‘Good Lord, no! I’ll drive over to collect you, and leave the car at Marsborough station.’
‘That’s fine going down, but it will be nearly midnight before we get back, and you’d still have the drive to Stokely.’
‘Don’t worry about that; I’m quite a night bird.’
‘Wouldn’t it be more sensible if you stayed overnight? You could have Sarah’s room.’
She stopped short, heat washing over her. ‘That is,’ she stammered, ‘I didn’t mean—’
God, she was making it worse!
Guy said quickly, ‘That’s a very kind thought, but I wouldn’t want to put you out.’
Though she desperately wanted to back-pedal, she couldn’t in all conscience leave the invitation hanging. ‘It would be no trouble,’ she said, ‘but of course, if you’d rather—’
‘Avril.’ His voice was gentle. ‘Please don’t be embarrassed. I know exactly what you meant, and as I said, it’s a very kind thought. Provided you’re sure it wouldn’t make too much work for you, I’d be delighted to stay.’
She drew a long, tremulous breath. ‘That’s fine, then. I’ll see you on Friday.’
‘I’ll check the train times, but to be on the safe side, I’d better collect you at five. If we’re too early, we can always have a drink before the show. And in the meantime, I’m sure you needn’t worry about Rona; she seems a very capable young woman.’
Avril put the phone down with a rush of conflicting emotions. Only a couple of days ago, she’d been regretting the loss of a kind and considerate man like Tom. Possibly – just possibly – she’d found herself another.
Fifteen
Lindsey’s call had been ecstatic. Seeing Max’s long-suffering expression, Rona had taken the phone to the privacy of the hall, and sat on the stairs while her sister repeated, almost verbatim, what had passed between her and Dominic.
‘I told you playing hard to get would work,’ Rona put in, when Lindsey paused for breath. ‘And wasn’t it I who said it was too soon to give up on him completely?’
‘Oh, aren’t you the wise old owl! But seriously, Ro, he is gorgeous, isn’t he?’
‘I admit I liked him,’ Rona replied. ‘More than I expected to, having heard a fair bit about him. But what are you doing, phoning me? Why aren’t you with him, making mad, passionate love?’
‘Because, unfortunately, he’s had to go to London for a couple of days, which is why he came to the office at lunchtime, instead of waiting till this evening. Ro, he wants me to go on holiday with him. He mentioned South Africa.’
‘Hang on: I thought you were going to Italy with Mum?’
There was a pause. Then Lindsey wailed, ‘Oh, God, I’d forgotten about her! I was just thinking I could cancel my singles booking.’
‘Well, you can’t let her down; you saw how pleased she was. Anyway, it’s only for ten days. You have four weeks’ holiday, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but I’ve already had a week, and it was September Dominic mentioned.’
‘Then you’ll have to tell him. He won’t think the worse of you for sticking to your arrangement.’
‘I suppose not,’ Lindsey said disconsolately.
‘And if he does, it’ll tell you quite a bit about him,’ Rona added sharply.
‘All right, all right. I’ll suggest we go in October.’ She paused. ‘Jonathan was pretty unpleasant this afternoon.’
‘Are you surprised?’
‘Said I was looking very pleased with myself, like the cat that got the cream.’
‘Perhaps,’ Rona said, ‘it will encourage him to return his attentions to his wife.’
They watched the news in silence. The photofit of Louise received wide coverage, and Rona wondered uneasily if her abductor had seen it.
‘It looks quite like her, doesn’t it?’ she commented.
‘I wouldn’t know.’
Rona frowned. ‘How do you mean?’
‘I can’t say if it’s like her, because I’ve never seen her.’
She turned to him incredulously. ‘But you must have, Max! They’ve been there nearly a month!’
‘Nevertheless, I haven’t – apart from a cigarette glowing in the dark, which could have been anyone. And what’s more, from what that detective said, I’m in the majority.’
‘Yes, but living next door . . .’
