‘What else can you use it for?’
‘Oh, George uses it for his feet, says it soothes them.’
I rubbed the gel thoroughly into my sore skin. ‘I really wanted to ask you a potentially difficult question, Aunt Rachel. It’s very personal but I really do need an answer.’
Her shoulders stiffened and her face became instantly shuttered. ‘I may not wish to give you an answer.’
‘Is Uncle George around?’
‘He’s just gone down to see to the greenhouse skylights. He’ll be back in a minute or two.’
‘Then I’ll ask you straight away, before he comes in. You might find it easier if it’s just ourselves.’
‘You’d better ask then.’ She turned away and leaned her hands on the edge of the sink for support.
‘You bought a dozen white roses for my mother’s grave …’ I didn’t say any more.
Aunt Rachel spun round to face me. ‘It was that girl, wasn’t it? The one I saw you with in the Dirty Duck. She told you. I knew she would.’
‘Not immediately. Why did you buy them and write that card? What did you mean?’
Aunt Rachel’s shoulders slumped and she sat down suddenly on a kitchen chair. ‘Harry,’ she said in a low voice, ‘I’ve been a cruel, heartless woman.’ She lifted a hand as she saw me about to counter her words. ‘No, don’t say anything. I blamed George and your mother, as you know, for having what I thought was an affair. I set myself up as judge and jury when I had absolutely no moral right to do so. If I’d had the courage to ask your mother straight away, I’d have found out the truth. But I didn’t. I blamed them both for years. And do you know why, Harry?’
I shook my head.
‘Jealousy, green-eyed jealousy.’
I didn’t know what to say. She finished what she needed to tell me.
‘Elizabeth, your mother, had what I wanted most – children. She had you and she had a little daughter, Silvie – I had none.’
I left Aunt Rachel in the kitchen, went out and got into my car. I drove home in a sombre mood.
The pieces of the jigsaw were falling into place. I was joining them together fast. The picture, becoming clearer, wasn’t a happy one. It showed the heartache of a lot of people but, like a festering boil, it needed to burst and open up; only then would the people involved be free of the hidden poison in their lives.
And I seemed to have got the sticky end once again. There was only me who could do it.
There was a message waiting for me on my landline. Nathaniel had rung. Just to let you know, Harry. My family over here in Switzerland are down with flu. I’m in the way right now. So, I’ll be back home tomorrow night. Can you get rid of the lodger?
Today had already been a roller-coaster of ups and downs.
And today wasn’t over yet.
THIRTY
I’d just poured myself a whisky when a loud click sounded from the kitchen – Leo was back. He slid sinuously round the lounge door and bellowed a greeting.
‘Good to see you too, Leo.’
He stopped, one paw lifted before cautiously putting it out in front with exaggerated care. Pacing slowly up to me, ears flattened, he delicately sniffed my trouser leg, whiskers trembling. Then, instead of leaping up to my shoulder as normal, he turned his back on me, shook a disapproving back leg and walked to the door. Giving me a dirty look over his shoulder, he headed for the kitchen.
‘Ha, I see,’ I said. ‘Kittens.’
Taking the hint, I took myself – and the whisky – upstairs, stripped off my clothes and dropped them in the linen basket. Then I ran a deep, very hot bath and climbed in. The water eddied, dispersed itself around me and settled. Lifting my whisky glass, I sipped and soaked, eyes closed, and let myself relax.
Running the events of the last few days slowly through my mind, I connected the pieces I knew fitted and allowed myself to drift, giving my subconscious every chance to join a few more for me. It was a method I’d tried with success in the past. It was a process rather like ceasing struggling to remember a name and finding a short while later the elusive word popping up of its own volition.
I ran the tape of memory back to the start and fed every fact into my conscious mind, looking closely at each one before going on to the next. It took some time to consider all that had happened. Then I deliberately let go of the whole puzzle. I finished my drink, sank lower in the bath and closed my eyes. And having done so, I unwound even more in the soothing hot water and adopted a confident expectation that the answers would come.
