Poisoned Cherries (38 page)

I had closed in by then.
 
I whipped the feet from under her with the Russian leg sweep that Liam had taught me, and followed up as she went down, driving my knee hard into the midsection of the black tunic.
 
It was all over then, but I had seen and experienced enough to take no chances, so I hit her, once, hard, with my right fist in the middle of the forehead.
 
I could see her eyes now; they glazed over as she went out, cold.

“Find a light, Ricky,” I shouted, as I pushed myself up from the motionless figure and headed for the door through which she had come. I fumbled for a switch on the inside of the door but found none.
 
Then for the first time I became aware of a soft splashing sound.
 
It was a bathroom; I found the switch on the outside and flicked it on.

I didn’t see Natalie Morgan at first, but I heard her quickly enough.
 
He bath was a big old Victorian thing, big enough to accommodate a five-a-side football team.
 
She was in it... on her own.

The tub was full almost to overflow point.
 
Natalie was beneath the surface.
 
A big strip of gaffer tape had been slapped over her mouth, her arms were bent behind her and her legs were doubled beneath her.
 
Her wrists were lashed tight to her ankles, and lying on her back as she was, she was helpless.
 
She was also on the point of drowning, she was moving, but only slightly, and I couldn’t see any bubbles coming up.

I plunged my arms into the bath ... the water was no more than tepid ..
 
. and lifted her out, then laid her on her side, in the middle of the floor.
 
She had been tied with a satin cord, which might have been the sash of a dressing gown.
 
Whatever it was, it was sodden and the knot would not budge.
 
Luckly, I still had Oliver’s big clasp knife in my pocket.
 
I produced it and cut her free, then I ripped the tape from her mouth.

She had stopped moving altogether, and her lips had a bluish tinge to them.
 
I rolled her on to her back, and was about to begin mouth to mouth, when she coughed, and spluttered.
 
Quickly, I turned her over..
 
. and jumped clear as she vomited all over the tiled floor.
 
As I did, I saw an empty vodka bottle, and a glass, on the floor by the bath.

“Do we need a medic?”
 
Ricky was in the doorway.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” I replied.
 
“How’s Glen?”

“He thinks it’s Christmas.
 
I told him that if it is, the fairy on top of the tree just kicked the shit out of him.
 
He’s okay, though.”

“And how about Mandy?”

He surprised me; he laughed.
 
“Come and see,” he said.

We left the naked Natalie to puke in private, and I followed him into the living room.
 
It was lit by a fancy, modern, five-bulb halogen arrangement.
 
The figure on the floor was still out; although as I looked down, her right leg twitched, involuntarily, as if she was dreaming about kicking some bloke in the head.

Ricky had ripped off her helmet.
 
I looked down, and whistled, as I realised why he had been laughing.
 
“I think we’d better get Ewan up here,” I told him.
 
“Mrs.
 
Capperauld’s got some explaining to do.”

Fifty-Four.

We paid Margaret Capperauld plenty of respect; when she came round a couple of minutes later, she was tied into the swivel chair with the same cord she had used to bind her would-be victim.

Natalie herself was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a to welling robe, shivering with a mixture of cold, fright, and alcohol.
 
She must have drunk all that vodka; she was completely pissed.

Ricky had vetoed the idea of Ewan coming up; correctly, when I thought about it.
 
He’d have wigged out.
 
Instead he had sent Glen Oliver down to sit with him in the car, and to call Ronnie Morrow’s home number and dig him out of bed.
 
There would be credit going, he had pointed out, and he wanted his protege to get it.

It took another minute or so, but, eventually, Margaret’s eyes were fully focused.
 
When she realised where she was, she strained against her binding for a moment, then gave up.

“Olympic gymnast, eh,” I murmured.
 
“And them some.”

“And free-style climber,” she replied, ‘and martial arts student.”

‘..
 
. And vengeful wife?”
 
I suggested.
 
She glared at me.

I had already worked out the climbing part; on the terrace outside I’d found a coil of rope and a heavy hard rubber grappling hook.
 
She’d got up to Natalie’s penthouse by scaling the whole damn block, floor by floor, taking the stairway balconies one by one.

“David spilled the beans, didn’t he?”

She looked at me again, as archly as her husband might have, then she winced in pain from the big lump that had sprouted about an inch above her nose.
 
“What did you hit me with?”
 
I held up my right fist.
 
“That’s no way to treat a lady,” she murmured.

Then she nodded.
 
“Yes, he did.
 
He came to see me in London and told me the whole story.
 
He said that he had asked Ewan for money to forget about his adventure with Natalie, and that all he had got was a threatening phone call from her uncle.

“He told me that he guessed I would do anything to protect Ewan’s reputation and his career, so he proposed that I pay the money instead.”

“And did you confront Ewan?”

“Absolutely not!”
 
she snapped.
 
“I love him.
 
He can have all the bimbos he wants ... not that he has before, to my knowledge ... and I’ll overlook them, as long as he comes back to me.
 
No, I confronted this bitch here.
 
First I told her that if she ever looked at my husband again, I would kill her, and then I told her that I would take care of the problem myself.”

She frowned; it made her wince again.
 
“David was right, you see.
 
I would go to any lengths to protect Ewan.”

“So when you went to see him, that Wednesday, he thought you were going to pay him off?”

Margaret gave a cold smile.
 
“That he did ... and that I did.”

“But why implicate Alison?”

“I needed someone to take the blame quickly, to avoid any chance of the police looking in our direction.
 
She was the obvious person .. . and anyway, I was sure, I still am sure, that she was in on the blackmail attempt.”

I waved a finger at her.
 
