by Brian Peters
It was two months after they were married when she fell into a deep depressive mood and Luke became seriously worried about her state of mind. He insisted that she sought medical help. “No, Luke, I saw a psychiatrist before I met you. He was able to help a little but I’ll cope with this in my own way. I think it’s about time I told you about my childhood, I’ve never told anyone other than that psychiatrist.”
She looked at Luke intently, trying to gauge his reaction.
“Ok, go ahead, but only if you’re ready for it.”
Asil remembered the circumstances well. They were sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, steaming mugs of tea in front of them.
“My Aunt Morag, my mother’s sister, took me in after my parent’s died in the car accident. She was much older than my mother, and I’d always felt that she didn’t like me. I soon found out that she actually hated me.”
She paused and took a sip of her tea, tears welling up in her eyes. Luke reached across the table and took hold of both her hands and squeezed.
“Asil, you don’t…..”
“No, it’s about time I told you the truth.” She wiped the tears from her cheek. “Soon after I moved into her filthy bungalow, I saw Auntie Flowers, our housekeeper, coming up the path to the front door. I called her Auntie, but she was no relation really. I rushed towards the door, I was so happy to see a friendly face; but Morag caught hold of me and forced me back into my room, shut the door and locked it. I heard her open the front door and ask Auntie Flowers what she wanted. She said that she’d come to see how I was. Aunt Morag told her that she couldn’t see me and that she was never to call again; and that I’d only be allowed to see whom she wanted me to see. Then she asked her to wait a minute. Aunt Morag unlocked my door and came into my room. She snatched Patch’s lead from its hook on the door and grabbed my dog, putting the lead on him. Before I could stop her, she dragged Patch out into the hall, thrust the lead into Auntie Flower’s hand and said: ’And you can dispose of this flea-ridden animal, it leaves hairs all over my furniture.’ She slammed the door in her face and came back into my room. ‘Now don’t start snivelling you little wretch; I can’t afford to feed you and that animal.’”
Asil shook her head. “Can you believe that, Luke? Patch, my lovely Springer spaniel. I’d had him from a puppy. He was the only link to my parents and my home life. We were devoted to each other. You know how close children and pets can be? Can you imagine how utterly distraught I felt? I honestly wished that I was dead.”
Asil was shaking now as she relived those moments in her life. Luke got up from his chair, knelt down beside her and held her tightly. Asil continued.
“I didn’t know then that she was insane. I didn’t know that she had actually been responsible for my mum and dad’s death. My godfather, Gordon Bancroft, had me removed from Aunt Morag’s care after a while. I couldn’t foresee that she would eventually have me kidnapped and try to torture me.”
Luke was horrified at these revelations. He just shook his head in disbelief that a woman could treat a child in this way. “Why would she want to do that?” he asked.
“My dad had left me a silver box that held a code to where my inheritance was hidden. Only Uncle Gordon knew about it, not even my mother had been told. But Aunt Morag had found this out and was trying to get me to give her the box. I can still see her now coming towards me with a red-hot soldering iron while I was tied to a chair…..I have nightmares about it still.”
Luke remained silent for a couple of minutes.
“What about teachers, school friends, didn’t you tell them how you were being treated?”
“I daren’t. She threatened to kill me if I told anyone, and I believed her. I was never allowed to have any friends back to the bungalow. Teachers wouldn’t have believed me anyway.”
“So how did you eventually escape from her?”
“After the police were finally able to prove that Aunt Morag had actively taken part in causing the death of Mum and Dad she was arrested. My godfather, Doctor Gordon Bancroft, rescued me and placed me with Marjorie Wade and Belynda. Uncle Gordon had a manservant, Mahari Artaxis, and after Uncle Gordon’s death he moved in with the Wades and me in Towyn. When I was old enough to have access to my estate, I had this house built and had them come to live with me here in Monks Eleigh. Eventually I arranged a house each for the Wades and Mahari. Unfortunately, Mahari couldn’t settle to living on his own and went back to his hometown in Turkey that he’d left when he was still a child.”
