by S M Hardy
‘Me?’
He nodded emphatically. ‘He asked had you seen Mr Pomeroy on the day he died. I told him no, you had arrived after Mr Pomeroy had gone into cardiac arrest, and … this is going to sound weird, but he appeared … he appeared almost – smug.’
I glanced at Emma. She was frowning at the doctor, concentrating on what he had said and trying to make sense of it.
‘Did the policeman ask to see Mr Pomeroy’s personal effects?’
‘No, to be honest, once he’d gone, I began to wonder whether he was a policeman at all. He flashed an ID at me when he’d arrived, but in retrospect it could have been a club card in his wallet, for all I knew.’
‘What name did he give?’
‘Detective Inspector Brogan.’ I sucked in breath. ‘You know him?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I said, ‘and he is a policeman.’
‘Ah,’ Emma cleared her throat. ‘Doctor Rani, could you describe him, please?’
‘Oh, yes. Tall man, big man. Well dressed.’
I frowned at him. ‘Well dressed, you say?’
‘I’m no fashion expert, but the police must get better pay than we do in the NHS, his suit was very expensive,’ he said, stressing the ‘ive’.
‘Really?’
The doctor leant back in his chair and crossed his arms. ‘Actually, he was a bit’ – he wrinkled his nose – ‘I don’t know … smarmy.’
‘How do you mean?’ I asked.
‘It was his expression. The whole time we were speaking he was smiling, a smug smile, like everything was a big joke.’
The image of Tanith Bloxborough came strutting into my head with the self-same smile as she strode through the hospital corridors like she owned the place, and it occurred to me it was becoming more and more likely the joke was on us.
Sighing, I leant back in the seat. ‘So, Dr Rani, I suppose Mr Pomeroy having died after an assault it’ll be a while before you can release the body for burial?’
I didn’t think the doctor’s face could get any longer, apparently I was wrong. ‘No one has been in contact with you?’
I was beginning to get a sinking feeling in my gut. ‘No.’
His shoulders slumped. ‘Last night, before I went off duty, several men arrived. All in suits, all in black. They could have been undertakers, but’ – he sucked in breath through his teeth – ‘they were more like’ – he hesitated – ‘they were more like mercenaries. Hard-faced, no compassion. Not men used to dealing with the bereaved. They took Mr Pomeroy’s body after speaking to the hospital manager.’
Emma’s hand gripped my knee as I stared at the young doctor, my mind racing. ‘Did they say who they were?’ I asked eventually.
‘Our manager said the man who spoke to her had said they were taking over the responsibility into the investigation of his death and we were not to release any information without reference to them.’
‘And yet you are,’ I said.
He glanced over his shoulder as if to check whether anyone was listening. ‘The man said to her that if you should be the one asking questions you would understand.’
I closed my eyes for a moment and massaged the bridge of my nose. I did understand. Even in death Simon was doing things his way. His people in the ministry were making sure of it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘Well, what do you make of all that?’ Emma asked as I pulled out of the hospital and onto the main road.
‘Simon was up to something. Though what, I’m not altogether sure.’
‘And what about the so-called policeman? It certainly wasn’t Detective Inspector Brogan who Doctor Rani described to us,’ Emma said. ‘He’s one of the scruffiest people I know.’
‘Someone’s playing games,’ I said.
‘If it was Edward impersonating Brogan, why would he be interested in you? Why would he ask whether you had spoken to Simon before he died?’
I had been pondering on the same thing myself. ‘When Laura and I left Simon he said he had some thinking to do and we’d talk the following day. He wanted to speak to me alone. He made that quite clear. Maybe someone was worried about what he might have told me, but never had the chance to. I should never have taken Laura to see him. If I hadn’t, then maybe I’d have some idea of what the hell is going on.’ We stopped at a set of traffic lights and I glanced at Emma. ‘I think I have to try and contact Oliver again.’
