiding place, staring over the bonnet of the white van.

“Please, Andy. Not this night. There’ll be others.”

Then the door of an unmarked car opened, and a uniformed cop strode over to Atkinson, just as the Discovery’s wheels eased out of the parking place. The cop rapped on the driver’s window.

Atkinson got out of the car and followed the policeman to the rear of his vehicle. I could almost hear the words …
if you could follow me to the rear of your vehicle, please sir
.

I blinked, trying to focus. Someone had smashed the glass and the bulbs of Eric’s rear lights.

“Officer.” Atkinson’s voice floated on the night air. “This is vandalism. It must have occurred since I left the car.”

“Even so, sir, I’m afraid you won’t be able to drive the vehicle with the back lights missing.”

“That’s outrageous,” Atkinson exploded. “We’ve only got a few miles to go.”

“Could I take a look at your driving licence sir?”

Atkinson raised both arms. “I don’t carry it, I’m afraid.”

Andy turned to me. “They can’t take him on a dodgy light.”

“Who smashed it, d’you think?”

We watched the copper go back to his car. I heard the radio fizz. Something moved on the periphery of my vision. A figure strode across the car park, his heels hitting the tarmac and bouncing to the balls of his feet, fast and sure. I loved the rhythm of his gait, the way the silhouette of his thin-soled shoes rocked with each step. I grinned. Rey had not lost all his sneaky sergeant ways.

“Sir,” said Rey, his voice raised, long before he reached Atkinson, “can you ask your passengers to step out of the vehicle, please?”

“What’s this about?” said Atkinson. I thought he was cottoning on. He gazed around and I yanked Andy to the ground.

“I’m going to get her,” he hissed at me.

“Not yet.” I hung onto his coat. “Not yet!”

The three women oozed out. Drea’s thin legs slid down onto the tarmac.

Rey took in the women, gesturing to them. “Can I ask you sir, your relationship to these ladies?”

“We’re his wives,” said Bony Elbows, her bosom rising. “And proud of it.”

“Wives? You must understand, sir that bigamy is an offence in this country,” said Rey. “If you are a bigamist, I am in my right to arrest you here and now. You’d be in the cells overnight.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” said Bony. Even her mouth was boned now, her whole body had become hard and dangerous.

“Wouldn’t I? I think that depends on whether this is, in fact, your husband.”

“Of course he’s our husband!” That was Naomi, the youngest wife, who was standing with her baby tight in her arms. “We are married in the eyes of God.”

In a blink, Rey responded. “And each of the ladies in question? Did they enter this … union with their eyes open? With their full consent?” He turned slightly, so that he was addressing the two younger wives. “Did you give your full and free consent?”

The officer, who had been leaning into his car, working the radio, stood up, one hand raised, as if he had the answer to the teacher’s question. “This vehicle is registered to an Exeter address, sir,” he said, as he marched back to the Discovery. “Were you planning to travel back to Exeter?”

“It’s—ah—well.” Atkinson seemed to be spitting nut shells from his mouth. He swung round to the bony bitch of a first wife.

“We’re going no farther than Taunton,” she said. “And if you would be so kind, officers, we’ll be on our way.”

“Perhaps you could inform us of the address you’ll be staying at tonight,” said Rey.

A descending cascade of sobs rose into the air. Drea dipped into the car and lifted her little boy out, chuntering to him in toddler language. Andy’s face puckered in pain. “Zac picks up on atmospheres so quickly. He knows something’s wrong.” He stood and began his journey across the car park. I let him go. It seemed my part in this was almost over.

“Zac!” cried Andy. “Ziggidy Zac!

“Andy Pandy!” came a piping voice. Andy stopped in his tracks. Something slipped past Drea, something red and fast, making a beeline for Andy. Drea’s little boy hurtled into Andy’s arms. He was scooped up and held tight. Over Andy’s shoulder, I could see his round face, eyes closed and lips pressed onto Andy’s neck.

“Drea!” Andy called. “You have to believe the police. Eric is not your legal husband!”

“What is this?” asked Rey. He swung back to Atkinson, who’d become very quiet. “
Are
you married to these ladies?” He spoke as if such an accusation occurred in the line of police duty ever few days.

Atkinson knew how to bat awkward questions. “That is my child. That man is stealing my child.” He pointed a finger, as I’d seen him do on the stage of the hall.

Rey didn’t respond, but Andy did. “This is Drea’s child,” he said. “No man can be sure of paternity.”

Drea didn’t say anything. Her mouth was working, as if trying to hold onto a scream. Under the car park lighting her face was sickly, eyes glittering wet. Her body leaned towards Andy, like they were joined by a thread.

In long strides, Atkinson was around the big-boy bonnet of his car and facing Andy. He put grey hands over the shoulders of the little boy, as if offering benediction. I saw his steel eyes bore into Andy’s face. I could not see Andy’s expression, but I hoped he was curbing the urge to stick a fist into Eric’s face.

Then I saw something that neither of the men did. Drea was taking wobbly steps towards her child. She walked as if still recovering from a debilitating illness. Andy looked up, and he must have smiled, because Drea attempted to return it, her wet lips straining into a thin line.

“Hand me my child,” said Atkinson.

“Drea’s child,” said Andy, his voice carrying across the car park.

“My wife,” said Atkinson.

“No. The woman I will marry.”

Atkinson’s voice quavered upwards. “The Lord hath joined us, only the Lord can put us asunder. You are but a quivering mass of sin cowering under the serpent’s tail!”

I gripped the bonnet of the Fiesta as my stomach knotted. Andy was able to ward off Eric’s brainwashing techniques, but Drea slowed at his words—quivered and cowered as if the devil was upon her. The uniformed cop started off towards the group, but Rey put a hand on his upper arm as if to say,
let’s see how this plays out
.

“I want to marry you, Drea,” Andy called. He was ignoring Eric. Even the child in his arms seemed to be ignoring him. He was clinging to Andy’s neck as if he didn’t want to be passed like a parcel to the other man. “In a proper church. With a proper service; registrar, the lot. We know it’s our right. Our path in Christ.”

“The Lord hath joined us!” bellowed Atkinson.

“Codswallop,” said Andy. “
Dangerous
codswallop. I am never letting evil back in our lives.”

He turned, sharp as a drill sergeant, and walked away, Zac in his arms. Now I could see his face. It was an impassive mask of control. He had not let Atkinson threaten him. He’d been in CORE. He knew how Atkinson controlled people.

Eric turned his attentions to Drea, striding the few metres between them, his hand ready to grab and keep her. I saw her gasp. She had to make the choice on her own. Her path. I could not help at all and Andy could only help by combating Eric’s will.

Eric was almost upon her when she swerved haphazardly and broke into a sort of skittering run.

Andy heard her heels on the tarmac. I saw his head rise, as if he might stop now, and wait, or turn and call to her.

But he didn’t. He took his time, heading towards his car with purpose.

It was a masterly stroke. Over his shoulder, the child was the one looking at Drea. I saw his little hand stretch out to her, imploring.