‘Strange, I agree, but true. Come to think of it, the police and I have only your word for it she even exists.’
Rona stared at him, and gave a little shudder. ‘That’s weird.’
He put a hand on her knee. ‘All of which puts you in a unique position, my love. To help them with their enquiries, and so on.’
‘As long as the phrase isn’t used euphemistically,’ Rona said.
This was the last week of Max’s classes, which, unusually, had stretched into August to compensate for the four weeks they’d been away.
‘Once they’ve finished and you’ve handed in your article,’ he said at breakfast the next morning, ‘I think we should go up to Tynecastle and spend some time with the old man. It’ll be lovely up there at this time of year.’
‘Better check with Cynthia that we can stay with her. We can’t impose ourselves on Roland and Mrs Pemberton.’
‘Well, we’ll give him the option. God knows, the house is large enough; he rattles around in it.’
‘Is he working on anything at the moment?’
Roland Allerdyce was a gifted artist and member of the Royal Academy, and it was from him that Max had inherited his talent.
‘He mentioned some commission or other, but it’s hard to find him when he hasn’t something on the go. It wouldn’t interfere with our visit.’
‘Another thing,’ Rona reminded him. ‘You’d better finish that painting of Michael’s car before you show your face up there again.’
Cynthia’s elder son had bought a red MG earlier in the year, and extracted a promise from his uncle to paint it – an obligation Max had not yet fulfilled.
Max pushed back his chair, bent to kiss her, and made for the stairs. ‘Don’t talk to any strange men,’ he said, only half-jokingly, ‘and I’ll be back round ten.’
Rona cleared away the breakfast things. There’d been no further developments on the news, but Max’s comment the previous evening, about having only her word that Louise existed, had lodged in her mind. The police had been unable to find any record of her; would they come to the same conclusion, and stop looking for her?
Shaking her head in frustration, she resolved to put all these worries out of her head, and concentrate on finishing the article.
Max had put the post on the hall table, and on her way to the study, Rona stopped to flick through the half-dozen envelopes. One was typewritten and addressed to her. She slit it open and drew out the single sheet of paper. Then, as she glanced through it, she sat down abruptly on the stairs to read it more slowly.
There was no address at the top of the page, merely the date, yesterday’s, before the letter began.
Dear Miss Parish,
I appreciate that I must be the last person you want to hear from, but I trust you’ll at least read this letter through before throwing it in the bin.
It is now more imperative than ever that I speak to you, but before going further, let me swear categorically that I had nothing whatever to do with the deaths of Keith and Barbara Franks, and have cast-iron alibis for the supposed time of their deaths. Nor have I any idea what has become of their daughter. I’m aware that you have given my description to the police, which is fair enough after my less than wise approaches to you.
Since they are anxious to question me, I intend to go to them voluntarily within the next couple of days, but before I do, I ask you most urgently to meet me. Obviously you would want a public place, where any fears you may have, however unfounded, would be minimized. I suggest therefore that we meet in the lounge of the Clarendon Hotel at 4 p.m. tomorrow, Tuesday. I can’t, of course, prevent you simply informing the police o
f my whereabouts, but I would implore you to give me this last chance of a private word with you. I can guarantee you’ll be very interested in what I have to say.
There is no need to reply. I shall be at the Clarendon at the appointed time, and if you don’t come, I’ll make no further attempt to contact you, but go straight to the police station.
HS.
Rona leant back against the stair, her heart pounding. She read the letter through again, and the detective’s voice echoed in her head: It goes without saying that if this man contacts you again, you report it immediately.
She glanced at the phone on its glass-topped table. So what was she waiting for? And yet . . .
Suppose she did inform the police: they would be waiting for HS, whoever he was, at the Clarendon, and take him away for questioning. And she was quite sure they wouldn’t let her know what he had to tell them. Whereas if she met him herself, somewhere safe like the hotel lounge – where, at four o’clock, afternoon tea would be in full swing – well, what harm could come to her? And he said he’d then voluntarily go to the police. Could she believe that?
