Running Scared Read online

  He was pressed against the window, his face contorted in pain and rage, but I recognised him as the little fellow who’d come to the shop. He was mouthing oaths in some foreign language, possibly Spanish or Portuguese. I’m not well up in either of those, but I knew it wasn’t Italian. I could see his small white teeth and his eyes were like a wild animal’s. I thought, this is the man who killed Gray Coverdale, and if he gets in here, he’ll kill us for sure for doing this to him.

  He was trying to get his hand back through the hole, but Bonnie, true to her terrier instincts, didn’t let go but hung on grimly. Blood was dripping down the windowsill. Suddenly he pushed his hand forward, instead of trying to tug it back towards him, then jerked it viciously back again. It must have hurt him, but it hurt Bonnie too as her nose crashed into the cut edge of the glass. She yelped and fractionally loosened her grip.

  Tig and I both yelled at her to let go. We didn’t want her injured. Further confused, she dropped to the ground. The man pulled his free hand back through the hole a split second before Bonnie recovered enough to grab it again. Gripping injured fingers to his chest, he bolted out of the basement. We could hear the soft thud of his feet running away along the pavement.

  Tig was kneeling on the floor trying to examine Bonnie’s nose. Bonnie, cheated of her victim, was yelping and squealing, in no mood to stand still for a medical. She got loose and hurled herself at the front door, barking furiously.

  We dragged her away and calmed her down. The side of her muzzle was scratched but she was otherwise unharmed. The blood on the windowsill was the intruder’s. Serve him right.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Tig,’ I said. ‘I should have explained things to you before you came here.’

  ‘What’s going on, then?’ asked Tig. She disappeared into the kitchenette and could be heard switching on the kettle. We’d both come down in the world but we’d both been brought up on traditional lines and knew the golden rule: whatever the emergency, get the tea brewing.

  Bonnie ran back and forth beneath the window sniffing at the carpet and from time to time, putting her paws on the sill and sniffing along there. She was reliving her victory over the would-be intruder in her mind. Probably, like many humans, she was garnishing it with a few extra heroics, although to my mind, she’d been quite heroic enough.

  ‘The other evening,’ I explained to Tig when we’d got our mugs of tea and settled down on the sofa on top of Tig’s sleeping bag, ‘a man was murdered out there, in my basement.’

  Tig sipped at her tea and eyed me through a fringe of hair. There was a new air of friendliness about her. She’d woken up next to a body: I’d come home and found one on my doorstep. We had something in common.

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘He’d come to see me because he thought I might have something a lot of people seem to want – or that I knew where it was.’

  ‘Have you got it?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘You oughta move out of this end of town for a bit,’ said Tig, after thinking this over.

  ‘OK, I’m going to Dorridge on Sunday, remember? The thing is, you’ll be here and he might come back.’

  ‘I’ve got Bonnie and anyway, he won’t try anything like that again now he knows the dog’s here. She kicks up a real racket.’

  Yes, she did. I wondered whether Daphne had heard anything. Her bedroom was on the first floor, which put her two floors above us here. It overlooked the garden and it was possible she’d slept through the whole thing undisturbed. I hoped so. I was less sure about the neighbours and their Watch Scheme which, after Coverdale’s murder, must have gone into top gear.

  ‘Tig,’ I said. ‘I’m going to have to report this to the police.’

  She sat up, alarmed. ‘I’m not staying here if the pigs are going to be crawling round the place!’

  Bonnie got excited again at the tone of her voice and began rushing round the room, yelping.

  ‘Calm down!’ I begged them both. ‘Look, you don’t have to be involved. In the morning, first thing, we’ll go upstairs and explain things to Daphne, my landlady. She’ll have to know. I suppose the damaged pane can be fixed on her buildings insurance. I’ll ring the police from her place. They have to know, Tig – Daphne will want to tell them – and anyway, the – this thing everyone wants, the police have – the police are interested. I’ll ask Daphne if you can sit up there in her kitchen while whoever the police send does his stuff down here. You won’t have to see them, the coppers. They won’t see you. Not that it matters if they do see you does it? You’re not wanted for anything?’

  She shook her head. ‘I just don’t like the pigs.’ She fidgeted about, undecided. ‘Your landlady won’t like me. Respectable old girls don’t.’

  ‘Daphne isn’t like the others,’ I assured her, and hoped I was right.

  As I spoke, we heard the sound of a car turning into the street. I jumped up and switched out the light. Tig grabbed Bonnie again. Bonnie, hoping for a replay, took a dim view of this and whined pitiably.

  I stood by the damaged window and peered up. I could just make out the top of the car as it cruised past.

  ‘Neighbourhood Watch must’ve phoned through to the cop shop,’ I said. ‘It’s the law, taking a look.’

  ‘Shit,’ muttered Tig.

  We waited and after a while, we heard a regular plod’s footstep approaching. From time to time it stopped and then moved on. He was checking out the basements. He reached mine and leaned over the iron railing. The beam of a torch flashed across the window. I heard him swear and call out to his partner. ‘Sorry,’ I said to Tig. ‘He’s spotted it. You hide in the bedroom, take your stuff with you, and leave Bonnie out here.’

