by Jo Bannister
‘And the other man?’
She shook her head, blue-black hair brushing her shoulders. ‘The same. He was behind me most of the time. The only time I looked at him was when I was hitting him with my handbag. He seemed bigger than the man who was holding me, and I think he was bald. He was white. They both were. No,’ she corrected that, ‘they were not obviously not white. Light skinned, anyway. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific.’
‘Would you recognise them in an identity parade?’
Again Frankie shook her head. ‘Only if the big one still has a cut on his cheek.’
Gorman went on looking at her, still polite, still unsmiling. ‘Then, can you think of any reason why anyone would want to kidnap you?’
It is perfectly possible to feign astonishment. For all Ash knew, Frankie Kelly might have been a superb actress, capable of depicting a wide range of emotions at a moment’s notice. But her amazement appeared genuine. She blinked, and her lips parted in a puzzled O, and she looked from Gorman to Ash and back, and back again.
Then she frowned. ‘But Mr Ash, you must know who was responsible for this. This is what you warned me about when I took this job. And your wife has no reason to kidnap me.’
‘What if it wasn’t Cathy?’ asked Ash in a low voice.
‘Who else could it have been? No one kidnaps children in a crowded place except their own estranged parents. Or conceivably for ransom, if the family is wealthy enough. I know you’re financially secure, Mr Ash, but I don’t think you have the kind of conspicuous wealth that attracts people who kidnap as a commercial enterprise.’
‘I don’t think my sons were being kidnapped for money either. I don’t think they were being kidnapped at all.’
So far as he could tell, Frankie Kelly was genuinely confused. ‘Then … what do you think was happening?’
‘I think one of the men was keeping the boys out of the way while the other put you into the van.’
She stared at him, her delicately tilted eyes wide. Her voice was restrained, but not soft. Steely. ‘That is an absurd suggestion, Mr Ash. I think, when you have recovered a little from the shock of this, you will see what an absurd suggestion it is. I have no enemies, and no jealous lovers. I am of no monetary value to anyone. Only my mother, my children and you would even notice if I disappeared, and you would have found another nanny by Monday.’
They regarded one another from close range, Gabriel Ash seated being approximately the same height as Frankie Kelly standing. Dave Gorman watched them with interest, unsure who would blink first.
After a long moment Ash said, ‘Whoever those men were, it was you they were interested in. The man holding the boys wasn’t trying to put them into the van – he was trying to hold them back.’
‘Who told you this?’
‘Gilbert. He tried to come to your rescue. The second man pulled him away. Which makes no sense if the boys were the target.’
It was Frankie who blinked. ‘No … no, I see that. Yet still it makes no sense. Surely you see, Mr Ash, how very pointless it would be to kidnap a domestic employee whose only family live on the far side of the world and would struggle to raise an airfare, let alone a ransom. Whereas you have made no secret of your fear that your wife will one day attempt to regain custody of your sons. I think Gilbert must have been mistaken.’
‘That’s possible,’ murmured Gorman. ‘He’s nine years old, and it all happened pretty fast. He may have been confused.’ He directed at her a sudden, disconcertingly direct gaze. ‘On the other hand, this particular nine-year-old is his father’s son. Everybody says so. He notices things, he remembers things. I’m not going to discount him as a witness because he’s only nine years old. So give it some thought, Miss Kelly. Who is there, from your past, who might want to hurt you, or frighten you, or for some other reason snatch you off the street in broad daylight? Who feels that strongly about you?’
Perhaps she thought about it, but not for long. She shook her head crisply. ‘No one. Inspector, there is no one – not here in England, not at home in the Philippines – who has a reason to do this. I am not kidnap material. I have a mother, and two teenage children, and a brother somewhere, although I haven’t heard from him in years. I have been modestly successful in my career, so that my children live more comfortably and receive a better education than if I worked in Manila. But – even in Manila – this is not the kind of lifestyle that attracts envy, or thieves. Except to my family, I am nobody. Nobody knows, or cares, how or where I make my living. Nobody would know how to find me if they wanted to.’
