‘Did you go back, then, after lunch?’
‘What do you think? ’Course I did.’
‘And?’
He screwed his mouth up, swallowed hard at the recollection. ‘I saw her. She was lying on the kitchen floor – dead. Blood everywhere. God, it was awful, the sight of her – and that smell.’
‘What sort of smell?’ I immediately thought of Fred Smith’s place but the overriding stench there had been one of stale – and recent! – urine.
‘I dunno how you’d describe it, sort of like … on a farm, silage maybe, burning or rotting straw … And the smell of blood, of course.’ He gave a convulsive shudder. ‘I can’t get it out of my mind; it’s keeping me awake at nights. Giving me nightmares. Bloody terrible, it was.’
I knew it was. I’d seen her dead body myself.
He gulped his tea, trying to steady himself.
‘Do you think the smell was caused by body odour … cigarette smoke … by loss of bowel control?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’ He said the word emphatically. ‘No, nothing like that. It was something else.’
I let it go. There was no sense in pushing him – he didn’t know. I’d not smelled anything other than the result of a bloodletting. But that had been a day or two later. Whatever the smell was, it had dissipated by the time I walked in. Whether it was important or not was an unknown.
Jim was watching me closely. ‘I know you. Thought you looked familiar.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re that jockey, aren’t you? Harry Radcliffe?’
‘Yes.’
He took another gulp of tea, his eyes never leaving my face. ‘You get your name in the papers as a bloke who solves racecourse murders.’ It wasn’t a question, more a statement. ‘Reckon you’ll find Alice’s murderer?’
‘I’m hoping the police will.’
It was a prudent answer, not the one he was hoping for. The police demanded all information relevant to a case be handed over to them; otherwise you’d find yourself up on a charge. I didn’t fancy either option.
‘But you don’t think they will, do you?’
‘Why say that?’
‘Because here you are bothering me, asking questions … If you thought they’d get their man you wouldn’t be here.’
‘Alice needs justice to be done. Bottom line.’
‘Hmm … well, I can’t help you. I don’t know who killed her – or why, but it wasn’t me. And I’m not bullshitting.’
I believed him and mentally crossed him off the list. I stood up and walked to the door. ‘Thanks anyway for the information and the tea.’
He nodded. ‘Hope you get the swine.’
I raised a hand in acknowledgement as I carried on walking out across the yard. It narrowed the suspects but it hadn’t helped me with any further leads.
Heading home, I reviewed the scraps of information he’d given me. One thing was clear. Jake was not the killer – unless, of course, he’d gone back later that morning. But I didn’t see it. What would make him do that? If he’d wanted to kill Alice he’d have done the job when he was there that night. And anyway, like I’d felt instinctively about Jim Matthews, Jake had been telling the truth.
So, where did that leave me? Despondent, as regards catching the killer, still grounded from racing plus the additional responsibility now regarding Jake’s dad. Definitely have to do something about him.
The rumbustious welcome I received from Leo when I entered the cottage was a spirit-lifter. For the nth time, I was grateful Annabel had left him behind when she’d gone away. He took the raw edge off coming home to an empty house.
Maybe it was reviewing Fred’s house or Jim’s descriptive powers of Alice’s place or, possibly, both that was playing havoc with my olfactory nerves, but I found myself sniffing. There was the faintest tinge in the air of … what?
Leo, ignoring my twitching nose, had taken up his usual perch on my shoulder. It prompted my memory. Yes, of course, that’s what I could detect – a whiff of pilchards – undoubtedly left over from a couple of nights ago, he hadn’t been indulged since. But just where was it coming from? Not the cat himself – he was busy kneading my shoulder with half-sheathed claws, but he wasn’t a sadist and knew just how far to dig in without hurting me. He was headbutting my cheek gently. And he certainly didn’t smell. I knew all the last vestiges of pilchards would have been fastidiously washed off. And Leo’s dishes were washed out daily after his meal. So, that left … where? Only one place remained – his basket.
