‘Well, not enemies, exactly,’ I objected. ‘People who don’t like you aren’t your enemies. They just ignore you. The opposite of love isn’t hate but indifference.’
‘You’re right, of course. So we’re positing that Mahala barely knows who Tom is and doesn’t much care.’
‘He would care, though, if Tom somehow got in the way of the rat project and Mahala’s ultimate goal.’
And that brought us round full circle to where we had begun. What had Tom seen or done on that day when he disappeared?
‘Alan,’ I said, ‘we need to go back to Mrs Bradford’s stable. Or suggest that Elaine send somebody. Just on the off chance that Tom was there and might have left something behind.’
‘It’s a very long shot, Dorothy. I don’t know that Elaine has personnel enough for that, at this stage.’
‘Well, then let’s go ourselves. We could tell Mrs Bradford that I dropped something and need to look for it.’
‘Very well.’ Alan wasn’t enthusiastic. ‘I don’t know how we’ll persuade her not to help us search, but I suppose it’s better than doing nothing.’
Which was what we’d been doing a lot of, it seemed.
We had a piece of luck. Mrs Bradford had gone into Newmarket, the nearest town, to do some shopping, we were told by her ‘stable lad’, who was working with a bridle in the tack room and was sixty if he was a day.
‘My wife and I visited here earlier, and she somehow lost a bracelet. Not valuable, but she’d like to find it if she can. Would it be all right if we look around?’
‘Oh, yes, Elsie told me all about your visit. Quite an event for her, it was. She almost never sees anyone but me, and after all these years we’ve pretty well run out of new things to say to each other. An American lady, and with a hat, eating her sausages – that’ll keep her going for weeks. I expect she’s telling the people at the post office all about it right this minute.’
I didn’t even try to explain that I’ve lived here for years and am now a British subject. The accent puts me firmly in my place every time. ‘So do you mind if I look for it? I think I might have dropped it in the hayloft. The catch was loose.’
He made a ‘be my guest’ gesture and went back to the bridle. Alan boosted me up the ladder to the hayloft.
We hadn’t moved very far away from the ladder in our quick visit earlier, and, somewhat worried about possible mice and rats, I hadn’t noticed anything but hay. Alan was more observant. He pointed to a corner I hadn’t noticed at all. There was certainly an indentation in the hay.
Clinging to his arm, I walked with him across the uneven floor, sneezing as dust from the hay we waded through rose up around us.
‘Now what?’ I whispered.
‘Don’t whisper. It carries.’ His voice was very low, just audible, but without the sibilance of a whisper. ‘First we look without touching. Then we can poke about. And don’t be too worried about making noise. We’re supposed to be looking for a bracelet, remember.’
‘I never wear bracelets.’
‘I know. It was all I could think of. If it were an earring, you’d have the matching one.’
‘Sometimes, my dear, you are really quite bright.’
He made a face and turned to gaze intently at the corner nest.
‘All right,’ he said after a couple of minutes. ‘There’s nothing obvious. Now we start to poke.’
‘I don’t have anything to poke with,’ I objected. ‘Just my fingers.’
‘A pity neither of us carries a walking stick. Never mind. Fingers will have to do. It’s just nice clean hay.’
It was scratchy, though. I was pretty sure I was going to end up with a rash on my hands, and I’ve always tried to take good care of my hands, which used to be rather pretty. Oh, well. I’m too old to have much vanity left, and certainly my hands now are arthritic and liver-spotted. Get on with the job, Dorothy.
It was Alan who found it. ‘Stand back a little, love,’ he said in rather an odd voice, very quiet but somehow intense.
I obediently stood back while he carefully brushed aside some hay, revealing a black trash bag. It wasn’t one of the huge ones, and it seemed to be empty, lying crumpled and dusty.
‘Good surface for fingerprints,’ he said quietly. ‘Let me have your cardigan for a moment, if I may.’ Wrapping his hand in my sweater, he gently patted the bag all over.
‘Ah.’ He stopped patting. ‘Something here. It would have to be at the very bottom.’
