The Ladykiller (12 page)

Caroline screeched with laughter again.

‘What’s the time?’

Barry stared bleary-eyed at his watch.

‘Half-past twelve.’

‘My old man ain’t expecting me in till after two. He thinks I’m doing an extra shift.’

‘So what’s it to be then? Out here in the motor or in the shed?’

‘You’ve done this before, ain’t you?’

Barry nodded.

‘Yeah. I’ve got a sleeping bag, a bottle of wine and a couple of plastic glasses. All waiting for you, my darling.’

‘Oh . . . go on then. But you’re sure no one comes round this way at night, ain’t ya?’

‘Yes! Now help me lug all the stuff in.’

They got out of the car. Caroline carried the wine and the glasses. Barry carried a large sleeping bag. Caroline pushed open the shed door. As she walked in she stumbled over something and screamed with fright.

‘Here, hold up, girl. You’ll have the Old Bill here if you’re not careful.’

Dumping the sleeping bag on to the floor, Barry flicked his lighter into life.

He heard the real scream that came from Caroline this time and was hard pressed not to follow it with one of his own.

On the floor in a pool of blood lay a young girl. She was nearly naked.

The lighter burnt his fingers and he pulled his thumb off the fuel button. In the darkness Caroline began to panic and Barry pulled her from the shed. He held her to him tightly.

‘Calm down . . . Calm down!’

He could hear her teeth chattering and guessed she was in shock.

He took her back to his car, turned the engine on and put on the heater. Then, taking his torch from the glove compartment, he went back to the shed. His mind was in a turmoil. He stepped gingerly inside and shone the torch on to the girl’s body. Her head was stuck to the floor where the blood had dried on to her hair and the dirt. He knelt down beside the body and put his fingers to the main artery in her neck.

She was alive! Surely not?

He felt again with trembling fingers. He was positive there was a faint heartbeat. He jumped up quickly and, opening the sleeping bag, covered her with it. Must keep her warm. Must keep her warm. Don’t move her. Bless her little heart. Let her live, God. Oh, let her live!

Running from the shed, he jumped into his car and drove as fast as he could to a phone box.

Within fifteen minutes Mandy Kelly was on her way to Grantley Hospital and Caroline and Barry were explaining their embarrassing story to the police, who promised that neither of their spouses would be informed of the circumstances that heralded the finding of the girl.

In the pocket of the sheepskin the police found a purse. It contained Mandy Kelly’s credit cards.

A positive ID had been established.

Kate was listening to Kelly talk about his wife and daughter. Kevin had gone upstairs to lie down and, without his presence, Kelly seemed to relax a little. Kate knew that he was blaming the boy for whatever had happened to Mandy. Kate still thought there was a good chance Mandy would turn up any minute. She’d probably had an argument with Kevin and stormed off, possibly because he’d taken her car again. Kate could not begin to comprehend the wealth that enabled a man to give his daughter a fifty thousand pound car for her twenty-first birthday. She thought of the sovereign earrings she had bought Lizzy for Christmas, the struggle she had had to find the money for them, and shook her head. The funny thing was that Kelly, back to his old self now, was an interesting and articulate man. He spoke of his wife and child with a love that was almost tangible. He was telling her a story now about his first months of fatherhood.

‘Anyway, there I was, all on me own with Mandy, a baby like.’ He smiled. ‘Well, she wanted her dinner. She was crying her eyes out. Do you remember those big glass bottles in the sixties? I picked one up out of the hot water to check it on me arm and I dropped it. It shattered all over the kitchen floor. Well, that was it then. We only had the one bottle and I was beginning to panic when I saw the sauce bottle on the table. I put Mandy in her pram, she slept in a pram then, because we couldn’t afford a cot, see. And I washed out the sauce bottle and sterilised it with boiling water, then I made a feed up and put the teat on the top and fed her.’

Kate laughed with him, picturing the scene in her mind.

‘Well, Renée came home like, laden down with the shopping, took one look and went through the roof.’

