‘A young man came to my home two weeks ago,’ she said. ‘He was carrying a gun an MSP SP-3 and he had a tattoo on his arm. His mark. He blew his brains out on my landing, made an almighty mess. Adam, do you know how many years I’ve waited for that moment, for my death to come? They think I knew him, something foolish I said, I’m afraid. But I didn’t know him, not who he was, but I knew what he was, Adam, and who sent him. And now, what I can’t understand is why I’m still here and that young man is not.’
Adam stared at her. ‘Molly, you’d better go through all of that again,’ he said. ‘A little more slowly this time and in a bit more detail.’
Molly shrugged. ‘Not much more to tell,’ she said. ‘Those are the bare facts of it.’
‘Bare facts of what?’ Alec asked as he set their drinks down on the table. He’d been clasping all three between his hands and slopped a little of his coke over his fingers.
‘You’re not drinking?’
‘I’m driving,’ Alec said.
‘So is Adam.’
‘Adam is staying over at the pub tonight,’ Adam told her reprovingly.
‘Oh? Fancy a change of scene do you?’
‘No, I’m carrying out a charge Joseph left me with. He asked me to remove some papers from his safe and to check around for anything that might, well, you know.’
Molly snorted. ‘Bit late for that,’ she said. ‘They’ll have been all over it by now.’
‘I won’t be checking for quite the same things,’ Adam said. He glanced at Alec and Molly caught the look.
‘Oh, you can say anything in front of Alec,’ she said. ‘He knows how to keep his mouth shut.’
‘And what do I need to keep it shut about?’ Alec asked irritably. ‘Molly, if this has anything to do with—’
‘Alec, I’ve already told you. I didn’t know that young man and I certainly didn’t know the two men he supposedly shot before he came to call on me.’
‘Two men? Molly, what is going on here? Alec, I’m sorry, I’m sure you realize that Molly is in the habit of riding roughshod … what young man and what murders?’
Alec took a deep breath and then a long drink, wishing he’d asked for ginger beer. Most soft drinks were far too sweet. Adam was watching him expectantly and Molly was just looking vaguely annoyed. He watched as she seized her own drink and swallowed half in a single gulp. She was drinking too much, he thought. Drinking a lot, even for Molly.
‘Two weeks ago,’ Alec began, ‘a man came to Molly’s house. He was carrying a gun. Molly spotted him in the garden and called the police but by the time they got there he had entered the house gone upstairs to where she was and he had shot himself in the head. We still don’t know who he was and the only clues we … . the police have is that the gun was unusual, he had a tooth filled with an amalgam not used in the UK and he had a tattoo on his arm. The gun he used to shoot himself has been implicated in two murders, one a couple of months ago and the second a few weeks after that.’
He found he was watching Adam’s face closely and that Adam’s face was as enigmatic as Molly’s often was. Though for utterly different reasons. Molly expressed everything she was feeling or thinking in a series of fleeting, almost indecipherable expressions. They flitted, but rarely settled for long enough for anyone to figure out what was actually going on in her head. Adam, on the other hand, was just about expressionless, a faint twitch of micro expression at the edge of his smile, but that was all. Why was he smiling anyway, Alec wondered and then realized that Adam was watching Molly and that Molly was having a very hard time controlling her temper. For some reason her old friend was finding that amusing.
‘Herbert Norris and Arthur Fields,’ Alec said, glancing from his aunt and back to her friend and suddenly irritated by the pair of them. ‘Shot, both of them.’
‘Of course they were,’ Molly said tartly. ‘Otherwise we wouldn’t have known about the gun.’ She swallowed down the remainder of her drink and began to rise. ‘Come along then,’ she said.
‘Along where?’ Alec asked.
‘To Joseph’s, of course. To help Adam find whatever it is Joseph wanted him to find.’
‘Molly, I don’t think—’
‘What kind of tattoo?’ Adam asked.
‘What? Oh, some kind of Celtic knot. A … a triskele, I think it’s called. Nothing unusual.’
‘So, there you are, then. Are we going now?’
Alec frowned at her. ‘Molly, I don’t think this is any of our business.’
