Truth Dare kill

SEVENTEEN

Of course, I thought – as I wandered down the elegant Chelsea street the next afternoon – the address could be as fake as the marriage between Tony Caldwell and Liza. But somehow I thought not. Onslow Square was the right sort of stamping ground for a girl like Kate Graveney. I imagined the square was especially beautiful in summer, with the trees shading and defending the central private park, and the tall Georgian house fronts gazing down snootily at plebs like me. Most of the buildings were terraced and single-fronted – a door and one massive bay window. But here and there came a break in the pattern and a house stood clear of its neighbours by taking up twice the width.

Kate’s house – the one I thought was hers – was one of those. I walked past, then studied it from behind a parked automobile. There were one or two other cars around, big ones, expensive ones, but no Riley; then I saw the garage doors to the left of the flight of steps going up to the front door. The house was four storeys high and fronted by tall columns. It was painted white and had the girth of a good-sized hotel. It was as far removed from our two-room tenement flat in Kilpatrick as Buckingham Palace itself.

It was growing dark and the street lamps were coming on, shedding pale light over the scene. If I stood around any longer I’d be noticed. The last thing I needed was a local bobby checking me over. Lights began to come on inside, revealing tall ceilings and the occasional figure moving through the rooms. I gathered my jangling nerves and my well-honed inferiority complex, and walked towards the front door.

I stood for a long moment on the top stair, gazing at the heavy brass knocker.

Though I’d rehearsed my questions the night before with Val and again today a thousand times, I wasn’t certain that I’d be able to get them out. Hell, I might not even get through the door! I sucked in air, lifted up my hand and gave the knocker a good couple of thwacks. My mind was flipping like a jitterbug. Nothing happened for the longest while, then the door opened and a blaze of light blinded me.

“Yes, sir, can I help you?” It was the voice of a young woman, I assumed a maid.

“I’d like to see Miss Graveney. Is she in, please?”

I could now make out the girl’s face. She wore a small white cap and a dark outfit and white gloves. She looked scrubbed and clean and saucy, the sort you’d love to meet for a drink on a Saturday night before going dancing. You knew she’d be a great dancer.

“Is Miss Graveney expecting you, sir?”

Bingo! “I wouldn’t be surprised.” The girl looked puzzled. “Can you just tell her that Daniel McRae is here. She’ll know why.” She might, but would she see me? “I’ll see if Miss Graveney is taking visitors, sir. It is near supper time.

Perhaps you would like to come in and wait?”

“Yes, thank you.”

The maid curtsied, not something you see too much of around Castlemilk.

“Certainly, sir. Please follow me.”

I stepped inside the portico while the maid closed the outer door. She pushed at the internal doors and I followed her into a soaring hallway floored in black and white diamond-shaped tiles. A number of doors were set in the walls. A sweep of banister rose up either side and reappeared as the rail of a long gallery, high overhead. All it lacked was a pulpit. I could see the minstrels playing at Christmas, or a gang of choir boys. Nice, very nice. My office and bedroom could be tucked into a corner of this cathedral and would still leave room for a good-sized congregation.

The maid was prancing neatly across the ballroom floor. I knew she was a dancer.

I scampered after her. She opened a door and invited me in. I walked past her while she held the door. It was a library.

“I will inform Miss Graveney and see if she will see you. If you would like to take a seat, sir?”

There was a fair choice. It was like one of the good clubs I’d been scared to go into: a big room filled floor to ceiling with more books, and in much better condition, than the whole of the Kilpatrick public library. I wondered if they were as well read. Half a dozen leather armchairs spread themselves comfortably around three low tables, one with newspapers neatly arranged on it. A log fire sputtered in a fireplace where you could have roasted an ox. Maybe they cooked one at Christmas. The lighting was amber, except where standard lamps cast bright cones to read by. A place to sit and muse and watch the flames eating up the logs, and feel smug about your place in the world.

“Shall I take your hat and coat, sir?”

