When Sorry Is Not Enough (14 page)

BOOK: When Sorry Is Not Enough
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The blood was now seeping into Johnny’s eyes so he grabbed the first piece of cloth he could to stem the bleeding. Unfortunately it just happened to be the nightdress Margo had purchased only yesterday, the one she intended to be wearing when her visitors came to see her in the Maternity.

There are pluses in everything and the utter despair that was now registering on Margo’s face as she saw her precious nightie smeared in blood had Johnny forget just how painful his head wound was.

‘I’ll get you another one if the blood doesn’t wash out,’ he mumbled, screwing the garment into a ball.

‘And I suppose threatening to buy another one is your way of reminding me how dishonest it is of me to hold on to the money my mother gave me for three visits to the Swiss Clinic.’

‘No. No. No, Margo,’ he stuttered. ‘You have explained to me that now it has worked you will be taking things easy and getting the nursery all fitted out. And believe me I think your mum will understand that when you get around to telling her.’

Margo had now swung her legs over the bed to sit on the side and she was pleased when she realised she could admire herself in the dressing table mirror. Lovingly patting her stomach she said, ‘But Mum won’t be upset about her money right now because I don’t intend to tell her until it becomes,’ she stroked her tummy again before simpering, ‘evident.’

‘But you’ve told your dad,’ Johnny exclaimed.

‘So?’

‘Is that fair? Your mum does more for you.’

‘Yes, for me. But she’s never been good to or understood my poor old dad.’

* * *

At seven o’clock precisely the telephone shrilled and Sally dashed to answer it as she thought some of her paying guests might still be asleep. ‘Mack’s Guest House,’ she announced into the mouthpiece. ‘And good morning to you too, Nancy,’ she continued when she realised who the caller was. Looking up at the wall clock she checked the time again. ‘I hope this early call doesn’t mean there’s a problem?’

‘Sally,’ spluttered Nancy, ‘do you know that David Stock’s wife died last night?’

Shaking her head, Sally whimpered, ‘Oh no. Poor, poor Elspeth. What a long, painful journey she has had.’

‘Will you be contacting him?’

‘Contacting him?’ was Sally’s pensive reply. ‘I would love to but I can’t really. This is a time for his girls and himself to be united as a family. They won’t want any outsiders.’

‘Suppose you’re right.’

‘By the way, Nancy,’ Sally enquired hopefully, ‘any word from Benny?’

Nancy allowed a long silence before replying, ‘Funny you should ask that. Yesterday, out of the blue, I received a letter from him asking if I’ll meet him down by the bandstand on Leith Links this coming Sunday afternoon.’

‘Oh,’ was all Sally replied as her thoughts raced back to two weeks ago when Nancy had told her what had happened when she had picked up the courage to confess to Benny about the sordid life she had once led.

NANCY’S STORY

They hadn’t bothered with plates for the fish supper. They just spread it out on the wrapping paper. Then with relish they attacked the delicacy with fingers and forks. Benny could not hide his amusement when Nancy poured the Vimto into two Edinburgh Crystal glasses.

Lifting the sparkling goblet he started to toast Nancy. ‘Here’s to my beautiful lassie,’ he huskily said before asking, ‘Have you an answer for me, Nancy?’

Cupping her face in her hands and slightly bending her head she then breathed in deeply. Time silently ticked by until she eventually raised her head and looked straight into Benny’s eyes. ‘Benny,’ she falteringly began, ‘nothing would suit me better than to become your wife. Honestly I think you and I could make a go of it but …’ Nancy had to stop talking because Benny had jumped up and was now running and whooping around the room.

‘Thank you, thank you,’ he cackled. ‘You have made me so happy.’

‘Benny,’ Nancy forcibly shouted, ‘hear me out first before you start to be so happy.’

‘Huh,’ chirped Benny, ‘and what would you have to say now that would change how I feel?’

Indicating to the chair he had just vacated, Nancy signalled that Benny should sit back down on it. Once he was in position she reluctantly began. ‘Benny, I have not always been the woman I am today. The woman you know who honestly earns her daily crust.’

‘Look,’ spluttered Benny, ‘if you’re trying to tell me that you’ve you been a tea leaf in your day, so what?’