‘Your family would,’ Gorman pointed out. He didn’t go on to add what he was thinking: that they could have been compelled to share the information.
‘Why on earth would my family want to kidnap me?’ demanded Frankie impatiently. ‘If they needed me to return home, I would return home. Truly, you must find some other theory, for this one is a fantasy!’
Ash bridled. ‘What happened isn’t a fantasy. My sons were put in danger, by men who tried to force you into a van. Even if Gilbert is mistaken, which I don’t believe, those are the facts, as reported by you and Hazel and others. You need to give me some explanation for them.’
She did not wilt under his fierce gaze but nor did she meet it. She stood like a soldier, staring at a point a little above his right ear. ‘I cannot. I have no explanation.’
Ash rose quickly from his chair, unfolding to tower above the small woman. Gorman wondered if he knew he was actually shaking with anger. ‘Frankie, I asked you into my home to look after my sons, not to get them hurt! I don’t know what it is that you’re hiding, but you’re no longer entitled to consider it private. You had no business accepting this job if there was any risk of someone attacking you while you were in charge of two under-tens. Your past is not your own affair if it impacts on my sons’ safety.’
After a long moment she cranked her head back and looked him squarely in the eye. ‘I see. Well, clearly you wish to terminate my employment. In the circumstances I will not ask for notice as per contract. I’ll go to a hotel tonight. I would appreciate it if you would store my belongings for a few days.’ She turned precisely on her heel and left the study, closing the door quietly behind her.
Hazel had been reading the bedtime story. She came downstairs as Frankie crossed the hall. It was an old stone house, built to last: she hadn’t heard anything of what had been said in Ash’s study. ‘Are we any closer to understanding what it was all about?’ she asked.
Frankie turned on her almost sharply. ‘Yes, indeed we are. Before I was a nanny, I was a high-ranking member of the Mafia. Those men were sent by a rival godfather. Mr Ash is a little annoyed that I didn’t warn him that this might happen, and would prefer that I seek other employment.’
Hazel stared at her, stunned into silence. Then she managed: ‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘No,’ said Frankie levelly, ‘I’m reporting the findings of the kangaroo court in there.’ She indicated the study door with a crisp nod before proceeding upstairs, leaving Hazel astonished and bewildered.
When the door opened again Ash thought, and to some extent hoped, that it was Frankie coming back. He was angry, he was upset, but he didn’t want them to part like this. But it was Hazel, wide-eyed, who looked at Ash, and looked at Gorman, and looked back over her shoulder, although the hall was now empty, before spreading her hands uncomprehendingly. ‘Well?’
Gorman gave her an abridged version of what had been said. Short as it was, he had to finish quickly before she hit the roof.
‘You’ve sacked Frankie?’
‘Pretty much,’ gritted Ash. ‘I didn’t feel I had much choice. She was putting the boys in danger.’
‘You think Frankie was the target this afternoon?’
‘Yes, I do. You said it yourself: she was the one being forced into the van.’
‘Why?’
‘I asked her that. She claimed not to know.’
‘Maybe she doesn’t know!’
‘Of course she knows. You annoy someone enough that they take out a contract on you, you’re going to know about it!’
They glared at one another, their breathing heavy with mutual indignation. They put Dave Gorman in mind of a pair of bulls about to go head-to-head.
At the last moment, nose-rings clashing as it were, Hazel took a step back. Remembered how frantic Ash had been. These were his sons, that he’d lost once, that he’d gone through hell to get back. Whether or not they were the target at the school, they had certainly been in danger. It spoke volumes for his progress towards mental and emotional stability that he was able to string coherent sentences together. That he wasn’t curled up under his own desk, chewing the carpet.
She made an effort to speak calmly. ‘Gabriel, you know Frankie better than I do. You’ve trusted your family to her for the last eight months. Before today, have you had any reason to doubt what she was telling you?’
He didn’t even have to think. ‘No.’