I walked over, bent and sniffed at it. The cat dug claws in deeper as he sought to retain his balance. Yes, the basket was definitely a bit on the smelly side.
‘Let’s get your blanket washed, eh, Leo? Can’t have you sleeping in a dirty bed.’
I drew out the cover, holding it aloft. It had an offending stain near the middle. It also let slip from the folds a small, scrunched-up envelope, much chewed on one corner.
Leo jumped down from my shoulder and began rubbing his jaw along the paper where it lay on the floor near my feet.
‘A love letter from one of your lady cats?’ I bent and retrieved it. Leo stood on his hind legs and batted a paw tipped with grappling irons, trying to reach the ball of paper.
‘Uh-huh … Let’s see what it is first; you can have it back afterwards.’
I smoothed the envelope and slid out the half-sheet of paper it contained. The message written on it was very short.
You’re not after the Cheltenham Gold Cup, Harry. Give up the chase. Let the past undisclosed folly remain just that. I have warned you.
I hooked a foot around the leg of the kitchen chair and sat down heavily. When threats reached the homestead they were getting too close. I didn’t need to question who had sent it – it was obviously the same person who had spoken similar words to Alice. It was the same flowery style, the usage of the word folly. This was one of the mice. Not Mousey Brown but the other unknown one. And I had no idea who he was. But conversely he definitely knew me – knew I was trying to track him down. Which left him holding the aces and me at a disadvantage.
Leo jumped up on to my knee and rubbed the edge of his chin against the paper in a display of delight. It couldn’t be simply for the paper itself. I lifted it up and sniffed it delicately. There was a smell but it was very faint, almost like the sweetish smell of watermelon. What it was I’d no idea. I checked the postmark; it had come from Grantham. The location was no help. Neither was the smell – I couldn’t identify it. I crumpled the envelope into a ball again and flicked it to the far side of the kitchen. Leo was on it in a flash. But his interest was transient. It was the inner piece of paper that he was keen on.
‘No, you’re not having this.’
I held it up to the light and could see that there was something like a dried, faint watermark across one corner, punctured where Leo’s teeth had mauled it. That corner had either been dropped in something or something had dripped on to it. Obviously, the envelope had been delivered by the postman when I’d been out and Leo had found it first, deeming it sufficiently tantalizing to take to bed with him. How long it had been in his basket was unknown. Not long, though. I’d shaken his blanket out on Friday morning, prior to pilchard guzzling that evening.
There was no information as to who had written it. The only clue, if you could call it that, was the smell. And as to what that was, I didn’t have a clue. But I knew a man who did, or rather, a woman. Annabel might know. If it were something Leo found tempting, she’d be bound to know. And it was a ‘girlie’ sort of smell. Yes, Annabel was easily my best bet.
TWENTY-FOUR
‘You’re in luck, Harry,’ Annabel said in answer to my query. ‘My four o’clock appointment has rung and cancelled so I could shut shop early and call on my way home.’
‘Great. Are you in any hurry to get back later?’
‘No, not at all. Jeffrey isn’t home at the moment.’
He never bloody was; what did the man think he was playing at? Did he not realize what
a treasure he’d got, and just how he was neglecting her? I deliberately relaxed the physical tension in my jaw and unclenched my teeth. What an almighty wicked waste of womanhood.
‘What about a bite of supper then? Nothing grand, I’m afraid. Omelette, maybe?’
‘Yes, love to. About half an hour, then. Bye, Harry.’
I felt my usual rush of satisfaction at the thought of Annabel coming for an hour or two. Crumbs from the table, Harry, I told myself – from Sir Jeffrey’s table. But it wasn’t enough to take away my pleasure at the thought of seeing her again. I placed the half-sheet of paper on the mantelpiece out of Leo’s way and anchored it under the stone carving of a cat. If Annabel could tell what the smell on the paper was, maybe I could follow it up. There was precious little else.
Another thought struck me: she might know what to do about getting a district nurse for Fred. I sincerely hoped so. It was a situation that could only get worse unless I took some action. It was still a knife-edge decision whether to tell Jake or try to help the old man first. I’d shelve it until I’d spoken with Annabel.