  The officer was descending my stairwell, flashing the torch around. He shone it on the broken window again and turned aside to ring my doorbell. Tig had scuttled into the bedroom and there was no way I could ignore the summons. Bonnie was barking her head off.

  I picked her up, switched on the light, and opened up. ‘Good evening, officer,’ I said, although it was the middle of the night.

  ‘Evening, miss . . .’ He looked rather startled. Perhaps it was the Snoopy nightshirt which had shrunk in numerous washes and was now little more than a long tee shirt. He dragged his eyes away and peered past me. ‘We received a call a little while back from one of your Neighbourhood Watch members, old gent living opposite. You seem to have had some damage to a window pane. You know about that?’

  I had to let him in. ‘Someone tried to break in. My dog saw him off.’

  Bonnie, in my arms, was behaving very badly. She clearly didn’t like the police, either. Someone had taught her they were the enemy. She was growling ferociously, lips rolled back to bare her teeth, and the hair bristled along her spine. The encounter with the would-be intruder had given her a taste for blood.

  ‘Yes,’ said the copper, eyeing her nervously, ‘she looks a real little scrapper. Did you call us?’

  ‘I haven’t got a phone. I was going to call in the morning.’

  Pounding feet announced his partner. The first one turned to him. ‘This is the place, all right. Dog drove chummy off.’ He turned back to me. ‘You on your own here?’ He was eyeing the nightshirt again.

  I said I was and they expressed some concern. I pointed out I had Bonnie, who, faced with two coppers, was doing her nut, longing to be allowed to get at ’em. I gripped her muzzle as Tig had done earlier. She spluttered, enraged.

  ‘I’ve had a good look up and down the road, but he’s gone,’ said the newly arrived copper.

  ‘We’ll try and block up that gap for you,’ the other said, ‘and send someone round in the morning. You’ll have to make a proper report then. OK?’

  I promised them I’d be waiting. They were really rather nice, better than average anyway. It must have been the Snoopy nightshirt. They taped cardboard over the holed place and advised me to leave a light on.

  ‘I’d offer you a cup of tea,’ I said. ‘But I’d have to put
the dog down.’

  They took the point.

  When they’d driven off, I released Bonnie who, having had the last word in a defiant barking session, sat by the front door hopefully, waiting for the next arrivals. I opened the bedroom door and called to Tig that she could come out.

  Tig sidled out, her white face defiant, as though she anticipated what I was going to say.

  ‘You see,’ I said. ‘It was all right.’

  ‘I don’t like the pigs,’ she said obstinately.

  Daphne didn’t let me down. Although she was clearly upset at the attempted break-in, she greeted Tig kindly and said how nice it was to meet one of Fran’s friends. I saw Tig calm down under this civilised reception, but she remained wary and sat huddled in the comer of Daphne’s kitchen, while we rang the police to see when they’d be coming round, and waited for them to turn up.

  In the meantime, Daphne provided toast and coffee and made a great fuss of Bonnie.

  ‘What a brave little dog and so lucky your friend had brought her along.’

  Bonnie accepted all this praise as no more than her due, her stumpy tail thumping the ground.

  Tig continued to sit awkwardly in the corner of Daphne’s kitchen, her eyes studying every detail of the fixtures and fittings. I wondered what she was thinking.

  ‘I’ll get the glazier in today straight away,’ said Daphne. ‘And perhaps I’d better get a burglar-proof grille put in down there.’

  ‘Inspector Harford’s all for those,’ I told her. ‘But I don’t fancy being locked in a cage, Daphne.’

  ‘It’s only at night or if you’re away,’ she pointed out. ‘You can pull them back and forth, or so I understand. I didn’t mean the fixed sort.’ A thought seemed to strike her and she frowned worriedly. ‘I suppose I can keep this from Bertie and Charlie.’

  Oh blimey, the dreaded duo. I’d forgotten them. They’d love this.

  ‘Who’re they?’ asked Tig, breaking her silence.

  Daphne explained they were her nephews. ‘And always so worried about my security, as they call it. Inclined to fuss, really, but it’s all very well meant. Perhaps I can get the glazier to come quickly and get it all fixed up before they find out.’

  There was the sound of a car drawing up outside and a door slammed.

  ‘That’ll be the police,’ I said. ‘You stay here, Tig.’

  Parry was just climbing the steps to Daphne’s front door as she opened it. He said, ‘Morning, ma’am,’ to her and, glimpsing me in the hall behind her, added less graciously, ‘What’s going on, then?’

  We took him down to the basement and explained. He examined the window and sighed. ‘I’ll get the fingerprint boys over again. You say you can describe this bloke, Fran?’

  I gave him a pretty good description: small, dark curly hair, Mediterranean appearance and foreign accent, injured hand. ‘So you ought to be able to pick him up.’

  ‘You may not have noticed it,’ said Parry sarcastically, ‘but the streets of London are littered with blokes speaking with foreign accents.’

