‘Right yes. Well, the thing is, I wasn’t at home all day on Saturday. I went out. In the afternoon. I drove round to Gill’s house. I was so worried about her. I really had thought she would find a way to call me after Friday night. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer. But when I got there, well, I told you I was a coward, didn’t I? I got as far as the front door, I was about to ring the bell, but I didn’t have the courage. I was afraid Thomas might answer. And I just couldn’t face it. So I got back in the car and drove home. I didn’t tell you because I thought it would look bad for me, but now I realize I’ve been really stupid—’
‘What time was this?’ interrupted Vogel.
‘Well, I’m not sure exactly, well gone four, maybe half past.’
Vogel felt himself stiffen. It would seem that Wayne Williams had been at the Quinn house during exactly the time frame in which Thomas had been killed.
‘Did you see or hear anything which gave you any cause for concern whilst you were at the house? he asked.
‘No, nothing,’ replied Williams. ‘Everything was quiet. I couldn’t even tell whether anyone was in or not.’
The DCI questioned Williams further for a few minutes, particularly concerning the timing of his visit to St Anne’s Avenue, and the possibility of his having witnessed something of relevance without realizing it. He then asked Williams if he was prepared to be fingerprinted and undergo a DNA test, to which the headmaster agreed readily enough.
Vogel thanked him and told him he would then be free to go.
‘Does that mean you believe me?’ asked Williams, who looked both palpably relieved and somewhat surprised. Vogel wondered what he had been expecting.
‘You should know that late last night a man was charged with the murder of Thomas Quinn,’ he responded obliquely. ‘However, we may well want to talk to you again, Mr Williams. Lying to the police is a very serious matter, as I am sure you are aware.’
As he watched Perkins lead Wayne Williams from the interview room, Vogel couldn’t entirely suppress a certain sense of unease. The case against Gregory Quinn was overwhelming. The DCI remained as sure as was ever possible that the right man had been charged. And he really couldn’t believe that Williams would have the guts to murder anyone. But as he had told Saslow after they’d interviewed the man on Sunday, you never can tell.
Helen Harris had been allowed even less rest than Vogel. Indeed virtually none at all. Her head was all over the place. And she had only just managed to drift into a fitful sleep when the house phone woke her at two forty a.m.
Groggily she lifted the receiver.
‘Hello Lilian,’ said a voice she had hoped never to hear again.
‘Who is this?’ she demanded. But, of course, she really didn’t need to ask.
‘It’s William,’ said the voice. ‘Your dear brother-in law. You know that though, don’t you, Lilian?’
She attempted to dissimilate.
‘I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know any Lilian,’ she said.
There was a humourless laugh at the other end of the phone.
‘I’m sure you’ve seen the papers,’ William continued. ‘Both our pictures, almost next to each other, but yours by far the most bold and clear. You look very different though. Older, of course, and your face is plumper. You must have put on a lot of weight, and your hair is not at all how I remember it. I might not have recognized you, if it hadn’t been for your freckles. I’m surprised you don’t cover them up with something. They’re such a giveaway, so distinctive. But I suppose you’ve grown complacent, after all this time—’
‘What do you want?’ she interrupted, trying not to let her desperate anguish sound in her voice. ‘What the bloody hell do you want?’
‘I wanted to let you know that I’d found you. Of course, I was always going to find you sooner or later. You must have known I could never let you get away with what you did. You killed my brother, Lilian, and then you dared to get me put away. You should have been told I was out. So you must have known you were living on borrowed time. But, thanks to Tommy, you’ve been offered to me on a plate...’
Tommy. For a few seconds Helen stopped listening to William. The name registered with her suddenly, in spite of the awful shock of hearing William’s voice. Tommy must be Thomas Quinn. And it was Thomas who had maintained a link with the St John family that Helen had completely forgotten about, Thomas who had brought William and his henchmen, even more monstrous men than Thomas himself, to this little town which had for so long been a haven to Helen.
‘Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond my control,’ she heard William continue with another mirthless laugh, ‘I have to lie low for a bit. But I will come to you, have no doubt about that, and I will make you suffer—’
‘You may not get the chance,’ interrupted Helen with a bravado she did not feel. ‘The police are looking for you, and they’re going to find you. You and your thugs are wanted for murder. Did you come here intending to kill?’
‘No, just to give Tommy a wake-up call. Frighten him a little. And the other one, of course. But it was too late for Tommy, although we didn’t know that until we arrived in Bideford. All too many of our, uh, business interests had fallen a little by the wayside whilst I was, umm, unable to take care of them. I decided to take a bit of a tour around the UK before going back home to South Africa, to remind certain people of who they were dealing with. Nobody was supposed to get shot though. That was just a bit of youthful overenthusiasm. Worth it of course, Helen, just to find you. What a bonus.’
Unlike Kurt, William spoke with a strong South African accent. Helen determined not to show just how threatening she found everything about him.
‘You don’t scare me any more,’ she lied. ‘You’re going to be back behind bars way before you can to get to hurt me,’ she continued, attempting a bravado she definitely did not feel.
‘The police don’t even know who they’re looking for, and nobody would recognize me from that grainy old picture, not even you,’ said William. ‘You can barely see my face—’
‘You’re wrong, I did recognize you,’ Helen interrupted.
‘It makes no difference. I won’t be in the country long enough to get arrested...’
‘Really? I thought you said you were lying low?’
‘Don’t get cute with me, Lilian, or you won’t even live to regret it.’
With that William ended the call.
Helen had been half expecting something like this from the moment she had learned that the man she had been instrumental in sending to jail twenty-one years earlier really had been released. Nonetheless his phone call had chilled her to the bone. Her whole body seemed to be shaking. She took two of the pills she kept by her bedside. Now she had to make decisions fast. The first one was easy. Whatever she did, she would sleep no more that night. So she dragged herself out of bed, dressed, and made her way to her office.
She spent the next three hours or so assimilating the events of the last few days and going over and over in her head what she would do next. Finally, she spent some time reorganizing her affairs, and ensuring, to the best of her ability, the future of Helen’s House, regardless of the actions she was about to take. She also wrote two letters, one to her solicitor, and one to Gregory Quinn.
There had already been more than one enormous sea change in her life. Another, probably greater than all, now beckoned.
At six o’clock she moved to the kitchen, removed some unbaked croissants from the freezer and put them in the oven, and prepared juice and coffee. Then she woke Sadie.
‘I’m sorry, but I need to talk to you,’ she said. ‘And it has to be now. There’s some breakfast waiting.’