by Granger, Ann
She had readied herself to take another run at it when she heard a voice, outside.
‘Who is it? Who’s in there?’
It was a male voice. Ferris? Oh, damn! No, he wouldn’t be asking who was in here, Jess reasoned. He knew. And the voice sounded worried, as well it might. Its owner wouldn’t be expecting anyone to be inside this old house.
‘Inspector Campbell!’ she shouted.
‘Inspector?’ Not surprisingly the voice was even more startled, and now sounded familiar. ‘What are you doing in there?’
‘Never mind that! Get me out!’ howled Jess.
‘Hold on!’
She heard footsteps retreating and then coming back.
‘I’ve got an iron bar. I’ll lever off the planks. Stay clear in case they splinter!’ ordered the voice.
Jess retreated to the kitchen end of the washhouse. She could hear him labouring at the task, grunting and muttering to himself. Then there was a loud crack and the central plank fell to the ground. The one above followed.
David Jones peered into the washhouse. His face was flushed with his efforts but his eyes still betrayed the shock he’d had on hearing her. ‘Can you climb over the bottom plank?’
‘Yes! Give me your hand,’ Jess panted.
With his help, she scrambled out.
‘Have you got a phone?’ she gasped.
‘My mobile, yes, hang on . . .’ He produced the phone.
‘Is it on? I need to ring for back up!’ Moments later Jess spoke urgently into the mobile, ‘Phil? It’s me, Jess Campbell. Pick up Andrew Ferris and be as quick as you can. He’s our man. And send a squad car out to Cricket Farm to collect me. I’ll explain later!’
She pushed the mobile back into Jones’s hand. ‘Thanks.’
‘How did you get in there?’ He pointed at the house behind them. Then he scowled. ‘What did you mean, “Pick up Ferris, he’s our man!” – did he kill Eva?’
‘If I can prove it,’ Jess said. ‘He knocked me out and shut me up in the house there. Thanks for coming to my rescue. What are you doing here, by the way?’
He flushed. ‘I’ve been up here a couple of times, in my free time, just looking round. I – I feel close to Eva here.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps that’s just because this is such a spooky place.’
‘Yes,’ Jess agreed soberly. ‘It is a very spooky place.’
The breeze had veered round sharply as she was speaking and a new odour filled her nostrils. At first she’d dismissed it as a lingering smell from the interior of the house. But this was quite different. She sniffed.
Jones had noticed it, too. ‘Something’s burning!’ Then he flung up a hand to point. ‘Look!’
From above the woods screening the stables lower down the hill, a plume of smoke curled into the air and was followed by a fountain of red sparks as if someone had lit a giant firework.
‘The stables are on fire!’ Jess exclaimed.
Chapter 16
‘We have to get down there! Have you any transport?’ Jess demanded. ‘How did you get here?’
‘On my motorbike!’ Jones was already running towards the entry into the farmyard. ‘But I haven’t got a spare helmet for you.’
‘Can’t be helped!’ she told him. ‘It’s an emergency. Just get us down to the bottom of the hill.’
The motorcycle coughed into life and, with Jess clinging on tightly, roared down the hill towards Berryhill stables.
They skidded to a halt at the end of the lane that turned off the road and led to the stables. Now they could hear the snap of the fire and the terrified whinnying of the horses.
‘Call the fire brigade and the police!’ Jess ordered as she scrambled from the pillion seat. But Jones was already shouting into his mobile.
She ran into the yard and took rapid stock of the situation. The fire had been started in a pile of straw and licked along the base of the row of loose boxes on the left-hand side of the yard. Although a good deal of smoke was thickening above the roof and the dry wooden walls crackled and sent up more sparks, there was still time, Jess reckoned, for prompt action to get the horses out. The problem was that the animals were panicking and she had no experience of dealing with frightened horses plunging around, all hooves and teeth.
Jones, however, proved unexpectedly competent. ‘Get the paddock gate open!’ he ordered. ‘We’ll let them out and drive them down that way.’
Just then they heard a new noise. From inside the end loose box, the one used by Penny as her office and tack room, came muffled shouts followed by a furious hammering at the closed door from inside.
‘Is anyone out there? I can’t get out! Please, if anyone’s there . . .’ The voice rose in a despairing shriek.
‘It’s Penny!’ Jess ran towards the door.
She found that not only had both halves been shut from outside using the hooks on the doors designed to drop into rings screwed into the wooden frames for that purpose. The lower half-door had also been secured by a braced pitchfork.
Jess kicked the pitchfork aside and scrabbled at the hooks. ‘It’s all right, Penny! It’s Jess Campbell. We’ll get you out!’
The lower half of the door flew open and Penny staggered out doubled up. She clawed at Jess to steady herself. Jess seized her and hauled her upright.
‘It’s OK!’ she managed to say before smoke filled her lungs with the next breath and reduced her to coughing, her eyes watering and unable to help Penny further.
