Taking a ragged breath, she said, ‘So it really kicked off after you’d left our house at Melton, after you and I had both been signed off from the hospital and been told to take things very easy?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Jeffrey had jokingly said having survived hunting down two lots of murderers, he hoped there wouldn’t be a third time.’
‘There you are.’ I inclined my head. ‘It’s all Sir Jeffrey’s fault.’
‘I don’t know how you can be so flippant. I mean, when you were driving home from our house you detoured and called in at Alice’s at Newark – and found her dead, murdered.’
‘I’m not being flippant about Alice. I care a great deal about seeing her murderer being put away.’
‘That note Jake gave you, with the strange message about mice and cheese that Alice had let slip, have you any idea who the other man might be? Could he be the killer?’
‘That’s what I’m hoping I’ll find out on Wednesday night. The key to his identity is Lizzie, of course, who will be singing at the party.’
‘Ah, yes, her unknown father.’ We were both silent for a moment. ‘You’re up against it, Harry.’
‘Yes.’
‘What happens if you don’t get a lead?’
‘I push, until something does give.’
‘You’ve already been pushing, that’s why you’ve been shot at and warned off. I think what you need is a big helping of luck.’
‘I’m sure you’re right. But in the last two murder cases, that’s exactly what happened. OK, without my continued digging, it probably wouldn’t have come about. But the outcome was the killer slipped up and I was lucky enough to spot his mistake.’
Into the silence that followed my words, a loud rat-a-tat-tat sounded on the kitchen door. The door-knocker was a defunct racing plate welded to a cast-iron frame I’d screwed to the wood. It made enough noise to be heard throughout all the rooms in the cottage.
I got up off the settee.
‘Are you expecting anyone?’ Annabel’s eyes reflected her inner anxiety.
‘No.’
Praying it wasn’t the police, I walked through to the kitchen and opened the door. It was Mrs Oldershaw, one of the village residents who ran the local greengrocery shop.
‘Hello, Mr Radcliffe.’
‘Hello. Do come in.’
I felt rather than saw Annabel come up behind me. I silently applauded her courage in backing me up when it could have been someone unpleasant standing on the doorstep.
‘Oh, hello, Mrs Radcliffe. Nice to see you again.’
‘And you, Mrs Oldershaw.’
‘Well, I don’t know if Mr Radcliffe will be saying that in a minute.’
‘Oh?’
The woman bent down and lifted up a cardboard box from beside her feet. She stepped inside and carefully placed the box on the kitchen table.
‘What have you got there?’ I queried.
‘I’m afraid you will have to accept them. I’ve managed to place the other three but now I’m stuck.’
She opened the box and Annabel and I found ourselves looking down at two ginger kittens that stared back at us with wide blue eyes.
‘Oh, the little darlings,’ Annabel murmured and scooped them up into her arms.
A satisfied smile spread across Mrs Oldershaw’s face as she looked at me. ‘They’re Leo’s,’ she declared. And, indeed, I couldn’t argue with that. He was the only entire ginger tom in the village. ‘I’ve exhausted my opportunities to rehome these last two little mites and I can’t keep them, so here they are. They’re fully weaned and trained to use a litter tray.’
We eyed each other and her smile broadened as we listened to Annabel getting broody with Leo’s two little problems. We both knew the mission to dump them on me had been simplified one hundred per cent by Annabel’s presence.
‘Well, I won’t keep you …’ Mrs Oldershaw went to the door. ‘No doubt I’ll see you in the shop sometime, Mr Radcliffe.’
‘Oh, no doubt you will.’
‘Goodnight then,’ she said. ‘And just so this situation won’t happen again, I’m taking Matilda to the vet tomorrow.’ She took her leave and the door closed behind her.
‘Talk about lightening the atmosphere …’ Annabel, her tension released for the moment, grinned at me.
‘It’s all right for you – what am I supposed to do with these two by-blows?’
‘Leo has cast his bread upon the waters, and I’m afraid,’ she was laughing openly now as she added, ‘it has multiplied and returned.’
TWENTY-FIVE
‘Hi there, Uncle George. It’s Harry.’