I found the little flashlight in my purse. ‘If you can hold the bag open, I think I can look in and see what it is, unless you want to dump it out.’
‘Better to leave it where it is, just in case.’
It took some doing to open the bag without leaving fingerprints, but we managed it. And there, down in the corner, apparently glued to the bottom of the bag, was a vial that looked like the sort used for injectable drugs. The rubber seal had been punctured, and the vial had leaked, which was why it stuck to the bag. The label was still readable, though.
Alan and I looked at each other. ‘Ampicillin?’ I whispered.
TWENTY-FOUR
Alan buried the bag back in the hay. We poked around a little more, but found nothing to indicate who had used the hay as a comfortable nest, perhaps – certainly – as a hiding place. I didn’t need to be told that we had to leave everything as nearly as possible as we had found it. Elaine and her troops were going to have to look at this.
‘Find it, did you?’ asked the man as we came down from the loft. ‘Name’s Arthur, by the way. Everyone calls me Art.’
‘Alan and Dorothy.’ Alan extended a hand. ‘No, we didn’t.’
‘I’m thinking maybe I lost it somewhere else. It’s really lightweight, and I think it would have just stayed on top of the hay if it had come off up there.’
‘I’ll keep an eye open,’ Art promised.
‘Oh, don’t bother. As Alan said, it really has no value, except sentimental.’
He looked surprised. ‘But we wouldn’t want one of the horses eating it, would we? Wouldn’t be good for them at all.’
We solemnly agreed that it wouldn’t, got directions back to the main road to Cambridge, and waved goodbye.
‘And what,’ I said once we were back in the car, ‘does that vial mean? Was Tom there or not? And if he was, what was he doing with ampicillin?’
‘And not just one vial of it by the looks of it, either, or why would he have been carrying a whole bin liner?’
‘Unless – unless the bag really was a trash bag. I mean, used to throw things away. The vial was nearly empty, after all. Maybe Tom, or somebody, used it and threw it away.’
‘That kind of vial isn’t used by anyone except medical personnel. Ampicillin is given by injection only in case of a serious infection. And the vial would not be carelessly tossed in a bin liner and the bag then carefully buried under a pile of hay in a stranger’s stable.’
‘Oh. You’re right. Well, then. Maybe Art was doctoring one of the horses. I know vets do sometimes let people on farms look after the large animals, and ampicillin is used for animals. Remember when Emmy’s ear got infected? She had to have a shot, and then we had to try to give her pills forever.’
‘Art would be a possibility, but there’s the same objection. He wouldn’t bury the vial under the hay. He’d throw it out properly. And if he had something to do with that bag, would he have let us go up into the loft without the slightest hesitation?’
‘Oh,’ I said again. ‘Alan, are we ever going to come across anything that makes sense?’
‘Only if we can find the main thread in this whole tangle. Somewhere there’s a beginning to it all, and if we can just find it, we can start to find our way to the heart.’
‘Like the original “clew” that led to the heart of the labyrinth.’
‘Exactly. We’ve been pawing our way into the ball of yarn and only making a bigger mess, like a cat with a toy.’ He pounded the steering wheel in frustration. ‘And at t
his point I wish I could untangle these roads. I think I’ve got us lost again.’
‘No, you haven’t. See, way over there are the pinnacles of King’s. Lucky this is such flat land. Anything that sticks up shows for miles. So you know the direction to go, if you can just find the roads to take you there.’
‘Easier said than done,’ he muttered.
I shut up. Alan almost never gets into a snit, but when he does, it’s wiser to keep still. Anyway, I was worrying at a thought, trying to chase it and pin it down. It was something Alan had said, something about … no, it wouldn’t come. I finally let it go and concentrated on the spring landscape, hoping that the usual trick of thinking about something else would work.
We were coming into Cambridge, and Alan had at last got his bearings and relaxed, when it came to me. ‘The beginning!’ I said.
Alan’s hand on the wheel twitched a bit. He corrected his course. ‘I thought you’d gone to sleep. You’ve been quiet for a long time.’
