‘I don’t know what’s going on with that family, but something’s rocked the apple cart, you mark my words,’ she told him sagely, as if imparting some mighty slice of wisdom rather than as nasty a piece of tittle-tattle as she was able to create from the little knowledge she actually had.
Charlotte didn’t know what was going on either — but she intended to keep her resolution not to confront her brother. Indeed she was given little opportunity to do so. William had left to drive back to the agricultural college even before she popped around to the farm at breakfast time on the morning after the party.
Constance appeared to be genuinely effusive in her appreciation of the party, which pleased Charlotte enormously, although she remained irritated by William’s behaviour towards their mother during the previous evening.
‘That brother of mine didn’t stop long this morning then,’ she eventually remarked casually to her mother.
‘He had to get back for lectures, dear,’ replied Constance levelly. And that was, of course, probably the simple truth. They’d all made enough fuss when he hadn’t been pulling his weight at college, after all.
Charlotte, however, couldn’t help pushing the subject.
‘You two didn’t have much to say to each other last night,’ she said in what she hoped was a light tone of voice.
Constance was standing at the sink with her back to her daughter. She said nothing, but Charlotte thought her shoulders stiffened. Perhaps she was imagining things.
‘I mean you’ve always been such great friends...’ Charlotte hoped her voice was still light when she continued, ‘Everything is all right between you two now, isn’t it?’
Constance turned swiftly around to face her daughter. ‘Why is everyone fussing about me so much?’ she asked with a smile which was as warm and almost as reassuring as her smiles had always been.
Charlotte shrugged. She didn’t know quite what to say.
‘Don’t fret,’ said her mother. ‘Your brother has his moods like all the rest of us. I thought I might pop over to the college and visit him as soon as I can find the time, actually. Maybe take him out for a spot of supper...’
‘Oh, that would be a lovely idea, mother,’ said Charlotte.
And now she really did feel happier.
There was even better to come. Within minutes of Charlotte arriving back at Honeysuckle Cottage the phone rang. It was William.
‘Watcher, sis,’ he said. ‘I just called to tell you what a great job you did last night putting on that bash for mum and dad. You couldn’t fault it.’
Charlotte was still a bit angry with him, but in spite of herself she glowed.
‘I’m just glad you turned up,’ she said, with only the slightest edge.
William laughed. ‘I never had any choice, did I?’ he asked. ‘You might have known I wouldn’t let the family down.’
She warmed to him. ‘Of course I know,’ she said. But he’d made the first approach, so she thought she dared risk at least touching on her various anxieties.
‘You know, if mum was a bit hard on you when you got sent home from college it was only because she was so worried,’ she said.
‘Of course.’
‘Even I wondered if you’d become a druggie or something.’
William laughed again. ‘Is this the girl who once dragged me off to the bottom of Brook Meadow and demanded that I roll her an extremely large spliff?’ he asked teasingly.
‘Which made me feel so peculiar that I never smoked dope again — but you did, William.’ She was not to be that easily swayed.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Dope and only dope. I am not, and never have been, into anything stronger. And I wouldn’t put up with this kind of cross-examination from anyone but you, either, Charlotte.’
She knew that was probably true. They had always been close.
‘I only rang up to say well done,’ continued William almost plaintively.
Charlotte relented. ‘I know, thank you.’ She paused. ‘Have you called Mother?’
‘Not yet,’ he said. He sounded quite relaxed.
She took advantage of the moment. ‘Mum noticed, you know, that you didn’t have a lot of time for her last night, and so did I.’
‘You’re a fusspot,’ he chided her gently. ‘You know I can be a moody sod, you’ve told me off for it enough over the years.’
‘That’s true,’ she responded. ‘I wish you’d grow up, that’s all.’
‘You don’t half push your luck,’ he informed her. ‘All right. Tell mother I’m sorry if I seemed a bit off. Tell her I’ll make up for it.’
‘Why don’t you tell her yourself? She said she’d drive over to see you some time soon.’
He did not reply for a moment.
‘William, are you still there?’
‘Yes. Sorry, I’m not supposed to be using this phone. I thought there was someone coming.’
‘I said mother’s planning to visit you.’
‘That would be great,’ responded William with evident enthusiasm.
‘I’m so glad you said that,’ said Charlotte.
And when she put the phone down she scolded herself for having made a problem out of something and nothing. Her mother was right. Her brother was right. She fussed too much.
Eleven
Colin Parker considered himself to be a veteran at the game. His twenty-first birthday was still several weeks away but he had been working for Avon Escorts for almost three years.
It was the last Saturday in November, the 28th of the month, and this was just another job for Colin. He was sitting in a corner of the bar of the Portway Towers, which was generally regarded by Colin and his kind as little more than a super-posh knocking shop. The head porter had been on Avon’s payroll for years, and any lonely businessmen or women staying at the Portway Towers had only to make discreet inquiries in order not to remain lonely for long.
Colin looked idly around the bar. Often, although not tonight, there were faces that he recognised at the Portway. Several of the local Toms sat around there regularly on spec, unbothered by the bar staff in return for a bit of commission occasionally. If you worked for Avon, though, you didn’t have to hang around anywhere on the off-chance. You were almost always pre-booked, and the rates demanded meant your customers were likely to be pretty classy. Colin reckoned he was already firmly established at the top end of his trade.
A glass of Diet Coke was growing warm and flat on the table in front of him. It was a pretty boring drink in which he had lost all interest after the first couple of sips, but Colin wasn’t going to risk spoiling anything by going on the booze. He was on duty, after all.
Colin had blow-dried his silky brown hair meticulously, shaved extra carefully — grateful that he was showing no signs of the adolescent acne which still occasionally troubled him — and was wearing his smartest suit, as instructed.
The woman Colin was waiting for had told Paolo exactly what she wanted. And she had indicated that if she were pleased with her escort’s services, if he turned out to be fully satisfactory in every way, there would be a big bonus for him.
Colin smiled to himself. The murder of Marty Morris did not worry him one bit. Marty had been heavily into the gay scene, and Colin wasn’t. Colin had convinced himself long ago that the only dangers in his game lay with the gay trade — after all, how could a woman hurt him? He was young, fit and strong, wasn’t he? And he did kick boxing down the gym every Friday. It would take some tart to do him any damage. Colin really did not consider himself to be at risk. You weren’t if you were sensible, he reckoned.
In any case Colin had already heard that the police suspected Marty’s boyfriend. Dead right too, in Colin’s opinion. Colin knew Jonathon Lee, they all did. He’d even bought some dope from him once. Colin didn’t touch crack — too dangerous, he’d seen what it did to people — but he liked to smoke the odd joint. Colin reckoned that Jonathon Lee was a nasty piece of work beneath all that smarmy smoothness. And, sharing Rose Piper’s opinion although he didn’t know it, he considered Lee to be well capable of murder.