“It’s fine. I’ll just park them beside me.” I didn’t know how long I might be staying but thought it best to have all my kit by me in case of a quick exit.

“Very good, sir.”

I folded my coat and laid it on the table nearest the fire. I placed my hat carefully on top of it. I sank into the huge leather arms of a chair next to the hearth and facing the door. I waited. I waited and wondered how folk got to be this rich. Inherited wealth, passed down from some long gone establishment rogue; a sucker-up to the King maybe, or an adventurer with the East India Company carving up continents. Lending money for trade, plundering the new world, setting up factories and screwing the poor. Nobody got this rich by being nice. Was I jealous? Damn right.

I don’t know how long my reverie lasted but it stopped when the maid opened the door and let the Queen walk in. I got to my feet. It was the first time I’d seen Kate Graveney without an outdoor coat and hat. She wore a dark blue dress cut to mid-calf. Its soft contours confirmed my febrile imaginings about her figure. A double string of pearls sat easily across her bosom, came to a knot and dropped down to her trim waist. She was all poise and grace and languor. Thoroughly at ease in her natural setting, like a big cat on an African plain.

“Thank you, Millie. Get me two scotches, will you? Large ones,” she said.

Millie the maid, was it? I watched her go to a piece of the bookcase and press a panel. A slice of the bookcase opened up revealing a drinks cabinet.

“Every home should have one,” I said indicating the hidden drinks unit but possibly covering Millie too.

“I expect you manage, Mr McRae,” said Kate dryly.

Millie presented our drinks on a silver tray that I took to be the real thing.

Cigarettes were offered from a matching box. After lighting up Kate and me, Millie was dismissed. Kate indicated I should retake my chair and took the one opposite. It looked like she was trying to turn it into a cosy fireside chat.

Not if I could help it.

“Bottoms up, McRae.” She raised her glass. I did too. We sipped warily. “Now, what can I do for you? I don’t owe you any more money, do I?” She was all innocence and condescension.

I felt my resolution and my carefully prepared questions melting in the heat of her gaze. Some women were made to be viewed by firelight. It turned her blonde hair to silver and cast shadows that accentuated her neat nose and strong cheekbones. Her skin was carved marble. I took a bigger swig and felt the whisky bite my throat and burn my insides with resolution.

“I was well paid, Miss Graveney. Maybe too well. I want to know why you’ve been conducting this charade?”

She raised the pale curves of her eyebrows. “Charade?” She took a deep pull on her cigarette.

“The faked death of Major Philip Anthony Caldwell.”

She didn’t blink. She was good. She knew I knew, and had it all prepared. “Why, Mr McRae, what a lurid imagination you have. But even if it were true, I’m sure you’re such a good detective that you could tell me, mmm?”

Sarcastic bitch. My anger grew at the way these people were making a jackass of me.

“OK, Miss Graveney. Here’s what I think. I think Tony Caldwell is alive and that you tried to deceive me about his death. I don’t know how you contrived the bombed-out flat; that seems a step too far just to convince me Tony was dead. I do know that Liza Caldwell and Tony are not man and wife, or if they are, it’s another charade, possibly protecting you. How am I doing so far?”

She blew out a plume of smoke. “But why on earth would we want to do such a thing? I mean why bother?” Her tone made it sound like she meant why would someone like her bother for a worm like me.

“Because I was snooping around, trying to fill in the gaps from this.” I indicated my head wound. “And you’ve got something to hide, Catriona.”

She snorted and tried to look offended, an easy role for her. But she didn’t deny the name. “What could I possibly want to hide from you?”

“Your marriage to Caldwell?”

She laughed. It seemed genuine. “Don’t be silly.”

I was beginning to get really pissed off. “An affair, then?” I accused desperately.

She shook her head. “Mr McRae, I’m sure in your… circle, affairs are simply the stuff of scandal. But with us…” she shrugged and her glance round the sumptuous room couldn’t make her superiority any clearer. Her voice dropped to a sarcastic whisper. “And anyway, you can’t have a proper affair if you’re not married.”

