Part Ninety Seven
On the Sunday afternoon, Karen and Yvonne were in the lounge usually used by Lauren, going through the enormous pile of videos on the shelf above the TV, looking for something Yvonne had recorded a while ago and that she and Karen felt like watching. As is the way with most people, neither Yvonne nor Lauren wrote the name of what they'd recorded on any blank video. Yvonne was kneeling on the floor in front of the TV with a stack of videos spread out around her. As she identified what was on each one, she scribbled its title on the case. Cassie and Roisin had picked up the children that morning, after dropping Lauren off. But Lauren had gone almost straight out again.
"Where's Lauren this afternoon?" Asked Karen.
"She took Charlie's old banger," Replied Yvonne, "so god knows, but nowhere very smart if she's driving that old thing." Privately thinking that none of the cars on Yvonne's drive looked like it could be described as an old banger, Karen simply curled herself in to a corner of the enormous sofa, and watched Yvonne furiously searching for the film she'd recorded and forgotten to label. There was something incredibly satisfying about sitting perfectly still and feeling utterly calm, and at the same time watching someone else getting more and more irritated. She couldn't help grinning.
"You think this is funny, do you?" Asked Yvonne, looking over at her, also with a smile.
"You're incredibly sexy when you're angry," Said Karen, her wickedly sensual grin turning predatory.
"Oh, really," Drawled Yvonne, getting up and coming to sit next to Karen.
"Hmm," Replied Karen, stretching luxuriously. "You have an air of subdued fury, as if there's a powder keg in there somewhere, just waiting to be set alight."
"I think you managed that last night," Said Yvonne dryly, remembering their eventual lovemaking of the night before. Karen laughed huskily and leaned forward to kiss her.
"You're so beautiful," Karen said after a while.
"Good looking I may be," Replied Yvonne, "But beautiful I definitely am not." Karen was about to tell Yvonne that if she, Karen, thought Yvonne was beautiful, then beautiful she must be. But the words died in her throat with the opening of the front door. They'd been so centered on each other that they hadn't heard the car pull up. Disentangling herself from Yvonne and doing up the top two buttons of her blouse which had somehow come undone, Karen watched in fascinated horror, as a thoroughly filthy Lauren, with the glazed eyes of someone high on something, strolled nonchalantly in to the lounge, casually holding a gun very loosely in her right hand.
"Hi Mum," Said Lauren, too cheerfully for someone carrying such a tool of death and destruction. Karen just stared. Even if she'd been able to think of something to say, her tongue and throat were simply too dry to formulate the resemblance of speech.
"Lauren, what've you done?" Asked Yvonne, her voice deadly quiet. Lauren grinned, and Karen was briefly reminded of the time she'd promised to get Shell Dockley's kitchen job back for her, and Shell had said that this would be great because she could get a knife from the kitchen and kill Mr. Fenner. There was a look of wild abandon in Lauren's eyes, a look that scared Karen to her core. Lauren couldn't keep still. She was gently waving the gun to and fro, and she moved persistently from one foot to the other. Not having got an answer to her question, Yvonne said,
"Put the gun down," Still keeping her voice as quiet and unthreatening as possible whilst Lauren still held the potential to end anyone's life. Lauren made a move to throw the gun on to the coffee table but seeming to remember one of the first lessons her father had taught her concerning guns, she slid back the compartment which held the bullets and tipped them in to the palm of her hand. Her father had always taught her never to make any casual movement when in possession of a loaded gun. Any sudden contact with the surface of any gun had the potential to make it discharge its ammunition without warning. She put the gun down on the table and was about to drop the bullets in to her jeans pocket when Yvonne grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip and said,
"Give them to me." Not especially wanting a bruise in the shape of her mother's hand-print, Lauren complied. Yvonne swiftly counted them.
