Deadfall

by Lyndon Stacey

  Linc returned his look steadily for a moment or two, then reached into his back pocket for the folded newspaper and handed it over.

  Rockley read it through a couple of times.

  'The same style as last time,' he observed. 'But delivered with a taster. The thing is, what have you been doing to make them so nervous? What have you found out?'

  'Sod all!' Linc said ruefully. 'It wouldn't be so bad if I had.'

  Rockley shook his head. 'Oh, no, you're wrong there, young man. Judging by this note, it might have been ten times worse! Now, tell me exactly what happened last night.'

  It took the best part of twenty minutes before Rockley was satisfied that he'd got the whole story, and even then Linc managed to gloss over some of the more unpleasant detail.

  The detective scribbled something in his pocket book, then stopped and looked speculatively at him. 'You say one of the boys had his hand over Josie's mouth? Nobody could have stopped you from shouting for help so why didn't you? Did they threaten to hurt her?'

  'No. They didn't. It was just . . .' Linc shrugged. He didn't know what to say. From anyone else's point of view – even from his own, now he looked back on it – it seemed daft that he hadn't.

  Rockley watched him thoughtfully for a long moment then nodded, seeming to understand. But he still hadn't finished.

  'Can you show me the damage?' he asked. 'Please?'

  Linc stared hard at him for the space of several heartbeats, then looked away towards the window, stood up and pulled his shirt clear of his waistband and off over his head.

  'Turn round.'

  Still not looking at the policeman, he obediently turned through one slow revolution.

  'Okay, thanks.'

  Linc put the shirt back on, tucked it in, sat down and stared at his hands, feeling a quite irrational degree of humiliation.

  Rockley made a few more notes, then looked up and regarded him with some compassion.

  'You know, it's quite common for victims of assault to feel the way you do,' he said.

  'And how do I feel?'

  'I'd say you feel you're somehow to blame for what happened; that you think you should have been able to do more to defend yourself, or even to prevent it happening in the first place. And for you it's worse because Josie was there and you couldn't do anything to protect her either.'

  He'd hit the nail right on the head.

  Linc looked up at him. 'And?'

  Rockley shook his head. 'I can only say to you what I'd say to anyone else – even one of my officers: there was nothing you could have done; nothing any one man could have done in that situation. You said yourself there were a couple of big lads there. There's no shame for you in what happened. The shame is all on them.' He paused. 'Having said that, your reaction is natural. In time you'll see it differently.'

  Linc sighed. 'I guess.'

  'You know, when I first joined up I had a crusty old sergeant who was only a year or two off retirement. He could be a bugger to work with but he'd seen a hell of a lot in his time and he had a few pet sayings. One of his favourites was, "They can only win if you let them." Think about it.' Rockley laughed then, almost self-consciously. 'Here endeth today's sermon. But you still haven't told me what you did to provoke last night's attack.'

  'I really don't know,' Linc reiterated. 'I thought I'd hit a dead end.'

  He gave Rockley the short and unproductive story of his investigative efforts so far.

  'So, all you can tell me is that the thieves apparently report to someone called Barnaby or Barney, who has some connection to greyhound racing?'

  'That's about it,' Linc admitted. 'Nobody I've spoken to seems to know anyone locally in the greyhound world who answers to that name.'

  'Except this Barney Weston.'

  'Yes. Except him. But as I said, if he's a master criminal then I shall lose all faith in my ability to judge character.'

  He watched while Rockley scribbled something.

  'I guess you don't go much on faith in your line of business, do you?'

  'Actually, more than you might think,' the policeman said with a half-smile. 'But we do like to back it up with fact. Helps us sleep at night. Now, given that you've never seen the lad in the Beanie or his mates before, how do you think he knew who to deliver his message to last night? Have you given it any thought? Do you often go to Shaftesbury on a Saturday night?'

  'No. That was the first time in years, but it's not too hard to find me when I'm driving one of the Estate vehicles. And also – I've just remembered – when we were queuing to get into the pub, I could have sworn I heard someone call my name. I actually turned round and looked back across the road. I guess they were checking me out then, so they'd know what I looked like for later.'

  'Mmm, but I should imagine your friend in the hat was probably just meant to bump into you and deliver the message. It's all he could have done if you'd come out with the crowd.'

  'And then we made it easy for them by coming out early and wandering around the town,' Linc put in.

  'Unfortunately, yes,' Rockley agreed.