I wanted to hit her. “Then what’s all this about, for god’s sake, if it’s all so beneath you!”

I had an instant’s warning. The creak of a door and a footstep on the wooden floor behind me.

“I’ll tell you why, McRae. Or may I still call you Danny?”

That cool voice, that smooth, tough voice that sent me on my way to France, pulled me to my feet in a heartbeat. He ambled into the room from a doorway behind me.

Tony Caldwell hadn’t changed much. Still slim, about the same height as me, slicked-back sandy hair and neat moustache. The difference was in the eyes; once calculating they now looked cunning, older and more tired. Too many late nights?

I got my bags by lying awake and staring at the ceiling in the hours before dawn. What was keeping him up? He was smiling in that special mocking way of his; he used it to poke fun at me and the other agents during training if we got something wrong.

“You look well for a corpse,” I said.

“And you look fine, Danny. Much better than when I last saw you. Thought you mightn’t make it, you know. Pretty beat up.” He walked over to the drinks cabinet and pulled out the Scotch. “Top up, anyone?”

“Why, Tony? Why all this… contrivance? What are you hiding?”

Tony filled his tumbler, walked over and stood behind Kate’s chair, an elegant pose for the family album. But whose family? “We’ve got nothing to hide, old man. It’s you we were hiding from.” He smiled in what he thought was a sympathetic manner.

“Dear god, Tony, what were you afraid of from me?”

His voice was sweet and sickly. “You’re not well, old man. I mean really not well. Damn shame. I mean not your fault. But you came back in terrible shape and the quacks who know about such stuff said you were a bit – how shall we put it – barmy.”

I’d had enough of this. “That’s such shit, Tony! They wouldn’t have let me out if I was mad. I’ve lost some memories, not my marbles!”

He tried to look earnest. It came out patronising. “Danny, you’ve seen my reports and the psychiatrist’s report. He thought you’d be delusional, paranoiac, wanting to blame someone. The likelihood was that you’d blame me. You were too dangerous. Didn’t want you to flare up, don’t you know?”

Damn him! It was true enough for whatever case he was making against me. Then a thought struck me. “How did you know I’ve seen your reports on me?”

“I heard about your little break-in. Went a bit far, that. Afraid it sort of bears out what we’re all saying, old chap.”

Who told him? Cassells? I was feeling swamped now; a little truth could become a big lie with clever words. I fought back.

“That still isn’t grounds for sending me chasing wild geese. All you had to do was meet me and tell me what you knew. That’s all. I wanted to find out, Tony. I wasn’t blaming you.”

“But here you are. Wouldn’t let it go, would you. Always saw you as the terrier type. Like the rest of your clan. Get your teeth into something and you’d cling to it till the death. Great spirit. For a war. But not now, do you see? Besides… ”

“Besides what?”

“The psychiatrists didn’t have all the facts, did they?”

I knew what was coming. I felt nausea rise.

“They didn’t know about the little problem in France. The little French girl.

Did they? And I ’spect if they had, they might have decided to hang on to you for a bit. I couldn’t take that chance.” He moved out from behind Kate’s chair and stepped closer to me. “Couldn’t let you near me or mine, d’you see? Done it once and you might do it again, right?”

His concerned eyes searched mine. I could feel the weight of his argument piling on me like a rock fall. Wouldn’t I have done the same, in his shoes? I was casting about for a way to fight back. I searched my treacherous memory for the list of questions I’d been planning to pose. I grasped at one. “Do you mean you were so concerned for your safety – and Liza, and your… wife or girlfriend here…” I waved in the direction of Kate who was watching us intently from her chair. “… that you blew up the house you were using? And why were you using another house anyway? Doesn’t this place have enough hideaways?”

I thought I’d connected for a moment, then his smile flickered back into life.

“Serendipity, old chap. The house belonged to a friend of ours. Used to pop in for drinks and such. But the house was empty when it went up. Our friend spends winter in the South of France. Can’t blame him, can you? Must have been a gas leak or something. Gave us the notion of taking me out the picture, d’you see?