"You've shot one with this," She said, pointing to the pistol on the coffee table, making a somewhat macabre picture amongst the Cd's, cigarette packets and ashtrays. Yvonne herself pocketed the bullets and critically examined Lauren's hands, which were noticeably speckled with gun residue.
"You've got that look in your eye," She said to Lauren.
"What look?" Lauren asked innocently, yet trying to flinch away from her mother's scrutiny.
"You know what look," Said Yvonne, her voice rising as the realisation of what Lauren had been doing finally caught up with her. "The look your father always had when he'd killed someone. Is that it, Lauren, have you been following in his footsteps?" The urge to talk was too strong for Lauren, and she couldn't keep her secret any longer.
"If you were a true Atkins, Mum," she said scornfully, "You'd be proud of me. Fenner's dead. You wanted him out of the picture, and that's what you've got." Yvonne was dimly aware of Karen's stricken profile but remained utterly focused on her daughter.
"You've killed Fenner?" Asked Yvonne quietly.
"That's what I said," Replied Lauren truculently. "They should bring in a medal for finishing off wankers like him." This totally fatuous comment seemed to bring Yvonne out of her temporary shock.
"You stupid cow!" Yvonne said, all the anger of her Larkhall days reasserting itself. Ignoring her mother's outburst, Lauren turned to look at Karen.
"And I don't know why you're looking so gob smacked?" Lauren said harshly, "You're why I did it." Karen opened her mouth to speak, but unable to produce any sound, she shut it again. Yvonne voiced the thought for her.
"What the hell are you talking about?" She asked, forcibly turning Lauren to face her.
"Ritchie asked me to do it," Lauren enlightened. "You weren't the only one who got a letter from him when he died. Ritchie said it was the only way he could put some of the bad stuff right. He asked me to do it for her," She said, looking over at Karen. "I had to do it, Mum. If there's one thing you don't do, it's deny your brother his last request." Yvonne stood as if turned to stone. She needed a moment to decide how she was going to handle this. She couldn't afford to think about why Ritchie had asked Lauren to do this, or to experience the sheer relief that Fenner could no more hurt Karen or anyone else. All she could and should focus her thoughts on was her daughter, and what possible consequences would be in store for them all if she didn't act quickly.
"Where is he?" Yvonne asked after a moment's silence.
"Six feet under in the middle of Epping Forest," Was Lauren's unequivocal reply.
"Jesus," Muttered Yvonne in disgust.
"Mum, if a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing well."
"This isn't, or wasn't, a thing worth doing, well or otherwise," Replied Yvonne stonily. "Do you have any idea what will happen to you if the law catch up with you?"
"Mum, trust me, no one is going to find him."
"I don't believe we're having this conversation," Said Yvonne, feeling that all this was too farcical for words. Grabbing Lauren's arm, Yvonne propelled her towards the kitchen. Once there, she said,
"Strip." Lauren just stared at her. "You heard me," continued Yvonne, "Clothes off and in the washing machine, now."
"But Mum..."
"Just do it, Lauren. You're covered in earth and god knows what else." Then, as Lauren began to remove her clothes, Yvonne said, "Shoes as well," Pointing to her trainers. When even Lauren's underwear had been put in to the washing machine, Yvonne said,
"Right, go and have the longest shower you've ever had, and I don't want to see you again till I come up. Is that clear?"
"Are you keeping me under house arrest?" Asked Lauren furiously as she walked up the stairs.
"If need be, then yes," Replied Yvonne. "And don't touch anything till you've got that bleedin gun crap off your hands. I don't want a trace of it anywhere in this house." Yvonne returned to the lounge and picked up the gun from the coffee table. She was still aware of Karen's presence, but for the life of her, she didn't know what she could say. As she looked critically at the gun that had ended the life of one of the most ruthless bastards she'd ever known, Yvonne realised that it was a Sig Sauer nine millimetre pistol, a gun that always left its own finger print in the shape of a cartridge case. Retrieving the handful of spare bullets from her pocket, Yvonne was horrified to confirm that there wasn't an empty cartridge case among them, meaning that Lauren had almost certainly left it at the scene, ready to be found by any policeman eager to fulfill his duty. Going to the bottom of the stairs, Yvonne called,
"Lauren?" and when her daughter appeared, she said, "Did you pick up the cartridge case?" At first, Lauren looked at her, totally mystified. Then a light dawned and her face finally began to show the true seriousness of the situation.
