Kat guessed that Harper was reponsible for the Trojan horse, but there was an added complication. It turned out that someone, somewhere at British Intelligence – the Dark Lord had refused to say who or how – had been watching the movements of Ramon’s computer. Because it had spent the past two days at Kittiwake Cottage, her grandfather was convinced that Edith was guilty of installing the virus.
It didn’t help that Edith had run dozens of searches for information on the Oxford Street Phantom, Mafia hit men, the SAS and foreign assassins.
With arctic politeness, the Dark Lord asked Edith the same two questions fifty different ways. Who taught her to code, and who was she working for: the Chinese or the Russians?
Edith stuck to her story. She was a retired librarian who knew almost nothing about computers. She’d done some searches because she was intrigued by the Oxford Street Phantom Mystery. Who wasn’t? Some of her friends were in a knitting circle, but she didn’t know any hackers.
The interview seemed to take forever. Finally the Dark Lord snapped. ‘Were you one of the Bletchley Park crew? Is that it, Edith? Did you work with the code-breakers on the Enigma during the Second World War?’
‘I’m not sure whether to be flattered you consider me a genius, or insulted that you think I’m showing my age,’ Edith said indignantly. ‘I’m ancient, but not that ancient.’
‘Who are you calling ancient?’ he quipped, and surprised even himself by bursting into laughter.
There was something rusty about his laugh, as if it didn’t happen often or at all. Abruptly he ended Edith’s interview and escorted her back to the helicopter.
Any hope Kat had had that he might go easy on his own granddaughter soon proved false. He was livid with her for triggering a Code Blue Response, which had alerted the British Secret Service and led to the arrest of one of the army’s highest-ranking officers.
Why Avalon Heights had a Code Blue alarm system installed, and why Ramon had needed access to it, the Dark Lord refused to say, but he did hint that a rapid-response military team had been involved. While Kat had been cooing over the capuchin at Bluebell Bay Animal Clinic, Colonel Axel Cunningham had been subjected to hours of interrogation by MI5.
‘How is that my fault?’ demanded Kat, as pins and needles of shame prickled her all over.
‘Because I have it on reliable authority that you tampered with the house security system,’ said her grandfather. ‘Private passwords are private for a reason, Kat.’
‘I should have known the colonel would rat on me.’
‘He didn’t. We found out via other means.’
‘Oh!’
‘And, while we’re on the subject of the colonel, barbecues are not toys.’
Now Kat really did feel bad. ‘Is he terribly burnt? I panicked when I saw him on the deck. It was an accident, I promise. I put on the Jacuzzi but with cool water so he could dip his face in and make it better.’
The Dark Lord tried not to smile, but didn’t quite succeed. ‘So I heard. His left eyebrow is now slightly shorter than the right, but otherwise he was unscathed – no thanks to you.’
Kat suddenly remembered that the reason she’d resorted to extreme measures was because Colonel Cunningham had been up to no good on the deck at Avalon Heights.
Her chin rose. ‘You might be thanking me soon, once you’ve found out the real reason the colonel was skulking around Ramon’s deck. It wouldn’t surprise me if it turns out that he’s a murderer. If he’s hurt Ramon, I hope he goes to jail forever.’
Her grandfather went very still. Even the birds stopped singing.
Coldly, quietly, he said, ‘I’ve known Axel Cunningham for over ten years and he’s one of the best, most decent men ever to lead the British Army. The reason he was “skulking around” this Ramon’s deck, as you put it, is because they share a passion for birds and rare dahlias. The colonel decided to check that the flowers were being properly taken care of while Mr Corazón was away on business.’
‘Dahlias?’
Kat saw then what had been obvious from the beginning: the colonel had been tending to the window boxes. In the CCTV images, he’d been holding a garden trowel – hardly the weapon of choice for an army man with access to the best revolvers and rifles around.
But she refused to believe he was entirely innocent.
‘I’m not the only person who thinks Colonel Cunningham’s a monster,’ she said defensively. ‘When he walked into the deli the other day, people were quaking in their boots. He glared at me as if I was a criminal. Maybe he does like flowers, but he’s guilty of something, I’m sure.’
