He had effortlessly homed in on my weakness. I struggled to free his hands but he was locked on to me.
‘So, get your car keys and get this show on the fucking road, now.’ He shook me a couple more times to make sure the message had gone home before abruptly letting go. ‘Got it?’
‘Yes,’ I mumbled, trying to reassemble my teeth, not daring to attempt a nod. What damage he’d done to my already bruised brain wasn’t something to dwell on, but things were definitely spinning round. Staggering forwards towards the door, I was helped on by a solid shove in the middle of my back.
THIRTEEN
‘Describe the yard, the actual layout. How many boxes were there?’
We were driving through Leicestershire, roughly retracing my earlier route. The lanes were narrow, unlit once we’d passed through the outskirts of Melton Mowbray, and yet again I was relying on sidelights.
‘Boxes?’ Jake snatched his head round to glare at me. ‘What you on about?’
‘OK, stables.’
‘How the hell do you expect me to remember?’
‘Your subconscious will have registered a lot more than you think. Just concentrate on the moment you found Alice’s bag. Try to visualize the photo. How many stable doors do you reckon?’
‘I don’t fucking know.’ Jake blew out a despairing sigh.
‘A lot? Only four or five? More?’
‘A lot more, yeah, there was a lot now I come to think about it. Seemed like the yard carried on an’ all, like, round a corner, maybe.’
‘Good. You’re doing great – keep thinking about that photo. Tell me anything that comes into your mind.’
‘Mostly I was looking at that bird. I could really fancy her, missen. A real bit of all right, she was.’
‘OK, tell me what she looked like.’
‘Phwaaar … a real cracking pair of Bristol’s, she had. The rest of her figure was spot on, an’ all.’
‘What about her hair – what colour was that?’
‘Dark, she was dark. Wore it long, down on her shoulders. An’ she was tall.’
‘How come you could tell that?’
‘She was standing next to one of the stable doors. Her head was level with the top hinge.’
Before I could comment there was a tell-tale gleam of light beyond the next bend that lit up the hedgerow.
‘Duck, I’m putting lights on.’
But he had spotted the approaching vehicle and was already sliding down almost out of sight into the passenger well. The car powered on without a glance in our direction.
‘You can surface now.’ I changed down and swung left. ‘If she was as tall as the top hinge that would make her probably around five foot nine, I reckon.’
‘Who cares? Like I say, she was a real looker.’ He trumpeted out a noisy blast of air. ‘I could do her some damage.’
I ignored him and concentrated on driving. For a man who claimed he couldn’t remember he’d done amazingly well, albeit by employing his baser instincts. Two miles further on, I turned down an unmade track and carried on at barely crawling speed.
‘This is a back way. I’ve used it before … safer than the main entrance. We’ll have to risk if these lower stables are being used.’
‘How likely is it?’
‘Last time I was here, they were being used as storage. Let’s hope they still are.’
The rough track eventually curved around a bend and, up ahead, outlined against the starlit sky, I could see the dark outline of buildings. Immediately it triggered with gut-churning clarity the memories of the night I received the knife wound in my left arm. I swallowed very hard, forced down the unwelcome remembrance and steered the car into the side.
‘Now what?’
I cut the engine. ‘Now we stay out of sight, walk up as far as the main yard and see if you recognize it.’
‘And if I do?’
I shrugged. ‘We’ll know more than we do right now.’
Leaving the car, we walked towards the lower stable block, stooping uncomfortably, making sure we were below the level of the hedge on either side. Jake was taller than I was, much, much heavier and he cursed continuously under his breath as he followed me, his feet falling into unexpected potholes and stubbing up against loose stones.
‘This had better be fucking worth it, Harry boy.’
I stopped abruptly, swung round. We were so close I could see the glint of his eyeballs in the starlight.
‘Cut it out.’
‘What?’
‘You heard. Stop grousing. If anybody hears you, we’re done for. And while we’re at it, if you have a go at me again you can kiss goodbye to my help. I value my health. I get more than enough injuries racing.’