“I remember seeing Mahari around the village, a tiny little chap. Very athletic looking though.”
“He was a lovely man. He’d worked in the circus before Uncle Gordon rescued him after he’d been abandoned in Budapest when he was badly injured. I still miss Mahari terribly.”
Asil remained outwardly untouched by any of those terrible experiences, having learned at a young age to control her emotions and thus avoid punishment from her aunt.
Luke had learned to leave her to overcome her demons in her own time, but now he began to understand why she suffered so.
Her love of motorcycling had started when she first met Luke, who at the time had financed his business by restoring and then selling on classic motorcycles She owned a motorbike, an Italian Moto Guzzi. When affected by these black moods she would wheel her bike out of the garage, fire up the big V-twin engine and take off on the winding Suffolk country roads that she was so familiar with. Her mind was able to focus entirely on the road ahead, powering expertly round bends, engrossed in taking the perfect line at the optimum speed; the willing engine pulsing beneath her, her adrenalin pumping. As hedgerows and trees flashed by, she drank in the aromas coming off the countryside, the sweet smell of rape growing in the fields, experiencing the change of temperature when diving down dips in the road, feeling at one with the machine. The total concentration necessary drove away the dark thoughts and she returned home refreshed and exhilarated. She would park the bike in the garage and remove her helmet and leather jacket, the hot metal tick-ticking as the bike cooled down, the smell of the cooling engine permeating the air in the garage.
Luke would know immediately that she was back to her natural good humour as soon as he saw her flushed cheeks and bright eyes.
He no longer rode himself, to Asil’s disappointment. She loved him for his good, caring nature, his unfailing optimism and his sense of humour. But sometimes she wished that he could share some of the things that she loved; books, classical music, theatre and concerts. They did share a passion for jazz though and there was seldom a time spent together in the house or car without something playing in the background. They used to discuss for hours the merits of one musician over another and how jazz had developed, when they were first together. Whether Buddy Bolden was myth or legend, Louis Armstrong’s influence on other players, Miles Davis’ best period; what effect did drugs have on Chet Baker’s career? Billie Holiday over Bessie Smith? Did Gerry Mulligan swing? ….. etc, etc – the discussions felt endless. They still talked jazz, but both had learned an enormous amount from exploring each other’s knowledge, so the subjects were no longer so contentious.
As for reading, Luke was happiest when he was deep into a car maintenance manual. So much for romance!
Luke awoke early the next morning and was up at six. Asil came down shortly after, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, still in her negligee.
“Why so early, Luke?”
“You have to come with me to get Kohler’s car, remember?”
She pouted and looked up at him through her eyelashes with her dark sleepy eyes. “Do I have to?”
Luke laughed and pulled her warm body to him, nestling his nose into her neck. “Yes you do my darling. We may have to tow it back. And I’ve got to finish the Alfa before I start on the Merc.” He kissed her; she pushed him away and placed a finger on his lips, frowning reprovingly, and hurried back upstairs to put on a dressing gown.
She prepared t
oast with cinnamon sugar while Luke set the coffee maker going, filling the kitchen with the aroma of freshly ground arabica beans.
After the breakfast, Asil changed into jeans and a tee shirt while Luke cleared away and washed up.
The previous evening’s storm had cleared the air and the early morning sun encouraged a thin mist to rise above the fields. Shafts of weak sunshine cut through the trees, making patterns that gave the landscape an eerie perspective. Asil drank in the crisp, fresh air, helping to clear away the fog of insufficient sleep.
