by Susan Lewis
‘Whereupon he left it to the receptionist to deliver the bombshell that Andrea Lawrence was the client in the car?’
‘Apparently. I’m intrigued by the do-gooder who helps people get jobs.’
‘Do you believe it?’
‘I’ve no idea what to believe, but right now I’m interested to see how long it takes for Penny to contact me, because I’m sure she’ll have been told about my visit the minute I left the office.’
Maureen had just reversed from the drive at the side of Briar Lodge when a young lad around her grandson Luke’s age suddenly appeared out of nowhere and held up a hand for her to stop.
Winding down the driver’s window, she said, ‘Are you looking for Luke?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I …’
‘Are you lost?’
‘I don’t think so. I’m sorry to interrupt you.’ His voice was surprisingly soft and sounded quite cultured, maybe accented, and even at a distance she could see that he was extremely good-looking. ‘I’m looking for Andee Lawrence,’ he told her.
‘She’s my daughter,’ Maureen replied. ‘Is there something I can help with?’
He glanced over his shoulder to a red car that was parked close by. ‘If you’re her mother,’ he said, turning back to her, ‘then you must be my grandmother.’
Maureen’s eyes dilated as her heart gave a slow, strange contraction. ‘You’re … You’re Penny’s son?’ she asked, in a whisper.
He nodded briefly and glanced at the car again. ‘I need to talk to Andee,’ he told her. ‘She’s a detective, isn’t she?’
‘She was,’ Maureen managed to confirm. This boy, this stranger with his beautiful voice and shock of fair hair, was her grandson? ‘I’m just going to pick her up,’ she ran on, hardly aware of what she was saying. ‘She’s been in London today.’ She started to get out of the car. She needed to hug him, or invite him in, or do something other than just sit there, but he stopped her with raised hands. He was looking at a white van coming around the green towards them. ‘You’re being watched,’ he muttered.
Maureen blinked.
‘I have to go,’ he gasped, and before she could utter another word he ran back to the car, jumped in and drove around the green at speed.
Maureen gazed after him, too thrown to do anything more. She barely even registered Blake as he drew up outside his own house in the white van.
‘Is everything OK?’ he asked, coming to find out why she was standing next to her car with it parked half in, half out of her drive.
‘I’m not sure,’ she replied, still staring after the red car that had vanished over the brow of the hill. ‘I’ve just had … The car that just drove off … Did you see it?’
He nodded. ‘Was it someone you know?’
‘The lad driving it just told me he’s my grandson.’
Blake blinked with shock. ‘You mean, Penny’s son?’
‘That’s what he said.’
Blake looked across the green to where the hamlet entrance was quietly empty and shaded by a wind-blown holm oak. ‘What else did he say?’ he asked.
‘That he needed to speak to Andee, then he saw your van and seemed to take fright.’
Clearly as baffled as she was, he glanced back across the hamlet as he said, ‘Did you happen to get a number for the car?’
She shook her head.
‘And he didn’t tell you his name?’
‘I’m afraid we didn’t get that far.’ She checked the time. ‘I should go, Andee’s train is due in at half past.’
Opening her car’s passenger door he said, ‘Come on, I’ll drive,’ and going round to the other side he got in and started towards town.
Andee was at Fruit of the Vine wine bar in the old town with her mother and Blake, feeling as stunned and baffled as they were by the mysterious visit from the lad claiming to be Penny’s son. ‘And he didn’t say what he wanted to talk to me about?’ she asked. ‘Or give you a number for me to reach him?’
‘There wasn’t time,’ Maureen replied. ‘It all happened so fast. A van appeared, which was Blake’s. He said something about me being watched and the next minute he was in his car and gone.’
To Blake Andee said, ‘It was definitely a red Corsa?’
‘It was,’ he confirmed, sitting back as their drinks arrived.
‘Did you notice a red Corsa parked on the green, close to the Smugglers’ Cave, when we were at the pub the other evening?’