He gave a disparaging snort. ‘And what about your lady friend’s health, eh?’
‘Leave her out of it.’
‘Oh, I will, I will. If you come up with the killer.’
‘If I don’t, it won’t be because I didn’t try. But she’s pregnant. And I don’t think even you would stoop so low as to kill a baby.’
‘But you can’t be certain, can you, Harry boy?’
I gritted my teeth and, at that moment, I hated him. He was so sure of himself that maybe he was capable of such a sadistic act. I hoped to God he wasn’t. The whole conversation seemed unreal. This was Annabel – and her baby – we were talking about. And because she still meant everything to me, despite being with another man, no way could I cop out from helping Jake. It was a complete bastard of a situation.
I think had it only been my own skin under threat, I’d have opted to drive over to Newark Police Station and turn him in. It would mean jail for me, but even that might prove preferable to being trapped like this. The whole situation was a bloody nightmare. But, as I desperately considered it even remotely viable, a picture of Annabel suffering horribly at his hands came into my mind and I knew I couldn’t do it, couldn’t risk her in any way.
‘You’re a grade A bastard. And when someone takes you out – because with your lifestyle, believe it, they will – you’ll be burning in hell a long time.’ I ground out the words. But I realized, even as I said them, he knew just how impotent and helpless I really felt.
He stood there silently in the dark lane – and then laughed in my face.
The sourness of humiliation came up like bile in the back of my throat. For no one other than Annabel would I submit to this emasculation.
Blazing rage surged up inside me with frightening force, threatening to sweep me away out of control. My nails were biting so deeply into the palms of my hands I could feel the stickiness where they’d pierced the skin, drawn blood. If I’d belonged on his level I would have killed him there and then.
Instead, I turned and raced away up the lane, burning up the negative energy, using it for fuel. I ran all the rest of the way, fetching up finally, gasping for breath, at the side of one of the buildings. I could hear Jake pounding after me but, without waiting, eased my way round the corner of the brick wall and came to the door. It opened to my push and I was again inside the stables where the violence I’d witnessed – and suffered – still seemed to hang menacingly in the air, an almost tangible energy. But that was all that was present – no horses, no people, empty.
They do say it is the sense of smell that evokes memory. Right then, I’d be forced to agree. There was an all-pervading odour of animal feed, horse nuts. It immediately threw me back to a hellish few hours spent in this place. When I thought of Annabel, as she had been that night, I felt rage and bile rise up at the back of my throat, threatening to choke me with its intensity. It was not a place I wanted to revisit.
Behind me, the door swung inwards as Jake Smith blundered his way in.
‘Where the bloody hell are you? It’s as dark as a nun’s habit …’
‘Keep it down. If anyone hears you, we’ve had it.’
‘So, where’s this stable yard I’m supposed to be sussing?’
‘About a quarter mile further up. This is
the overflow stables, apart from the main block. Follow me and for goodness’ sake keep quiet. Barbara keeps a couple of German shepherds and a mastiff for protection. And believe me, if they’re loose you wouldn’t want to meet them. They’re very good at their job.’
‘Christ! I’m for off.’
‘This was your idea, right? Let’s finish the job.’
Without waiting for his reply, I headed off for the occupied stables and he fell into step. We walked in silence and I kept my eyes and ears open and tuned out the usual night-time sounds. The hedgerow was alive with rustles and flutters from roosting birds alarmed by our presence. At one point a rat appeared almost at our feet before hastily sliding back into the dense herbage.
‘Fucking things give me the creeps,’ Jake growled.
‘Yeah, enough germs in one nip to see off a regiment.’
But apart from the wildlife, nothing else stirred – no dogs, no people – and we cautiously ended up hugging the wall of one of the top stables. Following the line of the wall until it brought us into the main yard, I held up a hand.
