Chapter Sixteen
Sixteen
It was one of those days when clouds passed over quickly.
Sun, clouds, sun, clouds. Carol gave Jim a nod and sat beside him on the bench.
She could feel the fear her arrival had brought about in the other players.
Better to keep a distance. She was looking forward to a time when she didn’t terrify nearly everyone she crossed paths with but, for now, she could live without playing croquet. It looked like a stupid game.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” said Carol.
“ ’Course I remember you, babe. Been wondering if you was gonna say hello.”
Jim spoke with a wide boy London accent. Cocky. He was still as handsome as ever, maybe more so. Dressed in a Ralph Lauren cardigan, slacks, and moccasins, he looked ready for a yacht. All he was missing was a pipe.
“You could’ve said hello first.”
“Didn’t want you getting a bad rep. Hanging around with the likes of me.”
Deep-voiced and broad-shouldered, Jim had an easy charm.
The confidence of a man who was used to being the strongest person in the room.
The ladies who hovered around him looked, to Carol, like groupies.
Sometimes she got the sense that rather a lot of sex was being had at Sheldon Oaks and that Jim was having most of it.
She certainly hadn’t had a use for the complimentary condoms she’d found in her bedside drawer.
The gentle breeze sent his fragrance her way. “That’s a nice perfume, Jim,” said Carol.
“It’s Antonio Banderas. He’s an actor but he makes perfumes on the side. You’ve to have a backup in that trade. You gonna join us for a game of croquet? I can teach you the rules, if you like.”
“I think I’ll watch if that’s all right,” said Carol. “We can catch up when you’re finished.”
—
Giles jogged through the entrance, presumably returning from a run on the Heath, mud all over his calves. Carol felt like she saw him running every day. Always either running or on edge, stressing about something. Those were the only two things that those sorts of men ever did: jog and stress.
She closed her eyes. The gentle knocking sound of mallets hitting balls was oddly tranquilizing. That’s what had been missing. Noise. It was so quiet here. Prison was a noisy place. Creaking pipes, slamming doors, the constant yells of inmates.
Something occurred to her, and her eyes snapped open. Her eyesight wasn’t what it used to be, but, from where she was, she could just about see that Tyler was hammering with his right hand.
“I thought you’d retired.” Jim sat next to her on the bench. He waved goodbye to his friends. “See you tomorrow.”
“I have,” said Carol. “Did you win?”
“It’s not really a winning game the way we play it. Just knocking some balls about.” He touched her knee with his. “Everyone thinks you did Crisp.”
“I don’t kill anymore. Do you?”
“Not in a loooong time, babes. I like croquet now.”
Carol thought back to the first time they’d met, in Epping Forest. “Did I ever thank you?”
“Didn’t need to. I was only doing what any gentleman who was raised right would do. Can’t let a lady dig a hole on her own. I never asked you. Why d’you kill that bloke?”
“He kicked a dog.”
Jim looked straight ahead and nodded his approval. “Too right.”
“What about yours?” asked Carol.
“What, that body? On that day? Don’t remember.”
“Do you miss it?” asked Carol.
“What? Murder? No. See, that’s why you and me was different. It was only ever a part of the job for me. I’d’ve never killed anyone if I didn’t have to. You do it for the love.”
“Did it.”
Jim smiled. “If you say so. And if you did do Des, I don’t care. This place is full of busies. I’m not getting involved.”
“You might have to be.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Or maybe you already are.”
“Spit it out, babes.”
Time for Carol to admit that she hadn’t come to watch the croquet. “I heard you had a big row with Desmond. What was that about?”
“Suspect, am I?”
“They’re all after me. If I don’t find the killer, I’ll be back in Bronzefield by the end of the week.”
“Wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Women’s prison always looked like fun to me. All netball and knitting. You wanna try Wandsworth.”
“I’m done with it, Jim. I’ve just discovered Americanos.
There’s a sauna here, karaoke night…I had a butternut squash risotto for dinner last night.
A butternut squash risotto, Jim! Went into the village, found a nice little restaurant, looked at the menu, and ordered myself a butternut squash risotto. ”
“How was it?”
“All right. Should have had the chicken, but the point is that I could. I’m not going back. So, this fight with Desmond. What was it about?”
Jim looked into the middle distance. “Old stuff.”
“What old stuff? You did a stretch, didn’t you? He the one who caught you?”
“No. Wouldn’t care if he did. That was his job. Cops and robbers, innit? Nah, this was about a debt he never paid.”
“What debt?” Carol was enjoying her new role of interrogator.
“I can’t be telling you that. That was business between me and him. It gets out and I’m dead too. You’re all right, I trust you, babes, but I can’t risk it.”
Huh. Carol sat there, pondering the situation. She knew Jim wouldn’t budge. No point trying. She’d have to find out the truth another way.
“I guess I’ll just have to ask you where you were when he died, then.”
“What time did he die then? I ain’t got a clue.”
“Three fifteen p.m.”
“Three fifteen p.m.” Jim searched his mind. “Oh. Easy. I’d have been in my place, watching Escape to the Country.”
“Anyone who can verify that for you?”
“Sorry, love. It was a good one. Surrey couple, I think. Looking for a property in Scotland.”
“Did they buy anything?”
“Nope. They never fucking do.”
And with that, Jim got up and headed back toward the building, swinging his croquet mallet in his left hand.