Luke drove her to Kohler’s car hoping to be able to tow it home with her help. He unlocked it and switched on the ignition. All the warning lights came on as Kohler had said, but the starter still wouldn’t operate. “I’ll just try the fuses first,” he said to Asil. It was as simple as that. Just one fuse blown, soon replaced from a spare that he had in his toolbox in the VW. He checked the battery connections and cleaned and tightened them. The big Merc burst into life immediately he turned the key. He smiled at Asil and waved her away then drove it back to the house and parked it in the drive next to Asil’s black BMW cabriolet. Asil followed him in and said: “Well done Luke, problem solved?” “Well, no, not quite. I’ve got to find out why the fuse blew. It might have been a loose battery connection but I better make sure. You go in, I’ll get it into the workshop.”
Luke started work on the elderly Mercedes to establish what had caused the fuse to blow. The wallet containing the owner’s handbook and service details was in the glove compartment. Luke was puzzled to see that the car was not registered to Mr. Kohler, but to an Otto Stempel in an address in a town called Werdhol, wherever in Germany that might be.
When he’d finished working on the Merc. he came back into the house. He sat down at the kitchen table and smiled at Asil, pleased that he had been able to finish it so quickly.
“Well? Have you fixed it already?” she asked, placing a cup of tea in front of him.
“Yes, no problem.” He rested his elbows on the table and cupped his chin in his hands. He looked thoughtfully at Asil. “You know, I can’t quite make out what to think of our Mr. Kohler. There’s nothing in the car that relates to him at all. The service book is made out to someone else. And that briefcase of his wasn’t big enough to hold any books that he says he deals in. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
Asil thought for a moment. “Oh, I suppose that there could have been manuscripts in the briefcase? You said that he dealt in old books and manuscripts, didn’t you?”
“Hm, yes, possibly.” Luke didn’t sound convinced.
“Why don’t you phone him? I’m sure he’d put your mind at rest.”
Luke didn’t answer. Asil stared at him. “You did get his number and his address didn’t you?”
“It just …. I meant to but…”
Asil sighed loudly.
“Oh Luke! That wasn’t very business like, was it?” She turned away and continued washing up at the sink, scrubbing furiously at a burnt saucepan.
Luke said: “Anyway, he’ll be phoning tonight to see if I’ve fixed the car.”
Luke knew that she was annoyed with him. He never seemed able to live up to her expectations, she being always efficient and meticulous in everything she did. His feelings of inadequacy made him angry with himself.
CHAPTER 2
No phone call came from Kohler that evening, or the next day, or the next. Luke cursed himself again for not getting Kohler’s mobile number or details of where he lived. He went out and searched the car again for any reference to Kohler, even removing the seat squabs to see if anything had slipped underneath, but found nothing other than a few German coins of small denomination. He gathered them up and put them in the glove compartment.
He appreciated the fact that Asil tactfully hadn’t mentioned not getting his details again. He sat musing in the driving seat and began to wonder whether he was going to be lumbered with the car and never see Mr. Kohler again. He would just have to sit tight until he phoned, or rather if he phoned. What if the car was stolen? He was in a great hurry to leave the country, wasn’t he? Perhaps he was a criminal who was escaping from someone or something. A con man, perhaps. Well, he’s certainly conned me, Luke thought as he wondered what exactly Kohler had had in that overnight bag. Just as well that I’ve not spent much time and money on the car, he mused.
He got out of the car and opened the boot. It was bare, nothing at all, completely empty. He pulled up the carpet covering the lid to the spare wheel compartment, and lifted the cover, not really expecting to find anything that would identify Kohler. A cloth package sat in the well of the spare wheel. Luke lifted it out. It was heavy enough to hold a small tool kit. He unwrapped it. Luke’s heart was beating furiously as he went back into the house. He didn’t want to speculate any further; the thoughts were too depressing.
He called out to Asil and placed the package on the kitchen table and sat down. Asil came in from the conservatory, small watering can in her hand.
Luke said nothing but pointed to the package.
“Open it,” he said.
She smiled at him, puzzled.
“Is it a present?” she asked. The smile disappeared as she took in the look on Luke’s face. He shook his head slowly. He looked pale and tight-lipped. She stepped forward and slowly unwrapped the cloth. She recoiled and put her hand to her mouth.
