'No? Or perhaps you thought you didn't want your boyfriend caught? Is that it? You may have objected to the robbery, but I'm not entirely convinced of that. I believe you wanted to warn him, hoped maybe that he would be frightened off. Either that, or for some reason you're lying about being captured. Well, Linda Slater, you will have to stay here until we find out the truth.
***
Chapter 3
'You can't keep me here!' Linda protested.
'The police can,' he reminded her, and she bit her lip, looking up to see the man in jeans, who seemed to be in charge, was coming towards them.
'Mr Cottrell, is there a room we can have for headquarters? To interview people?'
Simon nodded. 'There's the old dining room, the one my grandmother used to use when there were no guests. It's next to the sitting room where they broke in. It's through that door in the corner, and the room before the disturbed one. Plenty of chairs and tables. Shall I show you?'
'I can find it, thanks. I'll call you when we're ready.'
'I've discovered one room where pictures and silver and porcelain, I suspect, have been stolen. Do you want me to look around in the rest of the house?'
'Not yet, if you please. Can you wait somewhere nearby and then I'll go round with you and make a list?'
'We'll wait in the Great Hall.'
Linda went back with him, knowing she had no alternative. Of course the police could detain her, and they would want to question her. Should she tell them about Jake? It would influence them against her if they discovered she had a cousin who was a minor crook and had spent six months in prison for theft. On the other hand, if she did not tell them and they found out, it would make it look bad for her.
She wished she had not rung Bill from Simon Cottrell's phone, but it was too late for that. The story she had concocted would have to do. And it could have been true, she thought guiltily. When she'd been thinking straight she could well have phoned Bill to come and fetch her in his car. Though she'd have been far more likely to have phoned her mother.
Simon was taking her arm. Was he afraid she'd try to run away? He moved across to the huge fireplace, where there were bench seats actually inside the chimney, and gestured to her to sit.
'I'm sorry we can't have a grandstand view of the re-enactments,' he said, 'but we can hear them.'
Linda had almost forgotten, but in this stone building the noise of the tannoy seemed louder.
'Will you be missed?' she asked. 'Are you taking part in other displays?'
'Trying to get rid of me?' he asked, and she flushed and shook her head. 'No, the jousting was over, luckily, and there are others who can take my place in the crowd scenes, the battles.'
'Why do you do it?'
He shrugged. 'I teach history at a college, and what better way of understanding how people of different ages felt than by trying to recreate some of their life? Also I ride, and this place is ideally laid out with the arena and the hill for people to sit and watch. It helps the finances, big events like this. The few people who come to see the house itself won't pay for its upkeep.'
'Pete said you and your brothers ran the farm and a stud,' she remembered.
'Yes, my brothers do that, and I help during vacations. They have their own houses, some distance away from the main one, they don't live here. So your Pete had done his homework, had he?'
'He's not my Pete!'
'He was, I presume, until this morning. How long had you known him?'
'Just a few weeks. He said he'd been transferred to a new branch, so was new to the area. But he did have a job, I telephoned him there and left messages occasionally. He's a computer engineer.'
'You'll have to tell this to the police.'
'I know. I thought he was interested in old buildings, and he seemed to know a lot about paintings. We went to some house almost every weekend.'
'Casing the joints, no doubt.'
Miserably Linda nodded. It did seem that way.
'Do you know where he lived? I don't suppose he went back there, but it might give the police some clues.'
'He had a flat, two rooms, really, in Bridge Street.'
He'd said he was going to look for a house, and had implied he wanted Linda to share it, but she would try to forget that. How could she have been so gullible?
'Can I try to phone my brother now?' she asked tentatively. Simon had his mobile attached to his belt.
'I don't think that would be a good idea,' he said. 'I'm sure the police would not like to think a possible witness has been warned.'
'Witness? But Bill knows nothing about this! And I'll need a lift home.'
'Either I or the police will take you home. As for Bill, he may or may not have knowledge of this, but it will make the police more suspicious if you do speak to him. Does he know Pete?'