It was the sort of thing she could see him doing. He was resourceful. She had been on the point of leaving when he had persuaded her to have another drink. She had guessed that he was frightened of being alone at this time, that he needed another human being. She had stayed out of pity and now she was glad. He was a good talker, a great storyteller and even though she knew what he was capable of, she liked him. She trusted him, too, though why this should be so after his earlier performance she had no idea. Kelly was a hard man, but he had an Achilles heel. Mandy Kelly.

Already, Kate felt as if she knew the girl. And if all her father said was true, she was most definitely not a girl to go off without letting him know. Kelly was the kind of father who would demand to know his daughter’s whereabouts. It was as much a part of him as his swearing.

‘I’m sorry about carrying on earlier, but I’ve been out of me mind.’ His voice was low. Kate knew it had taken a lot for him to give her an apology.

‘I understand, Mr Kelly.’

As if of one mind, they both looked at the clock; it was just after half past twelve.

‘Where the hell can she be? When she walks in, I’ll slap her from one end of this room to the other, I take oath on that. I’ve never raised me hand to her before but I will tonight, by Christ.’

Kate put her hand over his. ‘Calm down, hitting her won’t solve anything.’

‘No, but it might make me feel better.’

The phone rang and Kelly rushed to answer it.

‘Mandy?’

Kate saw his face dissolve from hope to fear in the space of seconds. He held the phone out towards her and said, ‘It’s for you.’

‘Burrows here.’

Patrick Kelly watched her face blanch and in that moment he knew that something had happened to his only child. He clenched his fists so tightly the nails dug into the skin of his palms, drawing blood.

Kate put down the phone and looked at him fully.

‘We’ve found your daughter, Mr Kelly. It seems she’s been attacked.’

Kelly stared at the woman in front of him, confusion and pain flitting across his face.

‘Attacked? My Mandy?’

His voice sounded like a little boy’s, full of hurt and disbelief.

Kate nodded. ‘She’s in Grantley Hospital and they’re operating on her. She’s in a bad way.’

Patrick Kelly felt the wetness in his eyes and did not care. He felt as if his world had just come to an end. He swallowed hard. When he finally spoke it was in a low croak.

‘Is she gonna die?’

Kate put her hand on his arm gently.

‘I think we’d better go to the hospital, don’t you?’

As she sat beside him on the way, Kate felt that she had received an insight into Patrick Kelly. He had his Achilles heel, just like everyone else.

All her problems seemed small in comparison to what the man beside her was going through.

They drove in silence.

George was still sitting in his lounge. It was just past one. He could hear the regular thud-thud of the music from a party a few houses down. He took a long drink of his Ovaltine. It was stone cold and he grimaced.

Elaine had gone to bed earlier and he had told her he was feeling overtired. She knew that when he got like that he could not sleep. She had been happy to leave him downstairs.

He smiled to himself ruefully, laid his head back on the chair and savoured once more the events of earlier in the evening.

She was a very silly girl. Well, he had shown her. Oh, yes, he had shown her all right. The little slut! Hanging around at night, in deserted streets. Well, he had put a stop to her gallop. Oh, yes. It might just make a few of the women of Grantley sit up and take notice of him.

They’d all be talking about him again tomorrow. Oh, he knew what would be said. Elaine, the hungry hippo, would fill him in on all the local gossip. He smiled to himself at the comparision.

In his mind’s eye he saw the girl as she had been when he had left her. Legs akimbo. He grinned. He knew all her secret places now. She had seen his face. That was a mistake, he realised it now. He should have put on the mask first.

He wondered vaguely if the girl had been found yet. Mandy . . . He liked that name very much.

The party was in full swing now and George could hear one of the records blaring out.

He liked people to enjoy themselves.

As the strains of ‘Blue Velvet’ wafted towards him he smiled again. In his mind he saw all the young girls dancing with men. He pictured tight dresses and straining busts against white silk.

Oh, they were all the same. Every last one of them.

It would be Christmas Day soon. He was glad, because he needed a holiday. It had been a hectic few months.

As they reached the hospital Kelly asked Kate to tell him all she knew. She explained that Mandy had been found with horrific head injuries and that they were operating on her. She did not elaborate. It was not the right time.

Together, they walked into Grantley Casualty Department and Kate explained who they were to the receptionist. Like most hospital receptionists, this one was a breed apart. She pulled her glasses down an almost non-existent nose and surveyed Kelly and Kate over the top of them. Her thin hair was scraped back from her face in a bun so tight her eyes had taken on a Chinese appearance. Kate could see her in a kaftan and clogs and had to stifle a bubble of laughter.