She stared at the windscreen. ‘He hasn’t exactly been forthcoming so far. He shows you things, but with no explanation they’re not particularly helpful.’
‘It is odd,’ I admitted, ‘but being psychic isn’t an exact science. I only get what they are willing to give me. Perhaps he doesn’t want to reveal too much because if he did it would prove he isn’t the hard-done-by innocent he’d have me believe.’ The lights changed and I pulled away.
‘He let you see he was part of the Order.’
He had and I wondered why.
The house was very quiet when we arrived back. Eerily so. Every one of our steps echoed as we crossed the entrance hall and once again it reminded me of a mausoleum.
‘Where is everybody?’ Emma asked as we reached the staircase.
‘They’re about somewhere. Probably getting dinner ready.’
She took a look at her watch. ‘It’s a bit early I’d have thought.’
Our room had been cleaned and the bed linen and towels changed while we’d been out. It had to be said Mrs Walters ran a tight ship. I immediately went to where I’d hidden the jewellery case and the picture of the three brothers. They were exactly where and how I’d left them. I took the picture out and flopped down on the bed.
Oliver and Edward – what had happened between them? Had Edward killed Oliver’s wife? They appeared happy enough in this photo. Oliver had his arm around Edward’s shoulders. Simon was slightly in front of them, leaning forward, looking excited, holding his prize aloft. Oliver’s expression was proud, while Edward was smiling that inscrutable, creepy smile. Yeah, it was creepy.
Emma dropped down on the bed beside me. ‘Do you think it never stopped? Like it might have been going on for hundreds of years?’
‘Hmm.’ I stared at the picture, wishing I could somehow get into their heads and know how they were on that day. I flipped it over. WN 1981.
‘What does the WN stand for, do you think?’
I slowly shook my head. ‘I have no idea.’ I frowned at the inscription. WN – what did it mean? Was it important? A little tickle at the top of my spine told me that perhaps it was.
‘Could it be a phase of the moon or some sort of religious festival?’
‘Religious festival?’ I said, aghast at the thought. ‘It isn’t a religion, Emms. It’s a travesty. An abomination.’
‘Wow,’ she said, raising her hands in mock alarm. ‘When did you go all sanctimonious on me?’
I shifted uneasily. She was right – as usual. I’d always professed to have not a religious bone in my body. That religion was a man-made thing to keep the masses under control. My gift hadn’t done anything to make me think otherwise. If there truly was a God shouldn’t he be the one to help those poor souls who couldn’t move on?
‘Worshipping the Devil is not a religion,’ I muttered.
‘Well, it appears that it is, or was, to the Pomeroys, though I don’t suppose Laura will be carrying on the family tradition.’
‘I should bloody well hope not.’ I glanced back at the picture and frowned. ‘Unless …’
Emma studied my face. ‘Unless …?’
‘What if she hasn’t a choice?’
She sat there quietly as she thought about it. ‘I wonder where Laura is now?’
I climbed to my feet. ‘Where do you think?’
‘Riding?’
‘Most probably. Let’s go down to the stables. I’ve been wanting to have another conversation with Dan Crouchley. He definitely knows more than he’s saying.’
‘Just let me slip on some comfortable shoes and I’ll be with you,�
� she said.
We didn’t see a soul on the way to the stables, which was unusual. There was normally Mrs Walters or Maddy bustling around downstairs and Mr Walters or the gardener out and about in the grounds. There wasn’t even the sound of a radio coming from the stables when we entered the yard.
‘Where is everybody?’ Emma asked.
The stable block was empty. The lad, whose name I’d forgotten if we’d even been told it, wasn’t about, nor was Donald Walters or Dan. As I walked along the centre of the block, a huge chestnut head appeared out of a stall. Jericho was apparently the only occupant.
I reached out to pet his head. ‘There’s a good boy,’ I said, scratching his brow.
‘Satan and Angel are out,’ Emma said, peering into Satan’s stall.