“No she was not, but we’ll let that pass.
 
Okay, so you killed David, then Natalie, here .. .”
 
on the couch, the drunk rolled her eyes at the mention of her name,”... let you into the office so you could kill Anna Chin, and have Alison caught red-handed, as it were.
 
Only the last part didn’t quite work, thanks to a random accident.

“But why Torrent?
 
Why kill him?”

Margaret hesitated.
 
“I don’t think I’m going to say any more.”

“You might as well; none of it’s admissible in court.”

She thought about it.
 
“I suppose you’re right.
 
Okay.
 
Torrent was smart, you see.
 
He twigged at once, after he heard of Anna’s death, that something was up.
 
He asked Natalie what she knew, and the stupid woman caved in and told him.
 
So he had to go too; simple as that.
 
I had already stolen the knife from the Goodchild woman’s office.
 
I had intended to use it to kill the girl, only it wasn’t necessary.
 
So when we were all at Miles’s dinner party, I slipped a ground-up Mogadon into my husband’s last brandy, then, once he was sound asleep, crept out and took care of the problem.”

“And that left only Natalie knowing what had happened?”

“Exactly.”

“And she, overcome with grief at her beloved uncle’s death, horses a bottle of Stolychnaya in the bath, flakes out and drowns.”

“Exactly.”

“Which is where we came in.”
 
I smiled at her.
 
“Would you like something for that headache, Margaret?”
 
I asked.

“I’ll get over it; I’ve had worse.”

“No you haven’t, lady.
 
It’s going to get really bad when the police get here.”

“Why?
 
What’s my problem?
 
I was visiting my friend Natalie when you people broke in and assaulted me.”

“What?
 
You were visiting her dressed like the Milk Tray Woman?”

“I have an exotic taste in nightwear.
 
The police will assume we’re lezzies, and we won’t deny it.”
 
She had a point there.
 
“Natalie’s too drunk to be interviewed just now, but when she sobers up she’ll confirm it all.
 
She doesn’t have any choice; she’s in it up to her neck.”

“Indeed!”
 
I exclaimed.
 
“I’m impressed.
 
You really do think on your feet... or on your arse in this case .. . don’t you, Mrs.
 
Capperauld?
 
There’s only one small problem about that; no, sorry, one big one.”

For the first time, she looked slightly uncertain.
 
“What’s that?”
 
she challenged, bras sing it out.

“My pal Mr.
 
Ross here; nothing is safe from him.
 
He’s the worst eavesdropper in Edinburgh.
 
Do you know, he even has his own house bugged!
 
He’s so bad that he carries a bloody pocket recorder with him everywhere he goes.
 
Isn’t that right, Ricky?”

He stepped round from behind her and waved a small device in the air.
 
“Mini-disc,” he said.
 
“Broadcast quality; it’s the same kind radio reporters often use.
 
Would you like to hear?”
 
He reviewed the recording, listening through an earpiece, made an adjustment, then paused and pressed a button.

I had already stolen the knife from the Goodchild woman’s office.
 
I had intended to use it to kill the girl, only it wasn ‘t necessary.
 
So when we were all at Miles s dinner party I slipped a ground-up Mogadon into my husband’s last brandy, then, once he was sound asleep, crept out and took care of the problem.

Margaret Capperauld went dead white as she listened to the sound of her own confession through the tiny, but effective speaker.
 
“But that won’t be allowed in court,” she snarled, when Ricky switched off the recorder.

“Don’t wager your life on it,” I told her, ‘for you’d lose.
 
But of course, you’ve placed your bet already, haven’t you?”

Fifty-Five.

As soon as Greg Oliver saw Ronnie Morrow’s car arrive, as per orders from Ricky he got Ewan to hell out of there.
 
No way did we want him to be around when his wife and his mistress were huck led into a police car.

We went with them, of course; not as suspects, but as witnesses.

It was almost eight by the time we finished making our formal statements.
 
Ricky did a deal with Morrow for Alison to come in later that day, so that the charges against her could be formally binned. The young sergeant gave us a lift back to the Mound after that, and after I had called Miles and advised him to stand down the extras for another day at least, suggesting that he shoot Liam’s bedroom scene instead.

Ricky came up to the apartment with me, but only to collect Alison, break the good news to her and take her home for what he hoped would be a bit of a celebration.

Tough luck, Richard.
 
“But I can go back to my own place now, can’t I?” she said.
 
“I don’t need minding any more, do I?”
 
The way she chopped him off was pretty brutal; I could see why she had such a bright future in the PR business.

Just before nine, they left me on my own .. . almost.
 
I was just beginning to think about a long sleep, when Liam appeared; from my bedroom.
 
He looked at me, in a way I could only describe as shifty.

“All right then?”
 
he asked.

“It is now.
 
What about you?
 
You don’t look so good.
 
Rough night?”

“Mmm.
 
The thing is ... I don’t know if I should tell you this.
 
Fuck, I don’t know if I believe it.
 
I was lying there trying to sleep, and then I hear you lot leave.
 
Thank Christ, I thinks to myself, then five minutes later this Alison woman comes into my room and gets into bed beside me.

“I thinks about it... give her that..
 
. but then I says, “No thank you very much,” gets up and goes across to your room.

“The light bulb’s jiggered, but I thinks So what?
 
and goes into the toilet to bleed the lizard.
 
Then, when I came out... Whizz!
 
Bang!

I’m up in the air and on my arse and there’s a bloody great naked woman lying on top of me!”

I kept my face straight.
 
“So what did you do about that?”

“What the hell could I do?
 
I tell you, Oz, there’s no bloody security