Very convenient.”

“Very.” I couldn’t hide the sarcasm. “And the shoes, the beautiful blue shoes?”

I directed this at her, sitting with a smile on her face, or was it a smirk? “I quite liked those shoes you know. You should have searched harder, McRae. I’d have liked them both back.”

I was getting desperate now, angry with them and myself for my inability to break down their smug faзade. My questions were coming out more and more shrill.

“You turned this into a game, didn’t you? It became something to amuse you! What the hell are you doing in this house anyway, Tony? Why is Kate registered as your next of kin? What’s going on here?”

His face lost the contrived smile. “Why, nothing, dear chap. Nothing at all. I’m just a house guest, that’s all.”

They gazed at me, waiting to see if the monkey would jump through another hoop for them. Kate’s face had lost its superiority. She suddenly looked puzzled and anxious. Why? “I don’t believe you. I don’t know what you’re covering up, here. But none of this adds up. I won’t rest till I find out the truth, Tony. For starters, I need to know what happened in France. You owe me that!”

He shook his head. “I owe you nothing, old chap. Can’t be responsible for the actions of a madman, can I? I saw you, Danny. I saw you coming out of the house where that girl was murdered. I found her there. I came to confront you in your safe house and you were cleaning up. There was blood on your clothes. You looked wild. I asked you what you’d done. You began screaming at me. Said she was a whore, and she shouldn’t have been seeing other men. She was yours, yours alone.

Terrible stuff. So sorry, old man. I think the pressure got to you. And you flipped.” He shrugged and held my gaze.

Every word drilled into me like a stiletto. I could feel the heat of the fire on my face, could sense the tumbler slipping in my sweat-filled hand. I could see it all now, except her face; I couldn’t see her face; just the blood around her head. The tension in my temples was beginning to edge towards one of my turns. I couldn’t fall apart here. I had to get out. But I still hadn’t heard enough; didn’t want to believe what I’d heard. For how can you admit to yourself that you’re a monster? “I don’t believe it. There has to be some other reason. I’m not letting this go, Tony. I can’t! All these games you’re playing. All you had to do was meet me and tell me what you knew. Or turn me in. I’m not leaving till you to tell me what’s going on!”

Kate’s lips were pinched and she took a hurried swig of her drink. Tony sighed and took two steps towards the fire. He placed his drink carefully on the mantelpiece and turned back to me. For a second I couldn’t see what he’d done; he was a dark silhouette against the firelight. Then I saw the glint in his hand. The glint from a big Colt service revolver. A gun that could stop a rhino.

If you got close enough. Tony was close enough.

“I was afraid you’d say that. Don’t you see? This is exactly what we were afraid of. I know your type, McRae. You go on and on and on, chipping away. We could have got the police involved. But what could we prove? It was wartime, in France. Lot of things happened in the war that are best forgotten. But you won’t, will you? You won’t let up.”

“What are you going to do, Tony? Shoot me?” I began edging back and to the side, so that we were both bathed equally in firelight. I could see past him to Kate.

She was hunched in her chair like she was freezing.

“It would be a kindness, McRae. A kindness to us all. Put you out of this pain.

Like a mad dog.”

“Murder, Tony? You’d kill me and think you’d get away with it? How would you react when they started to question Millie, for example? What would she say?”

He chortled. “She’d say what we tell her to say. It’s quite easy, old chap. You forced your way in, became violent, threatened Kate here… self defence.

Inspector Wilson wouldn’t take much persuading.”

“You bastard! How did Wilson get involved?”

He smirked, and held the gun level with my chest.

I cast my eyes past him, in desperation. “Kate! Kate Graveney. Are you going to sit there and watch a man murdered in cold blood?!”