Clearly, it was no use informing the police where he’d be, but asking for time to talk to him first. They’d laugh in her face. But Max . . .
She pushed herself up off the stair, went to the phone, and pressed his button.
‘I want you to listen,’ she began, ‘and not interrupt until I’ve finished. I’ve had a letter from the stalker – “HS” he signs himself this time – and he wants to meet me this afternoon at the Clarendon.’ She raised her voice above his immediate protest. ‘Max, I want to go. I’ve been puzzling over this whole business too long, and if I simply tell the police now, I’ll never know what he has to say. He promises to go to them straight after seeing me—’
‘You don’t believe him?’ Max interrupted. ‘Rona, this—’
‘I almost think I do. But the point is, I want you to be there, just across the room, and if anything goes wrong – though I can’t see how it can, in those surroundings – then you can charge to my rescue. What do you say?’
‘I say you’re mad.’
‘No, just curious. Heavens, all this desperation to see me; he must have something important to say.’
‘Then let him say it to the police.’
‘He will, but afterwards.’
‘No, I’m not going along with this. If you don’t ring the police straight away, I shall.’
‘I shouldn’t advise it,’ Rona said levelly. ‘I’m telling you this on trust.’
‘That’s nonsense. Suppose something happens to you, and I’m quietly sitting back, letting it?’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’
‘Humour me. How long would it take for him to whip out a knife? I’d only be halfway across the room before he used it.’
‘In front of all the tea-drinkers? And I thought I was the one with imagination! Honestly, honey, I won’t be in any danger. I promise.’
There was a long silence. She said tentatively, ‘Max?’
‘What?’
‘You will come, won’t you?’
‘Well, if you’re determined to go into the lions’ den, I’m sure as hell not letting you go alone.’
‘Bless you. I knew you’d help.’
‘With one proviso, and hopefully to prevent us both being clapped in irons. Once he’s told you everything, glance over at me and touch your hair. That’ll be the signal for me to phone the police on my mobile. Just in case it slips his mind to go to them afterwards.’
‘All right,’ Rona said after a moment. ‘But don’t give any sign that we’re together, will you? It might inhibit him.’
‘I thought that was the idea,’ said Max grimly.
After speaking to Max, Rona couldn’t settle. She went upstairs and sorted through the papers on her desk. Then she took out the notes she’d made following her visit to Harrogate, rereading the comments of the Franks’ ex-neighbour. Why was there no mention of Louise, either in the records or in anyone’s memory? And who was Karen? Where was she, and what had happened to her? Perhaps, she thought with a twist of excitement, this afternoon would provide the answers.
Somehow, the time passed, and at a quarter to four, she left the house to walk to the Clarendon. There were fewer cars parked outside today, the press had finally left, and the crowd of onlookers, realizing there was nothing to see, was dwindling. After the hiatus of the last few days, Lightbourne Avenue was settling back into its normal ambience.
As she passed the Chiltern Life building, Rona remembered that she’d not spoken to Barnie for a while. Still, she’d soon be able to hand him the finished article. At least this time, the murders had nothing to do with what she was writing, thank God.
The Clarendon looked as it always did and always had. Hard to believe she was about to meet a potential murderer there.
She drew a deep breath, walked through the swing doors and turned into the lounge, hesitating in the doorway as she wondered for the first time if she and the man she’d come to meet would recognize each other. Then, across the room, someone stood up, a man of medium height in a pink shirt – no doubt to aid identification. He half-smiled and, on legs that were suddenly shaky, she walked over to him, catching sight of Max as she did so. It will be all right, she told herself. It has to be.
‘Miss Parish.’ He made to hold out his hand, then thought better of it. ‘It’s very good of you to come.’
He pulled out a chair and she automatically sat down.
‘Can I get you something to eat? Cakes, sandwiches?’
‘I’m not hungry, thank you.’
‘A cup of tea, then?’
It might help the dryness in her mouth. ‘All right. Thank you.’