"No," She said, sounding like her high had thoroughly worn off.
"This just gets better and bleedin better," Replied Yvonne. "You know that this type of pistol always leaves the shell behind."
"I forgot," Said Lauren miserably. Yvonne turned away from her, her anger at Lauren's utter stupidity making her temporarily speechless. After washing her hands, Yvonne went back in to the lounge and sat down next to Karen.
"You might not want to stay for what I'm going to have to do," She said quietly. "I've got to clean that for a start," She said, gesturing to the gun which she'd put back down on the table whilst talking to Lauren. Karen turned to face her.
"I can't believe he's dead," She said, the first words she'd uttered since Lauren had arrived home.
"I know," Said Yvonne, "But right now, that isn't something I can think about."
"I feel like I'm in the middle of some nightmare, watching a horror film take place before my eyes."
"You and me both," Said Yvonne, taking one of Karen's hands. "But I have to do this for her."
"I know," Said Karen, "And I'll stay, if you want me too."
"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. Getting rid of evidence isn't nice." Yvonne picked up one of the Sunday newspapers, and took it and the gun in to the kitchen. She spread out the newspaper over the table, and laid the gun on top of it. She retrieved some of the solvent and gun oil routinely used in domestic gun cleaning and returned to the kitchen. Karen moved to stand in the kitchen doorway and simply stood and watched her. Soaking a rag in the Hops9 solvent, she scrubbed any hint of left over residue from the gun's outer surface. The Fragrant aroma of the solvent brought many unwelcome memories back to Yvonne of the times she'd either done this for Charlie, or watched him for once cleaning his own murder weapons. Karen thought that the not unpleasant smell of this solvent would for ever be ingrained on her memory. Then, dipping a rod in to the solvent, Yvonne worked it up inside the barrel, to thoroughly clean the pistol's internal workings. Once any evidence of recent firing had been removed, she wiped the cleaning rod, and dipped it this time in to a bottle of gun oil, and again coated the insides of the gun with the substance, to keep its internal mechanisms lubricated and ready for instant action. She briefly thought that there wasn't really any point doing this part, considering what she would be doing with the gun in the near future, but it had always been a part of the routine cleaning of any gun. Karen looked on with the sort of sick fascination that makes drivers stop to look at a horrific road accident.
"why did you ask Lauren about the cartridge case?" Karen finally said, clearly finding something that could be simply explained. Yvonne looked up, having almost forgotten she was there.
"When this type of pistol is fired, the firing pin always leaves a slight scratch on the cartridge case. It's almost as good as a fingerprint. No firing pin leaves exactly the same marks. So, if someone found the cartridge case and this gun, they'd be able to match the two after about ten minutes in some lab somewhere. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, because I'd just get rid of this gun and no plodding pig would be able to prove it came from this house. But Charlie, being the arrogant git that he was, always engraved his favourite guns with his initials." Yvonne held the gun up to the light, and Karen could see the unobtrusive letters CJA displayed just above the trigger. "Charlie James Atkins," clarified Yvonne. "I always told him not to do it, but he was of the belief that he'd never be caught using one of his own licensed weapons for anything illegal, and give him his due, he only used his engraved guns for the legitimate shooting of pigeons and pheasants and other poor unsuspecting birds."
"Give me some credit, Yvonne," Said Karen scornfully. "I know enough to be well aware that pistols such as this one are never used in game shooting." Yvonne looked at her with complete exasperation.