Linda nodded, but did not add that Bill had introduced Pete to her. It would make it look even worse for her brother. Though why should it, she asked herself angrily. Even crooks had to know some ordinary people, surely. Being acquainted with a thief didn't automatically make her one. She hadn't thought this way when Jake had been convicted, just been ashamed of being related.
*
Hours later, long after the events were finished and the crowds had departed, except for the performers who were staying in their tents, the police seemed satisfied. Linda felt drained. Their determined and skillful questioning had dragged from her more information than she had known she possessed about Pete Jackson. Men had been sent to his flat, to talk to Bill, and to find Jake. While she was being questioned Simon had attempted to list all the stolen items, though as he'd said to Linda, he couldn't remember the half of them, and his father had the inventory in the safe, and he and Lady Cottrell wouldn't be home from a trip to Paris until Thursday.
'You can go home now, Miss Slater, and thank you for your cooperation.'
She hadn't heard more welcome words all day.
'I don't have a car,' she began to say, but Inspecter Stone smiled. In other circumstances she'd have liked him, she thought, he had a fatherly smile, but he'd shown his ruthless side during the questioning.
'Mr Cottrell is going to take you. He'll be here in a few minutes, he said.'
He left her, and Linda slumped in the chair. She was exhausted, and the heat and stickiness of the day had combined with her bruises and the dust from that attic floor, to make her feel thoroughly dishevelled.
Then Simon came in. He, she saw enviously, had found time to shower and change into a clean shirt and black jeans which clung to his muscular legs.
'Come on, I imagine you are ravenous. I'll take you to have some food at the local pub.'
'I can't go anywhere like this! I'm filthy, my shirt's torn, and my hair's a mess.'
'It's not the Ritz,' he said, laughing. 'But if you'd feel better I can take you to your flat and you can change, then we'll find somewhere nearby.'
She was too weary to argue, and meekly went with him to his car, housed in a large barn just beyond the walled garden. It was long, low, and sleek, but she didn't know what make, and had almost fallen asleep by the time they reached the town and he had to ask directions. Her shower revived her, and she was thankful her curly hair meant she didn't have to spend ages styling it. A quick blow dry was enough. She didn't have time to ponder over what to wear, dragging the first thing to hand out of her wardrobe, a plain blue skirt that matched her eyes, and a white lacy blouse she'd brought back from holiday in Spain last year. A dab of lipgloss, a spray of Chanel, and she was ready.
Simon knew of a small bistro nearby, and soon she was devouring the bread the waitress brought to the table. She'd had the burger and chips, but that seemed hours ago, and she remembered she'd been so worried she'd left half of it. They avoided talk of the robbery, and Simon persuaded her to talk about her job in the head-hunting agency, while he told her of some of his students. Soon they were laughing easily, and as they rose to leave Linda found herself wishing they had met in some other circumst
ances.
They'd left his car by her flat, and walked to the bistro, and as they strolled back through the balmy summer evening, still light enough to see clearly, Linda reluctantly forced herself to consider the events of the day, and their consequences.
'Will the police want to talk to me again?' she asked abruptly, ignoring his comment about how quiet the neighbourhood was.
'I imagine so, but there's nothing to worry about if you've told them the truth.'
'I've told them everything I know!' she protested.
'Yes, but there may be small points you've forgotten. I think everyone does. It's difficult, in the stress of the moment, to recall everything. At least, that's what my students tell me when they are excusing test failures.'
They'd reached the converted house where Linda had her flat, the basement floor with its own entrance down a short flight of steps.
'Will you come in for coffee?' she asked hesitantly.
'I won't stop, but I'll see you safely inside.'
She went down the steps in front of him, fishing for her keys in her bag, and then gasped in dismay. Her door was open, just an small gap showing.
'They've been here!' she gasped. 'I'll kill Pete if he's trashed my things!'
'Let me see,' Simon ordered, and before she could protest had thrust his way past her into the tiny hall.
