Chapter Twenty-Five

RICHARD waited until nearly twenty past nine on the agreed Wednesday when he had arranged to meet Clive Cramner, but there was no sign of him and Richard began to think that Cramner had taken him for a ride and that he would avoid meeting him regardless of the anxiety that Richard thought he had instilled into him. After all, Cramner could have thought Richard to be the police, even when he had told Cramner that he wasn’t. Who believes who these days, he thought as he decided to return to Fiona’s flat and call it a day of defeat, but hardly had he decided to do that, when he heard a shuffling noise coming from a shop doorway nearby.

“Is your name Bright?” a voice asked and Richard stopped sharply in his tracks. He turned to face the person who had spoken to him to discover that the man looked much younger than he had thought he might be from the time when he had spoken to him on the telephone.

“Yes... Are you Clive Cramner?”

The man stood still without answering for a few moments and then he came closer to where Richard was standing.

“I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, mate, but I only know Maya Thompson from one of her other acquaintances and I don’t know her that well, so what do you want?” he said and Richard stood back thinking for a moment that Cramner was going to hit him; he was so aggressive in his manner.

“I just wanted to know more about your friendship with Maya, as she was a very good friend of mine too,” said Richard and Cramner raised his eyebrows at Richard’s statement.

“You say was a good friend...”Cramner looked closely into Richard’s face as he spoke. “Don’t know quite what you mean by that,” he went on and Richard stood back even further away as Cramner’s eyes were blazing.

“Maya is dead, Mr. Cramner... I thought you would have known that,” said Richard... and Cramner gasped.

“Dead... Dead, did you say, but how... She wasn’t attacked was she?”

Richard was surprised to hear what Cramner said, but things were beginning to form a better picture in his mind by this time as he spoke to Cramner again.

“Why did you ask me if she had been attacked? She could have died from natural causes, couldn’t she?”

Cramner rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb.

“Well, let’s face it... That dame wasn’t very natural in what she did for a living, was she?” he asked and Richard became very angry.

“She was a photographer... So what’s wrong with that?” Richard screamed but Cramner only laughed.

“Maya Thompson was a high class prostitute. Surely if you knew her as you say you did, you must have known that... Were you one of her clients too?”

Richard stood rigid with anger... he was furious at what Cramner had said and could so easily have hit him for his remarks, but Cramner continued. “Best of British was that one... and very obliging too. I’ve seen her with four men at a time and...”but before Cramner could finish his sentence, Richard had left him lying on the ground and he walked away from a pool of thick blood that gathered around Cramner’s head...

***

Fiona was waiting for Richard when he arrived home and she noted immediately how agitated he seemed to be, especially when he asked her if she had any brSandy in the flat.

“BrSandy... yes, of course I have some brSandy and whisky too if you want some, but I thought you didn’t touch spirits?”

Richard looked at her with glazed eyes.

“I feel a... l... l... l... l... little un... un... under the weather,” he said and she went towards him as he staggered and fell into a chair by the fireside.

“Richard... for God’s sake what’s wrong. Are you feeling ill? Can I do something to help you?... Yes, I’ll get the brSandy straight away. Just sit there. Don’t try to move.”

Richard mopped his brow with his handkerchief when Fiona went for the brSandy. His hands were trembling and he was afraid to speak... his stammer had returned.

“You are trembling, Richard, “Fiona cried as she brought the brSandy into the lounge and Richard gulped the liquid down in one swallow

“I’m alright, really I am just a little... sh... sh... sh... shaken up as a cyclist nearly knocked me... d... d... d... d... down when I was on my way back here. I’ll be alright in the morning.”

Fiona studied him with care in her eyes

“Look!” she called out, “you have blood on your shoes. Are you sure you’re alright, Richard?”

Richard had to think quickly on this one and assured her that it was only a simple nose bleed, before he retired to bed.

The following morning when he read the newspaper, there was nothing about the incident of the night before, but just as he was folding the paper to put it away, it was announced on the T.V. news that a man had been mugged the night before, outside a public house in Mansfield House. It could have been an accident, the police informed the public on the news, as the man could have been drunk when it happened. He was known to have been drinking before the event...