‘Of course it is. Joseph was my friend too.’
‘I know he was,’ Adam soothed. ‘And if Alec is in agreement, then I’d be happy for you both to come back with me. But just now, I’m hungry and I’m sure Alec is too and I’m equally sure that you should eat something. Liquid lunches might have got us both through when we were young, my dear, but the older I get, the more my stomach requires regular feeding.’
Molly sat down with a thump. ‘Oh, all right,’ she said. ‘I suppose I could manage something; what do they have here anyway?’
‘They have menus on the bar,’ Adam told her. ‘I’ll go and fetch some, shall I?’
Molly watched him go and Alec shifted his chair a little closer to the table. The pub was crowded and, with his back to the room, Alec was very conscious of other people squeezing by. ‘Maybe we could find a better table if we’re going to eat,’ he said. ‘How long have you known Adam, anyway?’
‘Adam Carmodie and I met in 1961,’ she said. ‘Before you were even thought about. Oh, but he was a handsome man, carried quite a torch for me back then.’
‘You were just married,’ Alec worked out.
‘I was, but a ring on your finger doesn’t stop others from looking. I’m sure you’re well aware of that, with that pretty wife of yours. I’m sure she’s not short of admirers even now you’ve claimed her.’
Alec laughed. ‘True,’ he admitted. Naomi certainly still had her admirers. He had seen pictures of Molly from back when she was young and knew she had been strikingly lovely with a mass of light blonde hair, usually bundled up into some kind of silver clip and, on the few colour snaps he had seen, that she’d had Wedgwood blue eyes. Her eyes, like her hair, were greyer now. Always, in photographs, she gazed straight out at the viewer. Looked them in the eye. Edward, in contrast, was usually looking at her, as if he could not quite believe his luck.
‘Did Adam never marry, then?’ he teased and at once realized he’d touched something tender.
Molly’s eyes clouded. ‘He married,’ she said. ‘They had a son. Both were killed, their car went off the road. She was such a pretty little thing, long dark hair and the deepest brown eyes. The little boy looked so much like her.’ She looked up, smiled at Adam who had returned with menus tucked under his arm and another round of drinks on a tray.
‘The girl at the bar suggests we go through to the other room if we want to eat,’ he said. ‘She says there’s a bit more space.’
Relieved, even more people now crowding into the bar, Alec got up and followed Molly and Adam through to the dining area. It occurred to him, suddenly, that both Molly and Adam had seemed unusually interested in the tattoo. He frowned; just what was she keeping from him and was Adam Carmodie likely to be an ally in his questioning or a co-conspirator of Molly’s?
Before stepping through into the dining room, Alec glanced back into the bar. Most of those who’d been at Joseph’s funeral were still there – the vicar now sitting somewhat unsteadily on his stool. They’d been joined by others who were clearly local. The bar area itself was quite small – a second room led off this and Alec noted that the mourners were now decanting into this second room as the lunchtime locals drifted in. There were, he thought, some notable absences. The three military-looking men that Molly had glared at and then studiously avoided, for instance.
‘Are you coming, Alec?’ Molly called to him from where she and Adam had now seated themselves. Facing the door again, he noticed and smiled at the memory of Molly tell
ing the boy, Alec, that you should always be certain of your exits whenever you entered a strange place. At nine years old, the advice had seemed profound and mysterious, later it had seemed a little pretentious. It was only much later that he realized Molly had been deadly serious.
He took his designated seat and picked up the menu realizing how hungry he was. He and Molly had made an early start that morning and the journey had been a complex if pretty one, drifting via narrow roads through countryside just displaying the first hints of autumn.
‘We order at the bar, apparently,’ Adam said ‘and then they bring our meal to us.’
Molly nodded wisely. ‘The trout,’ she said. ‘It’s a while since I ate trout.’
Alec said he’d like the steak and kidney pudding. He felt he needed some proper sustenance for the afternoon of investigating Joseph’s house and the interrogation of his aunt and her friend that he had determined was going to happen whether Molly liked it or not.