‘No I was never a thief. But …’ Nancy had to leave off for a minute as the sheer panic rising in her breast began to choke her. ‘… Oh, Benny, try and understand I had an awful father … my sister and I were just about to become teenagers …’ Tears welled in her eyes and she was finding difficulty in going on. These memories, her haunting demons, she had buried deep into her subconscious were now being brought to the surface again. She must, there was no other way other than to confess them to Benny if they were ever to have any future together. Buoyed up with courage, she was unaware that she had suddenly blurted, ‘The swine sold us to the highest bidder.’ These tragic words had an awesome effect on Benny. Nancy could see something in his eyes – was it anger or disgust?
Too late now to spare him the truth
, she thought and
I might as well tell him it all now. What have I to lose?
‘And from then on, Benny, up until I met Sally Mack, I made my living selling myself for the best price I could get. My poor sister was not as hard as me and instead of continuing with that sort of living … she ended her life.’

A frightening silence, only broken by their laboured breathing, overtook the room. Nancy was still looking into Benny’s eyes and she cringed because in his hypnotic stare there appeared to be a smouldering hatred.

Without a word to her he got up and left the house. She knew he had been shocked at what she had imparted to him. His attitude had left her feeling small and dirty. All she could do now was put life with Benny to bed with all the other dreams she had had in her life that had never come to fruition.

Slowly she made her way into the bathroom and filled the bath so she could immerse herself. She didn’t seem to notice that the water was scalding … all she wished to do was sit there for at least an hour and scrub and scrub at herself in a futile effort to cleanse away all the filth and shame she felt was still clinging to her.

Two weeks is not a long time in the legal world. On the other hand, to Luke who was on a tight time schedule it was an eternity. He was so anxious to find out what progress Bobby had made on Irish’s appeal that without an invitation or an advanced courtesy telephone call he pitched up at Bobby’s Leith office.

He had just opened the door and stepped inside when Ursula, Bobby’s receptionist, greeted him with a broad smile. ‘Can I help you, sir?’ she coyly asked.

‘I’m Mr Stuart’s uncle, is he in?’

‘Maybe yes,’ she teased, ‘but then maybe not.’

‘And what will be the deciding factor?’ Luke replied with a wink.

‘Quite simply it will be if Bobby recognises you as his uncle.’ Ursula lifted the phone and switched on the intercom. ‘Mr Stuart, sorry to bother you, sir, but there’s a man, who looks young enough,’ she drawled, ‘to be your slightly older brother, in the outer office here demanding to see you. Claims he’s your uncle.’

Luke bent over and putting his cheek close to Ursula’s he then hollered in the mouthpiece, ‘Chinese Whispers wants a word.’

Immediately the door of Bobby’s private office opened and giving an over-exaggerated bow Luke was invited to enter the inner sanctum.

‘I was just passing,’ Luke lied, ‘wondering if you’d got anywhere with Irish’s …’ Luke hesitated before adding, ‘Bobby, we just have to put up a good fight for him. He’s innocent. And before you say anything, I have always had this gut feeling that he is.’

‘That’s an interesting theory you have there,’ Bobby agreed before slowly adding, ‘you see there is just one problem with that.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Nothing other than an unbiased jury considering the facts of the prosecution’s case found him guilty.’

‘But you know very well Holmes and Watson twisted the evidence to suit,’ Luke emphasised. ‘Surely I’ve not been the only one to interview Mr Lee and his wife,’ Luke now beseeched, ‘and have them admit they were confused about which day it exactly was.’

‘Proving that Mr and Mrs Lee were deliberately bamboozled is just scratching the surface. We need more evidence than that. And before you offer, I have an ex-police officer, who I have engaged as my precognition officer, working on the case.’

‘But I could assist …’

‘No. I have taken instructions from one Joseph Kelly to lodge an appeal and when I present my procedural hearing dossier I wish the members of the Appeal Board to note that everything I have done on the case is in line with the laid down procedures. That means, Uncle, that they must be able to see that all of our enquiries were carried out by upstanding impartial investigators. What I am saying is, I may lose on the first round but I would not wish it to happen because the board was advised that the investigations were carried out by … persons like you with an axe to grind. Please try and understand that what I’m trying to achieve is agreement to go forward to a full hearing.’

Luke became animated. ‘You’ve already played them the overture?’

Bobby nodded. ‘And they have agreed with the prison authorities that Joseph Kelly be transferred back to Saughton Prison today.’