‘And I usually chatter all the time. I know. But I’ve been thinking, trying to remember what you said that struck a chord. The beginning, Alan!’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘We have to go back to the beginning. Somehow the thread we need, so we can untangle the mess, stretches back into the past. It’s like Gaudy Night! That’s why I’ve been thinking about that book so much, only I didn’t know it. The key to everything that was going on in that book was an event in the past, and once that was unearthed, everything became clear. I’m convinced it’s the same here. We have to go back to the past.’
He looked up at the Guildhall. ‘There’s a good deal of past in Cambridge,’ he said with admirable restraint. ‘Well over a thousand years. Which bit were you planning to explore?’
I ignored him. ‘We know most of Mahala’s past; he told me. But the other two people most involved are Tom and Elaine. We know almost nothing about them. We need to find out. There’s something there, I’m sure of it.’
‘Well, we can’t ask Tom about himself.’
‘No. But we can ask Elaine. She’ll choose what she wants us to know, of course, if there’s anything really odd in his background. But you’re good at figuring out where the gaps are in people’s stories. And then, from what she tells us, we can start to explore her past. Somewhere something will converge.’
He took some convincing. ‘Dorothy, have you listened to yourself? Do you realize what you’re proposing to do? You want to go to a very senior police officer and, in effect, tell her she’s conducting an important investigation in the wrong way, and you have a better suggestion. And then you’re going to sit down and interrogate her. It’s not on, darling.’
‘Not if you put in those terms, no. But suppose we invite her out to dinner. I doubt she’s had a proper meal lately. We’ll tell her we need an evening away from all the troubles and ask her to suggest a quiet restaurant where they have excellent food, and then ask her to join us. It would be better if I could cook her a meal at home. Sitting in front of a fire in a cosy room is the very best place to relax and talk. But failing that, something in the nature of a really nice inn would do.’
‘And you think you can talk her into dropping everything and coming with us.’
‘My dear man, we’re not asking her to come with us to the far corners of the earth. You know as well as I do – as well as she does – that she doesn’t have to be personally present for the investigation to continue. She has a mobile, if there’s some sort of startling development. Her people will probably get along better, in fact, when she isn’t hovering.’
‘You’re not going to tell her that!’
‘No, I’m going to let her tell me. She’s not a stupid woman. Leave it to me, dear. I’ll entice her. You just wait and see.’
I was tired. It had been a very long and trying day, and I was longing for a nap. But we had to report to Elaine what we had found in the stable, and we – I – had to persuade her to go out to dinner with us. So instead of stopping at our rooms, we went straight to the police station.
The guardian of the car park knew us by now and made no objection when Alan pulled in. ‘We’ll be half a tick,’ he said, and we both went inside.
Our timing was good. Elaine, looking tired and drained, was coming down the stairs as we started up them.
‘No progress, I’m sorry to say,’ she said. ‘That sweet little man who shares Mahala’s house has not uttered one word, not even his name. We’ve had to let him go, though what I’d like to do …’ She made a neck-wringing gesture. ‘He’s trouble.’
‘Andrews?’ asked Alan sympathetically.
‘Andrews. You can imagine what he said.’
‘I can, unfortunately.’
‘Look, Elaine, you’ve had a horrible day, and ours hasn’t been a lot better. We’ve come across one thing, though, that you may want to follow up. Alan, tell her where that farm is.’
He told her, as best he could, and handed her the brochure he’d been given at the Tourist Information office. ‘There was something odd hidden in the hayloft, a bin liner with a used ampoule of ampicillin stuck to the bottom. Dorothy thinks it might be a lead to Tom. Quite honestly, I find the connection tenuous, at best, but we thought you should know about it, just in case.’
‘Yes, all right, I should check it out. Any possibility, however slight …’
‘I’ll try to tell your people the best way to get there,’ said Alan. ‘It’s very isolated.’
‘I may know it. I’ll drive them.’
I laid my hand on her arm. ‘Elaine. Alan and I have decided what we need is a really good meal in a place where we could relax, and we’d like you to come with us. You can’t keep going forever at this level of tension. If you can suggest a place, we’ll change into something decent and join you there. How about it?’