‘But you think she’s lying to you now. About something so serious that it could get her hurt, or the boys, or all three of them.’
The answer came slower this time. ‘Yes.’
Hazel shook her head. The unfortunate red dye was a distant memory, but her fair hair had yet to regain its original length. ‘I don’t. She loves those boys. I don’t think she’d do anything to put them in danger.’
If someone had asked him yesterday, Ash would have agreed. Would have been surprised at the question, since he wouldn’t have employed her if he’d thought anything else. ‘Maybe she didn’t expect this to happen. Maybe she really was as shocked as the rest of us. But she must know why. And if she won’t tell me what it’s about, I can’t see any alternative but to let her go.’
‘You’re sure it wasn’t Cathy?’
‘If it had been Cathy, the boys would have been thrown into the van and Frankie pushed aside.’
‘I agree. I don’t agree that necessarily makes Frankie a liar.’
Ash didn’t want to believe it either. It didn’t fit with what he thought he knew of the woman. But all his protective instincts had been aroused, and he couldn’t – he couldn’t – take chances with his sons’ safety. ‘I don’t know what else to believe. What else to do.’
Hazel thought for a moment. ‘Me neither. But maybe there’s another explanation – something we haven’t thought of yet. Maybe Gilbert’s right and Frankie’s telling the truth. If you sack her, and you find out later that she wasn’t to blame, (a) you’re going to feel like crap, and (b) you’re going to be back where you were a year ago, fending off Social Services because not only are you still a former mental patient trying to raise two young children alone, but now you’re trying to run a business at the same time! I don’t know what the answer is, Gabriel. But that may be because we’re asking the wrong question.’
At least he was able to consider the possibility. ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘I can’t tell you what to do. They’re your sons: you must do what you think is best for them. But if they were my sons, I’d want to be damn sure there was no choice before I’d part with Frankie Kelly.’
Squirming on the horns of the dilemma, he turned to DI Gorman. ‘Does it alter what you propose to do? If it was Frankie or the boys who were the target?’
Gorman shook his head. ‘Until we know for sure, probably not. We have to assume there could be another attack, whether Miss Kelly is here or not. That being so, it would be better to have her under the same roof, so we can protect all of you at the same time.’
Ash nodded slowly. ‘I can see that. You mean to leave your officers here?’
‘Certainly overnight. We’ll reassess tomorrow.’
Ash stood up. ‘Then I’d better go upstairs and ask Frankie to stay. At least for now; at least until we can figure out what’s going on.’
Hazel approved. ‘Do you want me to come?’
‘No,’ he said reluctantly, ‘it’s my job. If I’ve misread the situation, I owe her an apology. And if she’s going to make me grovel, the fewer witnesses the better.’
FIVE
Ash’s apology was less than wholehearted, and it was accepted in much the same manner. Ash still thought Frankie was keeping something from him; and Frankie, who spent her professional life reading the minds of children, was well aware of the fact. They reached a kind of armed neutrality, whereby Ash made it clear he would apologise wholeheartedly if it became clear that Frankie was not keeping secrets, and Frankie might well accept that apology although she was clearly hurt by his refusal to take her word for it.
One thing they agreed on: though the police wanted her to remain at Highfield Road, her duties should not involve either taking the boys out or staying alone with them. Until the reason for the attack was known, there could be no confidence it would not recur.
‘How will you manage?’ asked Hazel.
‘The way we managed before Frankie came,’ said Ash. ‘I’ll take the boys to school and pick them up. I’ll get the groceries.’
Hazel refrained from pointing out that, before Frankie came, much of the job of running the Ash household had fallen to her. ‘You have the shop now.’
He shrugged. ‘I can shut the door and wait for things to settle down. It’s not like books need feeding, or exercise; and most of my stock passed its sell-by date twenty years ago.’
It seemed a shame, when the drama had publicised the opening of Rambles With Books better than a half-page advert in the Norbold News. ‘I’ll help out when I can,’ promised Hazel.