Leo heard the engine first. From deepest sleep to instant awareness, he sprang up to the side window, burrowed behind the curtain and set up his pneumatic drill of a purr. He might be a domesticated cat but he still retained all the jungle cunning of his larger relations.
‘Your radar’s still in good working order.’ I scratched behind his ear on my way past to let her in at the back door. But he beat me to it and was, gleefully, scooped up and cradled against her breast almost before she’d locked the Jaguar’s door. Jammy sod! It was one thing being jealous of Sir Jeffrey, yet another to be green-eyed about the cat.
‘Come in. Lovely to see you – how’re things?’ I closed the door firmly behind her, symbolically staking my sole claim to her, even if it was for only a little while.
She grinned smugly. ‘Baby-wise?’
I spread my arms wide, a stupid grin plastered across my face. ‘Every-wise.’
She laughed, reached up and kissed my cheek. ‘Everything’s good.’
‘Cup of tea?’
‘What a stupid question.’
We took mugs and ginger-nuts – Annabel was very partial to them – through to the lounge. She subsided gently on to the settee, slid a cushion behind her back and sighed contentedly.
‘I know I’m not living here any more, Harry, but I have to say, it still feels like home.’
As if agreeing with her, Leo took a dive off the arm of the settee and laid himself across both our laps.
‘He remembers,’ I said, smiling at her.
‘Yes, animals don’t forget good things.’
Heartened by her words, I let my arm creep along the back of the upholstery and rest gently on her shoulders. She relaxed against me, head cradled against my shoulder. I closed my eyes, drank in every second. Whether spoken or thought, arguably the saddest words were if only, if only, if only … I think Annabel had her eyes closed too – she certainly had when I risked a peep at her dear face. And even as I looked down, her breathing slowed, deepened and the weight of her body sagged against mine. All three of us became a blob – four, if you also counted the unborn baby – the world and its problems non-existent in the ever-present now, a wonderful experience, a total letting go.
Twenty minutes later, tea gone cold, ginger-nuts not dunked and my right arm as dead as Queen Victoria, Annabel stirred, nuzzled Leo and yawned magnificently.
‘That was some powernap.’
‘Wasn’t it? I don’t know when I’ve felt so at peace.’
My heart threatened to cut off my airways as it swelled with love for her. ‘Annabel …’ I said thickly, rescuing my arm and drawing her close to me. I didn’t know what I was asking her but just my saying her name had rung a warning chime. She wriggled free and patted my cheek.
‘Let’s keep these precious moments, Harry, because they are precious. Don’t spoil them by asking for more. You know I can’t.’
‘Yes, I know you can’t, not now.’
She took my hand and placed it over the rise of her belly. ‘He’s changed things forever.’
I nodded. ‘I know, and I do accept that.’
‘How about you make us some fresh tea, hmm? Both these mugs are stone cold.’
‘Coming up.’
We sipped the fresh scalding tea and then Annabel, now invigorated, insisted on being busy in the kitchen. She chopped onions, mushrooms and an orange pepper, then fried them in a smidgen of olive oil. I added my input of four beaten eggs and she combined the raw ingredients with a generous sprinkle of oregano and produced a masterpiece with a smell and taste good enough to bring sailors back from the sea. We tucked in.
‘Hmm …’ she closed her eyes briefly in appreciation, ‘… that was very nice.’
‘That, my love, was sublime.’
She laughed and patted my arm. ‘It’s because you’re not used to being cooked for.’
‘Not any more, that’s true.’
‘Harry! I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to—’
‘Rub it in? I know you didn’t. At least we can still be civilized and enjoy good food and each other’s company.’
‘Long may we be able to.’
‘Amen.’ I said it with feeling.
The awkward moment passed and I insisted on clearing the dishes while she put her feet up on the settee.
‘And while you’re doing that, take a good sniff at this piece of paper. Tell me if you can place what smell it is.’ I retrieved the slip from the mantelpiece, folded the paper over so the words were hidden inside and handed it to her.
