‘Where was the van parked?’ asked Alan.
‘In the fens somewhere. I got a quick look out of the window, and there was nothing but weed and water, and a farm quite a long way away. I don’t know what the men were doing out of the car; there wasn’t a pub or anything else in sight.’
‘Probably leaving the bag of goodies at the farm,’ said Elaine. ‘We think it was used for a drop. Ideal situation. But go on, Tom.’
‘Well, they came back and we drove around for a bit. I was still pretending to be unconscious, so they felt free to talk. They were trying to decide what to do with me. They phoned their boss. I didn’t know who he was then, but I worked it out later. He must have been hopping mad, because I could hear him shouting on the other end of the line. Anyway, the two fools decided they’d better keep me alive for a while, so they found a pub. They knew I was awake by then, so one of them stayed in the car while the other fetched a sandwich and a bottle of beer for me. I think the beer must have been drugged, because I fell asleep and slept right through to the next day.’
‘And that’s when you tried to phone me.’
‘Yes, well, I was pretty well fed up by that time. They’d gone off again, and this time I managed to get hold of the phone and make the call, but they came back before I could tell you anything.’
‘And then,’ I said, ‘they decided to put you away for safekeeping until their boss told them what to do with you. And they hit upon a farm in the most deserted part of the fen.’
‘They knew the place. You’re right, Aunt Elaine – they’d hidden their loot there before. But how did you know I’d been there?’
‘You forget that Alan was a detective once,’ I said with a smile.
‘And Dorothy is a detective without portfolio,’ said Elaine, and raised her glass to me.
Tom’s account of his escape tallied with our scenario pretty closely, except for one small detail. ‘They were livid with me before they left, because one of them cut off his little finger when he was cutting up that strap they tied around me.’ Elaine made a little exclamation. ‘I didn’t see it happen,’ Tom went on, ‘but I heard plenty! I thought I’d breathed my last breath then, I can tell you, but then they went away and I managed to get that cursed bag off my head, and you know the rest.’
‘Why did you take the straps with you?’ I was still curious about that one. ‘And why did you bury the bag in the straw?’
‘I’m not sure. You’ll understand I wasn’t thinking too clearly. I think I just wanted to get rid of the bag in case someone wanted to use it on me again, and I may have had some vague idea the straps would be of use. I lost them while I was on the run, though.’
‘And what a good thing, because they led us to you.’ I smiled at Tom. ‘And, Jim, your courageous rescue of Mahala led Elaine to the goons, and they in turn to the villain behind it all. So,’ I raised my glass, ‘here’s to Tom’s safe return, and the capture of several nasty people.’
‘Who might well have got away with it,’ said Alan, ‘if my wife hadn’t refused to forget about a pool of blood on the floor.’
‘Which, in the end, had nothing to do with the case.’ I coughed and took a swig of whisky to ease my scratchy throat.
‘But it was because you snooped into it,’ said Elaine, ‘that someone decided you might stumble across something important, and shoved you down the stairs, which made me start to take the matter seriously, and led eventually to all the rest. Who pushed her, Mahala, do you know?’
‘One of the gang.’ The word sounded odd in Mahala’s precise, clipped English. ‘I do not know who. I did not know about that, Mrs Martin, I swear it to you. It is not the action of a good person, to push a lady down the stairs. I would have tried to stop it if I had known.’
‘Don’t worry, Mahala,’ I said. ‘I know you’re not a violent person. You love animals; that makes you OK in my book.’ He looked puzzled. ‘Sorry, I mean, I have a high regard for you. And speaking of animals, have you been able to check on your rats?’
‘I must go back to them as soon as Superintendent Barker will allow me. I have telephoned the student who was minding them, and she says they are fine, but she does not like them. I must check for myself.’
He was back almost to his normal single-minded self, and I marvelled at the resiliency of the young.
‘And also speaking of animals,’ Elaine said to me, ‘you were concerned about a missing guinea pig?’
‘Oh, I suppose I was. I’d almost forgotten.’
‘Her minder took her home. She is now the proud mother of quadruplets. Mother and babies doing well.’
‘Good.’ I sneezed again.
‘Take her home, Alan,’ said Elaine. ‘She’s going to have a terrible cold, and terrible memories of Cambridge.’
‘A cold, yes. And a few memories I’d rather not have, but also some new friends. On balance, I think all’s well that ends well. Except, I suppose, the students will forget about their elaborate prank, with all that’s gone wrong.’
Mahala scowled, but everyone else in the room looked surprised.
‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so,’ said Alan. ‘Why ever should they?’
TWENTY-NINE
Alan and I sat in the choir at King’s, Elaine and Tom next to us. Our bodies were in that beautiful place, our eyes delighting in the magnificent fan-vaulted ceiling and the afternoon sun streaming through the lovely stained glass, but our spirits were soaring with the voices of the choir, lifting us out of time and place to regions of pure joy.
The music ended. One of the choral scholars got up to read the lesson, finishing with ‘Thanks be to God’.
I took Alan’s hand, looked at Elaine and Tom, and whispered an echoing ‘Thanks be to God’.
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