A Stranger's House

by Clare Chase

  ‘So nothing that might help us to catch up with them?’ He moved his lips in a dissatisfied way as he finished his question. He reminded me of a toad.

  ‘Precious little. Nate chased them down the street, but like me, he just saw one of them was taller and thinner than the other.’

  ‘I understand from the police that the thieves probably weren’t professional.’

  ‘That was the impression we got.’

  Samson looked thoughtful. ‘I’ve been having a spot of bother with Damien’s old girlfriend, Maggie Cook. Did you know about that?’

  I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I shook my head instead. Going into the ethics of my chat with Maggie on the Common and her accusations of murder against Samson would seriously complicate matters.

  ‘I suspect,’ Samson said, ‘that she might have reason to break in here, or possibly to persuade her friends to do so. It might be worth bearing in mind.’ He held my gaze. ‘She comes out with a lot of hysterical nonsense and I wouldn’t want to hear that you’d allowed her to … shall we say, play on your sympathies.’

  There was a hint of threat in his tone.

  ‘I’ve no intention of letting anyone play on my anything,’ I said. Not any more, anyway, and I hoped he realised that included him, revolting little slimeball.

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s good.’

  Nate came in with our coffees.

  Samson looked up. ‘Perhaps you could take them through to the kitchen. I’ll come and join you in a minute.’

  I had a strong urge to hold back. Okay, so I’d already searched the obvious places for any new will Damien might have made, but what if I’d missed something? Samson would think nothing of pocketing any evidence he managed to find; there was no way he was planning on giving up his inheritance. But Nate caught my eye, and I had to follow him out into the hall.

  ‘What’s he up to?’

  ‘No good, at a rough guess.’

  We went through to the kitchen. Should I come clean? The fact that I hadn’t told the police seemed all the more foolhardy, given the break-in. But both Damien and Samson had treated Maggie appallingly. Besides, I was quite sure the thieves were after the treasure trove of antiques at River House, not anything else. Looking for a missing will would take hours, and why would she entrust the job to a third party? After all, she knew the place; she’d be a lot faster than some hired amateurs. Plus, she’d still have been under the impression I was sleeping downstairs.

  So I said nothing. But holding out on Nate felt wrong, even if the reasons behind it were good. A few minutes later, Samson joined us. I looked him over but there was no way he could be concealing any significant paperwork. Even if it was only a single sheet and he’d stuffed it in his pocket I would have been able to see a corner sticking out. If he had found anything, he must have just buried it deeper in Damien’s paperwork. That would lessen the chances of Maggie locating it if she happened to gain access. And even if he had discovered evidence of a fresh will he probably wouldn’t be too worried. Maggie wouldn’t be likely to get the chance to look for it anyway, and in a few short weeks he would have River House to himself, and all the time he liked to burn the evidence.

  ‘I presume you’re still keeping up with the cleaning,’ Samson said to me. ‘Once I’ve sorted through all Damien’s junk this place’ll go on the market, and it’s important to make sure the house looks lived in. I’ll need you to work hard to keep it in good order.’

  Power games. ‘Yes, I’ve been following the rota.’

  When we’d finished our coffee, he led us out into the hall, and stood with one hand on the newel post of the staircase. ‘You’ve had a fresh eye on the place. Have you spotted anything that’s broken? Or anything you think might put buyers off?’

  ‘I think the nudes Damien put up on his bedroom wall might raise a few eyebrows,’ I said, testing him with the information to see what happened.

  ‘Nudes?’ I’d swear he perked up.

  ‘Paintings. He’s got four up there, one on each wall. Might actually endear the place to some people, of course, but if you’re going to follow that TV house doctor’s advice and stay nice and neutral …’

  ‘I think I’d better take a look.’ He hauled himself up the stairs, reddening as he reached the landing, and opened the master bedroom door.

