Rayne hurtled skilfully round the curve in the road and skidded to a halt, almost falling off his bike in amazement at the unexpected sight that met him. Below the embankment a Black Maria was parked and a small crowd had gathered close by. Rayne sped down the road, his feet pedalling so fast they were almost a blur. A few feet from the Black Maria he slowed and dismounted to walk the rest of the way, eyes avidly searching for the focus of yet another impending rumpus. What a bonus! His mother having taken the bus into town for a shopping expedition, he had managed to escape the perimeter of the house. And now here he was, witness to yet another hullabaloo. This summer was breeding eye-openers left, right and centre and turning out to be the most eventful ever.
Spotting Lenny and his two cousins, Jack and Terry, amongst the throng, Rayne parked his bike in the gutter and went to join them.
“What’s going on?” he asked, gazing at the embankment where several police officers were making their way up, including what looked like two in plain clothes. Detectives. Ooooh. “Don’t know, really. Unless they’ve found Jimmy up there.”
There was an expectant silence as the assembled onlookers waited for developments. Just as a few low murmurings of speculation began to infuse the spectators, the officers reappeared at the top and began to make their descent – with Billy Dix in tow. He was shackled with handcuffs and an officer on either side of him had a firm hold on his filthy rags as they guided him down. A big Alsatian at Billy’s rear had a perfect set of vicious-looking bared teeth. It seemed ready to sink them into Billy’s backside on a single word from his handler. Not a tasty treat, thought Rayne.
A uniformed officer started to move the small crowd back and out of the way, gently pushing as he cautioned those gathered, mostly children.
“What’s he done?” somebody shouted.
None of the policemen answered, and the officer on crowd control became a bit more assertive with the onlookers as the prisoner was led to the Black Maria. Mention of Susan Lecky and the word murder had Rayne exchanging puzzled looks with Lenny and he said, “Susan Lecky drowned in the caves when the tide came in. Grandpa said so. He read it in the paper. So why are they arresting Billy Dix?”
“I don’t know anymore than you. Perhaps he drowned her.”
They all watched in silence as Billy was bundled into the back of the Black Maria. His face had the frightened look of a trapped animal as he stared out of the rear window, his eyes wide as saucers and the whites looking bright in the midst of the surrounding dirt. Just as the van moved off he picked out Rayne’s face, seemed to recognize him and began to mouth something frantic at him.
“What was all that about?” Lenny said. “He was looking right at you.”
Utterly confused, Rayne absently replied, “I don’t know, really I don’t. Something about the Angel.
*
“Coo-eee. It’s only me, Miss Mullond,” Rita Blackney called as she slipped in through the back door. She paused in the gloomy back passage leading to the kitchen and waited for a response. It wasn’t one of her days to call and she felt a little awkward, her heart beating a little military tattoo as she inwardly went over her story yet again. After worrying herself silly thinking the police might call on Miss Mullond, she had decided it would be best if she got her version in first and safeguard her job.
Amelia Mullond suddenly appeared at the end of the narrow passage, her corpulent outline almost filling the space. Rita approached her slowly, smiling speciously and trying not to appear nervous. When Amelia inclined her head enquiringly, Rita braced herself and promptly took charge of the situation. “Let’s go into the kitchen. I think you’re going to need a cup of tea.”
Amelia turned and plodded her way to the old pine kitchen table where she halted and then remained standing. The brightness of the immaculately kept kitchen after the gloom of the passageway was dazzling. The crumbling exterior of the house bore no relation to its interior as Amelia, when she wasn’t tending the dogs, was continually cleaning it. One of Rita’s chores was given over to bringing an endless supply of pots of paint, the colours chosen from old paint cards. But Rita knew the shades by heart now, since Amelia always kept to the same ones as she painted each room in strict rotation on an annual turnaround.
Rita turned her back on Amelia and set about filling the kettle.
“I don’t want tea. I’ve just washed up.”
Several dogs were milling around Rita’s ankles, which she always found disconcerting. On occasion, when Miss Mullond was elsewhere, she had dealt with them by throwing a few barks of her own and once or twice a well-aimed crafty kick. For the most part they were quite friendly, none of them vicious. But there were just so many of them and she really hated it when they licked her legs.