A lot of famous people had discovered the amazing medium of water to come up with solutions. Agatha Christie had reportedly washed dishes and discovered unexpected results. The great man himself, Dick Francis, had apparently waded out waist-deep into the sea and found help with his plots.
I drifted, dozing … allowed my mind to empty … and waited. It was enough to know it worked.
At seven o’clock, dried, dressed in a navy suit, white shirt and dark red tie, I locked the cottage and pointed the Mazda towards Burton Lazars. I did a slight detour on the way and went into a fish-and-chip shop in Bingham. Taking a hot meal for the beast might deflect his undoubted anger at what I had to say. The aromatic parcel safely stowed, I drove on to the tiger’s cage.
Predictably, his temper went through the roof.
‘What are you fucking saying?’ he spat the words out at me while stuffing hot chips into his mouth. The effect wasn’t pleasant. I should have let him eat first.
‘Nothing I can do, Jake. Nathaniel’s had to pull out and he’s heading home tomorrow. You can’t stay here.’
His jaws masticated rapidly. ‘So just where do I stay then, arsehole?’
I shook my head.
‘Bloody fucking great.’ He returned his attention to the rest of the food and it disappeared quickly, his anger fuelling his intake.
‘If you don’t come up with somewhere, I’m at yours.’
‘Oh, no.’ I waved my forefinger from side to side. ‘We’ve done that bit. No more.’
‘I’m not bloody sleeping rough.’
‘Look, stay here tonight. It’s OK for tonight. Then tomorrow, in the morning, I’ll come over. Try to think of somewhere to hole up – I’ll drive you there.’
‘I can stay tonight?’
‘Yes.’
He calmed down, grunted, ‘And you’ll be back in the morning?’
‘Yes, but I can’t stay any more just now. I’ve to be somewhere at eight o’clock.’
He ignored me and began making a mug of tea. ‘How’s me dad?’
‘I took his bits and pieces to the hospital today. He was what the nurse called lucid. I stayed a little while. He was talking to me.’
‘So he’s OK, then?’
I avoided the bomb going off. ‘Yeah.’
‘Hope they’ll let him smoke. Can’t get by without his smokes.’
What did the man think the nurses were going to do? Offer Fred a light?
‘I’m off. Bye.’ I opened the studio door and escaped thankfully into the cold night air.
The party had begun and was revving up when I reached Mike’s stables. Cars were parked up all around the tarmac area to the side of the main house. I added the Mazda.
Pen welcomed me in to an ear-filling burst of music and laughter. She took me over to the temporarily installed bar and poured me a drink.
‘Did you know your aunt and uncle are here?’ she whispered.
I actually felt my eyebrows rise in incredulous surprise and took a gulp of the champagne.
‘No, I didn’t. I thought they’d made it clear Aunt Rachel had pulled the plug on coming.’
‘Something must have made her change her mind.’
Pen shepherded me across to the buffet table, sagging dangerously under all the delicious, lovely eatables.
‘Now don’t say you can’t, Harry. I purposely had you in mind when I was preparing the food. Lots you can indulge yourself with.’
She waved a hand. I fol
lowed her direction and agreed I could certainly spoil myself. Tasty bites with low calories abounded: little gem lettuce leaves topped with cottage cheese and chives, thin-cut ham, tuna and cucumber, thinly sliced chicken, prawns, stuffed olives, vegetable croutons – the choice was vast. Annabel wasn’t the only thoughtful, caring woman around.
‘Looks lovely, Pen.’ And I meant it. ‘Mike’s a very lucky guy.’
She blushed.
The doorbell sounded and she excused herself to let in more party people. I walked over to speak to Samuel and Chloe. ‘Hello, both.’
Samuel smiled and nodded, mouth full of sausage roll. Chloe, dressed to kill in a deliciously tight-fitting dress in midnight blue, reached up and kissed me lingeringly on the cheek.
‘I’m so grateful to you winning on White Lace today.’ Her eyes sparkled.