‘Still think I have no reason to be worried about Laura and Dan?’
‘Laura’s young – she should be having fun.’
‘But not with a stable hand who will likely be on his toes in a few months or so.’ I hesitated. What was it he’d said?
‘He’s clearly not just a stable hand if he has a degree in history,’ Emma commented.
‘No, I suppose not,’ I said, not really paying attention. He’d said something about staying at Kingsmead until he’d fulfilled a promise. I’d been going to ask him what he meant when we were interrupted. That’s right, Emma joined us and he’d said he had to get back.
‘Maybe you should take Jericho out and see if you can find them?’
‘Huh-uh. There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone. If we can’t go together we’re not going at all.’
‘Then let’s walk along the track. We might bump into them on their way back.’
‘I suppose, if nothing else, it’ll get us out of the house for a while.’
‘It is a lovely day, so we might as well make the most of it.’
I gave Jericho’s snout a good rub. ‘I’ll see you later,’ and he replied with a snort and a stamp of his hooves, no doubt disappointed he wasn’t going out for a run.
Emma tucked her arm through mine and we made for the track. The sun was warm and the air was fresh. It was so calm and peaceful it was difficult to imagine that the lawns stretched out to the side of us and the forest ahead had borne witness to the terrible last minutes of a man’s life.
In the distance I could hear the rapid click, click, click of a woodpecker tapping on bark and melodic birdsong. Bees buzzed around us searching for nectar amongst the long grasses and other vegetation on either side of the track. A crow landed on a post ahead of us, cawing as we approached and hopping off into the field as we grew too close.
‘It is very beautiful here,’ Emma said.
‘Not as beautiful as The Grange.’
‘The Grange doesn’t have its own woodland.’
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. ‘The Grange doesn’t have bodies piling up in it either.’
‘True,’ she said, ‘and let’s hope it stays that way.’
I kissed her on the top of the head. ‘You’re not thinking of starting an unholy order of something or other?’
‘You know I never wear black. It doesn’t suit me.’
Two figures on horseback appeared in the distance. They were taking their time. Plodding along, deep in conversation by the look of it.
‘I guess you could start a new fashion line for Satanists. Perhaps in powder blue or that crushed strawberry pink you like so much.’
She giggled and thumped my arm. ‘It’s not really funny.’
I shrugged. ‘I’d rather we laughed than cried. Anyway, if we’re being watched I want them to think we’re unworried and completely unaware of how much danger we’re in.’
Her smile didn’t falter. ‘And you believe we’re in real danger?’
‘Up to our bloody armpits.’
‘Glad I’m not overestimating it.’
‘You still won’t go home?’
She rested her hand on my bicep. ‘Silly man. These people sought out Laura’s parents and they would seek me out too, if it suited them. At least here, with you, we’re together and if there is a need to worry, we’d both know it soon enough.’
She had a point, though it didn’t stop me being concerned. When exactly had our lives become so perilous? Stupid question – until eighteen months ago we were plodding along quite nicely. I had left behind danger decades before and settled into safe country life, keeping myself busy with a bit of gardening and handyman jobs and the occasional request for messages from the dead. Then a young man called Jim Hawkes came into our lives, and over a few short weeks everything changed. It wasn’t his fault, he was as much a chess piece in a bigger game as the rest of us.
The only good thing that came from what followed was that I finally had the nerve to tell Emma I wanted to be more than just friends, if that was what she wanted too. Her response wasn’t what I’d expected or could ever have hoped for. ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she’d said.
Now there was this. A letter from an old friend and suddenly fear was creeping back into our lives just the same as it had all those months ago. But it wasn’t just fear … I tried to tell myself it was – I was lying. With the fear came a frisson of excitement, the same fizzing in the blood I used to get as I set off on a mission. I’d forgotten how it’d felt and how much I missed it.
Laura and Dan had seen us. I’m not sure whether it was my imagination, I don’t think it was, but they weren’t riding so close together now and they’d quickened their pace.
