Free Guilty Pleasures by Judith Cutler

in the William Harvey car park.
    â€˜I want the unedited version of events,’ I said as I fastened the seat belt for him. ‘Chapter and verse. I know when you have a chance to talk properly to Aidan, you’ll fillet out all the worst details so he doesn’t worry too much, and I’m never sure how much you trust the police—’
    â€˜A touch more than you do, my child. Particularly,’ he added dryly, ‘as they have the benefit of all our security cameras to check that I’m missing nothing out. But why mention Aidan? And why are we taking the Tenterden road?’
    â€˜Because the chemicals they use to clean blood off carpets might not be good for you, and because Aidan has invited you to go up to London with him as soon as you’re presentable. Mind you,’ I said, glancing sideways at him and wondering how long it would take him to suggest I stayed over in Tenterden too, ‘that may be some time. Come on, Griff, what happened?’
    He sighed. ‘You know our friend X?’
    â€˜Yes. Well, of course, I know of him.’ X was a drifter who irregularly turned up at our cottage first thing in the morning with items for Griff to buy. One glimpse of me and he’d stayed away six months at a stretch, so always I was stuck in my bedroom until he slipped away again, pocketing whatever cash Griff chose to give him. This was nowhere near what we’d sell for, but enough to keep him in cheap cider for a while. Any more and he’d drink himself to death within a week, Griff insisted. ‘But it was never him, not in broad daylight, surely?’
    â€˜No. But a man who said he was a friend of his, with an urgent message.’
    â€˜Did he actually use X’s name?’
    â€˜No. Now I come to think of it, he didn’t. He just said, “Our friend.” But you know I’ve always promised to be there for X if he ever needs me. I thought – if I thought at all, which I may not have done, having just been awoken from a little doze, if the truth be told – that he needed me to stand bail and had sent this man to fetch me.’
    â€˜Wouldn’t the police have contacted you?’
    â€˜I’m sure you’re right. I just wasn’t thinking straight, as I said. Anyway, as soon as I stepped aside to let him in, I realized there was something wrong with his face.’
    â€˜Something wrong?’ I had a weird thought of leprosy or something.
    â€˜I couldn’t put my finger on it at first. By that time he’d hit me, and I’d retaliated with that over-the-top Moorcroft vase Aunt Bea left me. And then he persuaded me that I ought to open the safe. Well, I knew we were insured – I shall be able to replace that Moorcroft with something much more tasteful – and I knew about the camera. But I don’t think even that will give us a true image of him. They’ll see a poor aged man, balding, stooped.’
    â€˜I know. I looked. But then he seemed to get younger before my eyes. And then old again. Do you think the stoop was fake?’
    â€˜I think so. And I also suspect that he was wearing a very good wig and particularly fine make-up. TV or film quality. That good. Might even have been wearing a latex mask or part-mask, I suppose.’
    â€˜And wearing gloves, no doubt.’
    â€˜Of course. But again, very fine, so I didn’t see them through the peephole. And yes, I was alert enough to check, I’m sure of that.’
    I slowed into a tail of traffic. There were often long queues on this route, which was far too narrow and winding to deserve to be called an A road. ‘So what did you tell the police? Did you mention X? Because surely they’ll ask why you let him in.’
    â€˜They already have. I said I thought he was an acquaintance from my long-ago theatre days. Cunning, don’t you think? Because then I could introduce the idea of make-up, which you may be sure I did.’
    â€˜Did