He signalled to the waitress and ordered a pot for two. As he did so, Rona studied him, wondering if she could have improved on the description she’d given to the police. She didn’t think so; there was nothing outstanding or memorable about his appearance. He had mid-brown hair, conventionally cut, a square chin and grey eyes. There was not much more to say.
He turned back to her, catching her in her scrutiny.
In an attempt to take the initiative, she said, ‘Perhaps, for a start, you’ll now tell me who you are?’
‘Of course. Sorry for all the cloak and dagger, but I knew my name would freak out the Franks. I’m Harry Swann.’
The last part at least was familiar. Rona frowned. ‘Are you Karen’s husband?’
He looked surprised, as though she should have known. ‘No, that was my brother, David.’
‘Well, you can at least tell me who Karen was? Or is?’
He stared at her blankly. The waitress came and set down a pot of tea, cups and saucers, milk and sugar, while Rona waited impatiently.
As she moved away, he said uncertainly, ‘I thought you . . . It seems I’d better fill in the background. When I was young, my family lived in Harrogate. My brother met Karen at the tennis club when they were both sixteen, and they started going out together. Though they went to different universities, they kept in touch, and eventually got engaged.’
He looked up. ‘I should say at this point that Karen has never liked me; she was jealous that David and I were close, and was always trying to stir up trouble between us.’
Since he’d made no move to pour the tea, Rona stirred the pot and then did so, pushing the milk and sugar towards him to take if he wished.
‘What about Louise?’ she asked. ‘How does she fit into all this?’
Again he looked puzzled, then his face cleared. ‘I thought the name was familiar; you were asking about her in Harrogate, weren’t you? Afraid I can’t help, though; I don’t know anyone called Louise.’
‘But surely – I mean, she must have been Karen’s sister or something?’
He frowned. ‘I never heard of any sister. But the Franks lived on the other side of town, and as Karen disliked me so much, I never went to her home. I didn’t even meet her parents. Until last week.’
Rona caught her breath. ‘You saw the Franks last week?’
‘I’m coming to that. But to go back to David and Karen, the opportunity came up of a job in Toronto, and they decided to bring the wedding forward and move out there.’
He paused, and took a sip of his tea. Rona noticed he’d added neither milk nor sugar, but was unsure if this was intentional.
‘I said David and I were close, and that’s true. But we both had tempers, and we’d always fought as children. Even when we grew up, there were heated arguments, but they never lasted long. Until Karen. She built on it, making snide comments, criticizing me to Dave, and so on. It came to a head just before the wedding; we had an almighty row, and the upshot was he didn’t want me as best man.
‘I was bitterly hurt, as you’d imagine, but convinced he’d come round. However, thanks to Karen, he stuck to it. So I refused to go to the wedding, they went off to Canada, and I – never saw him again.’
Another quick drink of tea. Questions were teeming in Rona’s head, but she daren’t interrupt the narrative.
‘After a year or so,’ Swann continued, ‘I had a letter from Dave, suggesting we bury the hatchet and I go over and spend a holiday with them.’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘She couldn’t have known he’d written. But I was still nursing the slight over the best man business, and I never replied.
‘Then I met my wife, and naturally David and Karen were invited to the wedding. But by then she was pregnant and couldn’t fly, and she caused a fuss when Dave suggested coming over by himself. I can just imagine it: He refused to come to our wedding; why should you go to his? No matter that it was all her fault.
‘But Susie, my wife, knew all the bad feeling was making me miserable. So, after a few months of her nagging, I swallowed my pride and wrote to him, saying I was sorry for my part in the row, and would like to see him.’
Swann came to a halt and sat staring down at the table.
‘And did you?’ Rona prompted.
He looked up, and she was shocked by the expression in his eyes. ‘No. The next thing we heard was that he was dead.’
‘Oh, no!’
Again the odd look. He said abruptly, ‘What exactly is your connection with the Franks?’
Next Door to Murder Page 22
