BLOOD SECRETS a gripping crime thriller full of suspense (19 page)

‘Maybe you should sit down, Joshua,’ Swift said. ‘I’m sorry that I’ve had to reveal these things but I have to find out the truth of what happened to Teddy.’

‘Let him stand!’ Saltby shouted. ‘Let him stand like the wicked man that he is! Let him stand before the Lord!’

Joshua clasped his hands together. ‘I’ve told you that I had nothing to do with Teddy’s death and that is the truth. I could never have harmed him.’

Saltby let out a cry like an animal in pain. Joshua bent his head, whispering ‘sorry.’

‘Your mother is no better than you. She is a worse sinner. She has allowed both her children to carry out iniquitous deeds and go unpunished.’ Saltby moved his chair forward. ‘At least Manchester didn’t embezzle church funds to give to this Bartlett deviant. That’s a small mercy.’

Joshua looked up. ‘Graham? What do you mean? He hasn’t taken money.’ His eyes were wild and strained and now his mask had dropped, agony was written on his face. ‘Do you hear me,
Graham didn’t take any money!
’

Swift turned towards him. Now he understood. ‘The twenty thousand pounds that was donated anonymously for Teddy. I asked you about it and you said you knew nothing. I believe that was another lie.’ He looked at the father. ‘You know, I think we asked about the wrong account when you rang the bank. Presumably you have a business account?’

Saltby nodded. Joshua made a low moaning sound, like an animal in pain. Swift stood so that Joshua would not look like the accused in the dock.

‘Joshua, you cared deeply about Teddy Bartlett. I think he is probably the only person you have ever had those feelings for, or allowed yourself to. You brooded about what had happened to him. Did you give that money to Mayfields for Teddy? If you did, I think that ultimately it was a good thing to have done, a decent thing. You might as well tell me now. No more secrets.’

The young man tensed and Swift thought he might run but then he slumped back against the wall. He closed his eyes as he spoke.

‘Yes. I gave the money for Teddy.’

His father snorted. ‘Where would you get money like that? Well? Tell me! Or do I know before you open your mouth?’

His son swallowed and wiped a tear from his cheek. Swift looked away. It was difficult to watch a man disintegrate so completely.

‘I took it from the business account. I’d been thinking about it for some time, how I might do it. It was when you were still ill after your accident and I was looking after everything. I knew you wouldn’t notice. I moved some money around. We could afford it. I felt . . . I felt it was the least I could do for him. I felt overwhelming guilt because I encouraged him in his sin and I thought maybe he had fallen into bad company. I hope it’s helped him in some way.’

‘Traitor and liar,’ Saltby whispered. ‘Did your mother know about this?’

‘No! I swear she knew nothing about the money.’

‘I can’t bear to look at you any longer. You’re no son of mine. Get out of my sight.’

Joshua turned to the door, tears now running down his face.

‘Wait a minute,’ Swift said, addressing him. ‘I’m going now. I do know what I’ve done by coming here, Joshua, but I had to. I’m sorry for you but I’m sorrier for Teddy. I wish you’d got away from here, like Judith. I need to speak to your mother again. I’m going to ring her to tell her I’ve been here. To warn her.’ He turned to Saltby. ‘If you harm your wife in any way, I’ll make sure your own kind of biblical wrath is brought down on your head.’

He left the house in a dense, awful silence. Outside, he immediately rang Dorcas Saltby at her office. When he was put through, he told her what had happened.

‘I wanted to prepare you. As I said to your son, I’m sorry I had to do this but I think there are still things you’re not telling me. I have a duty to a troubled family who want to know who attacked their son and brother. I need to speak to you again.’

There was the sound of her ragged breathing, then the line went dead. She may not have been the source of the money for Teddy but she was somehow at the core of what had taken place.