Dan raised a hand in greeting and when they were a few yards away slowed to a halt.
‘How did it go at the hospital?’ Laura asked.
I pulled a face and decided to be a little economical with the truth. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. ‘As well as can be expected.’
‘Any news on when we can start making arrangements for the funeral?’
‘I left my details and they said they’d let me know,’ I lied. My paranoia might be spiralling out of control, but I wasn’t going to give anything away in front of Dan. He and I needed to have a conversation and I’d rather it wasn’t in front of Laura and similarly I needed to have a chat with her. She was as much of the mystery as the rest of the Pomeroys.
‘Nice ride?’ Emma asked, deftly changing the subject.
Laura flushed slightly and she brushed the hair back from her brow, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. ‘Lovely, thank you. It is a glorious day, perfect for a long ride around the grounds.’
The corners of Dan’s eyes crinkled into a smile I recognised, and he looked away, making a show of petting Satan’s neck. I forced my expression to remain neutral. The signals were all there. If he and Laura hadn’t been up to something they really shouldn’t I’d go teetotal.
A little voice inside my head told me it was none of my business – and it’d be right – but, with Simon gone, I somehow felt responsible for her. Emma’s hand slipped into mine and she squeezed my fingers. I let out a long, slow breath and forced a smile onto my face.
‘We’ll let you get on,’ I said to Laura. ‘We’ll see you at dinner.’
‘Yes, see you later,’ she said as we stepped to one side to let them pass.
Laura went first and, when I glanced up, Dan was no longer smiling. He leant down towards me. ‘I need to speak to you,’ he whispered.
I nodded and, with a bob of his head in acknowledgement, he urged Satan on. Emma hooked her arm through mine, and we turned to watch them ride off down the track.
‘Hmm, seems you were right about him and Laura,’ Emma said.
I grunted. ‘You noticed, then?’
‘Have you considered he might be trying to keep her safe too?’
‘By getting into her knickers?’ Emma punched my arm – hard. ‘Oww, that hurt.’
She ignored me. ‘By keeping her away from the house.’
‘Your logic escapes me,’ I said. ‘She was thrown from Angel while out riding with Dan. And for all we know he could be part of all t
his.’
‘But you don’t think so?’ she said. She had me there. As it happened I didn’t. If he were, there were certain things I’m sure he wouldn’t have said to me. ‘Well?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘When are you going to try and see him?’
‘Before dinner, while you’re beautifying yourself.’
She laughed. ‘We’d better start back, then.’
‘It doesn’t take you that long.’
‘Ah, but you’ll have to go first!’
I scowled at her and she fluttered her eyelashes at me. ‘You’re probably right,’ I said.
I left Emma as she was about to get into the shower. I stopped her. ‘Lock the door after I leave.’
She made a huffing sound, but padded across the bedroom in her dressing gown to stand by the door. ‘If I’m still in the shower when you come back, you’ll have to wait.’
‘In which case I’ll go downstairs and have a drink.’
‘Men,’ she muttered as she rose up on tiptoes to give me a peck on the cheek before closing the door behind me.
I waited until I heard the click of the key in the lock and then strode off to try and find Dan.
An old Stones song blared out into the yard from the stable block a lot louder than usual. Dan was where I expected, in Satan’s stall rubbing the massive beast down. He gave a nod of hello upon seeing me and carried on with what he was doing. I leant against the doorpost, so I could keep an eye out for anyone else entering the building – what I had to say didn’t need witnesses. Satan’s coat was a gleaming blue-black by the time he’d finished his ministrations.
Eventually he threw down the brush and gestured I should come inside. I took one more look out towards the yard and joined him.
‘Something’s going on,’ he said, without any preamble. ‘I’ve not seen hide nor hair of either ald Walters or his missus today and Maddy and the rest of the staff are walking around looking like the world’s about to end.’