"And maybe I'm just trying to find some tiny rational thing to cling on too here. Quite why Lauren chose to use one of her father's favourite guns to commit her first and hopefully last murder, I don't want to contemplate."
"You're so calm," Said Karen, marveling at Yvonne's presence of mind in the face of such an afternoon of shocks and revelations.
"It won't last," Said Yvonne, with the certainty of previous experience. "But right now, calm is what I've got to be. When Lauren came in, she looked like she'd had a line of Columbia's finest, but she'll come down from that high, and that's when what she's done will really hit her. If there's one thing I've got to do, it's to try to keep her out of somewhere like Larkhall. if she ended up in that place, I don't think she'd come out alive. She's nowhere near as strong as she makes out she is, and I don't want her taking the same way out as Ritchie."
"You might not be able to stop that happening," Said Karen, who could cheerfully have kicked herself for saying such a thing in the face of Yvonne's current determination.
"Don't you think I know that?" Asked Yvonne, her terror at Lauren's possible future finally beginning to take hold. "I know what it's like to be in there for god knows how long. Lauren couldn't deal with it, I know she couldn't. I can't let her go the same way as Ritchie." Karen privately thought that Lauren was well on her way to Ritchie's state of being already, but managed to hold her tongue. Shock was an odd thing, she thought. It could make you spew forth words with as little prior warning and real direction as vomit. She had the insane urge to say an awful lot of things to Yvonne right then, and had an internal battle with herself to keep quiet. Now wasn't the time to tell Yvonne that she thought she was crazy to even think of covering up for Lauren, that in doing so she was booking herself another bed in Larkhall, and that in any case, Lauren probably wouldn't thank her for it. Yvonne cleared away the solvent and gun oil, and wiped clean the rods she'd used to clean the inside of the pistol. She wrapped the gun in the newspaper it had been lying on and bore it away to some secure location, ready to be disposed of later. Whilst Yvonne was out of sight, Karen had a moment to put her thoughts in order, and the one thing that presented itself as a must, was that she had to inform Cassie and Roisin of what had happened. Over the last few weeks, it had looked to her as if they were both getting far more involved with Lauren than friends usually did, and Karen knew that they had to know. Yvonne possibly wouldn't thank her for it, but Karen wasn't going to be dissuaded from doing this. Besides, she needed to talk to someone about this. She needed to unburden some of the thoughts that just wouldn't leave her alone. Walking swiftly to the table in the hall that held the telephone and answering machine, Karen flicked through the pages of the address book, until she came to Cassie and Roisin's address. Committing it to memory, she was just about to replace it when Yvonne looked over her shoulder.
"I know," She said, "I've had that thought as well."
"They have to know," Said Karen simply. Yvonne seemed deflated.
"I know they do, I just don't want to be the one to do it."
"Would you like me too?" Asked Karen.
"I can't ask you to do that," Replied Yvonne.
"Well, as disposing of crucial evidence has never been a day to day occupation of mine," Said Karen, "This is probably the only thing I can handle doing." Yvonne winced at Karen's clear inference at her previous criminal lifestyle. "I'm sorry," Said Karen, "That wasn't really called for."
"Most of today wasn't really called for," Replied Yvonne sarcastically, "But I've got to deal with it." Karen moved forward and took Yvonne in her arms.
"I am here for you, you know," She said, feeling the rigidity of Yvonne's tense, strung-out body.
"don't say something you don't mean," Replied Yvonne quietly. Karen stood back from her and looked her straight in the eye.
"I didn't ask to be flung in to this situation," She pointed out, clinging on to her control by the skin of her teeth.
"No, and neither did I," Pointed out Yvonne, the tears rising to her eyes. She furiously wiped them away with the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry," Said Karen, hating herself for hurting Yvonne like this.
"Don't be," Said Yvonne, making a determined effort not to let Karen see how much she was hurting. "Let's face it, the way I brought Lauren up, I guess I've got what I asked for."