Chapter 14

Swift rang Dorcas Saltby and the family home several times the following day but got no reply. Her workplace informed him she was off sick with flu. He looked up Graham Manchester and found he was ex-directory but tracked him to an address in Alexandra Palace. He decided that he had better concentrate on preparing for Mary’s wedding and resume his investigation afterwards. Kris was too busy with several new orders, including four evening dresses, to see him, so he read his completed speech to her over the phone.

‘It’s great,’ she said. ‘Short, as they wanted, but from your heart. I like the bit about Mary putting up with you undoing her pigtails when you were little.’

‘She’s always been too kind-hearted. Have I been diplomatic about Simone?’

‘Very. Like when you said that they’re devoted to each other.’

‘Good. That was all I was worried about. I think I’ve read too many stories about best men who’ve made terrible gaffes. Are your fingers worn to the bone with sewing?’

‘The machine’s hot, I can tell you that. I just have to make a few final touches to my outfit for tomorrow. I’m excited! Have you seen a weather forecast? I’ve not looked up today.’

‘Rain early but clearing to a cold, fine day in the south. Perfect.’

‘Well, see you there in your velvet jacket, Mr Best Man.
Powodzenia!
That’s Polish for good luck.’

* * *

Swift had persuaded Cedric to let him drive to Kew so that he wouldn’t turn up with all his muscles knotted. The ceremony was due to start at 11.30 and they arrived at 10.45, in time for coffee. Mary and Simone were already there, in shift dresses and shoes that made them a mirror image of the other. Mary’s dress was cream with a plum bodice and plum shoes — Simone’s plum with a cream bodice and cream shoes. Simone wasn’t yet showing any sign of pregnancy but now and again she placed her hand on her abdomen. They were talking to Joyce, Swift’s stepmother, who was dressed in a tangerine suit with a broad-brimmed apricot boater which collided with Swift’s nose when she kissed him. As usual, her conversation consisted mainly of questions and exclamations.

‘Oops!’ she laughed. Her foundation was so thick that he stuck to her slightly when she grasped him. ‘Don’t these two look lovely? And you, so distinguished! I was just saying I hope we will all be attending your wedding one day soon. I hear you have a young lady! Is she here?’

‘Not yet, she’ll be here any minute. Her name is Kris. Mary and Simone, you look wonderful.’

He kissed them both and there was only a tiny frisson of tension when his cheek touched Simone’s. He took Mary’s hand.

‘Okay there on your big day?’

‘Fine. You look terrific. Well done, Kris!’

‘Yes.’ He glanced at his watch. It was almost 11 a.m. ‘She should be here by now.’

‘How is she travelling?’

‘By train, then cab. She had a crucial fitting for a customer early this morning, otherwise she could have come in the car with us.’

‘Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time.’

Cedric had gone to check that the wines were in order and to greet The Mouldy Figs who were unpacking their instruments. Mary entrusted the rings to Swift, who tucked them carefully into the inside pocket of his jacket. Joyce started telling him about the latest Gilbert and Sullivan production at her local church hall. He listened with half an ear to details of
The Pirates of Penzance
while gazing anxiously towards the main door of the hotel. At 11.20 he peeled away from Joyce and rang Kris. Her phone went to answer and he left a terse message, asking her to ring him if she was running late. Debbie, the registrar, had arrived and vanished with Mary and Simone. Cedric started asking people to move into the salon where the ceremony was to take place. He saw Swift’s darkened brow.

‘Are you all right, dear boy?’

‘Kris isn’t here and she’s not answering her phone.’

‘Oh dear. We do need to go in.’

‘I know. For goodness sake! You’d think she be on time today, of all days!’ He felt a headache forming across his temples.

‘Maybe there’s some major delay beyond her control and she can’t get a phone signal.’

‘Maybe. Well, I have to go in.’

‘Yes, you’re needed right away. Tell you what, I’ll loiter at the back and keep an eye out. When Kris arrives I’ll smuggle her in quietly.’

‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’

The service ran smoothly. Swift wanted to glance around to see if Kris had arrived but kept his gaze straight ahead, not wishing to cause a distraction. He handed the rings over cleanly, watching Mary smile, and led the applause at the end. As the couple walked back down the room, he turned and looked at Cedric, who was standing by the door with confetti. Cedric shook his head and gave a little shrug.

