Dying for You

Chapter One-4

THE SHOCK OF BILL BEARD’S revelation about Estelle’s murder had taken a few minutes to fully sink in. The worst horror was that Estelle, who had been so full of life and hopes for the future should now be lying in the morgue, her delightful monkey face and sinuous body badly hacked about by some sadist. A sadist, moreover, as the increasingly self-pitying Rafferty told himself, who might as well have personally selected him as the fall-guy; with his false identity he fitted the frame as if it had been tailor-made

Reluctant to admit to paranoia along with his other troubles, Rafferty saw – through the grief he felt for Estelle and the anxiety he felt for himself – that he had to get a grip. It was essential he cover his tracks, not only for his own sake, but for his cousin’s sake also; after all, it was his name that was being bandied about as being that of a suspected murderer.

The reminder caused Rafferty to suffer a moment’s breathless horror at his cousin’s likely reaction to this news, before he thrust the worry aside. Another one soon replaced it. For all he knew Jerry would be unable to supply a solid alibi. If that turned out to be the case, he’d have no choice but to ‘fess up. Even if his own conscience didn’t make sure he did so, Jerry certainly would.

All these thoughts as they followed one another at break-neck pace through his mind were important enough, but even more important than these considerations was the one that Estelle was entitled to justice and Rafferty, in his Nigel Blythe persona, had pre-murder knowledge of both the victim and the other members of the Made in Heaven dating agency. Maybe he had subconsciously learned more about them all than even he was aware. Certainly more than they would be willing to reveal to the poorly Harry Simpson, the officer assigned to the case. Somehow, he would have to harness that knowledge and use it to find Estelle’s murderer without letting anyone know he had been present at the dating agency party to acquire it.

But, in order to be able to do that he had to stay both out of suspicion and out of jail. And he hadn’t much time to make sure of either.

He sat in his office, thinking furiously. Idea after idea was discarded. It was ten minutes later when he finally hit on the solution. During his exploratory chat with Beard, Rafferty had learned that Harry Simpson and the team were still at the murder scene. And, although Simpson had quickly discovered from her flatmate that Estelle had attended the Made in Heaven dating agency ‘Getting-To-Know-You’ party at The Elmhurst Hotel’s annexe on Saturday evening, Beard, who had a leisurely way with orders, hadn’t yet arranged for anyone to get round to Nigel’s address. It gave Rafferty the opportunity to stage a timely burglary.

He glanced at his watch. One thing at least was going his way. Today was his usual day for taking his Ma to the supermarket. Although he normally took her in the evening she would be unlikely to argue if he changed the time, especially as the neighbours who, like her, were mostly retired, would be more likely to see her eldest son taking her out. Though, this time she’d have to forego the drink he usually took her for. Because, before the shopping, she was going with him to Jerry’s flat, where, she would have to bear witness, if it became necessary, that Jerry’s flat had been broken into.

Again, Ma was unlikely to refuse him. Rafferty knew she had been itching to see inside the place since Jerry had bought it, but invitations to most of the family hadn’t been forthcoming. Rafferty had been one of a select few who had received an invite and that was only because, with their respective professions, he and Jerry shared the tarnish of being beyond the pale and occasionally had a drink and a commiseration together.

Fortunately, he had the keys to Jerry’s fancy apartment and, to Ma, could use the ready lie that he had promised Jerry he would keep an eye on the place while he was away. That particular business would only take a few minutes; he would be able to rely on his Ma dawdling as she admired the plush decor in the luxuriously appointed entrance hall. It would give him a few minutes’ breathing space, which was all he would need.

He would have to get rid of Jerry’s passport and credit card. Rafferty sighed as he realised that, like Jerry’s documents, his expensive designer suit was also going to have to be sacrificed. He had promised he would look after the suit and make sure any stains disappeared. He hadn’t expected to have to make the entire suit disappear. But he couldn’t risk someone recognising it—especially if Jerry was in it at the time and looking almost as much like ‘Nigel Blythe’ as Rafferty did. He’d have to stump up for a replacement. To be on the safe side, the Italian leather shoes and the silk shirt he had purchased to wear with the suit would also have to go.

He had already lost Estelle Meredith. He couldn’t help but wonder how much more his failed quest for love would cost him before the real killer was found and charged.

He dropped into the station reception to speak to Bill Beard, whom he dragged from his immersion in The Mirror to check on the situation vis-à-vis Nigel’s apartment. ‘So what’s been found at this Blythe’s home?’ he asked Bill’s bent head. ‘Anything useful?’

Beard looked up from his newspaper for long enough to say, ‘Haven’t despatched anyone yet. I’m waiting for a couple of the lads to be freed up from the murder scene. You know how short-staffed we are.’

Rafferty nodded. ‘I’ve got to go out. Just got a call from one of my snouts,’ he confided.

Beard, who had returned to his Mirror crossword, just grunted.

‘If anyone asks for me tell then I’ll be back in an hour.’ Or two. ‘Bill? Are you listening, or what?’

‘Both.’ Beard raised his head from his paper for a moment. ‘I’m listening and or what-ing. Hang on a mo,’ he added as Rafferty made to leave. Beard’s finger traced a line of print in the paper. ‘Thirteen down—enclosed place, four letters. Begins with ‘c’?’

To Rafferty, in the frame for murder, the answer came —too-readily to mind. ‘Cell,’ he said, with feeling. He only hoped he could avoid entering the answer to thirteen down.

***

* * * *

AS SOON AS HE HAD DROPPED his Ma back home after they had ‘discovered’ the burglary, Rafferty stopped at a phone-box. He had told Ma he would report the burglary, but he hadn’t thought his plan through to this aspect. Now, of course, he realised that reporting the burglary was the last thing he should do. It would be extremely unwise.

This thinking on the hoof was a tricky business, he discovered. No wonder killers who murdered in an unpremeditated way so often got caught. There was no way he could afford to have his name connected with Jerry’s. But amongst his many cousins there were a few more naturally obliging than others. Terry Tierney for one. Fortunately Terry was at home and ready to oblige—for a consideration.

Once he had organised the burglary and the reporting of same, Rafferty had some minutes’ leisure to think back on how he had managed to land himself in such a mess. Like most of the little problems of life that seemed to land in his lap, he had found it simplicity itself.