“Luke, where did you get this?”
The Beretta 950B lay on the worktop, dull grey and sinister. Luke had checked it and found that it was fully loaded. He had also made sure that the safety catch was on.
“It was in the boot of Kohler’s car. I’m going to ring the police.”
Asil raised her palm towards him, shaking her head slowly. She gathered her thoughts before answering.
“No, Luke. Let’s just think about it first.” She put her watering can down, filled the kettle with water and got two cups from the cupboard. Luke sat motionless on one of the kitchen chairs, his eyes fixed on the gun. Asil made two cups of tea and sat down opposite him.
“We know who the car belongs to Luke; you said it wasn’t his according to the name in the handbook. Kohler might not know anything about the gun being there. Anyway, it’s none of our business, is it?”
Luke sighed, excavating his right ear with his index finger, not quite knowing what to think.
“We could find out the owners number and ring him.”
“No. Not a good idea, Luke. Think about it.”
Luke thought about it and realised that it was going to cause more problems than it solved.
“So do we just put it back and say nothing then?”
Asil stood, wrapped the gun up again and handed it to Luke.
“Yes, put it back and forget about it. If he’d have known it was there, surely he would have taken it with him?”
“What about customs? Maybe he didn’t want to be found with it.”
Asil thought about it. “Look, there’s no need to mention it to Mr Kohler when he comes to collect the car. It’s best if we keep it to ourselves.”
“If he comes to collect it. What if we’re lumbered with it? What do we do then?”
Asil sighed impatiently.
“Let’s give it another day or two, then we’ll think about it.”
She picked up her watering can and went back out to the conservatory. Luke picked the gun up and sat holding it for a couple of minutes, watching Asil watering the plants in the conservatory as if nothing unusual had happened. He shrugged and went back into the workshop, wiped the gun thoroughly in case his fingerprints were on it, wrapped it up again and replaced it where he’d found it, closing the boot. Asil was always so sure of what action to take for the best.
****
It wasn’t until early on Friday morning, four days later, when Kohler phoned, to Luke’s relief.
“Mr. Lomax, I am so very sorry not to have called you earlier. I have had some unforeseen problems here at home in
Germany. How is the car?”
Luke was relieved that his initial doubts appeared to be wrong; but he was not pleased that Kohler hadn’t been in touch for so long.
“I began to wonder what had happened to you. It’s fixed; it was only a fuse. I’ve checked all the electrical connections. The starter cable was the problem so I’ve replaced it. I managed to get one at the Mercedes dealer in Ipswich. It didn’t take that long, actually. It’s been ready to go since Tuesday.”
“Good, excellent.” He paused. “Mr. Lomax, I have a very big problem. I hate to impose on you once again, but do you think that you could bring the car over here to Germany? I will arrange for your journey home, a flight from Düsseldorf to Stansted. I will…..”
Luke butted in. “Hold on Mr. Kohler, this wasn’t part of the arrangement you know. That could be very difficult….”
Kohler interrupted in a quiet but insistent voice: “Mr. Lomax, I will pay all your expenses and a bonus of two hundred euros on top of any charges that I owe you. This is very important for me. I cannot explain it over the phone and I am running out of time. Please do as I ask. I will put you fully in picture when you arrive here.”
Luke was quite surprised by the quiet insistence in Kohler’s tone, and a bit annoyed at his presumption. Luke realised that here is a man used to getting his own way and he began to resent his somewhat authoritarian manner; not at all in keeping with the charm he had exuded when they first met.
“Out of the question, Mr. Kohler.”
“Could you catch the overnight ferry this evening? It’s about a four-hour drive from Rotterdam to Lüdenscheid; you could be here by midday and fly back tomorrow evening. I’ll get you to the airport. I will e.mail you the address and directions immediately. You have a passport I presume and a satnav?”
“Mr. Kohler, you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said. You are assuming that I have agreed to this already. Give me your mobile number and I’ll call you back within the hour, OK?”