Annabel had departed, leaving me now the grand owner of three cats. But not wishing to have two more lives dependent upon me, especially in my present tricky situation, desperation had thrown up an idea. I’d been searching around for what birthday present I could buy for Aunt Rachel. If I could get Uncle George to agree, one of the new kittens might have just fallen on its paws. I supposed it was asking too much for him to accept both kittens. Still, I could ask.
‘Ah, Harry …’
I hesitated. There was something wrong. But he was waiting so I ploughed on. ‘I wonder if I might pop over to yours tonight? Bring a birthday present for Aunt Rachel, if you’re agreeable.’
‘Harry, son … I was going to ring you … to explain.’
‘Oh?’
‘We can’t come to the party at Mike’s.’
‘What’s wrong? Is there anything I can help with?’
‘Suppose it might help if you just turn up like, so she’s not expecting you. See if she’ll tell you what’s biting her. I don’t know what to do, Harry.’
‘Would now be a good time?’
‘Aye, it would – she’s gone to the hairdressers. Wasn’t going to go but I persuaded her. If you’re here when she gets back …’
‘No problem, I can come straight over. Just hope I can help with whatever she needs doing.’
‘Good on you, Harry.’ There was a definite lift of relief in his voice. But I felt somewhat of a Judas as I replaced the lid of the cardboard box firmly and carried it out to the car.
Aunt Rachel hadn’t arrived back home by the time I’d driven over the county boundary into Leicestershire and swung in through the open gates on to the tarmac drive. Uncle George, who had been peering through the lounge window as I drove up, opened the door.
‘Come in. Make yourself at home. The kettle’s boiling.’
‘Great. Love some tea.’
I waited while he poured us a mug each. With conscience pricking and knowing there was only a short time before Aunt Rachel returned, I dived straight in and asked him.
‘Now say no if you really don’t think she’d be pleased, but I’ve brought a birthday present.’
‘I’m sure whatever it is will be fine.’
‘Wait until you see … them.’
‘Them?’
I lifted the lid of the box and he stared inside. Two fluffy ginger kittens stared back.
‘Good grief!’
Remorse filled me. ‘I can take them back. Stupid of me to bring them really.’
‘No, no, wait a minute, Harry. It might not be a bad idea, y’know. Something to take care of, fill her day. Yes, I reckon she’d like one for her birthday present.’
The remorse melted away, supplanted by relief. The idea had paid off. Well, in part – he had said one.
‘If you’re sure, she can choose which one she likes. The slightly larger one is a tom and the other female.’
‘Why don’t you ask her?’ he chuckled. ‘She’s walking up the path now.’
It must be a common trait in women. Annabel had loved them on sight and Aunt Rachel followed suit.
‘For me, for my birthday, Harry? Thank you so very much – they’re gorgeous. I remember you did say my present would be a surprise – well, I think you did, at the pub that lunchtime.’
I hadn’t the heart to come clean and tell her they’d be
en even more of a surprise to me.
‘Which do you want?’ Uncle George put his arm around her waist as she bent over the box.
‘This one.’ She picked up the male.
‘You’re quite sure about this? I can just as easily get you another present if you’d rather.’
‘I’m going to call him Toddy. He’s the same colour as a fox.’
Unnoticed, Uncle George and I raised eyebrows and shared a little nod. One down, one to go, I thought.
‘Rachel, I hate to break up the loving going on here, but we have some bad news for Harry. You remember? You said you couldn’t possibly go to the party on Wednesday. Have you perhaps changed your mind?’
Aunt Rachel’s face changed instantly from relaxed pure pleasure to tense apprehension. It was impossible not to notice. Both Uncle George and I were unprepared and disturbed by the sudden change of emotion.
‘No. I … I can’t.’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘I’m sorry, Harry.’
‘But you were quite keen.’
‘That was before—’ She stopped abruptly.
‘Before what, Rachel?’
‘Don’t ask me to explain, George, please, please don’t.’ Her eyes were full of tears. ‘I’ve got you back, thank God. It would kill me to lose you.’