‘Wait,’ I hissed. ‘This is where we are most likely to come across someone. Now, can you see if this was the place in the photograph?’
‘I don’t know about see anything, but this place fucking stinks to high heaven.’
‘Does it?’ I said in surprise. I was so used to the, to me, magical smell of horses, including horse feed, tack cleaning materials and the inevitable muck heap, that I’d never considered anybody could dislike the smell of a stable yard.
He continued cursing while he peered around trying to identify the layout. Since it was merely starlight aiding our vision, it was tricky. Evening stables had long been and gone and it wasn’t time for the final last check for the night so no lights were switched on.
‘Was there anything significant you could identify?’ I tried to help him out, mindful that, at any moment, Barbara’s canine troops could be sent out on manoeuvres – man being the operative bit. Or bite.
‘That door,’ he whispered, ‘where she was stood. Well, at the side was a stretch of wall, right?’ He pointed from below waist height for safety. ‘I reckon it could be over there, before the stables turn away at the corner. Might see better if we get closer.’
I grimaced. It was going to take us well into bandit country to go in much further. But without waiting for my agreement, he flattened against the bricks and walked himself along sideways in the deeper strip of shadow. With no choice but to follow, I did the same.
‘Yes …!’
I heard the barely contained exclamation of triumph and practically bumped into him as he abruptly halted.
‘There … do y’see … that plaque thing, high up on the wall? It was on the photo, broke up the line of brickwork, y’know? I noticed that. Do you see it?’
I did see. It wasn’t a plaque, it was a dated brick stating the stables had been built nearly seventy years ago. With an unpleasant lurch in my stomach, I realized if Jake was correct, this was the stable yard in the photograph. And my friend, Barbara, was the owner.
The name Barbara had been written on the rear of the photograph. This in turn raised questions about the girl. Just who was she? What was the connection between them? Did I actually already know her?
‘Are you sure this is the place?’
Jake nodded vigorously. ‘I reckon it is … so … what do we do now, Harry boy?’
‘Get the hell out of here, back the way we came. I’ve met Barbara’s dogs so they know me, but I certainly don’t want to meet them again just now, not down here, in the dark.’
Harlequin Cottage was a still, black outline when I drove in through the gateway. There’d been no other vehicles parked up in the country lane on my approach, none parked up on my gravel in front of the cottage. And, since leaving Jake at the studio, I’d made very sure no one had tailed me.
I opened up, switched on some lights and breathed in the peace of being home. However many times I returned, the feeling of security and ‘rightness’ never diminished. This place was where I needed to be, a positive antidote to the crazy mayhem going on in the world beyond the gate. Since Annabel had left, Leo had deflected, to a certain extent, the feeling of coming home to an empty house. It manifested in a feeling of wrap-around welcome.
I made tea, took a mug through to my office and started typing up some notes on the computer. I found it by far best to immediately get my thoughts and feelings down, fixing them in place where I could reread them. I needed to try to remember the words that were said, the nuances of them, words that were left unsaid and, most importantly, the facial expressions of the person saying them. All too often, if I hadn’t written them down until the following day, I struggled to remember. Very often, rereading them at some future time, I’d pick up a pointer – an inconsistency maybe – which set me off on another stream of thought, often with astonishing results.
I supped tea and typed, corrected and typed some more. I’d reached the printing off followed by making more tea stage when Leo came through the cat flap. How he knew I was back was a mystery. A certain neighbour from the village, a good half-mile away down the country lane, had once told me she’d been out in her garden calling her cat in, had spotted Leo at 7.15. I knew he’d come home just after eight that night, five minutes after I’d arrived. His radar was superb.
‘Hello, you,’ I said in answer to his welcoming bellow. ‘Dinner, is it?’
He’d joined me a few minutes later in the lounge where I was now stretched out on the settee. Hastily rescuing my printed pages from where they were strewn across my person, I made room for him. With a sigh of pleasure, he dropped his considerable weight across my solar plexus and purred with the subtlety of a road-maker’s drill.