  Nate and I watched him as he drank them in, one by one. He did a double take at the sight of his mother, rolled his eyes at Maggie Cook (but with a leer, nonetheless), glanced at Tilly Blake with interest, but it was his expression when he looked at Elizabeth Edmunds’ image that caught my attention. There was a flash of anger in his eyes. It came and was controlled so quickly that I had to replay it in my head to convince myself it had happened. I glanced sideways at Nate, and found he was looking at me too, a question in his eyes. I hadn’t imagined it then.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Over the next few days mundane things happened, like a man turning up to fit a bolt to the back gate as instructed by Samson. I was pleased about that. It meant I would no longer have nightmares about him popping up suddenly in the garden like an outsized gnome. I even managed to grind through a lot of the writing for my book, though it didn’t come as easily as usual.

  I felt exhausted, and realised what I really needed was a dose of Steph. I hadn’t told her about my run-in with Daisy, or about the burglars. I called, and when I said I had news she promptly told me she had updates to pass on too. If it was the latest on the Saxwell village scandal – local professional seduces teenage girl – then I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to hear it. All the same, we arranged for her to come over for tea.

  ‘But you’ll probably miss Nate. He’s meant to be out until six or so.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Steph said, ‘but the main thing is, we can have a proper catch-up.’

  So it was settled, and I went off to the newsagents on Fitzroy Street to get a paper and some more milk.

  I found a bench, out by the river, and sat just across the Common, with the house behind me. As I scanned the pages for any more information on Damien Newbold’s murder, I couldn’t help glancing at the passers-by. Was anyone still watching my movements? Waiting until I was out of the house to strike? But the burglar alarm was set, and none of the people I saw looked like criminals. A woman with cropped grey hair walked by, three white West Highland terriers on leads fanned out in front of her. In the same moment two bronzed girls on bikes squeezed between my outstretched feet and the smallest dog, causing the woman to tut. I’m sure they didn’t notice. They cycled on, laughing, dark glasses glinting in the sun, ebony hair flying out behind them.

  In the paper I found a short piece on the ongoing police investigation. The headline was: ‘Victim’s Boss Scotches Laptop Lead.’ TomorrowTech seemed to have had time to investigate the story of Damien Newbold’s new invention now, and the company’s Chief Executive had issued a statement saying he had no knowledge of any recent breakthrough. He suggested that the rumour, just before Damien had died, had been dreamt up by a blogger, faced with a quiet news day. But surely a technology journalist wouldn’t just invent something that specific?

  I put the paper down by my side on the bench where the pages rustled in the breeze. Could he still have been murdered for a new innovation that didn’t exist? It seemed far-fetched. After all, if he had found anything exciting there would be no way the murderer could be sure he had the information on his laptop in the first place. And it was a rather drastic move to murder Damien on the strength of a rumour.

  I was standing on the steps to River House, getting my keys out, when Emily appeared. It was the first time I’d seen her since Damien Newbold’s death.

  ‘How are you?’ I asked, not knowing quite what to say.

  Her eyes looked dull. ‘They think I killed him.’

  ‘I’m quite sure they don’t.’ It came out too sharply.

  ‘They asked such horrible questions.’ She wasn’t meeting my gaze. ‘And they knew things that I didn
’t think—’ She stopped suddenly and looked at me at last. ‘I saw the man who came to see you. Damien’s brother.’

  I nodded.

  ‘You can tell he’s a relation, but he’s like a distorted caricature of the real thing. He stands to gain an awful lot, doesn’t he?’ Her heavy eyes lifted to meet mine. ‘At first I thought … I really thought Maggie Cook must have killed Damien. And if she had, it would have been my fault. I’d stirred things up between them, and she’s got a violent temper.’

  I wondered if she’d witnessed that herself.

  ‘But it could have been Damien’s brother. He might need the money. Or, even if he doesn’t, it might be just greed … or revenge for some family matter that we know nothing about. You’ve talked to him. What do you think?’

  This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. ‘Emily, I’ve honestly got no idea.’

  A light came into her eyes now; a new intensity that hadn’t been there earlier. ‘You let me down before,’ she said, ‘when I wanted to contact Damien. And now it’s too late. I could have spoken to him before he died if you’d helped me.’

  ‘Emily,’ I began, ‘you know I couldn’t—’

  ‘But you can help me now. You can find out about his brother. You can get close to him.’