Having had time to think, to worry in case Pete or one of his bully-boy friends was lying in wait, Linda tried to grab his hand and hold him back, but she was too slow. She followed him in, and they went from the small sitting room which stretched across the entire back of the house, with French windows opening onto a small patio garden, into the tiny kitchen, the bedroom at the front, and the bathroom. All the rooms were empty, the French windows were still secure, and nothing had been disturbed.
Simon was standing in the middle of the sitting room, looking round thoughtfully. 'What did they want?' he mused.
Linda, as puzzled as he was, went to fill the kettle and as she lifted it gave a gasp. Below, concealed until then, was a small envelope.
She picked it up and ripped open the flap. The note inside was brief and to the point.
'Don't tell the police anything or you'll regret it.'
*
Hours later Linda collapsed into bed. Simon had insisted on calling the police, and they had spent ages searching the flat and the gardens, and taking statements. Then there had been the argument about whether she could stay there.
'If you can go to your parents it would be best,' the policeman had said.
'I can't wake them up at this hour,' Linda protested. 'It's two in the morning!'
'You can come and stay at The Old Grange. That will be the most secure place in the area tonight,' Simon insisted, 'and I think you ought to stay there for a few more nights until the police have had time to catch the rogues.'
Eventually she had agreed and packed a small case with clothes for the following day, and her office clothes for Monday. Surely by then Pete would have been caught and she'd be safe.
Simon had shown her to a room next to his own, also with an en suite bathroom, and promised she would not be woken too early in the morning.
'The re-enactors will be in their own tents, and as it's the second day they'll not have to set things out. You'll be able to sleep well into the morning.'
It was eleven before she woke, and for some moments she lay in blissful comfort, aware of the sun shining through gaps in the curtains, and faint noises from outside. They did not, however, sound like the traffic noises she was used to, and suddenly it all flooded back, the disaster of yesterday.
Simon had shown her a bell rope, and told her to pull on it when she was ready.
'I'll be out, I expect, seeing to the horses and preparations for today, but Maggie, the housekeeper, will be here, and she'll show you where you can have breakfast and let me know you're ready. Then we can make sure you'll be safe during the day.'
She shivered, and decided to delay matters by soaking in a tub. The bathroom had a selection of essences, a pile of wonderfully soft towels, and the bath was deep enough for her to sink completely into the water.
As she relaxed she began to plan. Last night she'd been too shocked to want to think about it, but now she was growing angry. How dared Pete assume she was the sort of girl who'd join him in criminal activities! They'd all three treated her despicably, and she'd been terrified, but now she was just angry. Of course she was fearful, she'd be stupid not to be concerned at what he might do, especially when he realised, as he would, that the police knew who was responsible. But she wanted him as much as the police did, and she would do her best to ensure his capture.
Springing out of the bath, refreshed by her sleep and her soak, she pulled on the clean jeans and shirt she had packed last night, then rang for Maggie. While she waited she drew back the curtains, and saw that she had an excellent view of the arena to the front of the house.
A discreet knock on the door and Maggie, a plump woman in her fifties, appeared.
'Hello, you're awake. Mr Simon said you might like breakfast up here, or if you want to come downstairs he'll join you.'
'I'll come downstairs, thanks,' Linda said. 'I'm sorry it's so late, but I slept far better than I expected to, after all the excitement.'
'Dreadful, isn't it, but I'm sure, with your help, the police will catch them. If you're ready, then, I'll show you the way.'
Linda followed her down the main staircase and through to a surprisingly modern kitchen at the far end of the most modern wing.
'Do you mind eating here?' Maggie asked, indicating a huge pine table at one end of the room, where cereals and a pot of coffee were already set out. 'Mr Simon always prefers it when his parents are away. Help yourself to coffee, it's a fresh brew.'
'Does he live here all the time?' Linda asked, sitting down and reaching for the cornflakes.
'Only in the vacation. He has a house near his college.'
There was no time for more, as Simon came in through a door leading to the knot garden courtyard.
