Death Trap (12 page)

‘I wanted to visit Mrs Mackintosh,' Kate said, ‘Is she at home?'

‘You know her?'

‘I've met her husband, and her son Ben,' Kate said firmly, though she was stretching the truth somewhat. ‘I heard what happened.'

‘You met Ben?' The bearded man hesitated for a moment before opening the door and beckoning her through. ‘Perhaps you best come in. I take you up.' And he led her quickly through the chaos of cleaning and restoration, through the kitchen behind the cafe itself and up a narrow flight of stairs to the first floor.

‘I am Abraham Righton,' he flung over his shoulder as they reached the top. ‘I am Nelson's friend from Jamaica and I'm going to run the cafe for him and Mrs Evelina Mackintosh till Nelson come home again.' He pushed open a door at the top of the stairs.

‘Evelina, there someone here to see you. She say she has seen Ben.'

Kate was surprised to see the eyes of the woman slumped on the sofa light up at this introduction. Whatever the police had done to the flat above the cafe, the place was now neat and tidy and in perfect order. Kate guessed that the people working downstairs had begun by restoring the living quarters upstairs so that the family could get back to some sort of normality. Evelina Mackintosh seized Kate's arm as she approached and introduced herself.

‘You seen him? You seen Benjamin?' she asked. ‘You seen him where? He hasn't been home since Saturday night. I thought the police had taken him too but Mr Manley our lawyer say not. He asked at the police station for him and he's not there. I don't know where he is or what he's doing and I am crazy with worry about him.'

‘I haven't seen him myself, but I know he was at school this morning,' Kate said. ‘His English teacher is a friend of mine, we share a flat, and she says he gave her a sort of essay. I'm sure she didn't realise that he hadn't been home or she would have let you know.' She had brought Ben's essay with her and now she pulled it out of her bag and handed it to his mother.

Evelina glanced at it and nodded. ‘He was in his room on Saturday and just said he was writing. I thought he was doing homework so I was happy. I thought he wanted to please his father when he come home. Then he went out and he's not been back. I don't know where he's staying or who he's staying with.'

‘I don't think he can concentrate on his school work just now,' Kate said. ‘He came round to see my friend on Sunday night. He was waiting outside the house for her, and then he gave her this in school this morning. Did he not come home when school finished?'

Evelina shook her head and glanced briefly at what Ben had written. ‘No,' she said dully. ‘What did his teacher say to him? I think he thought maybe she would be able to help. I know he likes her.'

Kate shook her head. ‘I don't think there's anything she can do. The school won't think it right to get involved. It would be better to give that to your lawyer, I think. He'll know what to do with it.'

‘That might help Nelson,' Evelina said. ‘But it won't bring Ben back. Where is he? Where is he sleeping? How can he leave me like this? He is a wicked boy.'

‘Do you have a photograph of Ben?' Kate asked. ‘I'm a photographer and I might be able to get his picture into the newspapers so that people round here would look for him. That might help.'

Evelina shook her head, her eyes full of tears, obviously close to despair. ‘The good Lord has abandoned me,' she said. ‘They are going to keep Nelson in jail for a week. He went to the court this morning. What have I done to deserve it?'

Kate sat down beside Evelina on the sofa and put a hand on her arm. ‘I'm sorry for your trouble, Mrs Mackintosh,' she said.

Evelina got up slowly, moving like a woman much older than she looked and went to a sideboard on the other side of the room. She rummaged inside for a moment and then came back with a black and white snapshot of the boy Kate had met outside her house.

‘That should print quite well,' she said. ‘And I'll take some pictures of the cafe and perhaps I could take one of you and Ben's brother. Is he here?'

Evelina hesitated for a moment and then went to a door on the other side of the room and opened it. ‘Joseph,' she said. ‘Come here and have your photograph taken. This is Miss O'Donnell who is going to help find Ben.'

A boy of about eleven, anxious looking and with dark circles under his eyes came out of the room and stood uncertainly by his mother.