Grimacing, he said, ‘I can’t say I did, but I’m surprised Brigand Bob didn’t try to move him on, you know …’
‘He might have,’ Andee interrupted. ‘He certainly spoke to him, and then ended up allowing him to carry on parking there. Which means we have to speak to Bob to find out why he didn’t move him on. The cave will be closed by now. Does anyone know where Bob lives?’
No one did.
Taking out her phone Andee pressed in Leo Johnson’s number. As she waited for him to answer, she said, ‘Did you notice if there was a girl in the car?’
Both Maureen and Blake looked perplexed.
‘I thought I saw a girl with him on the green,’ Andee explained, and put up a hand as she was connected to Leo’s voicemail. ‘Hi, it’s Andee,’ she announced. ‘I need an address for Brigand Bob who helps run the Smugglers’ Cave at Bourne Hollow. Call me when you can. If it’s not this evening, don’t worry, he’ll be at the cave by nine tomorrow so I’ll see him then.’ As she rang off, she said to her mother, ‘So did this boy happen to resemble Penny at all?’
‘I didn’t get that good a look,’ Maureen replied doubtfully. ‘His hair was fair, and hers was always dark when she was young, like yours. But of course he could take after his father.’
‘Whoever that might be,’ Andee muttered. ‘What sort of age would you put him at?’
‘Not much older than Luke, maybe twenty-three or four.’
After messaging Gould requesting another meeting in the morning, Andee was about to speak again when her mobile rang. Not bothering to hide her surprise, she said, ‘This should be interesting. It’s Penny.’
Chapter Eight
‘Andee, I hope this is a good time,’ Penny cried cheerfully.
‘As good as any,’ Andee replied smoothly. She hadn’t yet told her mother about Penny calling herself Andrea Lawrence, and wasn’t keen to if she could avoid it. Maureen was finding it hard enough to cope with things as it was, the prospect of any further mind games would only make matters worse. ‘How are you?’ she asked. ‘I take it your flight’s arrived wherever it was going.’
‘Houston. Texas. We got in about an hour ago. I’m currently on my way into the city. So, how was your day in London? Are you still there?’
‘No, I’m back in Kesterly. It was … productive.’
‘You didn’t tell me why you were there.’
‘I was looking up an old friend.’
‘And you found her? Him?’
‘Kind of.’
‘I have a lot of resources at my fingertips, if there’s anything I can help with.’
‘That’s very kind of you. I’ll remember that.’ She waited, wondering what the point of this call really was, for Balodis, or Martyna, had almost certainly informed her of the visit to their office, so what was she hoping to find out now?
To her surprise Penny said, ‘Well, I should probably ring off. We’ve just arrived at the hotel. You have my number if you need me.’
‘And you have mine.’
After Andee had ended the call, her mother said, ‘What was that about?’
Andee sipped her wine and shook her head slowly, thoughtfully. ‘A good question,’ she replied.
‘Does she know you went to the chauffeur-drive office?’ Blake asked.
‘I’m sure she does, but she didn’t mention it. I used Jenny’s business card, by the way.’ Catching the expression on her mother’s face, she wished she hadn’t mentioned it. ‘I told you this morning,’ she said, ‘that I was afraid if I gave my own name I might n
ot get in the door. Penny will have been expecting me to trace the car, so there was a chance she had the people at the chauffeur-drive company on some kind of alert.’
Maureen either didn’t remember or she simply didn’t understand. ‘Why would she do that?’ she asked.
‘Why is she doing anything?’ Andee countered.
‘You didn’t ask about her son,’ Blake pointed out.
‘I wanted to see if she mentioned him first.’
‘But she didn’t?’
Andee shook her head again and refilled her glass. ‘We’ve no idea what’s going on here,’ she sighed, ‘but if he is who he says he is and wants to speak to me … I’d like to give him the chance before …’ Before what? ‘Before I jump to any conclusions,’ she decided.
‘And if he turns out to be an impostor, someone sent by Penny to …’ Blake broke off as Andee kicked him under the table.
Maureen was looking more bemused than ever. ‘He came across as a nice enough lad,’ she mumbled, ‘but you can never be sure these days, can you?’
