Three hours later the train drew into King’s Cross. Gladys Lake failed to follow instructions and did not contact PC Grantham, and he was late anyway due to an accident near King’s Cross. The speech she was due to give was not until two in the afternoon, and it was still only nine o’clock. She had the chance of a few hours’ rest. She hailed a taxi. ‘St Pancras Renaissance Hotel, please.’
Unbeknown to her, she had been seen. Charlotte Hamilton was a smart woman, everyone agreed on that, even if she was mad. She had phoned the hospital in Newcastle and had found out Dr Lake’s plans. It was pure luck for her that Dr Lake was attending the conference in London.
It had not been difficult to wait at the railway station, knowing full well that Gladys Lake had a fear of flying and did not drive, so it had to be the train. It was quicker anyway. For two days, Charlotte had waited in the station, watching Platform 2 from the comfort of a café for some of the time, or else wandering around the concourse. No one would have noticed her. She had to admit that her ability to disguise herself was good. One day old and dowdy, another young and tarty, as her facial features were still young and her body had not turned to flab, unlike her mother, although the last time at the farmhouse she had looked almost anorexic.
***
The taxi driver at King’s Cross Station had complained when presented with a fifty-pound note for a fare that was only fifteen, but Charlotte had no time to wait. ‘Keep the change,’ she said. Another time, she would have argued with the man, but Gladys Lake had left her taxi that they had been following and was heading into the hotel.
‘An old friend, I’ve just missed her at the station. She’ll be surprised when she sees me,’ Charlotte said when the driver queried why they were following another taxi.
Dressed in disguise, Charlotte was able to approach the reception and hear the woman check in.
‘Room 232, ma’am,’ a small, bespectacled man behind the reception said. Charlotte thought he looked like a gnome, but she managed to repress a smirk. She realised her mood was whimsical, whereas her intent was malevolent. She stood back when Gladys Lake turned around briefly. To Charlotte, it appeared to be a sign of nervousness on the woman’s part; she hoped it was. She wanted the woman to suffer, as she had suffered for all those years.
Gladys Lake picked up her bag and moved towards the lift. A smartly-dressed porter took the bag from her and pressed the button inside the lift. Charlotte stood back, pretending not to look in their direction but watching intently out of the corner of one eye. The conference was scheduled for two days; no need to hurry this time.
And besides, there was still the unresolved matter of Detective Chief Inspector Cook. She was not sure what to do about him. Somehow, vengeance for those who had troubled her seemed the most suitable way forward.
Charlotte returned to her accommodation, grabbing a bite to eat at a local fish and chip shop. Always aware of her figure before, she no longer felt the need to worry. She knew her time was not long, and she had no need to be attractive and fashionable. Her wardrobe, no more than what she could carry in a suitcase, was looking the worse for wear. The ten thousand pounds she had taken from the dead landlord was still intact, apart from several hundred pounds that she had laid out on the trip to Newcastle and the incidentals necessary to maintain a low profile: wigs, dowdy clothes, shoddy accommodation.
She knew that in the past she would have cared, but now she did not.
The man who had first shown her the room at her hotel was behind the reception counter when she got back. He offered an inappropriate comment; she chose to ignore him. He was a poor quality of man, not even worthy of contempt. Charlotte took the key for her room from him with a disparaging shrug of her shoulders, and climbed the two flights of stairs. Her room smelt of damp and decay, as did the rest of the hotel. A quick shower and she lay down on the bed. Her mind was full of the days ahead, knowing full well that she was to become more visible than ever before. She realised that the police would be looking for her, and they would not be far from Gladys Lake, her primary target.
There were two days for her to deal with Gladys Lake, and, if possible, Detective Chief Inspector Isaac Cook. She counted those that she had dispatched, starting with her brother. It pleased her enough to bring a smile to her face.
***
Even with the full force of the Met behind him, Isaac did not know where Charlotte Hamilton was hiding out. Apart from being certain that she had arrived in London, no more had been seen of the woman. Gladys Lake was being subjected to continued surveillance by the police, hopeful that she was safe. Rory Hewitt had received a few choice words from Isaac because he had allowed Gladys Lake to travel unaccompanied from Newcastle to London, an ideal opportunity for a devious woman to commit murder. Police Constable Grantham, who should have been at King’s Cross Station on Gladys Lake’s arrival, was also given an official reprimand.
‘What’s the latest?’