When I returned from the kitchen a few minutes later bearing hot coffee, I found she had taken me literally, kicked off her shoes and was snuggled up comfortably against the squishy cushions on the settee with Leo luxuriating beside her.
‘The smell is very faint but I think I’ve discovered what it is.’
‘Knew you would.’
‘Such confidence,’ she said and shook her head.
‘Is it something Leo likes?’
‘Hmm, yes, I recall he used to come over all roly-poly when I used it.’
I stared at her. ‘Come on, woman, tell me.’
‘It’s aloe vera. I used it to soothe skin irritations.’
‘Why on earth should Leo go into ecstasies over that? I mean, it’s not like, say, cat-mint.’
‘I don’t know the answer to that. Cats have some strange foibles. They like the oddest things. I’ve heard the smell of leather is one some cats can’t resist.’
‘And Leo’s got a thing about aloe vera?’
‘Yes, seems like it.’
‘Odd.’
‘You can’t get away with one word. Tell me what it’s all about. I know you, Harry, it’s important, isn’t it?’
‘Not sure. But it could be.’ I took the paper from her hand and unfolded it. ‘Whoever sent it meant me to take it seriously, as a warning.’
‘A what?’
‘Read it.’
She did, frowning. ‘You’re so right. But why are you being warned?’
‘A long story, Annabel. But I think it’s time I told you how things stand.’
Her eyes grew wider as I filled in all the unsavoury details from the very beginning.
‘That man Jake’s a maniac.’ She spat the words out. ‘To threaten an unborn baby, my God, he’s not only a maniac, he’s a monster.’ She was breathing heavily, spots of red staining her cheeks.
‘Annabel, it goes without saying, what I’m most concerned about is your safety and the baby’s.’ I reached for her hands, cradling them between mine. ‘He’s got to get past me first. But I wanted you to be aware of the situation. That way it’s less likely you’ll be caught unprepared.’
‘And what do you suggest I do to be a “card-carrying” Boy Scout?’
It was so unlike her to be sarcastic. That alone told me just how very concerned she was about the whole situation.
‘I wish I knew which
way Jake will jump, but I don’t. Of course, the safest thing would be for you to pack a bag and take off for a bit.’
‘I can’t do that. What about my business?’
‘You could cancel your appointments for the next week.’
‘Harry?’ She leaned forward, staring into my face. ‘What are you planning to do?’
‘Things are going to be hotting up – I can feel it happening. I’ve been here before. I can’t explain it logically but the strands are drawing together. This party on Wednesday at Mike’s, I’m hoping it will provide a breakthrough, a definite lead. And there’s certainly a crisis right now as regards Jake’s father. It could tip the balance with Jake’s reactions.’
‘Whoa. Just what is this crisis?’
‘Fred, Jake’s father, is very ill. Refuses to see a doctor. Maybe would agree to the district nurse. I was going to ask you about how to arrange a visit.’
‘You can’t,’ she said flatly. ‘It needs a doctor’s clearance first.’
I sighed. ‘That’s gone west then.’
‘How bad is he?’
‘Very.’
‘Right, only one thing to do then: he has to be admitted to hospital.’
I shook my head. ‘He’ll oppose it.’
‘Square one, then.’
‘Yes.’
‘Does Jake know?’
‘I was waiting to speak to you before I decided which came first: telling Jake or obtaining help for Fred.’
‘Jake’s likely to blow a fuse when you tell him.’
‘Bound to.’
‘He’s next of kin.’
‘He can hardly announce it. On the run from the police …’
‘And you can’t be seen to be helping, Harry. You’re already in deep trouble, hiding a criminal.’
I ran a hand through my hair. ‘You don’t need to remind me.’
‘But it’s not only the problem of Jake. There’s also the person who sent you this warning.’
‘True enough.’
She slumped back on the settee. ‘God, what a mess.’
‘Hmm.’
Dead Reckoning Page 17