Adam took the menus and got up. ‘My treat,’ he said. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet with old friends and to find new, so let me get this.’
Molly nodded as though that was only to be expected and Alec, ready to argue, decided against.
‘What are you hoping to discover at Joseph’s house?’ he asked.
‘I’m not hoping to find anything,’ she said.
‘OK, so –’ Alec thought how to rephrase the question – ‘what are you afraid of finding?’
She fixed him with what, despite her age, was still a steely, youthful gaze. ‘I’m not afraid of finding anything, Alec. I am simply concerned that our friend should not be remembered badly. I’d expect Adam, or you, to do the same for me.’
Alec hesitated, working again on his phrasing. ‘And what do you want to lose, Molly? What would mean that you might be remembered badly?’
She smiled at him and he knew he’d got his questions right for once. ‘If the gods are willing, Alec, I will have taken care of all of that myself.’
‘And if they are not?’
‘Then it probably won’t matter,’ she said. ‘Alec, if I’ve not had time to dispose of my own bodies, then it probably means that I’m already one of them and the problem will no longer be yours.’
Adam had returned now and Molly turned to him, ready to strike up some other conversation. Alec sighed, but refused to be so readily distracted. ‘What bodies, Molly? Frankly, my love, you are getting very annoying with all this effort to be mysterious. One of these days you’ll really need someone’s help. There really will be something you can’t handle alone and we’ll all have been driven away by your efforts to keep us at arm’s length over the years and by all the times you’ve told the people who love you it’s none of their concern.’
Adam looked quizzically at the pair of them and, to Alec’s surprise, he smiled. ‘I obviously missed the start of this,’ he said, ‘but he’s right, Molly. Sometimes we have to pass the torch, you know. Even Joseph recognized that.’
Molly glared, but Alec could see that her friend had piqued her interest. ‘In what sense?’ she demanded.
Adam sipped his drink and then set it down, carefully centring it on the beer mat and for a moment Alec wondered if his presence would prevent him from answering.
‘I saw Joseph about a week before he died,’ he said finally. ‘He entrusted some things to my care. Material he’d collected over the years. I’ve not looked at all of it yet—’
‘Not looked? Why on earth not?’
‘Because, Molly my dearest, some of us would rather leave the past where it is. Because some of the memories Joseph’s notes have evoked are deeply painful. What I intend, this afternoon, is to go through Joseph’s cottage, with your help and Alec’s if that’s being offered and remove anything I think Joseph may have wanted discarded and also anything that links my old friend to me. I’m getting old, too, Molly. I have a business and a life and friends that have nothing to do with what happened to any of us in our long and much too exciting past. I am happy with what I have and, frankly, my dear Molly, I don’t want the bodies to be found or the skeletons to be dragged out of the cupboard or the boat to be rocked or any other overused proverb to impact upon my comfortable life.
‘Think of this as a last act of friendship, after which, I will have buried Joseph properly. Buried him and all that was entailed with knowing him.’
‘And does that include me?’ Molly bristled.
Adam laughed softly, then their food arrived and Alec knew he was grateful to be saved from giving her an answer.
Naomi’s phone rang. She’d been dozing on the bed, not so much because she was tired, but because she was both bored and feeling particularly apathetic. Once Alec returned from the funeral, they would be leaving here and getting on with their lives. She had promised that to herself and Alec had agreed, reiterating that agreement before he went to collect Molly. She felt that life was somehow on hold, waiting for his return and couldn’t seem to summon much enthusiasm for anything in the interim.
Naomi groped on the bedside table for the phone, half expecting it to be Alec; but it was Gregory. It had been more than twenty-four hours since she had sent him the text and the attached image of the photograph Barnes had given to them. She had almost given up on getting a response. Had almost decided that he, too, had flown south like the birds content to let the mystery remain a mystery.
‘Can we meet?’ Gregory said.
‘I suppose so. Alec isn’t here.’
‘No, I know, he’s at Joseph Bern’s funeral.’
Naomi laughed uneasily. ‘Is there anything you don’t know?’
‘It would seem there is,’ Gregory told her quietly. ‘But I plan to remedy that.’