Over her shoulder, I caught Samuel’s sardonic look. He didn’t need to say anything – I could read his thoughts. Daddy’s little girl was no longer a little girl. And she was also no longer involved in a divorce case, which meant she was free to do exactly what she wanted. I didn’t need Samuel to tell me Chloe wanted me. The available sign was clear enough to read for myself. Suddenly I seemed to be surrounded by extremely eligible females and opportunities. Maybe when I’d put this case to bed I could begin to put my own life back into decent order.
Mike came up, bringing with him two old acquaintances of mine. Both trainers – I’d ridden for each.
‘Hello, Tally. Nice to see you.’
‘I keep seeing you in the papers – not just the Racing Post, either.’ She laughed. ‘Very Philip Marlow. Are you thinking of it as a new career when you stop riding?’
‘God forbid.’ I turned to the man beside her. ‘Good to see you, Jim.’
He nodded. ‘Don’t know why you should say that, Harry. From what I’ve read in the news as well, you’re outgunning the police in catching baddies.
Jim Crack – the endless leg pulls about his name were legion – was a very successful trainer. When his own riding days had ended after a fall, he’d taken on a similar role as private detective, albeit not for long. He’d discovered horses were his life and set up stables not far from Tally.
Tally was a nickname derived from the one on her birth certificate, Albertine. Raised by her father, the late Jack Hunter, she had taken up the training reins after his death. Barbara Maguire had done the same after her husband, Sean, died. There were certainly some spunky women around.
‘I think it’s what’s called “helping the police with their inquiries”, Jim.’
‘No, no, Harry.’ Tally giggled. ‘That’s what they say before they slap the handcuffs on.’
‘Think she’s right there, Harry,’ Mike said.
‘What’s your next case, then?’ Jim took a gulp of his lager and waited expectantly.
‘I don’t go out looking for “cases”, as you put it,’ I protested. ‘They just seem to find me.’
‘Ah, do I detect you have one ongoing at the moment?’
‘Well, yes, sort of. It started out as one but it seems to have morphed into two somehow.’
‘And have you solved it yet?’ Tally leaned conspiratorially into me.
‘Yes, the original one, not the offshoot from it.’
‘And what case would that be, Harry?’
I spun round and saw it was Victor Maudsley. There was a cautious watchfulness in his eyes. ‘Hello, Victor. Just talking about my new infamous doings, that’s all. But I did want to have a word.’
‘Leave you to chat. See you later.’ Tally caught Jim’s elbow and tugged him away. Relieved, I watched them amble away through the crush. What I needed to say to Victor – and ask him – was for his ears alone. However, at that moment, Mike appeared on the tiny, hastily erected stage at the far end of the room.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please.’ The volume of chat and chuckles diminished. ‘We have a special treat in that Miss Lizzie Hibbertson has come over to England from Mexico for a visit. She has happily agreed to sing a selection of songs for us tonight made famous by Adele. Do please give her a warm welcome. Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen … Lizzie.’
I switched my gaze across the room and spotted Uncle George and Aunt Rachel. Her hand had flown to her mouth, eyes wide with alarm … and what?
I could be very wrong but my self-indulgent time lazing in the bath had borne fruit. The look on her face at this moment verified what I’d conjured up from my subconscious during my bath. Absurd and wildly unlikely, I’d thought it, but now it actually looked like I’d struck the bullseye.
Up on stage, Lizzie firstly, with a smile, thanked Mike for booking her and then extended the thanks to everybody present. She proceeded to give her all in each of the three songs. The thunderous applause that followed was truly appreciative of a wonderful performance. She blew kisses from the stage and promised to sing again later. I’d been as riveted as the rest of the guests and it took an effort to bring myself back to business.
I turned to Victor. ‘Perhaps we should talk somewhere private.’
He dragged his eyes away from Lizzie. ‘Yes … yes, might be favourite.’
The conservatory at the back of the house was empty of guests.
‘Do you mind?’ He produced a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.
I shook my head.
‘OK, what do you want a word about?’
‘Oh, I think you know exactly what needs airing.’
