Page 51 of Coming Home
26
Caspar
Nature Trail car park, Appleton
Under the circumstances it wasn’t the ideal meeting place but there was no way he wasn’t going to agree when Carmen had texted him. The word that came to mind when he read her message was ‘bingo’. Even though it was slightly cryptic he knew exactly what her text meant although her choice of venue could have been better. Coincidence, that’s all it was. And it looked like he’d got away with killing the nutter who’d run into the road.
From what he’d heard on the local news, the police were following a number of lines of enquiry and one of his colleagues had insinuated that the dead man was a bit of a rogue and probably had gangland connections. That’s why he was meeting in a remote car park. He’d even suggested the killers might have dragged the body on the road after they’d killed him, to cover their tracks. All this ridiculous gossip was music to Caspar’s ears.
With a self-satisfied grin, he checked the clock and saw he was on time for the rendezvous. He couldn’t wait to hear what Carmen had to say but as he’d lain in bed the night before, had imagined most of it. He couldn’t see her pleading with him to keep her skanky daughter’s secret. From what he knew of his ex-mother-in-law-to-be she wasn’t the type. He had her down as more of a tough cookie negotiator who was prepared to offer a nice pay-off in return for his silence. That would suit him right down to the ground, plus a good word in his boss’s ear and, better still, once he mentioned the little nugget he’d recently discovered in the books, he’d be able to turn the screw just a little bit more.
Dear oh dear, Carmen. What naughty little girls you have.
It was a pity he didn’t have anything on his boring-as-fuck ex-fiancée. Then again, he shouldn’t be too greedy. One way or another he was going to make them all pay. Two years he’d wasted, cosying up to mother superior and faking it with her daughter and he couldn’t even bear thinking of that old hag Sylvia. Pursing her cat’s-arse lips as she puffed away on her ciggies and giving him the evil eye. He despised that woman, even her accent grated and the way she held counsel at the end of the kitchen table like some all-seeing matriarch. He’d been so glad when she finally pegged it. He’d even thanked covid for giving him the perfect excuse not to attend the funeral or to have to comfort his fiancée whose grief was worse than a soggy, snotty hanky and Christ, she went through a few of those!
The entrance to the car park was up ahead and as he took the bend, it was impossible not to wince at the memory of hitting a man side-on and have his rag-doll body bounce on and off your bonnet. At least he didn’t hit the windscreen but he’d triggered the airbags and made a dent in the paintwork that was now being sorted at a backstreet garage in Manchester. It was too risky sending it to a local repair shop or even one in Macclesfield. The big city was a safer bet. The only downside was having to borrow his mother’s electric runabout. He’d parked well away from work that morning. Mondays were bad enough without being ridiculed by everyone in the office.
Pulling along the track, his skull connecting with the roof of the tiny Kia as he hit the potholes, Caspar spotted a car and there leaning on the bonnet, was Carmen.
Eager or what? She must be worried. Bless her.
Pulling up beside her Range Rover, Caspar turned off the engine. He didn’t feel remotely nervous which gave him a kick. He was holding all the cards and was going to enjoy the game. Getting out, he instantly felt the bite of cold air in contrast to the stuffy, squashed interior of the warm car. It was bracing and gave him a spring in his step as he made his way towards Carmen who remained where she was, bundled up in her Barbour jacket, her jeaned legs crossed at the ankles, which were covered by stout walking boots. She looked casual, not only in her dress but demeanour, too, and for a teeny moment, it unnerved him. Only a second though.
‘So, Carmen. To what do I owe the pleasure?’ He had rehearsed this bit and was determined to open the show.
Carmen stood. Her hands remained in her pockets as she took a couple of paces then turned to face him, her back to the lane. ‘Let’s get one thing straight, Caspar. This is not a pleasure. Being in your company is quite the opposite, I assure you.’
He didn’t like her sarcastic tone or smirk either. It got his back up. ‘Well, excuse me for being confused, Carmen, but if that’s the case, why are we here? I have better things to be doing on a Monday morning, you know.’
‘What, like harassing my daughters?’
It was his turn to smirk. ‘Ah, now we’re getting to it. So, Violetta – or should I call her Dina? – has gone crying to Mummy. And now Mummy is here to make it all better. Am I correct?’
‘You could say that.’
He laughed and shook his head. ‘I knew it. Well, I’m sure it was a shock when you found out what your slutty daughter gets up to behind your back and I’m thinking the last thing you want is anyone getting wind of that… especially little Darcy. Let’s face it, nobody wants to know their mummy does that for a living.’
‘Nobody is going to find out about it, Caspar, I assure you of that.’
‘Oh good, then we are definitely on the same track. And while I’m here, there’s something you should know about Rosina too.’ He was going to enjoy this. Wiping the smug look off her face and destroying the trust she had in her perfect, eldest daughter.
‘Oh no, what could that be? Do tell.’
She sounded mad as hell, although credit to her, she was holding her nerve, not giving too much away which also pissed him off because he wanted to really shock her, see the hurt in her face.
Here goes.
‘Well, because I amsodamn good at my job, I notice the things that others don’t. For example, the discrepancies in your daughter’s bookkeeping and money moving out of your accounts and then back in again. Unfortunately, it looks like Rosina has had her fingers in the till. You don’t have much luck with daughters, do you, Carmen?’
Again, she showed no reaction as she responded. ‘I’m fully aware that Rosina has borrowed money from the business account and with my blessing. It was a private family matter and I am well within my rights, as is she, to use the funds. So what exactly is your point?’
This deflated him slightly and he suspected she was bluffing but he’d lost the moral high ground so retreated and focused on Violetta instead. ‘Well there you go then. Mystery solved but, what are we going to do about Miss Whiplash? We still need to discuss how her dirty little secret is going to stay hidden.’
A loud tut. ‘Keep up, Caspar. I’ve already told you that nobody is going to find out about Violetta, nobody at all.’
‘That remains to be seen.’ This wasn’t going as he imagined and by now she should have been appealing to his better nature before offering him a sweetener. Instead, she was paying attention to his mother’s car, a quizzical look on her face.
‘I didn’t have you down as an electric car kind of man, Caspar. Have you traded your boy-racer model in or is this your spare?’
