Линда Ла Плант - Cold Blood

As Lorraine opened her cigarettes and lit one, Elizabeth remained silent, head bowed slightly.

‘Perhaps Anna Louise was leaving, facing the balcony, and Tilda struck her from behind. There were stains on the carpet in that area, but after Tilda’s suicide the carpet was cleaned so we will never know if there had been blood there or not.’

Elizabeth looked blankly to the window.

‘I think Tilda went down to the kitchen for some plastic bags straight away because the body was wrapped very tightly soon after death. She then used reels and reels of sellotape to seal the bags around the body. She may have hidden it in her room, waited until the following morning, and could have dropped it over the balcony and dragged it to the playhouse. At some point she dug the grave, and buried Anna Louise, then put a padlock on the door and...’

‘Left my baby rotting,’ Elizabeth said softly.

‘Yes. She did not return to college, she remained with her family, and from people I have interviewed I understand she became nervous and withdrawn, probably living in a state of terror that the body would be found. I think my visit to her must have scared her very much because someone new was making enquiries after all that time. I think I was the only one who had discovered not only the two girls’ sexual permissiveness, but also their jealousy. Tilda became very upset when I interviewed her but did not give me any indication she had played a part in Anna Louise’s murder.’

‘Played a part? Dear God, she killed her!’

‘I would say the surrounding pressures and the—’

‘Please don’t excuse the girl, she murdered my daughter.’

‘Yes, she did.’

Elizabeth stood up, pressing her hands down her sides, then brushed one across the crease in her skirt. ‘So, it’s over.’

Lorraine also stood up. She swayed, feeling faint, and had to hold on to the arm of the chair.

‘Are you all right?’ Elizabeth asked, looking directly at Lorraine for almost the first time since she had arrived.

‘I am very tired.’

‘What happened to your face?’

‘Oh, I bumped into a door, it’s nothing, but I would like to leave now.’

Elizabeth crossed to an escritoire and opened it. She sat down on one of the delicate English chairs and drew out a cheque-book. Lorraine collected her jacket and picked up her briefcase.

‘Do you still have the doll, Mrs Page?’

‘Yes, yes, I do.’

‘You didn’t give it to the police?’

‘No.’

‘Would you leave it here? I don’t think it is necessary for it to be seen by anyone else.’

Lorraine opened her case again.

‘Why didn’t you give it to the police if I might ask?’

‘Well, it is only circumstantial evidence.’

‘My, my we are so professional, aren’t we?’

Lorraine put down the doll, still wrapped in the hotel towel.

Elizabeth ripped out the cheque and blew on it to dry the ink. She then held it out at arm’s length. ‘Your bonus, Mrs Page.’

Lorraine walked the few paces towards Mrs Caley and took the cheque. She glanced at the amount: one million dollars.

‘It won’t bounce,’ Elizabeth said as she closed the lid of her desk. Then, without turning back, she picked up the doll and walked to the door.

‘The maid will show you out, Mrs Page. Thank you very much.’

Lorraine remained standing, staring at the cheque as the click-click of Elizabeth Caley’s high heels died away on the hall tiles.

Missy appeared and gestured for Lorraine to go with her to the front door. By now Elizabeth was almost at the top of the sweeping staircase, but she didn’t look back as Lorraine left.

Elizabeth watched her depart in her car with her driver, and then let the curtain fall back into place. She crossed to the bureau. The head-band was still in the plastic bag the police had brought it in, and she touched it with one delicate finger, before picking it up and tossing it into the wastepaper basket. She crossed to the bed where she had placed the doll and slowly unwrapped it, staring down at the hideous face with Tilda Brown’s photograph, the pin stuck through the doll’s left eye. She picked it up, carried it to the old wide fireplace, bent down and set it on the bars of the empty grate. She emptied an entire bottle of nail varnish remover over it before she struck a match and set it alight. She stood there as the flames caught and burnt it quickly; last to blacken and melt was the small plastic doll’s head with Tilda Brown’s face.

Elizabeth waited until all that was left were charred ashes and the acrid smell of burnt plastic. She then went to her bedside and picked up Anna Louise’s photograph and held it to her chest. She lay down, clutching the picture, her face impassive, but gradually her eyes filled with tears and they trickled down her cheeks, until she sobbed quietly, saying her daughter’s name over and over again, whispering that she was sorry, so very sorry.

Robert Caley had asked to see the body or what was left of it, but nothing had prepared him for the blackened, decomposed corpse. He was shocked and distressed, staying no more than a few moments. Like his wife, he wept for Anna Louise. He also asked for her forgiveness, knowing that he had in many ways been to blame. He was now on his way to accomplishing everything he had dreamed about, and he would without doubt be a very rich man, but he felt empty, drained and ashamed. Two young girls had died as a result of his foolishness and selfishness. The woman he could love had seen him for what he was, and he knew the damage was irreparable. Just thinking of her made him look towards the connecting bedroom door, and his heart thudded as it opened.

‘Excuse me, Mr Caley, but the manager has asked if you will still be requiring the double suite as...’

‘No, no, I will also be leaving by tonight.’

‘Shall I tell the manager then, Mr Caley? Only with Carnival coming up...’

‘Yes, please, thank you.’

The maid shut the door and locked it, and he packed his bags, wanting to get out as soon as possible.

The bell-boy was carrying them to his car when Saffron Dulay drove up in her convertible Rolls Corniche.

‘Honey, you’re not leavin’, are you?’

He looked at her as she slid out of the driving seat and sashayed towards him, arms held out for a hug. Golden-brown, golden-haired, she reminded him of Anna Louise.

‘Daddy, give me a hug, give me a big bear hug and tell me you love me lots, lots and whole lots.’

Caley wrapped his arms around Saffron; he was crying.

‘Shush now, honey, I know, I know they found her,’ Saffron cooed, stroking his head.

He turned away, embarrassed by his tears, and she drew him close.

‘Now, you’re not leaving, are you? Not when I have come all this way to see you, and Daddy and you being in business together, you are not upping and leaving, you have to celebrate.’

Saffron had already dismissed Anna Louise’s death. That was over, that was all in the past. She saw him waver, hesitate, and she turned to the bell-boy.

‘Put Mr Caley’s bags in my car, would you?’ She gave him that wide, frosty smile. ‘Hey, we are going to have a ball, it’s just starting, it’s Mardi Gras!’

She walked around to the driving seat as his luggage was placed in the trunk, slipping on her dark glasses as she started up the engine.

‘My daddy says you’ve gone and left that lush you been tied to for more than twenty years. That true, Robert?’

He nodded, getting in beside her, and like her he slipped on his dark shades as they eased out into the traffic. They headed towards Esplanade, Robert with his arm lying loosely along the seat, his hand stroking Saffron’s slender neck.

‘Oh yes, that is so nice.’ She laughed.