Callie’s eyes were closing again and she felt the tea slop onto her hand, she went to put the mug down, but missed the worktop. The mug smashed on the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” she slurred and tried to get off the stool but found that her legs didn’t seem to want to do what they were told. How embarrassing, to be drunk and incapable in this lovely house, she needed to get back to her own home. Mrs Savage didn’t seem concerned, or even to have noticed the broken mug and spilled tea, she just carried on talking about stuff that Callie was having difficulty taking in.
“I couldn’t let anyone stop Ted’s career, could I? His work is just too important. Even if the person who was doing the destroying was Ted himself.”
Callie realised she had been drugged; the taste disguised by the sugar. She was ridiculously pleased with herself for being able to work it out. The question now was, what was she going to do about it? She shook her head, trying to clear it, but it just made her dizzy and she had to hold on to the breakfast bar to stop herself from falling off the stool.
“The boy wasn’t really a problem, I borrowed Ted’s phone and invited him down for a party. Ted often had parties, always in London because it would be hard to keep it quiet in a small village like this.”
Callie could believe it. Stopping the boys from making a noise, or running down the beach for a midnight skinny dip, would be difficult.
“The boy was surprised to be met at the station by me rather than Ted but once I’d told him I was taking him to our yacht where this supposed party was taking place, and that Ted would give him the money there, he was quite happy. Chatting away non-stop. I suspect he had taken a little something, some Dutch courage before facing Ted. Makes sense, don’t you think?”
Callie was finding it hard to make sense of anything at all. She felt awful.
“Anyway, it all worked to my advantage and he went with me to the marina and got in my little boat no problem at all. How was he to know we don’t have a yacht, just a little inflatable with an outboard.” She laughed at the boy’s silly mistake. “I gave him an alcopop I’d added a little extra something to, to get him in the party mood, I said. Ketamine really isn’t that hard to get hold of, you know. My brother, well, he has his uses, let’s say. Daniel didn’t suspect anything was wrong with the drink, although it took quite a long time to work. How are you feeling, Dr Hughes?”
“Okay.” Callie tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure she had succeeded, she wasn’t sure she had replied either, but Mrs Savage didn’t seem to mind.
“He kept asking me how far it was, how long it would take to get there.” She smiled sadly at the memory. “I had to say the boat was down the coast quite a way, he didn’t know any better, didn’t notice that we were going round in circles and then he fell asleep, just like I’d planned. Didn’t stir when I took off some of his more distinctive clothes and jewellery. Put him in an old shirt and tied the remains of one of those useless life jackets that were washing up all along the coast around his waist.” She paused, remembering how it had all happened. “It was a little harder to tip him over the side than I’d expected, and I had to hold him under using the paddle, until I was sure he was beyond saving, but it worked perfectly. Just one more body amongst all those others, until you started with your nasty little suspicions, suggesting he wasn’t the same as them.”
Callie found herself apologising, even though she wasn’t quite sure what for; it was enough that this kind, capable woman was cross with her, wasn’t it? Or was she kind? Kind people didn’t drug and kill boys, did they? Callie couldn’t think.
“The girl was more of a problem. I hadn’t expected her to turn up at the constituency office. Should have realised the boy would have told someone where he was going, what he was doing.”
Callie remembered the girl’s head wound. They always bled a lot. That would explain the need to redecorate the office, burn the carpet.
“Why did he kill her?” Callie asked in a slurred voice – at least she thought she asked but Mrs Savage carried on talking, ignoring the question as she walked around the breakfast bar.
“There was a bit of a confrontation, I hadn’t even realised I had picked up the kettle. I think I was going to suggest a cup of tea. Quite a mess. Good job my brother works at that building company, he was a great help, again. Made sure they came round to clean up nice and quick and then let me know when you made them keep hold of the carpet. Of course, I had to pay more, nearly double, and then more again for him to set fire to it all. He didn’t know why the police were interested in it. I told him Ted had been accused of rape by some little tart, and that we needed to get rid of the carpet in case there was semen on it. You know, like Bill Clinton and that dress.”
She was standing beside Callie now and put her arm round her, gently helping her off the stool. Callie was very grateful to her, because she certainly couldn’t have managed it herself, for some reason, the room seemed to be moving in circles around her. It was hard to remain upright.
“Let me help you down the stairs, dear. You know