“Right you are then. Let’s sit down shall we?” Rita withdrew a chair from the table but was prevented from sitting in it when Miss Mullond shook her head.
“No. I don’t want to sit down. It’s not Monday or Thursday. What do you want?”
Rita was a little put out; this wasn’t going quite the way she had planned. She should have expected it, of course. Amelia Mullond adhered to a strict routine and if anything upset it she could get quite crotchety.
Just say it the way you rehearsed it. “The thing is the police have taken Billy Dix in for questioning.” She had almost said arrested. That would have been fatal! “Only, he’s got Susan Lecky’s pink cardie you see. You remember – that little girl that drowned in the middle cave on the beach.” Rita paused, waiting to see which way the wind would blow. For the moment Miss Mullond remained still, merely blinking in the information.
After several tense moments Amelia said, “Go to the police station and tell them to let Billy Dix go.”
“Oh dear. I don’t think that’ll cut any mustard. They’ll want to know how he’s come by it, you see.”
“He picked it up off the beach.” This was said more as a statement of fact than speculation.
“You go and tell them that.”
Rita was swallowing so hard that she felt as if her throat were ballooning. “I can’t very well do that, Miss Mullond. I don’t know how he got it.”
“How did they know he’d got it? Who told them?”
This was what Rita had been dreading. “It was seen in his hut … Er, as a matter of fact I saw the cardie when I dropped off his food box the other day.” She was rushing to get it out now. “I only mentioned it to the constable in passing; I never thought they’d take it so seriously. Only, you see they couldn’t quite work out why it was missing in the first place. If it was an accident that she drowned, I mean. You know, by herself with no one else about. Everyone was asked to be on the lookout for it. You do see, don’t you?”
“Go down to the station and tell them you were wrong.”
Rita inadvertently sighed in exasperation. “I can’t do that. It would be a lie. Besides, it wouldn’t make any difference now that they’ve found it in his place.”
“You shouldn’t have told them. Billy Dix wouldn’t hurt anyone. He got hurt. He doesn’t hurt others. He shouts a bit but he can’t help it. He didn’t hurt that little girl. He takes care of the beach, picks up after the dogs. He’ll be frightened. Go stand outside the police station. Then let me know as soon as they let him go. If they don’t let him go come and tell me. You’d better go right now.”
This was the longest speech Rita had ever heard from Miss Mullond. “But it could be hours,” she whined.
Wearing a bland expression Amelia strode off out of the kitchen, leaving Rita more than a little flummoxed. She wasn’t sure whether she was expected to wait or go home and she moved around the table in a mystified haze. But a minute or so later Amelia returned, chequebook in hand and demanded, “How much do you want?”
Well, now. That’s more like it. “Like I said, it could be hours really. I mean, how long do you want me to wait before reporting back if they don’t let him go?”
“How long can they keep him?”
Rita shrugged helplessly and shook her head. She knew nothing about police procedures. Amelia, ponderously shaking her pen, was unknowingly shedding ink on the pristine floor. Finally she turned her ferocious glare on Rita’s expectant face. “Wait there twenty-four hours.”
How ridiculous! She would do no such thing. All she would need to do was keep her ear to the ground. Either way she would hear soon enough if Billy Dix was charged or set free. Nevertheless, she wasn’t about to let the chance of extra money slip by. “If you say so. Shall we say er, thirty-pounds?”
Amelia immediately began to write out the cheque. After signing it she wafted it about to allow the ink to dry and then thrust it into Rita’s hand. “Go now. Hurry. I’ll expect you back at three-thirty tomorrow, or earlier,” she said, glancing at the old wall clock, which had just cuckooed three discordant chirps.
“Right you are, Miss Mullond.” Rita tried hard to hide her delight as she pocketed the cheque. A self-satisfied smirk crept across the corners of her mouth as she turned on her heel and set off down the dark passage.
Outside once more she deeply inhaled the fresh air, relieved to be free of the pungent-smelling cleaning solvents. A triumphant grin spread to reveal her crooked teeth, though it faltered slightly when she realized she could have asked for a much larger sum if only she had had her wits about her.