She waited with Napoleon in the hotel reception. Gregory arrived only a few minutes after she had come down. He took her arm.
‘Where are we going?’
‘For a drive, then a walk, I think. It’s a lovely day. Don’t worry, you’ll be back before Alec is.’
Reluctantly, she allowed him to lead her to his car. He opened the back door for Napoleon and then helped Naomi into the passenger seat. ‘Are you OK finding the seat belt?’
‘I’m fine. Where are we going?’
‘I thought we’d go back to that cemetery, where you and your friend, Liz went. It’s a nice place to walk and I don’t know of any decent parks round here.’
‘And it’s private,’ Naomi said. ‘Away from prying eyes.’
‘That too.’ He was suddenly curious. ‘How do you know that, though?’
‘I might not be able to see, but I can still hear perfectly well. No traffic noise, lots of birdsong, and that kind of, well, kind of dead sound you get when something is enclosed. You know what I mean?’
‘Yes, I know. The cemetery is cut back into a hill side. I think they must have expanded it at some time. In front, the hill drops off quite steeply, so that would have been difficult for expansion, so they sliced the side off the hill. The rest of it is surrounded by a wall and mature trees. The main road is actually only about a half mile away but the lie of the land kills the sound of traffic.’
‘And not many people go there.’
‘True.’
‘We could talk in the car,’ she suggested.
She could hear the smile in Gregory’s voice when he replied. ‘Naomi Blake, are you afraid to be alone with me? We could talk in the car,’ he agreed, ‘but you look as though you need a walk. Some fresh air.’
‘You could be right. We’re going to leave in the morning. We agreed. Once Alec has done his duty and taken Molly to this funeral, we are out of here.’
‘Probably wise,’ Gregory said.
Naomi felt oddly deflated. She’d been expecting an argument, she realized, not this simple acceptance. ‘You think that’s what we should do?’
‘I think you should do what feels right.’
What feels right, Naomi thought. What did feel right? ‘Do you know what’s going on?’ she challenged him.
&nbs
p; ‘I know a little more than I did.’
‘Which is?’
Gregory laughed. She felt the car turn and the sound of the tyres change as they drove off the road and on to the gravel track. He pulled up, moments later and cut the engine. ‘The sun is shining,’ Gregory said. ‘Shall we enjoy it while we can?’
‘While we can?’
‘Storm clouds coming,’ Gregory said. ‘It’s going to rain.’
Joseph Bern’s house was pretty and small. It stood alone, separated from a short terrace by a strip of garden and a picket fence. The garden surrounded the red brick cottage and a brick path led to the front door. Flowers had been planted in terracotta pots on either side of the porch and someone had obviously been watering them in Joseph’s absence. Someone had also cut the lawn on either side of the path, but the narrow flower beds that ran beside it showed evidence of their owner’s absence in the clumps of dandelions that poked between the summer bedding.
Inside a tiled hall led down to the kitchen and a flight of narrow stairs disappeared behind a railing that Alec assumed defined the landing. There was a room on either side of the hall. One seemed to have been designated as a living room, with a large red sofa dominating the space, two, smaller, fireside chairs and a rather decrepit looking television. The wall space was lined with shelves, some carried books, an assortment of African carvings, odds and ends of silver and strange little tourist souvenirs that advertised themselves as presents from Brighton and Cleethorpes.
On the other side of the hall, the room had been set out as a study. Here all the shelves were laden down with books, the desk, though bare of papers, had a businesslike air about it, Alec thought. Set with wire mesh trays and a pot of pens. A well-worn office chair had been set behind it and another stood in the corner next to a shelf upon which typed papers had been neatly stacked.
Both rooms, Alec noticed, had rather nice, tiled fireplaces with fire-baskets and all the other accoutrements of fire keeping: pokers and coal scuttles and the like. He’d like an open fire, Alec thought. There was something cheering about glowing coals and crackling wood. He glanced automatically into both grates, checking for recent burning. Molly went a stage further and shoved the poker up inside the chimney. A cascade of soot showered down into her sleeve and she swore, roundly.
Secrets Page 18