‘If Axel is guilty of anything, it’s of doing too good a job of acting tough so that the soldiers under his command don’t work out that he’s soft as marshmallow underneath. A few years ago, he lost his adored wife and daughter in an avalanche in the French Alps. He’s never really recovered from it. If he was glaring at you in particular, it could be because you reminded him of Sylvie. She’d be your age by now. Seeing you probably made him sad.’
Kat sank down on to a log. ‘Oh, the poor, poor colonel. I had no idea.’
The Dark Lord handed her his handkerchief, and it was only then she realized that her cheeks were wet with tears. He joined her on the log – albeit at the furthest end.
‘Kat, I told you Axel’s story not to upset you, but in the hope that you take from it a valuable lesson. You should never rush to judgement – particularly when it comes to people you don’t know.’
‘Nor should you.’ She sniffed, thinking of her mum in the maternity ward twelve and a quarter years ago.
He nodded slowly. ‘No, nor should I.’
For a microsecond, a channel opened up between them, and Kat felt connected to her grandfather in a way she’d never once felt when hearing about her long-lost father. She had an uncanny sense that they were the same.
Then the pilot and retriever came crunching through the trees. Before Kat could blink, the Dark Lord was on his feet. He glared down at her again, as if she were a field mouse, and he a falcon circling on high.
‘You and Edith think you’re being so cool and clever, but you’re dabbling in matters that will sweep you into deadly waters faster than a riptide. Stop what you’re doing before it’s too late. Next time, I might not be around to save you.’
27
Square Zero
‘It just slipped your mind to tell me that your granddad was Minister of Defence?’
Given a choice, Harper would have been pacing the living room. Tethered to the sofa by hulking plaster casts, she was reduced to chewing her nails.
‘Like you can talk,’ countered Kat. ‘It slipped your mind to mention the Trojan horse virus you put on Ramon’s computer.’
‘Which I wouldn’t have done if I’d had an inkling you were related to a man who hangs out with cyber-security spies,’ cried Harper.
She sagged into the cushions. ‘Now I’ll probably end my days in a dungeon under the Tower of London.’
Kat was unsympathetic. ‘I’ll send a postcard.’
She glanced out of the window. The chestnut racehorse was at the paddock gate, ears pricked, waiting for her.
‘Did it ever occur to you that if Ramon’s computer dies because of YOUR virus, I’ll be pet-sitting for the next year to buy him a new one if it turns out he really is in Paraguay on business? Oh, wait, no I won’t. Because I’m already in so much trouble that Mum has threatened to make me shut down my Paws and Claws agency.’
‘She hasn’t! But you’re the world’s best animal whisperer.’
Kat refused to smile. ‘How did your dad feel when Sergeant Singh called him to complain? Was he upset?’
Harper’s dimples did the cute, innocent thing they did whenever she was scheming, plotting or evading questions. Kat suspected that her dimples were the reason Harper had been getting away with murder for years.
‘Umm, Dad may not have got the message.’
‘Harper! You’re—’
‘Inco
rrigible. I know. People tell me that all the time. Kat, you have my word of honour—’
‘Honour?’
‘Yes, honour,’ Harper insisted, ‘that the virus I installed is not the kind that overwrites documents or destroys things. All it did was give me route access to Ramon’s computer so I could tell if anyone else was logging on to it remotely.’
‘And were they?’
‘Yes, but by the time I’d worked out that I was up against a master hacker that might actually be someone from British intelligence, it was too late. You’d been caught red-handed by your granddad and were on your way here.’
She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She looked as if she hadn’t slept. ‘Are you really mad at me?’
Kat sank down beside her. ‘I was a teensy bit mad for about three minutes, but I know you only did it to help our case. Besides, it’s my fault too. I should have told you about my grandfather. Let’s shake hands and agree never to keep secrets from each other ever again.’
‘Deal.’ But Harper was still anxious. ‘Kat, be honest. How long do I have before MI5 come to drag me away in handcuffs?’
This time, Kat did smile. ‘No one is taking you anywhere. You have Edith to thank for that. We both do. When the Dark Lord accused her of being the hacker, she guessed that you were the culprit, but she allowed him to keep thinking it was her, even when he threatened her with prison for it.’