‘Name of patient again please.’

‘Mandy Kelly. I am Detective Insp . . .’

The woman held up a chubby finger in reproof. ‘One question at a time please.’

Patrick watched the performance with a darkening face. The woman was tapping Mandy’s name laboriously into her computer.

‘And how was she brought here?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Kate was losing patience now.

‘How was she brought here? By ambulance, in a car . . .’

Kelly pushed Kate out of the way. He peered into the glasses that separated him from the receptionist.

‘She came by fucking bus. There was her, with her head smashed in. Two ambulance men and a fucking dirty great stretcher. Even you couldn’t have missed them walking through here. Now shut your trap and tell me where my daughter is or you’ll be going in to see the doctor yourself !’

The woman’s mouth puckered into a small O and a nurse, hearing the exchange, hurried out from the cubicle area.

‘Mr Kelly?’

Patrick nodded. Kate could see the tension in his shoulders and back. It was as if someone had stuffed a metal pole inside his coat to hold him up.

‘Where’s my daughter? I want to see my daughter.’

‘She’s still in theatre. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you to the waiting room.’

Kelly and Kate followed the young girl.

‘How is she?’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Kelly, I really don’t know, a doctor will see you soon.’

Kate followed Kelly up two flights of stairs and into a tiny waiting room off the ITU. She thanked the nurse, who offered to bring them coffee.

‘I knew this had happened, I knew it. I had a feeling in me bones.’

Kate didn’t answer. Amanda Dawkins walked into the tiny room and Kate motioned with her head that they should go outside, closing the door quietly on Kelly.

‘How is she?’

‘Bad, Kate. Really bad. Half her head’s gone. It’s obvious it’s the same man who attacked Geraldine O’Leary. She’s been raped. Buggered as well I think. She’s in a terrible state. Even the doctors were amazed at how she’s hanging on to life.’

Kate pursed her lips. Kelly would go berserk if anything happened to his daughter. He was wound up like a watch spring now. She nodded at Amanda.

‘Look, do me a favour. Keep everyone away from Kelly for a while. I’ll stay with him. Get someone out to interview Kevin Cosgrove. He’s at Kelly’s house. OK?’

‘Will do. Anything else?’

‘Not until we know more.’

As Amanda walked away Kate called after her. ‘There is one more thing: ring my house and leave a message on the answerphone. Tell them I’ll be there as soon as possible, OK?’

Amanda nodded and Kate went back in to Kelly.

‘What’s happening?’ His voice was flat, dead.

‘Nothing at the moment.’

‘Is Flowers here?’

Kate was startled.

‘Of course not.’

Kelly got up and began pacing the room. ‘Then get him here, tell him I personally request his presence. You can also find out who’s the quack on my daughter’s case and then find out who’s the best quack for her kind of complaint. I don’t care who the man is or how much he costs, just get him.’

Kate felt her mettle rise again. All her sympathy for Kelly evaporated out of the little window and she pulled herself up to her full height.

‘With respect, Mr Kelly, I am not a secretary. If you want Frederick Flowers, or another doctor, I suggest you get them yourself.’

Kelly looked at her with a stunned expression on his face. He was used to people jumping when he told them to jump. He was used to pure unadulterated agreement with everything he said and did. He stared into Kate’s face and she could see the battle raging inside him. His hand clenched into a fist and Kate knew it was taking all his willpower not to slap her a stinging blow.

What she’d said was tantamount to mutiny.

He bit his lip, his chest heaving. He pointed a finger at her, waving it up and down in front of her face.

‘If I don’t do something I’ll explode, and if I explode here you will never see the like again as long as you live. I just
can’t
sit here and wait. I have to do
something
.’

It was said simply and sincerely and Kate felt the power of him then, knew the depth of fear inside him and felt petty. Petty and nasty and childish. The man was trying to cope with his grief as best he could. He needed to be moving, doing, as if the act of movement would take away his fears. Would at least postpone them. If he was doing something he wouldn’t feel so useless. Kate swallowed hard.