Kate took several shots of the two of them and then stowed her camera away again. ‘I work for a picture agency in Soho,' she said. ‘I'll talk to my boss in the morning about getting something in the evening papers tomorrow if you agree that might help. Have you no idea where Ben might have gone?'

Evelina shook her head. ‘We have tried to bring our boys up properly,' she said. ‘My husband is an outspoken man who wants our people to do well in this country and not get involved in the crime that so many do. There is a lot of vice out there on the street and Nelson has spoken out against that. That does not make him popular with a lot of people. There are people who will be pleased to see him in trouble. There are policemen who have been looking to see him in trouble for a long time. Nelson say that there are some police who are more with the criminals than against them. That makes him enemies.' She shrugged helplessly. ‘If you can help, we will be very grateful,' she said.

On her way back through the cafe, where Nelson Mackintosh's friends were still busily at work under the direction of Abraham Righton, Kate found herself face to face with a newcomer, a West Indian in a smart grey suit, with a self-confident air and a bulging briefcase.

‘This is Mr Robert Manley, Nelson's solicitor,' Abraham said over his shoulder, barely turning away from the broken chair he was mending.

Manley looked at Kate quizzically. ‘And you are?' he asked.

She explained her reason for coming to see Mrs Mackintosh. ‘It's possible I can get some publicity to help find Ben,' she said. ‘He seems to have run away.'

‘He was very upset by what happened on Saturday morning,' Manley said. ‘You say you have some sort of description of the police raid. Could you let me see that? It might be useful when Nelson comes to court.'

Kate fished Ben's description out of her bag again and gave it to the lawyer. ‘Is this sort of thing normal round here?' she asked.

Manley smiled grimly. ‘Oh yes,' he said. ‘Quite normal. The police in Notting Hill have been trying to pin something on Nelson for a long time. He's much too uppity for their liking. They don't go as far as blowing people up round here, like they do in Alabama, but they certainly believe black folk should know their place. They don't want a repeat of the riots of fifty-eight, and some of them think the best way to ensure that is to ensure the black residents don't irritate the white thugs who are still just waiting for an opportunity to go nigger-hunting. It's a powder keg waiting for a spark, Miss O'Donnell. And if I don't get Nelson off this ridiculous charge, it may blow up in ways they don't expect. I hope you can help Evelina find Ben. That is a complication she can well do without.'

T
he following day Kate had strap-hung on a crowded Central Line tube from Tottenham Court Road to Notting Hill Gate after a frustrating day at work. She had been greeted as soon as she went into the office by a slightly flushed Ken Fellows and her first thought was that she had made some mistake she didn't know about. Fellows was volatile and there had been no sign of the encouragement he had given her only the previous day.

‘Have you heard the news?' he had asked her, beckoning her into his cluttered office.

Kate must have looked blank because he came back irascibly.

‘I thought you were keeping on top of these Liverpool bands,' he said. ‘The Beatles are topping the bill at the London Palladium next month. They'll be on TV, the lot. Have you got anywhere with fresh pics? Anything new?'

Kate had shaken her head. ‘I discovered their publicity man in Monmouth Street, but he says Brian Epstein controls the pictures of the boys. They're hardly ever available anyway any more. They've been touring and recording non-stop all summer. And Cynthia's in Liverpool with baby Julian. She's living with John's auntie because John's away so much. I could go up there again and see if I could persuade her to let me take pictures of her and the baby, if you like.'

Fellows had shaken his head. ‘No,' he said. ‘Never mind Liverpool. We'll stick with the band. You were obviously dead right in thinking they were going to be huge. Is there any other group we should be watching as well? What about that boyfriend of yours? Is he going to be massive too?'

Kate had shrugged and laughed. ‘Dave Donovan's not my boyfriend. He'd like to think he's going to hit the big time but I very much doubt it. Anyway you've got those pics I took of them in the spring on file if they suddenly do strike it lucky.'

‘Well, get onto the TV people and make sure we're included in any photocalls at the Palladium. There's bound to be a lot of screaming girls around on the night, too. October thirteenth, so keep it free. It's all yours.'