On the Sunday afternoon, Karen and Yvonne were in the lounge usually used by Lauren, going through the enormous pile of videos on the shelf above the TV, looking for something Yvonne had recorded a while ago and that she and Karen felt like watching. As is the way with most people, neither Yvonne nor Lauren wrote the name of what they'd recorded on any blank video. Yvonne was kneeling on the floor in front of the TV with a stack of videos spread out around her. As she identified what was on each one, she scribbled its title on the case. Cassie and Roisin had picked up the children that morning, after dropping Lauren off. But Lauren had gone almost straight out again.
"Where's Lauren this afternoon?" Asked Karen.
"She took Charlie's old banger," Replied Yvonne, "so god knows, but nowhere very smart if she's driving that old thing." Privately thinking that none of the cars on Yvonne's drive looked like it could be described as an old banger, Karen simply curled herself in to a corner of the enormous sofa, and watched Yvonne furiously searching for the film she'd recorded and forgotten to label. There was something incredibly satisfying about sitting perfectly still and feeling utterly calm, and at the same time watching someone else getting more and more irritated. She couldn't help grinning.
"You think this is funny, do you?" Asked Yvonne, looking over at her, also with a smile.
"You're incredibly sexy when you're angry," Said Karen, her wickedly sensual grin turning predatory.
"Oh, really," Drawled Yvonne, getting up and coming to sit next to Karen.
"Hmm," Replied Karen, stretching luxuriously. "You have an air of subdued fury, as if there's a powder keg in there somewhere, just waiting to be set alight."
"I think you managed that last night," Said Yvonne dryly, remembering their eventual lovemaking of the night before. Karen laughed huskily and leaned forward to kiss her.
"You're so beautiful," Karen said after a while.
"Good looking I may be," Replied Yvonne, "But beautiful I definitely am not." Karen was about to tell Yvonne that if she, Karen, thought Yvonne was beautiful, then beautiful she must be. But the words died in her throat with the opening of the front door. They'd been so centered on each other that they hadn't heard the car pull up. Disentangling herself from Yvonne and doing up the top two buttons of her blouse which had somehow come undone, Karen watched in fascinated horror, as a thoroughly filthy Lauren, with the glazed eyes of someone high on something, strolled nonchalantly in to the lounge, casually holding a gun very loosely in her right hand.
"Hi Mum," Said Lauren, too cheerfully for someone carrying such a tool of death and destruction. Karen just stared. Even if she'd been able to think of something to say, her tongue and throat were simply too dry to formulate the resemblance of speech.
"Lauren, what've you done?" Asked Yvonne, her voice deadly quiet. Lauren grinned, and Karen was briefly reminded of the time she'd promised to get Shell Dockley's kitchen job back for her, and Shell had said that this would be great because she could get a knife from the kitchen and kill Mr. Fenner. There was a look of wild abandon in Lauren's eyes, a look that scared Karen to her core. Lauren couldn't keep still. She was gently waving the gun to and fro, and she moved persistently from one foot to the other. Not having got an answer to her question, Yvonne said,
"Put the gun down," Still keeping her voice as quiet and unthreatening as possible whilst Lauren still held the potential to end anyone's life. Lauren made a move to throw the gun on to the coffee table but seeming to remember one of the first lessons her father had taught her concerning guns, she slid back the compartment which held the bullets and tipped them in to the palm of her hand. Her father had always taught her never to make any casual movement when in possession of a loaded gun. Any sudden contact with the surface of any gun had the potential to make it discharge its ammunition without warning. She put the gun down on the table and was about to drop the bullets in to her jeans pocket when Yvonne grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip and said,
"Give them to me." Not especially wanting a bruise in the shape of her mother's hand-print, Lauren complied. Yvonne swiftly counted them.