Richard felt just as he had done when he first thought he had murdered Barnes only this time the fact was for real and he had killed Clive Cramner... he was the last person to see him alive from the time the police gave out on the news... There was no mistake about that this time and yet be began to feel a strength over what he had done; a feeling of well being. The man deserved to die and Richard Bright was just the right person to do it... he told himself as he settled down to eat his corn flakes, but later that day when he looked at his hands and felt sure he would have difficulty in playing the violin, he found it was quite to the contrary and he played with an assurance that he hadn’t felt for ages... well, not since Maya had died.

It was time now to move on and concentrate on what he would be doing at the Royal College in August, as he took out the little book again and turned to the alphabetical page of C... It read C. Cranham... and that was the only name on that page. Quickly he ruled a thick black line through the name and closed the book. There was a deliberate look in his eye, but two days later he studied the little book again; this time with renewed curiosity and he opened it at a random page... where he read R for Reynolds, with even more detail as it gave a Christian name and read, Ronald Reynolds. His mind was blank for a moment until he could bring back the memory of the night before when he had met Clive Cramner...

“Good afternoon, is that Mr. Reynolds, Mr. Ronald Reynolds?”

“Yes, why... who is calling?”

“Oh! You don’t know me, but I’m phoning on behalf of Mrs. Maya Thompson. She was concerned about not seeing you for some time and she asked me to enquire as to how you were.”

There was a long silence on the phone before the caller spoke again.

“I don’t know who the bleedin’ ’ell you are, but I asked Maya never to call me on this number, so now if you don’t mind, I’d rather you rang up.”

Richard studied the mouthpiece of the phone with a cynical grin on his face before a sad look came into his eyes

“No, I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Sir,” he continued, ignoring the suggestion or demand that he should get off the phone... “You see, Maya is rather concerned about you not meeting her as you have done and that is why she asked me to contact you.”

“I don’t know you. What d’ya bloody want?”

“Well if we could meet somewhere, I could explain, but it is difficult on the telephone and besides, Mrs. Reynolds might wonder who you’re talking to. Mightn’t she?” Richard teased with anger, but his voice was calm. There was a further prolonged silence before Mr. Reynolds spoke again

“Where can we meet?” he said and his voice was hoarse as if he needed to clear his throat of phlegm

Richard arranged for the meeting outside ’The Lamb’ public house in Holbright at a certain time and Mr. Reynolds reluctantly agreed to meet him, whereas he put the phone down and wrapped a Michael knife in a thick piece of leather to form a scabbard, before he reached for his violin.

Reynolds was ten minutes late, but Richard wasn’t worried about waiting that length of time.

“Mr. Reynolds?” asked Richard as he observed the man looking very furtive outside ‘The Lamb.’

“Yes, now tell me what ya want and let’s get on wiff it. I don’t know how ya got to know me and I’m sure I never told that Maya gel that I was married... nor did I give ‘er my phone number, so what’s it all about, eh?”

Richard looked innocently into the eyes of the man who had just spoken to him.

“I think Maya thought you were in love with her, Mr. Reynolds and I’m sure she never knew you had a wife... well a wife who you cared for... otherwise she wouldn’t have felt that way... would she?”

Reynolds shuffled where he stood and blew his nose loudly into an immaculate handkerchief that he suddenly produced from the top pocket of his jacket

“I don’t know where she got this ‘LOVE’ fing you’re talking about. There wasn’t no love. She was just a bit on the side when me wife had her bleedin’

‘eadaches, that’s all... I mean, a guy don’t get involved wiff a tart like... .”

But in that instant and before anything else could be said... or heard... Richard calmly walked away from Ronald Reynolds, Esq., but not before he wiped the blade of his Michael knife on the... by now not so immaculate handkerchief that Reynolds had produced from his jacket pocket...

“You see,” he told himself with a muffled laugh... “The jugular is always the best bet.”