Swift stepped outside and checked his phone. There were no messages or missed calls. He rang Kris again and left another message, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice. How could anyone be so late for such an important event? He accepted a glass of champagne and decided that he would forget about Kris until after the wedding breakfast. He found Mary and apologised to her for Kris’s bad manners.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, sipping champagne and patting his arm. ‘There must be some major hitch. You know what transport in London can be like. She’ll be here. Didn’t that go amazingly well?’

‘It did. You did great.’

He sat through the meal, barely tasting the food, distracted by the empty seat opposite him. He was aware of elegant china and snowy linen, the musical ring of crystal as toasts were made, the cheerful hum of conversation. He talked to the man on his left and the woman on his right but couldn’t recall their names or who they were related to. Whenever the door opened he looked towards it, but no Kris. Every ten minutes or so he sneaked his phone from his pocket but there was no call, no message. He managed to concentrate enough to deliver his speech competently, but was relieved when it was done. Joyce buttonholed him as people moved towards the salon again for music and cakes.

‘Ty dear, what’s happened to your friend?’

‘I have no idea. I haven’t heard from her.’

‘Oh dear, I am sorry. I hope she hasn’t had an accident!’

Joyce smoothed his jacket unnecessarily and he stepped back. He had started to worry along similar lines. He checked the main news and travel websites but couldn’t see anything about delays or accidents. He rang Kris again with no success. His head was now throbbing, a mix of anxiety and champagne. The Mouldy Figs had started playing, the clarinet leading on
It Had to Be You
. The sweet notes didn’t chime with his mood. It was now nearly 3 p.m. She should have been here by his side in her beautiful dress, sharing the happiness, dancing. The wine he had drunk was bitter in his throat. He had to do something. He looked into the salon. Mary and Simone were dancing, with others gradually joining in. He beckoned to Cedric who was glazed with champagne, his tie askew.

‘Can you give my apologies to Mary and Simone? I can’t raise Kris at all and I’m worried about her. I’m going to go to her flat in case she’s ill.’

‘Have you got a key?’

‘No, but the woman who owns it lives on the ground floor, so I’m hoping to find her if Kris doesn’t answer the bell.’

‘I’m so sorry, dear boy. I do hope Kris is all right. Don’t worry, I’ll let the brides know. You’ve done your bit. Let us know how she is. Do you want to take the car?’

‘I’d better not. I’ve had a fair amount to drink. And I’ll probably be quicker by train and tube, heading into Friday rush hour. I’ll phone you. You do have your phone switched on?’

Cedric checked. ‘Ah, good point, no. There. I’d switched it off for the service but all go now. Obviously, I’ll call you if she turns up.’

* * *

It was early evening by the time he reached Kennington. Kris still wasn’t answering her phone and when he rang her bell there was no reply. There was no light in the top front window, where her living room was and the curtains were pulled back. The bell for the ground floor flat showed the name Burns. He pressed it, taking out his ID. A teenage boy answered, eating a packet of crisps.

‘Hi, is your mum in?’

‘Not back from work yet. Who’s asking?’

‘My friend Kris Jelen lives in the top flat. I’m worried about her because I can’t contact her. Have you seen her today?’

‘Nope, been at school.’

‘I think your mum has a key to her flat. This is my ID. I’m a private detective.’

‘Wow! You’ll have to talk to my mum.’

The pickled onion smell from the crisps was revolting.

‘What time does she get home?’

‘Any time soon.’

‘Have you got a number I can ring her on?’

The boy took a phone from his back pocket, scrolled down the screen and pressed a number with a greasy thumb. ‘Hi, Mum, there’s a bloke here says he wants to get in the top flat. Says he’s a detective. What? I dunno.’

Swift mimed being allowed to speak. The boy handed his phone over and fished around in the bottom of the crisp packet, dabbing up crumbs and licking his fingers. Swift explained the situation.

