Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(96)

‘We need to make sure you’re not missing any clothes, any children’s outfits.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes. No one but the police will be coming in here today. Don’t bother to put the closed sign up, just come with me, we won’t be long.’

She followed him down into the stock room at the back. Boxes were packed on shelves and on the floor. There was a toilet, and a kettle on a tray on a draining board.

‘Christ, it’s freezing out here,’ Raymonds complained. He switched the overhead electric fan heater on.

‘Well, I don’t have to keep the clothes above a certain temperature, they are perfectly okay as they are.’ Mary-Jane kept an eye on the shop as she hovered. ‘I haven’t seen you since London.’ She turned back to him.

‘All this commotion going on – I’m finding it hard to take five minutes, plus Eileen is becoming more demanding by the day.’

‘Eileen, Eileen, that’s all I ever hear. I’ve wasted a good part of my prime waiting for you.’

‘Not wasted.’ Raymonds looped his arm around her waist and drew her to him. She was melting a little; he saw it in her eyes. ‘I could hug you so hard that you wouldn’t be able to breathe and you’d pass out in my arms – carry you off to bed, or take you here between the boxes.’

She laughed, breathless as Raymonds lifted her skirt. He stopped and looked across at three bags on the floor.

‘What are you doing with Marky’s stock over here? Those bags are from his shop.’

‘Jago brought them over, asked me to keep them for Marky. I don’t mind. I don’t know what’s in them, they’ve put a padlock on them. Special stock to bring out at the beginning of the season, apparently.’

Raymonds walked across, picked up one of the bags and weighed it in his hand, and then he rested it on a box.

‘Give me a knife.’

‘You can’t cut it open, for goodness’ sake, that’s a perfectly good bag. It’s none of our business.’

‘Pass me that knife, now.’

She passed him one from the draining board. He slit the stitching next to the zip and pulled the bag open, snapping the stitches. He reached in and pulled out a bag of white powder.

‘I will fucking kill them.’





Chapter 42


‘Mrs Raymonds, is your husband about?’ asked Willis.

‘No, he’s gone out.’

Carter took a step back from the doorstep and looked towards the garage.

‘Has he driven?’

‘Yes, I expect so.’

‘Any idea where he went?’ Eileen Raymonds had the shakes, badly.

‘Are you all right, Mrs Raymonds, can we assist you?’ asked Willis.

‘The door has come off the cupboard – it’s so heavy, I can’t lift it. It fell on me.’

‘We can help,’ said Willis. ‘Can you find me a screwdriver?’

Eileen looked nervous but then nodded and stood back to let them in. She went off to find a screwdriver kit and came back and handed it to Carter. He handed it straight over to Willis.

‘Ebony’s my apprentice.’ He winked at Eileen.

‘Yeah . . . taught me all he knows,’ Willis joked, ‘then I had to start from scratch with someone who actually knew something about DIY.’

Eileen smiled.

‘Please, Mrs Raymonds, sit down.’ Carter eased her into the kitchen chair while Willis propped a small stool under the drooping door. Carter sat down opposite Eileen while Willis set about mending the cupboard.

‘We were told that you were a nurse at one time in your life?’

‘Yes. A long time ago now.’

‘Was there ever a hospital here in Penhal?’

‘No, I was a district nurse mainly but before that I worked in Penhaligon.’

‘This house keeps you busy and I suppose now that Mr Raymonds has retired – there’s probably plenty to do here?’ Eileen didn’t answer. Willis glanced over at Carter and was wondering if he was going to give any examples of things to do – she was amused to hear what they’d be. Once when they were working on a job Ebony had tried to engage Carter in a game of Scrabble but he was hopeless and even lost when he cheated; she’d found four vowels under the seat after he left.

‘I’m staying at the Penhal,’ he said, ‘and Ebony here is staying at Kellis House.’

‘The Penhal Hotel is nice.’

‘I haven’t seen you in the bar yet,’ Carter joked.

‘Oh my word, no, that’s more for the men here. I’ve got better things to do than drink all evening.’

Again, Willis was all ears, wondering what she was going to say.

‘Ebony, how is it over at Kellis House?’ he asked.

Eileen seemed to perk up and be interested to hear the answer. She turned in her chair and watched Willis tightening the screws on the hinge.

‘It’s not my cup of tea.’

‘It wouldn’t be mine either,’ Eileen said, suddenly quite keen to talk. ‘I only went in there the once but I thought it very dour.’

‘It is; it’s dark and heavy and the opposite of what you’d want on holiday I’d have thought – and yet it was always booked up, apparently.’