  Suddenly she put a hand on my arm. I thought she looked slightly crazed. ‘You must understand, if Samson did it, then it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t because of what I said to Maggie. And the police will know I’m innocent. Please don’t let me down this time!’

  ‘I really want to know what happened, too,’ I said. ‘And if I find anything out I’ll take it straight to the police.’

  ‘Will you do what you can?’ She was still holding my arm.

  ‘I will,’ I said, but I had no idea what that might be.

  Steph’s eyes went wide when I updated her on my run-in with Daisy Buchanan and her gang, and then I told her how Paul Mathewson had provided lemon squash and sympathy. ‘He was so kind I ended up telling him everything. It felt good to offload, but I’ve been regretting it ever since. It would have been far better if I’d run in to you.’

  ‘But he was nice.’

  ‘Very. But you know how it is, he’d have done it a lot better if he’d been a woman, and better still if he’d been a woman called Steph.’

  She hugged me.

  I remembered again what Nate must have seen when Paul had brought me home. It had been on my mind, so I mentioned it. ‘I’m just worried about what he must have thought. Probably reckons Paul and I have been making out like a couple of teenagers.’ The horror of this idea made my guts squirm.

  ‘He’s broadminded enough. He might reckon you’re on the rebound and out to take revenge on Luke but …’ She shrugged. ‘… so what? I’m sure he won’t hold it against you.’ Suddenly she looked up at me, a knowing light in her eyes. ‘Hang on a minute … Why are you so bothered about what he thinks?’

  I glared at her. ‘Because he’s my employer. And because I’m human and I don’t want him to think I’m so shallow that I’d walk right into an affair, just after my partner dumped me.’

  She was still giving me that same look, her neatly-plucked eyebrows raised. ‘Really? Sure that’s all it is? Nate’s one hell of a looker. I’d probably fancy him myself if he wasn’t a coz.’

  Mine and Nate’s aborted kiss filled my head. Thank heavens there was no truth in mind reading. ‘For God’s sake, Steph!’ I said. ‘I’ve just broken up with my long-term partner. I was worried Nate might think I was running after Paul on the rebound. Given he doesn’t know me well, it’s a mistake he might make. But you ought to understand I’ve had it up to here with relationships for the next decade or so.’

  She put a hand on my arm. ‘Sorry, Ruby! It was thoughtless of me, when you put it like that. You just sounded so anxious about what he thought, and for a moment I … Anyway, I wouldn’t have blamed you, that’s all.’ She sighed.

  ‘In any case,’ I said, feeling horribly guilty, ‘I shall be careful who I hobnob with now. Nate’s got reason to be even more security conscious.’ And I filled her in on the burglary.

  ‘Heavens, Ruby, that must have been terrifying. This job seems like the worst possible thing for you to be doing at the moment.’ She looked rueful. ‘I wish to goodness I’d never suggested it, to tell you the truth.’

  ‘It’s been character building.’

  She took her tone from me, but I could see from her pinched look that she was still worried. ‘You’ll be emotionally scarred for life,’ she said, cutting me another large slice of the cake she’d brought with her. ‘And it’ll all be my fault. So how did Nate react to the burglary, on top of the murder?’

  ‘Okay, but he’s already warned me to be careful, in no uncertain terms.’ I gave Steph a deliberate glance. ‘And after what he’s been through, that’s not exactly surprising.’

  She gave me a shrewd look. ‘Oh my God! You’ve Googled him, haven’t you?’

  ‘Well, wouldn’t you have?’

  She made a harrumphing sound. ‘Possibly.’

  ‘It was really because you kept making cryptic little comments about his mindset. All that stuff about not wanting to let paranoia get the better of him. Everything you said pointed to some previous experience that had coloured his outlook on life.’

  ‘So it was all my fault?’

  I shrugged. ‘You probably didn’t do it on purpose.’ I got up to make us more tea. ‘I don’t know why we’re sitting here arguing about it anyway. I couldn’t believe it when I read it, Steph. It’s such an unimaginably awful thing to have happened.’