‘Now, now, old girl. You’re not going to lose me—’
‘Oh, yes, if I go to the party, I will. Don’t ask me to say why. I can’t. That would be as bad as going there.’
‘No one’s pushing you to go to the party, Aunt Rachel. If you don’t feel you can, well, OK, that’s fine. Your decision.’
‘Bless you, Harry.’ She dug in her pocket for a tissue, dabbed her eyes and nodded. ‘Much safer all round if I don’t go.’
Uncle George and I exchanged a swift glance. His concern over the phone earlier was, I could see, fully justified. But if she didn’t want to expand on the reason behind her decision then we had to accept it. I placed my empty cup on the side table and stood up.
‘Better make tracks, get this kitten back.’
‘To its new home?’ Aunt Rachel queried. Her self-control was returning. Danger past, I thought, the upsurge of confident relief.
‘Well, no, not exactly. I meant back to my place.’
‘Harry, am I right thinking this one’s waiting for a new home too?’
I pulled a rueful face. ‘Yes, it does need a new home. They’re Leo’s kittens, so I’m involved in placing them.’
‘George?’ Aunt Rachel tilted her head to one side and gave him a penetrating look.
He smiled at her and nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘I’m going to be greedy, Harry – can I have both? I mean, if Leo’s the father, well, they are family too, aren’t they?’
I spread my hands. ‘I feel I’ve put you on the spot.’
‘Nonsense. I think two babies together would be company for each other; play together if I’m out.’
‘I can’t argue that point.’
‘Sorted then,’ Uncle George said. ‘We’ll have both kittens.’
I pondered on what Aunt Rachel had said all the way back to Harlequin Cottage. Uncle George had clutched the kittens almost gratefully. He knew they would be good therapy in a difficult situation. Looking after the kittens’ demands would certainly take Aunt Rachel’s time and attention away from whatever the problem was. And I had to acknowledge, his grateful acceptance had mitigated the guilt I’d felt on foisting them on him. But as I thought over my aunt’s words, I also gave some brainpower to what she hadn’t said.
She had accepted the invite readily to begin with. So what had happened since to give her such disquiet? I ticked off what going to the party entailed: travelling, eating, drinking, meeting friends, meeting strangers, listening to music … The last item pressed a button in my brain. It was only afterwards that Mike had had the guest appearance of Lizzie confirmed. There was nothing else.
So assuming it was that, what connection could there be between Aunt Rachel and Lizzie? Absolutely none I could think of. The girl had only just arrived back in this country from Mexico. And why should it jeopardize George and Rachel’s marriage? It was obvious from the level of anxiety Aunt Rachel had displayed that she considered attending the party and maybe meeting someone there, possibly Lizzie, a very definite threat to their new-found happiness.
I allowed that, given their past history of married life, to have survived that and come through to the happiness they now shared, it would undoubtedly have made her ultra-sensitive to anything that threatened to destroy the utopia they now enjoyed.
‘That was before …’ Aunt Rachel had said. Before she had found out what, about Lizzie? With a jolt, I realized it was me who had innocently rabbited on about the girl singing at the party after they’d happily agreed to attend. So, assuming it was the girl who was the problem, why should Lizzie pose a threat?
But Aunt Rachel had gone on to add, if she were to explain, ‘… it would be as bad as going to the party’. With that in mind, maybe it wasn’t the actual meeting but what would be disclosed. And if so, that meant she and Lizzie must share some history and it was the rattling of old skeletons and exposing secrets that had spooked Aunt Rachel.
By the time I’d arrived at that conclusion, I’d also arrived home. But instead of getting out of the car, I sat and thought about something else that Aunt Rachel had said. It was quite enlightening and entirely consistent with her main motivation. And was an unexpected lead I could follow up.
I concentrated on the scenario inside the Dirty Duck. Uncle George had not altered his demeanour at all, finishing his food, placing his knife and fork down on the empty plate with satisfaction. But Aunt Rachel had gone very quiet, followed his example, placing the cutlery down – but leaving the rest of her food uneaten. She’d hardly spoken again. And I’d noticed as we’d left the pub and gone outside she’d seemed to age as she made a difficult job of limping across the car park and climbing into their car. It was obvious now, having seen and spoken to her this afternoon, the news about Lizzie’s appearance at the party had been the cause of her distress and had had a very depressing effect.