‘Thanks,' Kate had said, feeling that after all she had gained a little respect rather than mere toleration from her boss. Perhaps at last her suspicious male colleagues would begin to take her seriously too. Not that they showed much sign of it later that morning as they took themselves off in their usual bunch for what she assumed was a liquid lunch to which she was never invited. Hungry and thirsty she had shrugged herself into her duffel coat and strolled up Frith Street to the Blue Lagoon where she found her flatmate Marie looking hot and harassed and surrounded by steam from the hissing coffee machine as the lunchtime crowd of young people flocked in. Almost inevitably now, the Beatles blared from the jukebox and she smiled faintly in satisfaction. The Mersey Beat, she thought, really was about to sweep all before it and in her book that was great news. She had ordered a coffee and a sandwich which Marie handed over with little more than a cursory nod as she brushed her unruly red hair from her eyes and carried them to a seat close by the window from where she could watch the busy street. But almost before she had taken her first bite, her heart thudded slightly as she recognised a familiar figure outside and realised that he had also seen her, hesitated and then turned sharply towards the door.

Detective Sergeant Harry Barnard, in camel coat and brown trilby jauntily pushed to the back of his head, flashed her a brilliant smile and grabbed a chair from another table so that he could join her.

‘How's things?' he had asked lazily, irritating Kate without really trying. ‘Do you always have lunch here all on your ownsome?'

‘Usually,' Kate had admitted, not wanting to discuss her non-relationship with her contemptuous colleagues. ‘I like to see Marie when I can.' She sipped her coffee thoughtfully, wondering how much more she wanted to tell Barnard about Nelson Mackintosh's situation and then realised that he was taking her silence for something else.

‘I'm really sorry about what happened with Devine the other night,' he had said. ‘I won't make that mistake again.'

‘It wasn't your fault,' she said. ‘You couldn't have known he would react like that.'

‘He's well known for chasing the ladies,' Barnard said ruefully. ‘I should have guessed he'd like the look of you.'

Kate couldn't help smiling. ‘Not the only one, is he?' she said. ‘I suppose I should be flattered.' She hesitated again and then decided to take the plunge. ‘Nelson Mackintosh,' she said. ‘Your colleagues in Notting Hill seem determined to pin this murder on him and they don't seem to care what methods they use to nail him. His family say he's been beaten up, and his home and the cafe have certainly been trashed. I've seen that for myself. Is that what usually goes on down there? Can they just pick someone up and decide they're guilty without any evidence at all?'

‘Whoa, whoa,' Barnard had said quietly, glancing round at the other tables, whose occupants seemed oblivious to their conversation. ‘You don't ever take advice, do you? I told you to steer clear of all that. It's really not something you should get involved in.'

‘I am involved,' Kate had said, her face closing against him. ‘I like the man, and Tess is worried about his son who seems to have disappeared. And his wife is going frantic. I wondered if you could find out what's going on for me. Make a few inquiries? All his wife knows is that he's been charged with having drugs at the cafe and been remanded for a week.'

‘Has he got a brief?' Barnard had asked. ‘He must have a lawyer.'

‘He's got one,' Kate said. ‘Someone called Robert Manley.'

‘I've heard of him. He's got form for defending blacks, so he should be looked after. If it really is the murder they're investigating, the drugs charge may just be so that they can hold him while they continue their inquiries, but if he's remanded in custody his lawyer and family will be able to go to see him. There's really nothing more that I can find out for you. By the next time he's taken to court there'll either be other charges or not.'

‘And what about what's been going on in the police station? They were beating him up, according to his family, before they even got him there. You know I don't have much faith in the police after what happened with my brother.' Barnard had glanced away and did not reply.

‘Are you saying that was a one off?' Kate pressed him. ‘All the other bizzies in London are pure as the driven snow?'

‘If I said yes you wouldn't believe me, would you?' Barnard had asked, with little sign of embarrassment.

‘No, but taking an innocent man and accusing him of murder is about as bad as it gets in my book. And that's what I think is happening to Nelson. Even worse it's probably because he's West Indian. You know there's no love lost there.'