"You've shot one with this," She said, pointing to the pistol on the coffee table, making a somewhat macabre picture amongst the Cd's, cigarette packets and ashtrays. Yvonne herself pocketed the bullets and critically examined Lauren's hands, which were noticeably speckled with gun residue.
"You've got that look in your eye," She said to Lauren.
"What look?" Lauren asked innocently, yet trying to flinch away from her mother's scrutiny.
"You know what look," Said Yvonne, her voice rising as the realisation of what Lauren had been doing finally caught up with her. "The look your father always had when he'd killed someone. Is that it, Lauren, have you been following in his footsteps?" The urge to talk was too strong for Lauren, and she couldn't keep her secret any longer.
"If you were a true Atkins, Mum," she said scornfully, "You'd be proud of me. Fenner's dead. You wanted him out of the picture, and that's what you've got." Yvonne was dimly aware of Karen's stricken profile but remained utterly focused on her daughter.
"You've killed Fenner?" Asked Yvonne quietly.
"That's what I said," Replied Lauren truculently. "They should bring in a medal for finishing off wankers like him." This totally fatuous comment seemed to bring Yvonne out of her temporary shock.
"You stupid cow!" Yvonne said, all the anger of her Larkhall days reasserting itself. Ignoring her mother's outburst, Lauren turned to look at Karen.
"And I don't know why you're looking so gob smacked?" Lauren said harshly, "You're why I did it." Karen opened her mouth to speak, but unable to produce any sound, she shut it again. Yvonne voiced the thought for her.
"What the hell are you talking about?" She asked, forcibly turning Lauren to face her.
"Ritchie asked me to do it," Lauren enlightened. "You weren't the only one who got a letter from him when he died. Ritchie said it was the only way he could put some of the bad stuff right. He asked me to do it for her," She said, looking over at Karen. "I had to do it, Mum. If there's one thing you don't do, it's deny your brother his last request." Yvonne stood as if turned to stone. She needed a moment to decide how she was going to handle this. She couldn't afford to think about why Ritchie had asked Lauren to do this, or to experience the sheer relief that Fenner could no more hurt Karen or anyone else. All she could and should focus her thoughts on was her daughter, and what possible consequences would be in store for them all if she didn't act quickly.
"Where is he?" Yvonne asked after a moment's silence.
"Six feet under in the middle of Epping Forest," Was Lauren's unequivocal reply.
"Jesus," Muttered Yvonne in disgust.
"Mum, if a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing well."
"This isn't, or wasn't, a thing worth doing, well or otherwise," Replied Yvonne stonily. "Do you have any idea what will happen to you if the law catch up with you?"
"Mum, trust me, no one is going to find him."
"I don't believe we're having this conversation," Said Yvonne, feeling that all this was too farcical for words. Grabbing Lauren's arm, Yvonne propelled her towards the kitchen. Once there, she said,
"Strip." Lauren just stared at her. "You heard me," continued Yvonne, "Clothes off and in the washing machine, now."
"But Mum..."
"Just do it, Lauren. You're covered in earth and god knows what else." Then, as Lauren began to remove her clothes, Yvonne said, "Shoes as well," Pointing to her trainers. When even Lauren's underwear had been put in to the washing machine, Yvonne said,
"Right, go and have the longest shower you've ever had, and I don't want to see you again till I come up. Is that clear?"
"Are you keeping me under house arrest?" Asked Lauren furiously as she walked up the stairs.
"If need be, then yes," Replied Yvonne. "And don't touch anything till you've got that bleedin gun crap off your hands. I don't want a trace of it anywhere in this house." Yvonne returned to the lounge and picked up the gun from the coffee table. She was still aware of Karen's presence, but for the life of her, she didn't know what she could say. As she looked critically at the gun that had ended the life of one of the most ruthless bastards she'd ever known, Yvonne realised that it was a Sig Sauer nine millimetre pistol, a gun that always left its own finger print in the shape of a cartridge case. Retrieving the handful of spare bullets from her pocket, Yvonne was horrified to confirm that there wasn't an empty cartridge case among them, meaning that Lauren had almost certainly left it at the scene, ready to be found by any policeman eager to fulfill his duty. Going to the bottom of the stairs, Yvonne called,
"Lauren?" and when her daughter appeared, she said, "Did you pick up the cartridge case?" At first, Lauren looked at her, totally mystified. Then a light dawned and her face finally began to show the true seriousness of the situation.