The following morning Andee was waiting outside the Smugglers’ Cave when Brigand Bob, looking for all the world like an ageing Jack Sparrow in his tricorne cap, black frock coat and fancy breeches, came swashbuckling along the street ready to start the day.
Their chat lasted only a few minutes, during which Andee learned that the boy in the Corsa had asked if he and his girlfriend could park up for a while as his girlfriend was pregnant and feeling faint.
‘Proper pale, she was,’ Bob told her. ‘And just a slip of a thing, with this great big belly …’
‘I don’t suppose,’ Andee ventured, ‘you happened to ask their names?’
Clearly astonished, he said, ‘Why on earth would I do that?’ Then, apparently remembering that she used to be police, he added, ‘Should I have?’
‘No, no,’ she assured him. ‘It’s just that they came back here yesterday … Did you see them?’
‘No, can’t say I did. Why, what are they supposed to have done?’
‘Nothing as far as I know, but he told my mother he wanted to speak to me. If you happen to see him again, could you try to get his name and maybe even a number?’
‘I’ll do my best. I could give him yours if you didn’t mind me passing it on.’
After texting him the number Andee left him to his first tourists of the day, already straggling up the hill from the coach park, and went to get into her car.
As she drove into Kesterly her mind was darting about all over the place, though she was aware of how lack of sleep could alter perspective and even create a sense of paranoia. Heaven knew she’d been there during the night, when she’d become increasingly bothered by Penny’s use of her name. What on earth was that about, and how often had she done it? Did she actually have documents such as a passport and driver’s licence in the name of Andrea Lawrence? Apart from the chauffeur company, who had very possibly been instructed to give her name as a part of some warped little game directed by Penny, who knew her as that?
Then there was the mysterious appearance of a boy claiming to be Penny’s son, with a pregnant girlfriend. What would he have done, or said, if he’d found Andee at home yesterday? Had he seen her the other evening at the pub? Maybe he didn’t know what she looked like, although, given how frequently she’d appeared in the media, it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find out.
So the boy either hadn’t wanted to approach her the other evening, or he’d been waiting for instructions from Penny before making his next move.
After leaving her car in the underground car park on Victoria Square, Andee splashed through the puddles of a sudden downpour over to Kesterly police station. Leo Johnson, looking as cute as ever with his mop of carroty hair and rash of cornflake freckles, was waiting to take her up to a fourth-floor conference room. Someone, probably Leo, had thought to order a Thermos of coffee, and when Gould joined them a couple of minutes later he tossed a greasy bag of pastries on to the table with an instruction for them to help themselves.
Gould and Johnson listened quietly as Andee updated them on the past twenty-four hours. Occasionally one or other of them made a note, or nodded, but mostly they scowled with concentration.
‘OK,’ Gould announced when she’d finished. He leaned back in his chair to retrieve the coffee pot from the buffet behind him. ‘Leo has a copy of the inquest report you asked for, which contains some interesting background on the deceased Uncle John. We’ll let you read that at your leisure, because I can’t see how it’ll impact what we’re trying to find out now, which is why your sister has decided to return to the fold, if that’s how we want to term it, and how frequently she’s used your name.’
‘Could it cause me a problem?’ Andee wanted to know.
‘On the face of it, it shouldn’t. If she’s committed any kind of crime while using it you’ll presumably have an alibi, or sufficient grounds for denial, so I can’t see anything to worry about. It’s more a question of why she’s using it. Leo, over to you.’
‘After I got your email yesterday,’ the young DC began, ‘I made some preliminary searches and it turns out that your name appears as a director of Exclusive Chauffeur Drive. It’s down as A.G. Laurence, with a “u”, but it’s as near as damn it.’
‘Andrea Greta,’ Gould stated, as if she didn’t know.
‘My maternal grandmother,’ she informed them.
‘Going further into the company documents,’ Leo continued, ‘it shows that A.G. Laurence provided the firm’s start-up funding back in 2007.’
‘Which is kind of what the receptionist told you,’ Gould pointed out, ‘that she helped her bosses get the company going.’
Andee looked at them, hoping they could come up with some suggestions of how this information might serve them, but apparently they were as lost for an explanation of anything as she was.