‘I suggest you tell me what you know and we’ll take it from there.’ He took a deep drag of the cigarette. I noticed his hand had a slight shake.
‘Fair enough. I suggest we take a seat.’
I didn’t want him doing a sudden runner if I touched a nerve. And I knew what I had to say to him would definitely hit the spot. If, indeed, what I’d worked out was the truth. I forced down my quiver of uncertainty. There was no way I could be one hundred per cent certain without confronting him.
We parked ourselves in the comfortable, bamboo-framed, well-upholstered chairs. Taking a lungful of smoke, he blew it out sideways and looked at me. I met his gaze steadily.
‘Alice,’ I said.
‘Carry on.’
‘You visited her on the day she died.’
Panic crossed his face. ‘Oh no, you’ve got that wrong. I didn’t kill her, poor woman …’
‘I know you didn’t.’
He gaped. ‘How … did you know I was even there?’
‘You were seen, Victor, I don’t mess about clutching smoke. I like facts – solid facts,’ I bluffed, straight-faced, and mentally crossed my fingers.
‘So, what do you want?’
‘The truth would be good, save a lot of time and then we can get back to the fun and games – and the singing.’
He stared at the floor.
‘Come on, Victor, admit it. You were the person who sent that note to Alice asking her to keep quiet.’
‘And what exactly did I say?’
‘Word for word? OK. I hope you’re not going to reveal the follies of youth. Not after playing cat and mouse all these years.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re wrong, Harry. You missed out the word callow: the follies of callow youth.’
He knew the game was up and we both knew I hadn’t made a mistake. He’d given me the word I’d deliberately missed out.
‘So, who is the second mouse – and who is the cheese?’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t worked that out as well.’
‘I’ve sussed out that one mouse is certainly well-named. It’s Mousey Brown, the trainer, isn’t it?’
‘Eh?’
His look of surprise wasn’t put on. My shored up yet still-shaky confidence dipped.
‘Barking up the wrong one there, Harry. Oh, I’ll give you old Mousey was one of Alice’s long-standing regulars. And you and I both know the reason for that, I don’t doubt.’
I nodded.
‘But he wasn’t the second.’
; ‘So who was?’
He pulled a wry face. ‘Sean Maguire.’
‘What? Barbara’s husband?’
‘That’s right.’
‘How the hell do you know that?’
‘Because I’m the first mouse. And I was there, that night. It was just us two young chaps – and the two girls.’
‘One being Alice …’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to level with me and tell me who the other woman – the cheese – was?’
He shrugged in despondent resignation. ‘It’s all going to come out in any case; nothing I can do now to stop it.’
‘And you did try, didn’t you, Victor? Because you knew I’d keep on digging until I found out the truth.’
He nodded.
‘It was you who fired the shot at me on the fifth green at North Shore golf course.’
‘Yes, it was me,’ he said in a low voice.
‘It was so important to you to keep the secret that you were prepared to try and kill me.’
‘It was to protect someone …’
‘So,’ I tried him with the million dollar question, ‘why didn’t you shoot again and finish the job?’
‘I couldn’t. I didn’t intend to kill you, Harry. I’m not a cold-blooded murderer. I fired to frighten you off, not kill.’
‘You came bloody close to it!’
‘I know, that’s why I ran. I wanted to frighten you and ended by frightening myself because the bullet nearly hit you. I never intended to kill you. It was only to stop you from finding out.’
‘You certainly scared me.’
‘I’m sorry. It shook me up. I wasn’t aiming for you but I damn nearly took you out. That was never my intention.’
‘Right.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Now, you’re going to tell me the other woman’s name. Or shall I tell you?’
THIRTY-ONE
‘Harry, please …’ His face screwed up in genuine anguish. ‘Don’t make me do this.’
‘Do you think it gives me a kick?’
He looked into my face searchingly. ‘No, I don’t, you’re a good man. But the fallout could be goddamn awful.’
‘Help me out here, Victor. Let’s wrap it up.’
Dead Reckoning Page 22