"No," She said, sounding like her high had thoroughly worn off.
"This just gets better and bleedin better," Replied Yvonne. "You know that this type of pistol always leaves the shell behind."
"I forgot," Said Lauren miserably. Yvonne turned away from her, her anger at Lauren's utter stupidity making her temporarily speechless. After washing her hands, Yvonne went back in to the lounge and sat down next to Karen.
"You might not want to stay for what I'm going to have to do," She said quietly. "I've got to clean that for a start," She said, gesturing to the gun which she'd put back down on the table whilst talking to Lauren. Karen turned to face her.
"I can't believe he's dead," She said, the first words she'd uttered since Lauren had arrived home.
"I know," Said Yvonne, "But right now, that isn't something I can think about."
"I feel like I'm in the middle of some nightmare, watching a horror film take place before my eyes."
"You and me both," Said Yvonne, taking one of Karen's hands. "But I have to do this for her."
"I know," Said Karen, "And I'll stay, if you want me too."
"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. Getting rid of evidence isn't nice." Yvonne picked up one of the Sunday newspapers, and took it and the gun in to the kitchen. She spread out the newspaper over the table, and laid the gun on top of it. She retrieved some of the solvent and gun oil routinely used in domestic gun cleaning and returned to the kitchen. Karen moved to stand in the kitchen doorway and simply stood and watched her. Soaking a rag in the Hops9 solvent, she scrubbed any hint of left over residue from the gun's outer surface. The Fragrant aroma of the solvent brought many unwelcome memories back to Yvonne of the times she'd either done this for Charlie, or watched him for once cleaning his own murder weapons. Karen thought that the not unpleasant smell of this solvent would for ever be ingrained on her memory. Then, dipping a rod in to the solvent, Yvonne worked it up inside the barrel, to thoroughly clean the pistol's internal workings. Once any evidence of recent firing had been removed, she wiped the cleaning rod, and dipped it this time in to a bottle of gun oil, and again coated the insides of the gun with the substance, to keep its internal mechanisms lubricated and ready for instant action. She briefly thought that there wasn't really any point doing this part, considering what she would be doing with the gun in the near future, but it had always been a part of the routine cleaning of any gun. Karen looked on with the sort of sick fascination that makes drivers stop to look at a horrific road accident.
"why did you ask Lauren about the cartridge case?" Karen finally said, clearly finding something that could be simply explained. Yvonne looked up, having almost forgotten she was there.
"When this type of pistol is fired, the firing pin always leaves a slight scratch on the cartridge case. It's almost as good as a fingerprint. No firing pin leaves exactly the same marks. So, if someone found the cartridge case and this gun, they'd be able to match the two after about ten minutes in some lab somewhere. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, because I'd just get rid of this gun and no plodding pig would be able to prove it came from this house. But Charlie, being the arrogant git that he was, always engraved his favourite guns with his initials." Yvonne held the gun up to the light, and Karen could see the unobtrusive letters CJA displayed just above the trigger. "Charlie James Atkins," clarified Yvonne. "I always told him not to do it, but he was of the belief that he'd never be caught using one of his own licensed weapons for anything illegal, and give him his due, he only used his engraved guns for the legitimate shooting of pigeons and pheasants and other poor unsuspecting birds."
"Give me some credit, Yvonne," Said Karen scornfully. "I know enough to be well aware that pistols such as this one are never used in game shooting." Yvonne looked at her with complete exasperation.