Kate’s eyes were wide. She edged forward in her seat. The leather creaked. It was enough. Tony half turned to see her reaction and I threw my glass of whisky into the fire. The smash of the crystal and the burst of flames made him reel back. The gun lifted and I hit him with everything I had in a desperate shoulder charge. He went over backwards into Kate’s lap. The gun exploded in a huge roar that started Kate screaming. The shot hit the ceiling. Before Caldwell could right himself, I had gripped his wrist and was battering it on the tiled hearth.

He was punching at my face with his free left hand but I kept smashing his wrist and knuckles on the stone till the revolver rolled free.

I grabbed it and tumbled clear. I got to my feet shaking with emotion. Caldwell disentangled himself from Kate’s legs and they both dragged themselves upright.

I had at least wiped the smiles off their faces. Tony nursed his bruised hand. I could feel blood running from an eye. He’d opened up one of Wilson’s cuts. But I had the gun.

“I wasn’t going to shoot you, Danny. Just hold you till the police got here. You know that.”

He kept his face calm but I could hear the pleading note; I liked that.

“Do I? The only thing you’re sure of when you’re looking down one of these…” I waved the gun. “… is that it would make a very big hole in you. Why shouldn’t I use it on you, Tony? You tell me I’ve killed once. It’s probably easier the second time, don’t you think?” I brought my left hand round to steady the heavy weapon. The thought went through my mind that I could do it. It would be easy, and what did it matter anyway?

Some of my thoughts must have registered on my face. Panic flooded his eyes.

“For god’s sake man! The police are probably already on their way. You wouldn’t get a hundred yards. You’d be mad to do this! You’d hang!”

I smiled. “But, Tony, I thought you’d already decided I was mad. Shooting you would be the work of a madman. They’d send me to the hospital, not the gallows.”

Kate broke her silence. “Danny, don’t. It was all a stupid game. This won’t help you. It won’t solve anything.” Her lovely face was creased in fear. Maybe it was the use of my first name; I stopped enjoying having Caldwell at the end of my gun. She pressed her advantage. “Go now, Danny. Before they catch you. The servants are probably on the phone, right now.”

Just as she said this the library door burst open and an anxious face showed round the door.

“Are you all right, ma’am, sir…?”

I cut off any reply. “They’re all right. So far! Get in here. Now!”

The servant edged in, face white. He raised his hands. He’d seen too many gangster films.

“Stand over there! And you two.” I indicated with my gun that all three should get over behind the table, away from the main door. I held the Colt on them. The firm grip and heavy barrel felt good, familiar. Gave a man confidence. I walked over to the rear door where Tony had entered, locked it and pocketed the key.

Then I headed for the main door, grabbing my coat and hat as I went, all the while covering the little group.

I could feel the fury draining from me, along with my energy. The headache was starting. My vision was beginning to go. I fumbled for the key on the main door and walked outside. I closed it and rammed the key home and locked them in. I could hear their voices rushing towards the door. Kate and Tony were furious.

Good.

“Is everything all right, sir?” Millie’s anxious little face met me halfway across the floor. She shrieked and held her hands to her mouth when she saw the gun in my hand. “You haven’t killed them, sir, have you? You didn’t…?”

“No, Millie. They’re all right. Just get the front door will you?”

She fled in front of me, darting her eyes round a couple of times in case I was going to shoot her in the back. Her chest was heaving and she was snivelling with fear. I wondered how it had been for the French girl. I shook my bursting head, pulled on my coat and stuffed the revolver into its big pocket. I jammed the hat on and stepped into the night past Millie’s terrified face. I paused.

“Show me your hands, Millie.”

Her mouth gaped and gulped, but her gloved hands came up in supplication, palms up. The white cotton was immaculate.

I took the gun out of my pocket and laid it across her stiff fingers. She held it like a dead fish.

“Don’t pull the trigger, Millie, There’s a good girl.”

She just nodded, tears streaming down her round face, her round lips pursed with terror. I almost kissed them.

I stumbled down the stairs and off into the night, wondering where I could go and how long before they caught me. For I had no doubt that Caldwell would unleash the hounds on me, and Wilson would be coming after me with glee in his vicious little heart.