Harper was grateful but bewildered. ‘Why? She doesn’t even know me.’
‘She knows you’re an armchair adventurer. That was enough.’
‘How did Edith feel about being accused of being a spy?’ asked Harper over tea and cake.
‘She said it was the best day out she’d had in twenty years, worth it for the scenic flight alone. We toured one hundred and eighty-five million years of history in twenty minutes. She also told me to tell you that she accepts the position.’
‘What position?’
Kat grinned. ‘Being Miss Moneypenny to our James Bond.’
‘Jane Bond, you mean!’
On the sofa, Harper performed a sitting-down bow. ‘From one armchair adventurer to another, tell her we’d gladly accept. Her story about the Brocken spectre was pure genius, and it’s helped us correct our timeline. Were her neighbours impressed when she was delivered home by helicopter?’
‘The helicopter dropped us off in a random field in the countryside, where the vicar was waiting to collect us. He didn’t say a word about the Dark Lord on the way back to Bluebell Bay, just chatted non-stop about the storm forecast for the night of the army dinner. As we pulled up at Kittiwake Cottage, a choirboy turned up on Edith’s mobility scooter. He’d been sent to collect it. His face was as crimson as his gown.’
Nettie came in then, so Kat didn’t tell Harper that Edith’s smile had faded as soon as she was reminded that there was a For Sale sign outside her home.
The vicar was staying for tea, so Kat had made her escape. Pausing on the way out to say goodbye to Toby, she’d noticed some legal documents on the shelf above the dog bed. They’d been signed by Edith. She’d given up fighting Reg and had granted her son permission to sell the cottage on her behalf. Her precious home, library and dog would soon be taken from her.
Kat had swung her rucksack and knocked the forms into Toby’s bed. He’d fallen on them with glee and ripped them to bits.
It wouldn’t stop the sale, but it might delay it for a few days while Reg ordered more documents and persuaded his mum to sign them again. This was Bluebell Bay. Anything could happen in a few days.
Anything at all.
‘So our chief suspect is in the clear,’ said Harper, crossing out the colonel’s name on her yellow pad. ‘So are Maids A and B. Maria is supposedly fiery but nice, and Ramon’s cleaner’s family emergency was real – Nettie says the woman’s daughter’s been ill with malaria ever since she came home from the Zambezi.’
She paused. ‘I have uncovered one thing, but you have to promise not to get judgemental on me.’
Kat eyed her distrustfully. ‘What have you done now, Harper Lamb?’
‘I hacked into Margo Truesdale’s email account.’
‘You what?’
‘You promised!’
‘But, Harper, that’s so wrong.’
‘I’m not the one who got an innocent colonel arrested and a senior citizen abducted in a helicopter by the Minister of Defence.’
Kat shuddered. ‘Don’t remind me. Did you read the email from Ramon? What did it say?’
‘I thought you said it was wrong?’
‘It is, but I suppose it’s what proper detectives do – go through people’s emails and bank statements.’
‘Yes, except that proper detectives have to wait for pesky search warrants and can’t just act on feelings in their bones,’ said Harper with a smile. ‘Anyway, I don’t feel bad because I did Margo a favour. Her password was Password1. That’s like laying out a welcome mat for fraudsters. I pretended to be from her bank and sent her some tips on creating an unbreakable password that even I couldn’t hack. It’ll keep her safer in future.’
‘So you’re a sort of Robin Hood hacker?’ said Kat. ‘You steal information, but you do something kind in return.’
Harper laughed. ‘Couldn’t have put it better myself. Anyway, it was only Margo’s business email, not her personal one. No gossip anywhere, only a load of dreary orders for eggs and gluten-free bread and pomegranate molasses. Tons of it.’
Kat raised an eyebrow. ‘Who orders tons of pomegranate molasses?’
‘Chef Roley for the Tank Regiment dinner. He’s probably putting it in the dessert. The only personal email was from Ramon. That made me smell a big stinking rodent. If he and Margo are so friendly that he sends her updates from Paraguay, why doesn’t he have her private email address?’