‘That is just tickety-boo,’ chorused Luke. ‘So he’ll get off.’

Bobby shook his head and stressed, ‘It is too early to think that but what we do have is a chance to have a full hearing to
consider
the original verdict.’ Waggling his finger in Luke’s direction he continued, ‘Now, Uncle, I can’t tell you much more right now. So
please
just keep your powder dry.’

‘I will. I will. But just remember to question the evidence of Jessie Scott, corroborated by Jenny Geddes, that they saw Irish arguing with Marie. And don’t forget there is also Stan Roper to be looked at, after all he was pimping all three of them.’

Bobby was becoming exasperated. He knew his job and strongly objected to well-meaning amateurs telling him how he should proceed. But Luke was his uncle whom he did not wish to offend, so all he replied was, ‘Stan Roper is a pimp with his fingers in all sorts of illegal pies, extortion, drugs, you name it but he’s not stupid.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Marie was a high earner for him. No way would that wily boy kill the goose that was laying the golden eggs. Anyway what you’re saying is only supposition – fortunately I deal in concrete evidence because I don’t like getting laughed out of court.’

‘Okay, I’ll grant you Stan Roper but what about Jessie?’

‘What about her, Uncle?’ Bobby’s temper was reaching boiling point with Luke. Then in a softer tone he added, ‘Please try and accept that I am a solicitor and I am only interested in winning this appeal that I have agreed to undertake.’

‘I know that. But if we can prove Jessie Scott wasn’t exactly chuffed that Marie was now the favourite in Stan’s stable and she …’

Bobby held up his hand to silence Luke. ‘Don’t you listen?’ he expounded so sharply that Luke sat up straight in his chair. ‘I am only concerned with Joseph Kelly. Should we be successful, which I intend to be, it will result in all the evidence being scrutinised again. It will also be of concern to senior officers in the police force if, and here I stress
if,
it looks as if any of their detectives involved in the case should be investigated, perhaps disciplined or moved back to uniform – all that has nothing to do with me. I repeat, I am a solicitor who looks after his client’s interests and thank goodness I’m not like you – a vigilante detective dreaming up scenarios. And think about it, Uncle Luke, this mess just may have been the result of detectives not ensuring they had built up a watertight case on proven
undisputable
facts and not on sheer speculation and personal dislike of a person!’

Luke sprang up to his feet and offered Bobby his hand. ‘Point taken, son,’ was all he had to say.

On leaving Bobby’s office Luke headed for Taylor Gardens where he sat down on a bench. Staring unseeing ahead and sucking on both his thumbs he began to think.

He considered it was true that when the case against Irish was proved to be a stitch-up of the making of Holmes and Watson then the two of them could find themselves suspended. An enquiry by senior officers from another police force in Scotland would then be undertaken.
Bobby
, he found himself saying inwardly,
you are wrong, I certainly don’t want to see the two of them in the shit – especially Drew Washington who is nearing his thirty
. After all that was what all police officers looked forward to: retirement on a nice lump sum and two thirds final salary pension after thirty years’ exemplary service.

Still pensive, his thoughts now turned to the interview he had had with Mr and Mrs Lee. When he had entered the shop he had prayed that the Lees would understand the Cantonese dialect as spoken by him and they were not solely fluent in the Mandarin dialect. If they were then they would not understand a word he said. He was naturally very proud of being able to speak Cantonese. With a sly smile he remembered that when he had first arrived in Hong Kong he had undertaken an eight-week crash course in the language. He grinned again when he remembered that to get a better grounding in the tongue he would go down to the bars to ‘practise’ with the local maidens! He had to do that because the language was quite difficult. He hadn’t of course studied the Chinese characters and had only learnt conversational Cantonese using Romanized English sounds for words. He did so pray that his scant knowledge of the language would stand him in good stead today.

Mrs Lee was waiting to take his order and he fortuitously remembered that the word ‘Face’ in Cantonese is very important. He thought that in their culture it probably translated to meaning ‘giving due respect and not unduly embarrassing someone’. He also recalled it was not good manners to openly or harshly criticise someone in front of others – even if it was justified. So elders like Mr and Mrs Lee he should give ‘face’ to if he hoped to get any assistance from them.

BOOK: When Sorry Is Not Enough
12.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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