I locked the car and went into the cottage. I knew I had to speak to Uncle George, tell him I’d discovered the reason. Maybe, knowing the source of her distress, he could winkle out the back history.
Sticking the kettle on, I considered my immediate priorities. I’d certainly have to go out and get a takeaway of some sort and zip it over to Jake. Not something to look forward to, but necessary. It was going to prove increasingly difficult to see him grubstaked when I resumed racing. The thought of returning to ride sent a frisson of pleasure running through me. It had been quite a time since I’d left hospital, more than enough time for recovery, surely.
I poured scalding water on to the waiting teabag and counted the healing days. Even allowing for Jake’s rough treatment, I reckoned there were enough. OK, I’d taken more punishment to my head than I should have since the racing fall that ended with my concussion and receiving a red entry from the racecourse medical officer. But even so, the nausea, the affected vision and the headaches were all long gone. I felt good. It was odds-on, when I presented myself for assessment, he was going to pass me fit to ride.
I reached for my mobile and called Mike. ‘How about a ride on one of Wednesday’s declared runners?’
‘Sure?’
‘Well, depends on the medical officer’s decision, but yes, I reckon I’ll pass. Got no lingering problems.’
He mused for a moment. ‘Penny Black at Leicester suit?’
‘Fine.’
‘Coming in tomorrow morning? Doesn’t really matter because Kip can fill in.’
I felt a twinge of disquiet at the ease with which he had fallen in with the rest of the stable lads’ lingo and was calling Tim Herring by his nickname – the short one as well, not even Kipper. Not only that, I was acutely aware that Tim was the shadow standing by my elbow, ready to take over when my time for race riding was up. I knew I
needed to bridge my reins and get a grip.
‘Not sure, Mike, I’ve a lot on. Got a big problem with Jake’s dad, Fred. He’s in a pretty poor way and there’s no one else in the frame to look out for him …’
‘Don’t tell me you’re feeling responsible, last man standing and all that, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Just watch yourself, Harry. You’re in damn deep now – stop digging. If this Fred drops into the gutter somebody is bound to pick him up.’
‘Point taken, but try explaining that to Jake.’
‘Oh.’ He drew in a sharp breath. ‘I see, yes, difficult since you’re first in the firing line.’
‘Exactly.’
‘You’ve always got my back-up, you know that.’
‘And I’m eternally grateful for it, Mike. I might certainly need you when we get to the hairy bit …’
‘Just holla, I’ll come – safety catch off.’
‘Thanks, and the same goes for me too. If you’re up against it, just bellow.’
He chuckled. ‘When have I ever been up against it, eh? Bye, Harry.’ He disconnected.
I checked the time; coming up to six o’clock. It was early to be going over to take Jake’s food. However, I also wanted to check on Fred’s state before it got too late in the evening. I downed a very strong black coffee, filled Leo’s bowl with dry food and headed out for the hot food outlets in Bingham. Jake could have fish and chips tonight. For myself, my plaice goujons would have to do; Wednesday I was, with a bit of luck, back in the saddle.
I ordered cod and double chips, double wrapped, and motored swiftly over to Burton Lazars. We had maybe ten days or so before Nathaniel was due home. I had to come up with answers before he got back and reclaimed his studio. The time factor was just one more piece of pressure but I couldn’t afford to ignore it. The last thing I was going to allow was to let Jake move back into Harlequin Cottage. He’d successfully disrupted my life for too long already. And my energy was needed now to bring home winners, not criminals.
Curbing my speed, I entered the village; my vehicle was one among the scores of cars transporting home weary workers. They had my sympathy. Thankfully, I didn’t have to spend precious hours every day cooped up in an overpoweringly centrally heated office. I drove sedately, watching for a gap in the commuters that would allow me to turn off into Nathaniel’s secluded driveway unnoticed. It was certainly not the best time to be here. Any one of the people heading home could suddenly remember that Nathaniel was away and my presence was highly suspect.
Dead Reckoning Page 18