‘Have you seen or heard Kris today?’ he asked.

‘No. I saw her in the hallway yesterday morning. She seemed fine. Listen, I’m about five minutes away. Hang on and I’ll be there. Can you put my son back on?’

The boy listened, grunted into the phone and shrugged.

‘She says I can’t let you in till she gets here.’

‘Okay. You go back in if you want and close the door. I’ll wait here.’

The boy blew into the crisp packet as he turned away, exploding it with his fist. Swift tried Kris’s number again as he waited, not expecting a response. The sky was growing leaden with purple clouds that reminded him of the colour of Mary and Simone’s dresses. He walked up and down the pavement, growing more fearful with each passing minute. Finally a woman holding two bags of shopping came towards him.

‘Ms Burns?’

‘Yes, Martha Burns. Are you Mr Swift?’

‘That’s right. Here’s my ID. I wouldn’t ask you to let me into Kris’s flat without good reason.’

‘Okay. Let me put these bags inside and get the key. I think I should come up with you.’

‘Yes, of course.’

He was grateful that she seemed calm and sensible. She led him up the stairs to Kris’s flat and knocked loudly on the door.

‘Kris, Kris! It’s Martha, are you there?’

There was no sound from within. She turned to him, biting her lip, looking worried. He banged on the door and called Kris’s name several times. He rang her phone and heard the familiar call tune from inside the flat.

Martha breathed, ‘Oh.’

‘I think you should let me open the door and go in first,’ he told her.

She handed him the key. He stepped through the door and sensed that familiar, strange hush in the atmosphere of a place when something was wrong. The Polish radio station that Kris tuned into on her laptop sounded faintly from the living room.

‘Please wait here,’ he said to Martha, who nodded, her hand to her mouth. He walked along the hallway, calling Kris’s name softly. The door to the living room was ajar and he saw her feet, one pointed sideways, the other upwards in the soft black ballet pumps she wore at home. She was wearing her blue and white striped dressing gown and lying on her back near the sewing machine, amidst a tumble of patterned materials and netting. A strip of thick damask was knotted tightly into her neck. Dark red and mauve marks suffused the skin around it. She stared sightlessly at the ceiling. He knelt beside her and touched her arm, then an ankle. They were stiff and cold. She had gone away. There was a terrible absence.

‘Mr Swift?’ Martha Burns had stepped into the hall.

He raised himself, took a breath and stood in the doorway. ‘Kris is dead. She’s been murdered. I’m going to ring the police. Don’t come in any further.’

She gaped at him. ‘What can I do?’

‘Nothing. Let the police in. I’ll stay here. Don’t say anything, not even to your son.’

She turned and ran downstairs. Swift rang emergency services. Then he gazed again at the living room. There had been a struggle. A box of pins had spilled across the carpet and a bolt of shiny cloth had been knocked over. A couple of pattern books lay scattered beside it with some scissors and a spool of white thread. There had been no sign of forced entry at her door. She must have let her killer in. He knew that Kris liked a hot bath around nine o’clock when she was in for the evening. Afterwards she would put her dressing gown on and continue working at her sewing machine, listening to background music from home. The stiffness of her limbs indicated that she had died sometime the previous night. Polskie Radio continued playing from her laptop, a high pitched jingle, then a fast, merry pop tune.

He knelt by her side again, saying her name. Her hair was clipped back so that it wouldn’t fall in her eyes when she was machining. He had been angry with her for being late. In his last message on her phone his voice had been cutting. He made a smoothing motion over her head, without touching. Minutes passed. He hoped she had died quickly.

Her dark blue and aquamarine wedding outfit was on a hanger, pressed and ready to wear, her navy shoes beneath it. He knew he should phone Cedric but couldn’t bring himself to make the call yet. He shouldn’t touch anything but he moved to the elegant dress and rested his face against the cool, thick satin of the full skirt. He closed his eyes, waiting for the police as the inconsequential music played on.