  She nodded. ‘Beyond what you can take in, isn’t it? And we were all devastated about Susie too, of course. She was bright as a button; so full of life, and ten years younger than Nate.’ She gave a sad smile. ‘I hope you can see what I meant about not telling you before. Everyone who knows sees Nate as “that man whose sister got murdered”.’

  I nodded. ‘And I can see he blames himself.’

  ‘You talked to him about it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Wow. Well, it’s good he opened up.’ She put her head on one side. ‘As far as blaming himself goes, I’m afraid you’re right, and he’s not the only one. Some of the villagers clearly thought he’d led Susie into danger. It even caused a rift between him and his dad.’

  I could only imagine his pain. ‘How awful.’

  Steph nodded. ‘I’m actually quite relieved you’re not hung up on him. He’d be a terrible choice, given that he hasn’t let anyone much get close since Susie’s death; thinks it’ll make them a target.’ She leant forward and took a sip of her tea.

  I noted the qualifying ‘much’, and wondered about exceptions. ‘And what about giving up the PI business?’

  ‘He can’t forgive himself,’ Steph said, simply. ‘He says he was negligent, and that if he’d been competent he’d have predicted the danger. He’s not prepared to offer substandard services to clients who might be hurt rather than helped by his input.’

  ‘You’re quoting him?’

  She nodded. ‘He said that during the only argument we’ve ever had. He’d never shouted at me before.’ She looked up for a moment. ‘It took me a long time to get over it, to be honest. I’m rubbish at confrontation.’

  ‘So Nate’s in perpetual limbo.’

  Steph nodded. ‘Horrible, not knowing who and not knowing why. And after all this time, I’m afraid it might stay that way. He’s put his life on hold. And he’s wrong.’

  I looked up.

  ‘About his work, I mean. He was a really good PI by all accounts. But it’s no use reasoning with him, so it’s simpler all round if new contacts just know him as the house-sitting man.’

  We sat in silence and it was a good while before I remembered that she had news for me, or so she’d said on the phone.

  ‘So what’s happening in Saxwell?’ I asked. ‘Have things gravitated to street brawls yet? Ma Buchanan thrown any eggs at Luke?’

  S
teph pulled a face. ‘Joking aside, it’s made the whole atmosphere in the village a bit tense. Several people are cold-shouldering Robin now because they’ve seen him speak to Luke. And when all’s said and done, he was only telling him what a prick he was.’

  ‘Has he talked to you about his plans?’

  ‘It’s you he wants to speak to, Ruby.’ Steph picked up a stray crumb of cake. ‘He needs to touch base on practicalities if nothing else. His first priority’s become getting out of Saxwell, so he needs to know what you want. I told him not to call you – that it was what you’d said – but he asked me to say he needs you to make contact. And for what it’s worth, I reckon Daisy’s friend was just winding you up. I haven’t seen him go near her.’

  I put my mug down. My head was starting to ache. ‘I don’t really care what he’s been up to.’ Which wasn’t entirely true. ‘But either way, I know I can’t just stick my head in the sand.’

  Steph got up and came over to my chair, crouching to put an arm around me.

  I took a deep breath. ‘So Luke’s in a hurry now?’

  She nodded. ‘I know it’s entirely his own fault, Ruby, but things are starting to get out of hand.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Someone daubed the side of your house with graffiti.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Do they know who?’

  ‘Some seventeen-year-old ex of Daisy’s apparently. But Luke’s getting it from all sides. Poison pen letters – from more than one sender by the look of it – people cutting him dead in the street, or having a go at him, according to taste.’

  ‘Sounds like quite a cabaret,’ I said.

  Steph gave me a look.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ll call him tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s more than he deserves, of course, but I think it might be best.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ringing Luke pervaded my breakfast-time thoughts, batting round and round my head like a trapped fly against a windowpane. I couldn’t call him until mid-afternoon, assuming he still went out to play cricket on Saturdays. If he’d been involved in a village club he’d probably have had to jack it in, what with all the gossip, but he actually played for a team in Bury St Edmunds, because of a connection there. He was probably enjoying sneaking off somewhere where he still had some anonymity.