‘Duty all done then with the ladies?’
He squinted up at me with vivid green eyes and purred louder.
‘Take that as a yes, then.’
I returned my attention to reading over my notes.
Mousey had taken me into his confidence, exposed his less-than-virtuous past, but had trusted me. I wasn’t about to betray him, but something in our exchange that I’d committed to paper was setting up a tingle of disbelief. I’d noted down some of his mannerisms – those I could recall – and his answer to one of the questions I’d put to him had resulted in an evasive shuffling of his beer mat. Could be nothing, could be something.
I looked at the question again. The gut feeling persisted, grew. There had been occasions in the recent past when I’d been tracking a killer and paying heed to my instincts had been essential. I paid heed to them now. I liked Mousey, felt very sorry for him, but was forced to acknowledge the wisdom being shown to me.
When he’d answered that particular question, Mousey had lied.
FOURTEEN
‘Face it, Harry, the situation’s bizarre. Just where do you stand on this?’
We were in the bar at The Horseshoes having a lunchtime drink after morning stables – along with half the stable lads from the nearby racing stables. I’d just filled Mike in on the events of my nocturnal jaunt with Jake to Barbara’s stables.
‘I don’t stand at all, Mike, I’m spreadeagled, over a bloody barrel.’
He shook his head. ‘Couldn’t you go to the police? Tell them everything from the beginning? It’s what they get paid to do – sort out the messes of this world.’
‘And then what? Go round to Sir Jeffrey, tell him he has to place a twenty-four-hour guard on Annabel?’
‘One thing you could do.’ He looked sideways at me, pursing his lips.
I knew I didn’t want to hear. ‘OK, what?’
‘Start divorce proceedings.’
‘What?’
Even above the noise in the crowded bar that would have easily qualified for noise pollution, my voice carried. Several heads turned.
‘Calm down, Harry.’ Mike flashed a quick, reassuring smile at the inquiring faces.
‘I don’t believe you said that.’ I took a
savage snatch at my beer.
‘Think about it, mate. You go in for a divorce, Annabel’s nothing to do with you any more and Jake the snake slithers away back into his hole. You’ll be taking away his bargaining ace.’ Mike nodded, pleased with himself for coming up with the idea.
‘If that’s the best you can offer, don’t bother.’ I glowered at him. ‘It might help the cause if you could put a name to the woman in the photo instead of coming up with damn fool suggestions.’
He supped his pint thoughtfully. ‘OK, well, how about I throw an impromptu party, invite some of the people that might be in the know – Barbara for one? I would suggest they feel free to bring a friend …’ adding quickly, ‘… plus a couple of bottles, of course. You could get chatting – never know what might turn up. People get very loose-tongued after a few drinks. And if they’re in what they consider a “safe” environment, they might let slip a gem or two they wouldn’t normally have done.’
‘That idea’s just made up for the lousy one. I reckon you could be right. Do you remember I told you about the party Elspeth Maudsley held at her house?’
‘Just before she gave up as a trainer?’
‘Yes. And what a gold nugget I found out at that bash.’ I grinned at him. ‘This is the sort of thing the police can’t get through HOLMES or anywhere else. It’s priceless hunting ground for gossip.’
He grinned back. ‘I’ll get on to it soon as we get back to the stables. Oh …’ He hesitated.
‘What?’
‘I’ll have to run it past Pen first, I mean.’
‘’Course you will.’ I carried on grinning, ‘You’re not a carefree single man any more now.’
‘And, by God, aren’t I thankful for that. Now, another beer?’
‘Better make it a mineral water,’ I said regretfully, thinking of the weight I seemed to be packing on. ‘I’ll be back racing soon.’ Even as I said it, my pulse quickened with pleasure. It seemed like weeks since I’d been racing. Then I found myself echoing his words. ‘But, by God, aren’t I thankful for that.’
Dead Reckoning Page 9