  ‘Tourists, I suppose,’ said Daphne.

  Parry gave her a jaundiced look. ‘Yes, ma’am, and every petty crook and thug who likes to pop across the Channel. We make it easy for em these days.’ I put Parry in the Eurosceptic camp. But then, I imagined Parry was sceptical about everything.

  ‘When will these fingerprint experts come?’ asked Daphne. ‘I want to ring the glazier.’

  ‘When they’ve got a minute,’ muttered Parry to me. ‘Seeing as they’ve got other things to do besides spend half their lives at this place or round at your mate Patel’s.’ He turned back to Daphne. ‘I’ll just take a statement from Miss Varady, and I’ll be off.’

  Daphne took the hint and left us. When we were alone, Parry took out a notebook and biro. ‘I can’t leave you for five minutes, can I?’ he grumbled. ‘I come in this morning and what do I find? Overnight you’ve had a break-in. First Patel, now you.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘And the man who tried to break in here last night was the same man who came to the shop fishing for information about Coverdale.’

  Parry, poised with pen above notebook, gave me a sharp look. ‘You’re on the level with this, Fran? You’d better be.’

  I could have thumped him. There’s just no getting through to Parry. ‘I am sure!’ I said tightly. ‘So we know what he was after, don’t we? Why don’t you just release the information that you’ve got the flippin’ negatives?’

  ‘Been decided higher up,’ he said. ‘It’s embargoed and it stays that way. We’ve all got to lump it. Right, let’s have the rest of your statement, then.’

  When I’d given it, he asked, ‘Where’s the dog?’

  ‘Upstairs with Daphne.’

  Parry wasn’t stupid, despite his manner and general appearance. ‘Since when have you had a pet pooch, then?’

  ‘I’m looking after her for a friend.’

  ‘Friend wasn’t with you, then, last night?’

  ‘Your boys were here,’ I said. ‘They talked to me. They saw the situation. You’ve got my statement. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to go to work.’

  I went to work. I didn’t tell Ganesh about my overnight visitor. He had enough worries. Instead, I excused my lateness by telling him I’d overslept. At least Hitch and Marco had finished the new washroom and, I had to admit, it did look good.

  ‘See,’ said Ganesh. ‘The old chap won’t be cross, not when he sees it.’

  Looking at the shiny new tiles, the extractor fan which worked and sanitary fittings which didn’t assault the would-be user, I had to admit Hari ought to be pleased. I still thought he’d make a fuss about the cost. Ganesh said that had been very reasonable. He’d haggled a bit and Hitch had brought it down. I privately thought that if Hitch had reduced the quoted price, it was because he’d increased it in the first place to allow for this. Still, it did seem mean to quibble. Hitch and Marco had done a good job and deserved to be fairly paid.

  I did wonder, when I got home at lunchtime, whether I’d find Tig still there. I was relieved to hear Bonnie bark as I clattered down the basement steps. I noticed that the glazier had been and I had a new window pane. The putty was still soft.

  ‘I’ve been out,’ said Tig. ‘You know, to walk Bonnie and get out of the way of the guys who came to fix the window. I brought us in some lunch and more dog food for Bonnie.’

  ‘Watch out for Jo Jo,’ I warned her. ‘He might come back to this patch to look for you, seeing as you were working the area earlier.’

  She’d brought in fish and chips. She heated them up in the oven and served them up to me on a tray. She obviously wanted to work her passage. I appreciated that. Tig had been no trouble in the old days, back in the Jubilee Street squat, because she’d always done her fair share. Reminded of her then, and seeing her miserable state now, I felt sad and worried. What would her parents think when they saw her? How could I prepare them?

  We were washing up when the doorbell rang. Tig, who’d been chatting in quite a friendly way, was immediately back on the defensive, hissing, ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and see.’

  I peered out the nice new window and was rewarded with the sight of Jason Harford, who’d left the door and was prodding at the new putty in a critical way. Behind me, I heard the bathroom door click. Tig had taken refuge, dragging Bonnie in there with her.

  I kicked Tig’s rucksack behind the sofa out of sight and threw her sleeping bag after it. The coast clear, I let him in.

  ‘You all right, Fran?’ he asked, looking and sounding genuinely concerned. If we’d parted coolly on the last occasion, he appeared to have forgotten.

  ‘As you see me,’ I said. Behind the bathroom door, Bonnie was barking at the sound of a strange voice. ‘I’ve shut the dog in there,’ I explained, ‘because she’s been a bit overexcited since last night. She thinks she’s got to see off any stranger.’

  ‘Lucky you had he
r here,’ he said. ‘Parry said you’re looking after her for a friend.’

  ‘That’s right.’ He was standing in the middle of the room, fidgeting about, looking round him. He had his sharp suit on today and still didn’t look your average CID man. I wondered again to what extent, if any, he fitted into the police scene. ‘I made a statement,’ I said, prompting him to explain his visit.

  ‘Yes, I know, I read it. We’ve put out a description of the man you recognised. But he’ll have gone to ground. I was going to suggest you came over to the station and took a look at the mug shots. He might have a record.’