Moving them along, Gould said, ‘Your nephew, her son, or whoever he is. As we have nothing to go on right now we’ll just have to wait to see if he gets in touch again. If he does, I’d caution you to be careful, for the simple reason that we have no idea who he actually is, or what he wants.’
Worriedly, Andee said, ‘Do you think my mother’s vulnerable in the house when I’m not there?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Gould replied, ‘and if there is somewhere you can take her that’s a little less remote then it might not be a bad idea.’ He took a sip of his coffee and referred to a printout in front of him. ‘I’ll email this to you,’ he told her, ‘but, in brief, I’ve heard back from the Met about your father’s old colleague, Gerry Trowbridge. He was a DCS himself by the time he retired, nineteen years ago, but as you’re no doubt aware he was a detective inspector at the time of the search for Penny. The good news is he’s alive, the bad news is he lives in Wales.’
Confused, Andee said, ‘Why is that bad news?’
‘I’ve never got on with the Welsh,’ Gould grunted.
Amused, she cast a glance at Leo, who was hiding his own mirth. ‘Which is relevant how?’ she challenged.
‘It’s not,’ Gould conceded, ‘but it’s likely to mean you have to go there if you want to speak to him.’
‘Well, it’s hardly the other side of the world, and I happen to love Wales and the Welsh.’
Casting her a pitying look, he said, ‘I tried calling him myself when I got the email, but so far I haven’t managed to get hold of him so I can’t tell you how willing he might be to talk to you.’ He waited as she checked an incoming text.
As she read it her heart skipped a beat moments before her blood ran cold.
Good morning from Houston. Thought you might like to know that the young man who visited our mother yesterday is indeed my son, her grandson. His name is John Victor Jr.
Andee felt suddenly sick. She kept staring at the words, knowing what Penny wanted her to think and trying desperately not to think it. Was she doing this to be spiteful, to hurt her mother in some way, or was it the truth?<
br />
Taking the phone Gould read the message, swore under his breath, and passed it to Leo.
‘My mother can’t know about this,’ Andee told them. ‘Under no circumstances should she be told, whether it’s true or not.’
Neither of them argued.
As Leo returned the phone, Gould said, ‘I really don’t like what’s happening here. In fact, I don’t like it at all.’
Andee was so shaken by the text that she couldn’t face returning home right away. She needed to be alone to think and try to make sense of what was happening, if there was any sense, so switching off her phone she drove along the coast road, turning at Hope Cove to climb the hill to where Graeme’s sisters lived, before driving on to the moor.
The weather wasn’t at its best as she strolled away from the car, a low gloomy sky stretching out over the bay turning the sea a drab slate-grey and preventing the sun from showing the cliffs and heathland in their natural vivid colours. As she headed towards a deserted bench at a lonely lookout point, she found herself wondering if she was being watched. There was certainly no sign of this, but that was the whole point of surveillance, not to be seen or even sensed by the target. However, it would be hard for a watcher to blend into the landscape here, given that it wasn’t possible to reach the spot without a car, and no one had known she was coming, or had been driving behind her for at least the last three miles.
With the breeze tossing her hair and the scent of salty sea mixing with pungent damp earth, she sat quietly staring at the distant choppy waves, picturing Penny as a child, trying to work out what had gone wrong, and why she, as the older sister, hadn’t noticed things about her that perhaps she should have done.
What kind of person just walks away from a decent, loving home, no matter what problems there might be, and never comes back?
Not a normal one, that was for sure.
So her sister wasn’t normal, at least not in a conventional way, but did that make her bad or crazy, or something much worse?
In her mind’s eye she could see Penny during their holidays in Kesterly, laughing excitedly at some mischief they were up to, scampering about the beach in her blue cotton shorts and stripy top, climbing the rocks, foraging for crabs or seashells or whatever booty the tide had delivered. Andee could only remember her sister being happy here. She had scant recollection of their quarrels, though they’d happened, of course, but she had no memory of anything worse than the usual sibling tensions, and certainly not of Penny building a towering resentment that would drive her to inflict cruelty on innocent creatures.
