EPISODE SEVENTY-FIVE
Maggie, having just put the children to bed,
came into the kitchen and stared at her brother, her eyes frosty. Craig was
sitting slumped at the breakfast bar, shoulders hunched, his head cradled in
his hands. He loathed uncomfortable silences, and would sooner have had a
blazing argument any day. But his sister
was not about to let him off the hook, and she took her time as she stood
leaning back against the sink, her lips tight with anger. When she eventually spoke, her voice dug into
Craig like a knife.
‘I’ve never known anyone as devious as you.
The only reason you offered to baby sit for me was because you wanted an
alibi. Sneaky little bastard.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Craig muttered lamely, avoiding her piercing glare.
Maggie snorted contemptuously. ‘It’s a
bit late for that. You’re involved in a
murder enquiry.’
His eyes moist, Craig looked up at his sister.
‘I had nothing to do with it, Maggs.
Honest. Nothing at all.’
‘No? So why d’you need an alibi?’
‘Because of my track record.’
‘Don’t give me that. You knew, didn’t
you? You knew someone was going to rob
that club.’
Craig nodded slowly. ‘He’s a dangerous
bloke. Not the sort of person you grass
on.’
‘So how come you knew about it, if you weren’t in on it?’
Craig shifted uncomfortably. ‘It was my idea.
I sort of planted it in his brain...without really meaning to. About six months ago, when I got a taxi to
the club one night, this bloke picked me up...used to be in the same cell block
as me. Then he kept coming round to the
chippie. Wanted to know if I was
interested in doing a job. That’s when I
told him how easy it was to do the club.’
Maggie sighed despairingly. ‘Oh, Craig!’
‘I was desperate.’
‘Desperate? You had a job for Christ
sake.’
‘Oh yeah. Working all God’s hours for
five-fifty an hour.’
‘So what stopped you robbing the club six months ago?’
‘Well, I suppose I...’ Craig’s voice
trailed off.
‘Let me guess. Gary died and I gave you the chippie. And that’s the only reason you decided to go
straight. Am I right?’
Craig brushed a single tear away from his eye before replying. ‘Maggs, I’m sorry. I never intended to rob the club. I really didn’t. It was fantasy time...to get me through the
day. I never thought...’
‘Oh, stop feeling so sorry for yourself,’ Maggie snapped. ‘When I think how sneaky, how cunning you’ve
been. Poor Daryl said he couldn’t sleep
on Saturday night. Said a noise woke him up.
And you read him a story at half-one in the morning, deliberately
keeping him awake so that you had a cast iron alibi. He boasted about it to the
policemen when they questioned us; he said he saw the time on his bedside alarm
clock. Which you, no doubt, made sure he
was aware of. Sneaky bastard, using my
kids like that.’
Craig stared at his sister with eyes that were glassy and pleading. ‘Maggs, tell me: what was I supposed to
do? I was in a no-win situation. You’re overlooking the fact that I didn’t do
nothing. I’m innocent.’
‘No, that’s right. You didn’t,’ Maggie
said sarcastically. ‘You only planned
it. Even if it was six months ago. And now
a man’s been killed. And you know who
killed him. So what are you going to do
about it, Craig?’
Craig shrugged helplessly. ‘You haven’t
got any Paracetamol or Aspirin, have you?
I’ve got a raging headache.’
*
Nigel stared into his bedroom mirror, coughed and cleared his throat. ‘It’s irritating,’ he moaned, licking his
fingers with a generous dollop of spittle and wiping them across a tuft of hair
on the crown of his head. ‘I’m going to
have to do something about it.’
Jackie stood behind him, putting on her coat.;
‘It hardly notices,’ she said.
‘I’m sure if you went back to the barber’s...’
‘I’m not going back there. They’re
useless. Absolutely useless. And how d’you think this is going to look
when we get married on Saturday?’
‘Oh, I do think you’re exaggerating, darling.
Really – no one’s going to notice that little bit of sticky-up
hair. If you hadn’t pointed it out to
me, I would never have...’
‘I don’t care about that,’ he wined petulantly.
‘I can see that it sticks up, and that’s what matters.’ He could feel
the sprout of hair popping up again as it dried out. ‘I’m going to get Mike to cut it. And you’ll just have to lump it.’
‘Surely he’s not the only decent barber around.’
‘Hairdresser!’ Nigel snapped. ‘He’s a
hairdresser. That’s why he cuts my hair
properly. So that it doesn’t stick up at
the back.’
‘There’s no need to bit my head off.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘We’re already late for our Bible class.’
Ignoring her, Nigel concentrated on vain attempts to spread the offending tuft
in other directions.
‘Darling!’ Jackie sighed impatiently.
‘For goodness sake get your hairdresser back again, if that’s what you
want. Only let’s go. We’re very late.’
Annoyed, Nigel gritted his teeth.
‘That’s why I hated going to church yesterday. This hair was annoying me.’
Jackie took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. ‘I’m sure God wouldn’t have worried about a
little bit of sticky-up hair.’
Nigel sniffed. ‘Possibly not. But it wasn’t God I was worried about. It was people in the pew behind us.’
*
Donald dropped Ted off at the top of his road, then drove home, ready with the
excuse he would give Bamber, about the night spent haggling with a Portobello
antique dealer, who wouldn’t shift on the price, resulting in a “no sale”.
As he parked the car, he noticed every light in the house seemed to be on, and
wondered if Bamber had decided to honour his promise to thoroughly clean the
house from top to bottom. But as soon as he fitted his front door key into the
latch, he felt an icy stab of fear in his chest. He had no real reason to think anything was
wrong, but it was a distant sound of water, rather like nights spent in the
mountains or near a country stream, that was disturbing and unnerving. He
pushed open the door and stepped inside, and his eyes alighted immediately on a
sheet of A4 paper left on the hall table.
The message was scrawled in blue felt-tip:
‘Bastard. Goodbye. Don’t try to find
me.’
Then he noticed how loud the sound of running water was. He hurried down the hall towards the kitchen,
and as he walked his feet made squelching sounds as he got nearer. Panic beating in his chest, he threw open the
door and saw the sink overflowing, water cascading over the edge, flooding the
kitchen floor. He ran over and pulled
out the plug and turned the taps off, wondering why the overflow hadn’t reduced
much of the damage. That was when he
noticed it had been carefully blocked with Blu-tack
Then he jumped as something cold and wet trickled onto his neck. He looked up
with horror, inwardly screaming as he saw water dripping from the ceiling. The en-suite bathroom of their bedroom was
directly above the kitchen, and Bamber must have blocked every basin in the
house and turned all the taps full on.
As he ran upstairs, water swashing under his shoes, he wondered how Bamber had
found out about their trip to the theatre.
But what did it matter now? This
was unforgivable. And if ever he got his
hands on Bamber, he would slaughter him.
IN EPISODE SEVENTY-SIX
Vanessa enlists the help of a student to get back at Jason.