‘It’s not!’ croaked Penny. ‘It’s not OK! There’s a gas canister!’ She pointed behind her. ‘A gas canister in there. If the fire reaches it, it will explode!’
The loose box next to the tack room shook beneath the onslaught of maddened hooves.
‘Solo!’ Penny ran towards it. ‘I have to let him out!’
‘Penny! If there’s a gas canister, it could go at any moment!’
But Penny’s thoughts were only for the horses. Jones had come running back from the opened paddock gate. He began at the other end of the line of boxes, opening the doors. Jess lent a hand, praying that the gas canister didn’t blow. They managed to get all the doors opened, but Solo refused to come out. They could see him inside, turning this way and that, continuing to try and kick his way out, throwing himself around ever more wildly and cannoning off the smouldering walls of the loose box like an equine pinball. The other horses plunged wildly around the yard. Jones was shouting hoarsely and waving his arms like a windmill in an attempt to drive them towards the open paddock gate. Most turned that way but Sultan seemed determined to make a break for the open road.
‘Solo!’ cried Penny. ‘He’s only got one good eye and he’s confused!’
‘You can’t go in there!’ Jess grasped Penny’s arm to hold her back. ‘He can’t see you properly and he’s out of his wits with fear. He’ll kick you to pieces.’
‘Give me your jacket!’ Penny demanded. ‘Quick!’
Jess pulled off her jacket and Penny grabbed it from her. She ran towards the loose box and disappeared inside. Jess could hear her as she called to the frightened animal, trying to soothe him by the sound of her voice. Then Penny reappeared, hauling at the horse. Solo came into view suddenly, his head covered with Jess’s jacket. Sensing he was no longer confined, he shot forward, sending Penny sprawling into the mud. The jacket flew off and Solo bolted away, by some miracle galloping towards the paddock.
Just then they heard the sound of the approaching fire engine.
‘Get away from the building!’ Jess ordered. ‘Get down to the paddock and help Jones with the horses.’
She herself ran towards the entry to the yard and flagged down the engine as it swept into view.
‘Gas canister!’ she howled at the top of her voice, pointing at the burning building. She knew that, of all hazards, gas canisters were particularly feared by firemen.
‘Right! You get back!’ one of the firemen yelled.
At that moment a small convoy of police cars swept into the lane and drew up behi
nd the fire engine.
Jess ran towards the leading one and, as she reached it, Carter scrambled out with his driver, Bennison. Behind her the loose boxes were all now well alight and there was no hope of saving them. The flames leaped high into the air and even the wood they hadn’t yet reached was scorched and smouldering dangerously.
‘This is arson!’ Jess shouted at him above the roar of the fire, the hiss of water and crack of splitting wood. ‘And attempted murder. Someone barricaded Penny Gower in the tack room! I got her out.’
‘Any idea who?’ shouted Carter.
‘At a guess, Andrew Ferris. Don’t ask me why. I thought he was in love with her!’
Penny had somehow made her way back across the yard and appeared at their sides. Her face was blackened with smoke and flying ash and streaked with tears. Her arms flailed in distress as if she wanted to grasp at some vanished object.
‘How could he do it!’ she wailed. ‘How could Andy do this to me!’
‘You’re sure it was Ferris?’ Jess caught at her arm again. ‘Penny, did you see or hear him?’
‘Of course I did! He just appeared in the tack room without warning. He was yelling at me. He shouted something about if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with the horses, and without him, he’d bloody well arrange for me to do it. Then he gave me a socking punch in the face that sent me sprawling back and locked me inside.’ Penny stared at them wildly. ‘He tried to kill me, Jess! Andy tried to kill me!’ She broke into sobs.
‘Plenty of murders have been committed by people crossed in love,’ remarked Carter in that enigmatic way Jess might have found intriguing had other things not diverted her attention from what he was saying.
The headache that had lurked in her skull since she came to in the bedroom at Cricket Farm now returned to the fore with a vengeance. It sent lightning flashes of diamond white across her vision. Nausea rose in her throat. The world swayed around her. She was aware that someone had grasped her shoulders. Carter’s voice (she could no longer make out his form) sounded in her ear.
‘In the car. Mind your head! We’re taking you to A and E.’
She was being bundled into the police car with someone’s hand on her head to prevent her cracking it on the door frame, just like an arrested felon.
In the background she heard a female voice saying, ‘Right away, sir!’
She thought muzzily, ‘Bennison . . .’ and wanted to say the name aloud but never knew whether she managed to do so or not.
Chapter 17
Carter proved adamant in the face of Jess’s impassioned plea to be allowed, at least, to sit in on the interview with Andrew Ferris. They’d picked him up easily. They had gone to his house and found him there, still methodically sorting through his wife’s belongings. He’d offered no resistance.
‘You are not even supposed to be in the building, you’re on sick leave,’ Carter said now firmly. ‘You have concussion.’
‘I had concussion. Now I’m fine. Now I haven’t even got a headache! The back of my head is a bit sore, that’s all. And this is my case!’ Jess all but danced about in her frustration. ‘I want to conduct the interview!’