  'Do you think there's any hope at all of catching the lad in the beanie?'

  'To be honest, not much,' Rockley admitted. 'We can have a word with one or two of the usual suspects – to coin a phrase – but Shaftesbury is, by and large, a fairly quiet place. We normally only have a single unit there even on a Saturday night, and though there are one or two troublesome youngsters, they're strictly minor league. You know – graffiti, under-age drinking and the odd joy ride. I'm afraid all the signs point towards the ringleader being imported muscle. I should imagine it wouldn't be difficult for him to recruit a few extra bodies locally. Teenagers are all too easily led.' He closed his pocket book. 'Well, now you've had first-hand experience of the dangers of going it alone, I hope you'll leave the detective work to us in future.'

  'It's certainly made me think twice,' Linc replied.

  Rockley looked hard at him, as if unsure whether this was deliberately ambiguous, but Linc's face gave nothing away.

  'And you still won't tell me where you got your information from?'

  'I gave my word.'

  'But in the circumstances . . . ?'

  Linc shook his head. 'Sorry.'

  They could hear voices in the hall, not unusual on a Sunday when Farthingscourt was open to the public, but in this case followed by three sharp raps on the door.

  Linc raised his eyebrows at Rockley, who nodded.

  'Okay. Come in,' he called, and his father entered, ushering Josie ahead of him.

  'Ah, Miss Hathaway.' Rockley had plainly been expecting her.

  'Josie!' Linc hadn't.

  'I called Miss Hathaway earlier this morning after speaking to Lord Tremayne,' the DI explained. 'I needed to speak to her and as she didn't want to worry her parents, we decided it would be easiest if she came here. Now, if we could perhaps just have a few words alone . . . ?'

  Josie emerged from the library twenty minutes later to find Linc waiting for her in the hall. She greeted him with a trace of anxiety in her eyes.

  'Linc, I'm really sorry about all this, but when you didn't turn up this morning I didn't know what to think. I tried your mobile and then I rang the number you gave Mum for emergencies.'

  'My office number,' Linc put in, leading the way out of the huge front doors. It was a lovely bright day and sunlight slanted under the pedimented façade and spilled across the stone paving at the top of the twin flights of steps, casting shadows from the ornamental balustrade and pillars.

  'I didn't expect to get your father,' Josie continued, determined to explain. 'And when I did, I had to say something. He kind of took the whole thing out of my hands . . .'

  'He would,' Linc agreed. 'Don't worry about it.'

  'But I knew you didn't want a fuss.'

  'I expect I would have had to tell Rockley sooner or later. Might just as well get it over with.'

  'Because of the note?'

  'Ah, he told you about that.' Li
nc strolled forward to lean on the stone balustrade. The view down the valley from here was breathtaking.

  'Wow!' Josie said in quiet awe, momentarily distracted from the business of the morning. 'This is to die for!'

  'Mmm.'

  'I suppose you're used to it. I can't imagine seeing this every morning.'

  'It's a privilege. I never grow tired of looking at it.'

  Several small groups of visitors were wandering across the drive from the ticket office and two elderly ladies had just mounted the steps.

  'Do you mind having to open to the public?' Josie asked.

  Linc shook his head. 'No, not really. It's only three days a week, and somehow it would be a shame not to share it. Most people are very appreciative and respect the fact that it's a home. You just get the odd family group where the kids seem to think it's another theme park and run round shrieking and touching things with their sticky little fingers.'

  'Oh, dear,' Josie observed with amusement. 'Don't you like children?'

  'Children, yes. Undisciplined monsters, no,' Linc said firmly. 'When they skid on the carpets and duck under the security ropes, I honestly don't know how the house guides keep their tempers. I find myself wishing you could buy a can of anti-brat spray and zap them like you do mosquitoes!'

  He broke off to exchange pleasantries with the two ladies who had finally completed the climb. Remembering the way he'd felt the previous night after struggling back up Gold Hill, he could sympathise with them.

  Josie had been laughing at his remarks about the unruly children but as the elderly visitors disappeared into the cool interior of the house she returned to their previous conversation.

  'Why didn't you tell me about the note?'

  'I thought you had enough to worry about.'

  'That's patronising,' she observed.

  'Yes, I'm sorry.'

  'So it wasn't a random attack after all? It was because you've been asking about the tack thieves.'

  'Yes. Rockley doesn't think it was ever meant to go that far, though.'

