A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [135]
The hideous idea that had formed in the back of Fifi’s mind after speaking to Yvette on Saturday hadn’t been fully erased, only put aside because of other events. But now John Bolton was dead, and she’d been abducted, it didn’t look so far-fetched.
Had Alfie been allowing his card-playing friends to have sex with his daughters?
She had always wondered what possible attraction there could be for anyone spending Friday nights at number 11. In the past there had been screams, fights, loud music and raucous laughter. Weren’t men who played cards for high stakes supposed to sit round a table in virtual silence?
Now she had aired that blackest of suggestions in her mind, the more she thought about it, the more certain she became.
Molly was a blackmailing slut, who neglected her children and allowed them to be physically abused. Alfie was completely amoral; rumour had it he’d given his older daughters children. She felt the couple were quite capable of selling or lending out their children for sex.
If it had been Alfie who raped and killed Angela, there would have been no reason for anyone else there on the Friday night to have been too frightened to come forward, for she wasn’t killed until Saturday morning. In fact the vast majority of men, whatever their walk of life, would put aside all hard-held taboos about not grassing up a mate at such a heinous crime.
Yet if Angela had been passed around, and perhaps the two other Muckle girls as well, all the men were in it together, and they would be linked by an unholy bond. The ones who sat by and let it happen were as guilty as those who took part. So they’d all stick together, no one daring to break ranks. Fifi felt certain this was what had happened, but perhaps Angela was so traumatized by it that they feared she’d tell. So Alfie or Molly smothered her.
Fifi could only guess what happened after she’d been to the police with her information. Maybe they went straight to John Bolton to demand the name of the man she’d seen him with. They could have gone to the council depot and asked questions there, but either way she had no doubt it must have got back to the man with the Jaguar.
It had always seemed odd that Alfie hadn’t named names, but was this only fear of reprisals? Perhaps he trusted the top man to find a way to get him off the hook for keeping his silence? Was that why Stan was put in the frame?
One thing was certain: if the Jaguar man was a villain, he was a powerful one if he could get John Bolton killed at a click of his fingers. She wondered why he hadn’t got someone to make sure Alfie met with a fatal accident while in prison, as that would have been the surest way to keep his silence. And who would care? Everyone had always wanted him to be guilty and permanently out the way. But then there was Molly too! Fifi supposed two fatal accidents weren’t feasible.
Working it all out in her mind did help stop Fifi from dwelling on what was going to become of her. But once daylight began to fail, and the men still didn’t come back, she just fell apart.
It was so eerie and menacing in the dark. The wind was whistling around the barn, the rain drumming on the roof, and over and above that there were squeaking and rustling sounds which could only be mice or rats. She was so scared she felt she might die of fright.
Her stomach was rumbling with hunger, even though she doubted she could eat when she was so scared. She didn’t dare try to sleep in case a rat ran over her. What if the men never came back? Suppose