Kat wondered glumly whether Wolfe & Lamb, Inc. would ever be any good at detecting. Every lead they’d followed fizzled out.
‘Well, we wanted proof that Ramon was safely in Paraguay. Now we have it.’
Harper shook her head. ‘That’s just it. We don’t. The address on the email is a generic one that can be created in two minutes using made-up contact details. Anyone could have set it up. I got into that account too. There was only one message in the sent folder and one in the inbox – Margo’s reply.’
‘Could Ramon himself have set it up just so he could message Margo to tell her he’d be staying longer in Paraguay? Everyone knows she likes to gossip. If he wanted to send people off on a false trail, she’d be the best person to tell. Maybe he really is running away from his debts.’
‘There are hundreds of reasons he could have run away, if that’s what he’s done,’ said Harper. ‘What I’d like to know is why a bird watcher rented a house with a Code Blue alarm?’
‘Maybe he’s a spy and thought he’d need rescuing.’
Harper looked thoughtful. ‘That would explain why US intelligence agents were tracking his computer, but it could also mean he’s a criminal. Did your grandfather hint at which it could be?’
Kat had a flashback to the moment when she’d accused the flower-loving colonel of murdering Ramon.
‘He didn’t seem to know much about him. As far as he’s concerned, Ramon’s just some random bird watcher who had the misfortune of hiring the world’s worst pet-sitter.’
‘So, basically, four days after you found the half-packed suitcase, we have no suspects and no answers,’ said Harper. ‘Square Zero, that’s us.’
A frustrated whinny carried across the orchard. The Pocket Rocket had grown tired of waiting for Kat and was tearing up the paddock. He bucked so high that his silver shoes flashed in the sunlight.
Kat grabbed her riding helmet. ‘I’d better go before Charming Outlaw takes off over the garden hedge.’
As she walked through the cherry blossoms, she took her grandfather’s pale blue handkerchief from her pocket. Their morning encounter had been so otherworldly that if it weren’t for Edith and that square
of pale-blue silk she’d have had difficulty believing it happened.
Over and over, his warning went through her head.
Stop what you’re doing before it’s too late. Next time, I might not be around to save you.
28
Monkey Business
‘Don’t wait up for me,’ said Dr Wolfe over pineapple fritters on Wednesday evening. ‘I’m going to do some filing at the clinic while I monitor the bull terrier who had the dental op. If he hasn’t improved, I’ll put him on a drip.’
‘Would you like some help?’ asked Tina.
‘After you’ve spent ages preparing this fabulous meal? Not a chance. Besides, you’ve been on call for the last two nights. You need sleep. Kat, please bear that in mind when you’re up in your attic. Give the Elephant Yoga a break.’
Tina looked across at Kat. ‘Is that what you were doing when you were crashing about the other night – Elephant Yoga? I thought it might be Rhino Ballet.’
Kat laughed, but made a mental note to practise her mongoose moves more quietly in future.
‘Elephant Yoga is just Mum’s way of telling me to keep the noise down,’ she told Tina. ‘I hope I didn’t keep you awake. I was trying something I saw on YouTube.’
‘I love dancing too,’ said Tina, putting two and two together and making five. ‘You don’t have to be quiet on my account.’
After dinner, Dr Wolfe went over to the animal clinic. The bull terrier was not recovering as well as she’d hoped. She put him on fluids to boost his hydration levels.
There were two other dogs in the kennels, both restless and barking. The spoodle was convinced there was a bogeyman lurking in the dark.
‘It’ll be a fox,’ the vet told her. ‘I’m reliably informed that there are no burglars in Bluebell Bay.’
When the dogs had settled down, Dr Wolfe lugged three boxes of dusty files from the storeroom to her office. She tipped them on to the desk. Scanning them was a boring job, and she was swallowing a great yawn when the spoodle began to bark again.
Sighing, Dr Wolfe returned to the kennels. She opened the back door and shone a torch at the bushes and trees that grew thickly on the slope behind the practice. A night bird flapped from a branch above her head. Quickly she slammed the door.
Kat Wolfe Investigates Page 15