Ash smiled. There was a fragility to it that took her back more than a year to when she knew him first: the uncertain smile of a broken human being. He was stronger these days, had become stronger month on month; but this attack, coming out of the blue, had hacked at the foundations of his recovery. His eyes were haunted, deep and dark.
‘I hoped you would,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll try not to be a nuisance. Your own work has to come first. Anyway, Frankie will still be here, she’s happy to go on taking care of the boys. For as long as Dave Gorman can leave someone with us, there shouldn’t be a problem – I can open the shop late, and shut for half an hour while I collect them in the afternoon.’
‘If nothing else happens, Dave won’t be able to keep someone here for long,’ Hazel warned him.
Ash nodded. ‘I know. More pressing demands on the budget … We’ll just have to be really careful about our own security – keeping doors locked, checking in with one another at regular intervals. Patience will tell me if there’s anyone hanging about.’
Hazel looked at the pale dog curled up on the kitchen sofa, one ear – the speckled one – over her eye. ‘I feel safer just knowing she’s here,’ she said sardonically.
Just for a second, the speckled ear twitched and the lurcher opened her caramel-coloured eye to give Hazel a cool look.
Hazel blinked and changed the subject. ‘I think the mayor was impressed. He reckoned the shop will lift Norbold half a notch on the culture scale. Maybe not Hay-on-Wye yet, but he thinks you could give Brighton’s Lanes a run for their money.’ She glanced away and cleared her throat. ‘He asked me about the name.’
Ash’s gaze was inscrutable. ‘Did he?’
‘Seemed to think it was a weird name for a bookshop.’
‘What did you tell him?’
She could have told him it was a sly joke: Ash getting his own back on his detractors. When Hazel first came to Norbold, the general consensus at Meadowvale Police Station was that he was a hopeless idiot. Familiar with the sight of him walking Patience, shuffling along, reclusive behind the turned-up collar of his old coat, they’d called him Rambles With Dogs.
‘I said I didn’t know,’ she confessed.
The weekend brought fresh dilemmas. No school – no need for an anxious running of the school-gate gauntlet, eyes on swivels for the sudden arrival of an unexpected vehicle – but instead the worry of what to do with two young boys who might not be safe even in thei
r own back garden. Frankie kept them busy indoors on Saturday morning while Ash opened his shop, and Hazel and Patience took them to the park in the afternoon.
DC Friend went with them. If Gilbert was right and it was Frankie who was the target, there was no need for a police guard. But Gilbert could have been wrong, and Hazel couldn’t refrain from making regular three-sixty turns, scanning everyone in the street, listening for the stand-out roar of a speeding car. At the park she relaxed a little. With no roads running through it, it made a poor venue for a kidnap.
She found Emma Friend watching her with candid interest. Hazel gave a wry little grin. ‘Sorry. I’m not trying to do your job for you. It’s just, if anything does happen to them, it won’t be you Gabriel comes after with a flame-thrower, it’ll be me.’
The detective chuckled. She was Hazel’s age but had been longer in the job. She’d done things like this before. She knew how to observe her surroundings without spinning like a Dervish. ‘Have you known him long?’
Hazel squinted at her, pretty sure this was disingenuous. Friend had arrived at Meadowvale within the last six months but she must have heard the stories. The events that had thrown Gabriel Ash and Hazel Best together had also deprived Meadowvale Police Station of its last chief superintendent.
But that was complicated; it was easier just to give the information she’d been asked for. ‘A little over a year. And the answer to your next question,’ she added, just a shade tartly, ‘is No, we aren’t. We’re just friends. He has a wife. And I haven’t time for a boyfriend.’
‘He owes you a lot.’
‘Yes, he does,’ agreed Hazel. ‘I owe him a fair bit too. We stopped keeping count a while back.’
They walked on. Guy had Hazel push him on the swings. Gilbert found some joggers to sneer at. Patience had brought Spiky Ball, and had each of them in turn throw him for her. Then they walked home, steam duly let off, still unmolested.