She shook her head. ‘It sounds like heaven, but I need to follow up what you’ve given me.’
Alan said, ‘You know, when I was a superintendent, my CC wouldn’t allow me to work past my span of usefulness. He preached a frequent homily to the effect that fatigue led to mistakes, and in our business we can’t afford mistakes. I’d be willing to bet that you can’t think clearly anymore.’
She sighed. ‘You’re right about that. But—’
‘And you’ve probably reached the point of forgetting which of your people you’ve asked to do what.’
‘Well—’
‘I’m not your boss, Elaine, but if I were, I should order you to turn the investigation over to your very capable team. Spend the evening with friends, good food and a modicum of alcohol, and then get a night’s sleep. Things will feel better in the morning. I do know what I’m talking about.’
‘Of course you do. “Been there, done that”, as they say. All right, I give up. But would you be terribly disappointed if we didn’t go out? There’s an excellent Indian takeaway quite close to my house, if you like Indian food. It’s just that I’m not sure I’m up to a real restaurant. We could be very comfortable at my place.’
‘That sounds perfect!’ I cried. ‘Then we wouldn’t have to change, either – if you don’t mind, that is.’
‘And you wouldn’t even have to drive,’ said Alan. ‘Frankly, I doubt you’re alert enough right now to drive safely. Come with us and you can show us the way.’
‘Brilliant! I’ll just tell them I’m going home, and then we can be off.’
We didn’t talk about the case at all while Alan drove us. I commented on the amazingly beautiful weather, not perhaps a very original topic, but soothing. We talked about Indian food and called ahead for it, and when Alan went in to get it and we waited in the car, Elaine actually fell asleep for a few minutes.
She slept neatly, her head leaning back against the headrest. Her mouth stayed shut; no snoring. She looked very young, in fact. The worry smoothed out of her face; her hands lay relaxed in her lap.
I felt very sorry for her. She was going to have to face it all again soon enough.
She roused immediately when Alan got in the car, and I made some comment.
‘Oh, I learned the art of the catnap long ago,’ she said. ‘It’s amazing how refreshing it can be. Did you find that, Alan, when you were on active duty?’
‘I was never very good at it. I don’t let go easily. Even when I managed to sleep in my bed for a reasonable amount of time in the middle of a case, the details kept running through my head. That could be useful, though. Sometimes I’d wake with a fresh idea. Is this your house? Where shall I park?’
Elaine’s house was a semi-detached in a pleasant neighbourhood, not large but neat and well kept, with a pocket garden where roses would bloom in summer. Inside, it was a home for a woman who valued her comforts but didn’t have a lot of time for fancy trimmings. There was one main room downstairs, serving as living and eating space, and a small kitchen behind it. I saw lots of books but few ornaments, only a pair of pictures on the mantel. ‘Tom?’ I asked.
‘Yes, at age two, and then later with his first bicycle.’
‘I thought they had a look of him, but it’s hard to tell now, with that beard.’
‘Lord, yes, the first time I saw it I swear I didn’t know him. Look, sit down and pour yourself a drink while I get some plates and light the fire.’
‘I can deal with the fire,’ said Alan, ‘if you’ll allow me.’
‘If you will. It only wants a match set to it.’
‘What would you like to drink, Elaine?’ I asked as I dealt with Alan’s and my needs.
‘Macallan, please. Neat.’
That was, I knew, a very expensive whisky indeed. I poured some for Alan as well, and a very small tot for me, as Elaine apparently didn’t stock bourbon.
In a very few minutes our meal was on the table, sending out heavenly aromas, and the fire was going nicely. We sat down. Elaine took a healthy swig of her drink and gave a huge sigh. ‘Oh, how I needed that! Though I shouldn’t be taking the time even for dinner, much less a drink.’
‘Remember I’m acting in loco superiori, or whatever the proper phrase might be. You’re under orders to relax and refresh. Cheers.’ Alan raised his glass and we followed suit.
Blood Will Tell Page 21