"And maybe I'm just trying to find some tiny rational thing to cling on too here. Quite why Lauren chose to use one of her father's favourite guns to commit her first and hopefully last murder, I don't want to contemplate."
"You're so calm," Said Karen, marveling at Yvonne's presence of mind in the face of such an afternoon of shocks and revelations.
"It won't last," Said Yvonne, with the certainty of previous experience. "But right now, calm is what I've got to be. When Lauren came in, she looked like she'd had a line of Columbia's finest, but she'll come down from that high, and that's when what she's done will really hit her. If there's one thing I've got to do, it's to try to keep her out of somewhere like Larkhall. if she ended up in that place, I don't think she'd come out alive. She's nowhere near as strong as she makes out she is, and I don't want her taking the same way out as Ritchie."
"You might not be able to stop that happening," Said Karen, who could cheerfully have kicked herself for saying such a thing in the face of Yvonne's current determination.
"Don't you think I know that?" Asked Yvonne, her terror at Lauren's possible future finally beginning to take hold. "I know what it's like to be in there for god knows how long. Lauren couldn't deal with it, I know she couldn't. I can't let her go the same way as Ritchie." Karen privately thought that Lauren was well on her way to Ritchie's state of being already, but managed to hold her tongue. Shock was an odd thing, she thought. It could make you spew forth words with as little prior warning and real direction as vomit. She had the insane urge to say an awful lot of things to Yvonne right then, and had an internal battle with herself to keep quiet. Now wasn't the time to tell Yvonne that she thought she was crazy to even think of covering up for Lauren, that in doing so she was booking herself another bed in Larkhall, and that in any case, Lauren probably wouldn't thank her for it. Yvonne cleared away the solvent and gun oil, and wiped clean the rods she'd used to clean the inside of the pistol. She wrapped the gun in the newspaper it had been lying on and bore it away to some secure location, ready to be disposed of later. Whilst Yvonne was out of sight, Karen had a moment to put her thoughts in order, and the one thing that presented itself as a must, was that she had to inform Cassie and Roisin of what had happened. Over the last few weeks, it had looked to her as if they were both getting far more involved with Lauren than friends usually did, and Karen knew that they had to know. Yvonne possibly wouldn't thank her for it, but Karen wasn't going to be dissuaded from doing this. Besides, she needed to talk to someone about this. She needed to unburden some of the thoughts that just wouldn't leave her alone. Walking swiftly to the table in the hall that held the telephone and answering machine, Karen flicked through the pages of the address book, until she came to Cassie and Roisin's address. Committing it to memory, she was just about to replace it when Yvonne looked over her shoulder.
"I know," She said, "I've had that thought as well."
"They have to know," Said Karen simply. Yvonne seemed deflated.
"I know they do, I just don't want to be the one to do it."
"Would you like me too?" Asked Karen.
"I can't ask you to do that," Replied Yvonne.
"Well, as disposing of crucial evidence has never been a day to day occupation of mine," Said Karen, "This is probably the only thing I can handle doing." Yvonne winced at Karen's clear inference at her previous criminal lifestyle. "I'm sorry," Said Karen, "That wasn't really called for."
"Most of today wasn't really called for," Replied Yvonne sarcastically, "But I've got to deal with it." Karen moved forward and took Yvonne in her arms.
"I am here for you, you know," She said, feeling the rigidity of Yvonne's tense, strung-out body.
"don't say something you don't mean," Replied Yvonne quietly. Karen stood back from her and looked her straight in the eye.
"I didn't ask to be flung in to this situation," She pointed out, clinging on to her control by the skin of her teeth.
"No, and neither did I," Pointed out Yvonne, the tears rising to her eyes. She furiously wiped them away with the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry," Said Karen, hating herself for hurting Yvonne like this.
"Don't be," Said Yvonne, making a determined effort not to let Karen see how much she was hurting. "Let's face it, the way I brought Lauren up, I guess I've got what I asked for."