  'But when I asked, you told me you weren't getting anywhere,' Josie persisted, faintly accusing.

  'I wasn't. And I still don't know why they reacted like that.'

  'I told you to be careful.'

  'So you did.'

  'You'll stop now, though? You'll leave it to the police?'

  'Has Rockley been priming you?' Linc asked, squinting into the sunlight.

  'He said if I had any influence, I should try to make you see sense,' she admitted, a faint blush staining her clear skin. 'I said I didn't think I had.'

  'I just can't bear to think that anyone can do what they've done to your family and get away with it,' Linc said, avoiding the issue. He didn't think now was the time to explore the depth of his attraction to Josie.

  'Well, it won't help us if you end up in hospital with Abby,' Josie pointed out sensibly.

  Back in the hall a door opened and Linc could hear the voices of his father and the DI. Moments later Rockley came out of the doorway behind them.

  'I'll be going now,' he said. 'Goodbye, Josie. Give my regards to your parents. As for you, young man,' he said sternly to Linc, 'next time I ask for a detailed description of events, I'll expect just that. Not edited highlights! That said, I sincerely hope there won't be a next time. Having put Abby in hospital, they're in a position where they may feel they've nothing to lose. I'm sure I don't have to spell it out for you.'

  'I think I've got the message,' Linc confirmed.

  'Well, I'll say goodbye then.'

  As Rockley trudged down the steps to his car, Linc turned to Josie.

  'Just what did you tell him?' he enquired.

  'The truth,' she said. 'How was I to know you'd glossed over half of it? Does it hurt very much today?'

  'Enough,' Linc hedged. As a matter of fact his whole body was one big grinding ache.

  'All right, I won't go there. Did you know your father's invited me to dinner on Wednesday?'

  This time she did succeed in shaking his composure.

  'He has? Oh, Lord!'

  Josie laughed. 'I'm not sure how to take that.'

  'What did you say to him?'

  'I accepted. You don't mind, do you?'

  'Not at all, but I don't want you to feel you have to come. He can be very autocratic sometimes.'

  'As a matter of fact, he was very sweet to me.'

  'Sweet? Hmm.' Linc bit his tongue.

  Sometime after Josie had departed, the Viscount sought Linc out in his office and informed him that he'd made an appointment for him with his own GP.

  'Or rather Mary has,' he amended.

  'I don't need an appointment,' Linc protested. 'If I did, I'd have made one myself.'

  'As my employee, you'll do as you're told,' his father asserted.

  'And, while we're on the subject,' Linc went on, ignoring him, 'I'll thank you to stay out of my love life! What on earth made you invite Josie here for a meal?'

  'Nikki's mother is visiting and I thought it would even up the numbers,' his father said, blithely disregarding the fact that such considerations had never troubled him before. 'Why? Are you ashamed of her?'

  'No, of course not! But we've only been out once – which by anyone's standards wasn't a roaring success – and a family dinner in full Farthingscourt style would be testing even for a long-term relationship.'

  'I thought you'd be pleased. She was. She's obviously a sensible girl. Now, don't forget your appointment. Twelve o'clock, Dr Small. He's fitted you in as a favour to me, so don't be late.'

  He swept out of the office without waiting for a reply, and behind him Linc glared at the pencil he was holding and found momentary release in snapping it in two.

  Seconds later Mary came in carrying a file, took a look at his face and the pencil and said astutely, 'Don't let him wind you up. Take a deep breath and put it out of your mind.' She put the file down. 'By the way, you had two calls while the detective was here. One was from a Barney Weston, and the other a rather strange woman called Dee. Something about a horse, I gather. The numbers are on the pad.'

  Linc called Dee Ellis straight away and found her in. She had phoned to tell him that Steamer was entered in a one-day event the following weekend and to offer him the ride. Hoping that his bruised muscles would be on the mend by then, Linc said he'd be delighted to ride the horse, and replaced the receiver wondering if he'd had one blow to the head too many the previous night.

  He hesitated a moment before returning Barney's call. He was still feeling too fragile to reach an objective conclusion on whether or not to call a halt to his amateur sleuthing efforts, but he stood by what he'd told Rockley; he really couldn't believe that Barney was a ruthless criminal. The problem was that he didn't know which of the contacts he'd made had got him into trouble. Surely it couldn't hurt just to see what the man wanted. Who was to know, anyway?