Хилари Боннер - The Cruellest Game

‘You know, I really am sorry about your son,’ she said.

I looked away from her. What did she expect me to say?

‘And I’m even more sorry if my family has done anything to make it worse,’ she continued, flashing a sharp look in the direction of her husband.

I still didn’t reply.

We sat together awkwardly with little or no conversation. There was, however, one remaining question I needed to know the answer to.

‘Where were you on Friday, Mr Shaw?’ I asked abruptly.

‘On Friday?’ he queried, sounding puzzled. ‘At work, of course. As usual. Why?’

‘Because somebody broke into my home and wrecked the place,’ I replied in a level sort of voice.

‘And you’re accusing me of that, now?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I just wanted to know where you were when it happened, that’s all.’

‘You’ve got no bloody right—’ Michael Shaw began, his voice raised.

‘No, Mikey,’ his wife interrupted him. ‘Mrs Anderson has just lost her son. That gives her the right to ask almost anything, in my book. And on top of that she says her home has been trashed. Just tell her you didn’t do it. That’s all.’

‘Of course I didn’t bloody well do it,’ said the man. But his voice was no longer so harsh.

‘I’m sorry you’ve had that to put up with as well, Mrs Anderson. However, I can assure you it’s got nothing to do with this family,’ said Mrs Shaw, managing to sound both gentle and assertive.

She was quite convincing. But I didn’t know whether or not I was convinced. Not by so much of what I had heard. I did know I really couldn’t stay with the Shaws any longer. I abandoned the remains of my sweet tea and left.

Mrs Shaw escorted me to the door.

‘Are you going to the police?’ she asked, as we stood together in the hall.

‘What do you think?’ I responded.

Once back in my car I started the engine immediately and drove to the end of the road and round the corner until I knew I would be out of sight. Then I stopped again, and slumped forward over the steering wheel. Had I already solved the mystery of my Robbie’s death? And if so, if I really believed that Michael Shaw was responsible in some way, then why on earth had I sat in his house drinking tea with the man?

The truth was that I still didn’t know what to believe. That scenario just seemed too simplistic somehow. And Shaw? He might well be the sort to lash out in the pub or on the street, but was it likely that he was a murderer? And was it remotely likely that he had the psychological make-up of a man who could effectively incite another human being to suicide?

I suppose that by staying with the Shaws for as long as I did, I’d perhaps hoped that something would present itself to answer those questions. It hadn’t.

One thing was certain though. I was definitely taking this new information to the police. At the very least, surely, it was enough to make them conduct further investigations into Robbie’s death. Then I thought about exactly how I was going to approach the Devon and Cornwall Constabulary. My two local bobbies seemed to think I was a lunatic. DS Jarvis had made it quite clear he was involved with a much more pressing case, and I could hardly disagree with that, if only on the grounds that little Luke Macintyre might still be alive and my Robbie was not. I considered driving into Exeter straight away and taking my chances with the front office staff at Heavitree Road. But, of course, that Sunday everyone on duty was likely to be totally preoccupied with the case of the abducted three-year-old. Nobody was going to have much time to spend dealing with someone half the force seemed to have already dismissed as a madwoman, were they?

I thought for a moment or two more. Then I made a decision. I would leave it until the morning, then I would drive to Exeter. On a Monday morning staffing at Heavitree Road would be at full strength, and surely not everyone would be assigned to the Luke Macintyre investigation. In any case, it was even possible that the little boy might have been found by then. Yes, I would go to Exeter’s premier police station and I would ask to speak to a senior CID officer. And maybe, just maybe, I would be seen by someone who would listen to me.

Feeling very slightly better at having made even that much of a decision, I checked my watch. More time had passed than I’d thought, both at the Shaws and sitting in my parked car using my steering wheel as a pillow while trying so desperately to gather my thoughts. It was nearly midday. I didn’t want to encounter Tom and Eddie again, or indeed anyone else, that day, but they should be well gone by now.

Just in case, as a further delaying tactic, I made myself stop at Waitrose, on the edge of the town. I loaded a much-needed starter pack of plain white crockery into a trolley — four mugs, four dinner plates, four tea plates and so on; and also a couple of packs of cheap glasses — four tumblers and four wine goblets. I also bought milk and fresh bread, more eggs and bacon, which seemed to be the only food I even half wanted to eat, and a couple of bottles of malt whisky, an even more effective anaesthetic than copious quantities of red wine, I’d found.

I shivered as I packed my purchases into the back of the car. It had stopped raining, for the moment, but this iron-grey day remained without doubt the coldest of the autumn. As Tom Farley had remarked, it had a real wintery feel. And there was a bleakness about it which totally matched the bleakness that now engulfed my heart.

I started the engine and headed for home. Or, rather, the place that had once been my home.

I turned into the lane leading to Highrise with caution, letting the engine of the Lexus slow to the point where the electric motor kicked in so the car made virtually no noise at all. Tom and Eddie’s white van was no longer parked in the yard. I had been sure it wouldn’t be, but hadn’t felt like taking any chances. If the two of them had still been on my property, I would have reversed out of the lane and retreated to park up the road safely out of sight until they departed. After what I had been through with the Shaws I just couldn’t have faced them. Or anyone else.

The spare key to Highrise was on the doormat, having obviously been put through the letter box as I’d instructed. And Florrie had been shut in the kitchen, also as instructed. She’d started to bark and cry as soon as I’d begun to unlock the front door, and I then took a few seconds to master the remote control I’d been given, not much bigger than a key fob, in order to deactivate my spanking new burglar alarm system. Indeed, I only just managed to programme the thing into submission before it contacted its monitoring centre, which would cause God knows who to descend on me.

Florrie greeted me with her usual enthusiasm and then began whining pitifully at the back door. Of course, the poor creature must be desperate to get into the garden. I had omitted to give Tom and Eddie any instructions to let Florrie out, and I was quite sure they wouldn’t have done so without my say-so. I unlocked and opened the door. Florrie ran straight onto the lawn and crouched down. I shrugged my arms out of my Barbour, then stood with the door open expecting her to return straight away. On such a cold day Florrie rarely spent more time than necessary outside.

Instead she continued to run around the lawn whining. Once or twice she paused, ears pricked as if listening to something. I listened too and could hear nothing. But as a dog’s hearing is supposed to be more than three times as sensitive as human hearing I suppose that wasn’t surprising.

Ears still pricked, she scampered to the five-bar gate leading into our paddock, then back to me, and back to the gate again. I called her. She ignored me. Instead she wriggled under the gate and into the paddock. I watched as she ran to the old stables just to the left of the gate and began to bark quite ferociously. Then she turned again towards the garden and seemed to bark directly at me, before scurrying back to the stables. I thought possibly a fox had got in there, or that it could be rats disturbing her. Or, Florrie being Florrie, it could even be that her ball had become trapped in there somehow and she couldn’t get to it.