'Good, I hope you slept well? You certainly look better than when we met.'
'I should hope so,' Linda replied, with a grimace at how she must have looked then. 'Coffee?'
'Please. And Maggie, a full fry-up, I hope? No one does breakfast better than Maggie,' he added. 'I don't indulge anywhere else, but I can't resist Maggie's sausages and bacon.'
Maggie, smiling, was already busy with the frying pan, and Simon turned back to Linda.
'How are we going to keep you safe today, just in case they come here looking for you?'
'Will they?' she asked. 'I hope they do, and I spot them first!'
'You could stay in the bedroom. No intruder will get in today with all the extra police we have around. And you'll have a good view of all the demonstrations from there. I have suggested to Dad that he should rent out the rooms overlooking the arena, like they do for processions in London, but he thinks that's too commercial!'
'No, I want to join in. I saw very little yesterday, but you told me so much I want to see it for myself.'
'But if Jackson goes to your flat, finds you've moved out, he may suspect you're back here. He may even think the police want you here, and he might come looking. Could you identify the other two?'
'Yes, I'm sure I could.'
'Good, but we don't want them recognising you. You'd better put on a disguise.'
'A disguise? Oh, you mean dress up as a re-enactor?'
'Yes. There are spare costumes, I keep them here for some societies, and if we can't find any that fit the stall holders have some for sale. They make them from authentic materials, and in the traditional way. You'd better be a medieval peasant, their clothing is the most concealing, and you can wrap the wimple round your head to cover your hair.'
Linda knew he was right, but she felt a pang for the more elaborate Tudor dresses she'd seen yesterday, with their laces and jewels and embroidery, the low necklines and high ruffs. This dressi
ng up business had its points, she realised. She might enjoy it herself.
After a substantial breakfast Simon vanished, saying he preferred to disguise her before she left the house. Within minutes he was back with a girl her own age, but shorter, dressed in a drab green, floor length gown, and carrying another in dark reddish brown over her arm.
'This is Eleanor,' he said. 'She'll show you how to put everything on, and make sure you have comfortable sandals. Then she'll stay with you and show you how to go on. You can use the breakfast room just along the passage.'
He led the way, and deposited the basket full of leather sandals and lengths of white and fawn material on a chair. He explained these were the wimples which wrapped round their heads and necks.
'I'd better go and get ready myself, or someone else will have to do the jousting, and there's no one really competent yet. I'll be around, Linda, and there's also a policeman who'll be dressed in peasant clothing who will come with you and Eleanor.'
'It's good of you to help,' Linda said as she stripped off her shirt and jeans and Eleanor lifted the linen undergown over her head.
'No problem. This one's the right length, I think. Simon seemed to know your measurements to the last centimetre,' she added, grinning.
Linda blushed. 'Have you known him long?'
'About six years. I was one of his students, and he got me interested, and a couple of years ago when I began to work near here I joined the group.'
'What do you do?' Linda asked as Eleanor pulled on the blue gown.
'I'm in the police.'
'What?' Linda spun round to find Eleanor grinning at her.
'You don't think Simon would give guard duty to someone unqualified to protect you?'
'I hadn't considered it. But you're shorter than I am, and I bet I'm a lot heavier.'
'But you haven't been trained in judo.'
Suddenly Linda collapsed with laughter. 'I'd love to see Pete or one of those other beasts take a fall from a medieval judo expert half their size!'
'Let's hope they do. If I throw one, you can sit on him until help comes.'
Eleanor draped the wimple round Linda's head, and Linda was surprised to find how comfortable the whole outfit was. She had a pair of thonged sandals, and Eleanor made her walk up and down the room until she was comfortable in her flowing skirts.
'Right, you'll do. David, or to give him his proper title, Sergeant David Evans, will be waiting for us outside. There's an hour before we have to prepare for the parade, so let's go and introduce you to the rest of the group up at the camp. We might even set you to spinning or stirring the cauldron.'
Theft of Love Page 3