‘You are also a victim of a serious assault on a police officer by the accused. We’ll charge him with that, along with anything else we find against him. You can’t interview him and it would be unwise and inappropriate for you even to sit in when it happens.’
‘Not sit in? But—’
‘Inspector!’ Carter said sharply. ‘I am making allowances, but I expect my officers of all ranks to behave in all circumstances in a professional way.’
‘Yes, sir . . .’ Jess managed through gritted teeth.
She then stormed off to her office and allowed herself a prolonged, childish and thoroughly satisfactory sulk.
He was right, of course. He knew he was right. She knew he was right. He knew she knew etc.
It didn’t help.
Fortunately, a distraction arrived at that moment in the form of a message saying Penny Gower was downstairs, asking for her.
‘Hi,’ said Jess, when she saw the small, slightly scruffy figure standing disconsolately by Joe Hegarty’s desk. She noticed Penny sported a fine blue bruise on her forehead. ‘How are you?’ Jess indicated the bruise.
‘All right, I think,’ said Penny. ‘This . . .’ She touched the bruise gently. ‘Is just a souvenir. Every time I look in a mirror and see it, I remember how Andy told me he loved me. I’ll never believe any man ever again. I just stopped by to check how things are going on and to ask how you are.’
‘Also fine.’ There was an awkward pause. ‘Do you fancy a coffee?’ Jess asked on the spur of the moment. ‘Not one of ours. I’m not being inhospitable. The coffee is better at a little café just down the road.’
‘I suppose,’ Penny said, when they were established with a coffee each at a corner table, ‘you can’t discuss the case, not with me.’
‘Not really, and it’s somewhat out of my hands now, since I am also a victim of an assault. We could form a small exclusive club, I suppose. Women attacked by Andrew Ferris.’ Jess grimaced.
‘One of them is dead,’ said Penny flatly.
‘Right. To be fair, he didn’t want to kill me, he just wanted to keep me quiet and out of the way while he tried to kill you. I don’t know why he left me in that house.’ Jess shrugged. ‘Perhaps he jibbed at killing a police officer. But you, Penny, you had a narrow escape. I’m not pretending otherwise. The stables fared badly, too. Thank heavens you’re alive and well, apart from a bruise, and the horses were all got out OK. It’s not the end of the world. Look, what I’m trying to say is, don’t let a really bad experience sour your life. Take your time getting over it, by all means. But, well, life goes on and you will meet someone else.’
‘Meeting someone else is the last thing on my mind,’ Penny told her frankly with a grimace. ‘Like I said, after Andrew I don’t think I’ll ever trust another man and I couldn’t live with a man I didn’t trust, like Lindsey.’
‘Mark Harper?’
‘Yes, they’ve had some sort of bust-up. Lindsey found out he had a mistress in London and she was all set to divorce him. But Harper panicked and talked her round, promising to be a good chap from now on. Ha! Divorce would’ve cost him a fortune, but it’s more than that. He needs Lindsey socially, you see. Lindsey’s from a local family of down-at-heel gentlemen farmers. Everyone – I mean all the local gentry and People Who Matter – round here know her and knew her parents. That’s the circle Harper wants to move in; and to do it, he needs Lindsey. He couldn’t just buy his way in.’
‘I see,’ said Jess.
Selina Foscott, Lindsey Harper, Eli Smith: they were locals and it mattered. Not social standing or whether you had money; whether your family reputation was blameless or whether you had a double murderer as a relative; but belonging here because of links going back generations, and because your forebears lay buried in the quiet country churchyards around the county. Everyone else was tolerated until he or she made a mistake. She herself would do well to remember that.
In some ways, she thought, Lucas Burton and Mark Harper were alike. Both had wanted to create an image. But Burton had essentially been a loner, fearing that on too close acquaintance people would suspect his origins. Harper had wanted to join the interrelated and interconnected county set. He’d gambled on making the right sort of marriage. Now he was discovering that he needed his wife more than she needed him. Burton had perhaps been shrewder.
Penny was still talking. ‘I’m not nursing a broken heart. I wasn’t in love with Andrew, I told you that. I just thought he was my friend, a very good friend. At the time I told you it, I honestly hadn’t realised he was imagining himself in love with me. Oh, he used to say he loved me, but always in a joking way and I always called him to order. It was a sort of game, or so I thought. More fool me.’
She sipped her coffee. ‘I can’t believe how stupid I was. You know, I was really sympathetic about his marriag
e breaking up. I tried to support him at what I thought was a difficult time. You can’t imagine how that bugs me now! I was so damn sorry for him. I thought he was getting a raw deal. I was worried that he didn’t seem to care what his wife took from the house. It was because I nagged him about it that he was sorting out her stuff when you went to see him.’
‘There was certainly a lot of sorting to do,’ observed Jess. ‘I think he was a bit surprised when he realised how much she had.’
‘Oh, yes, he was. If she didn’t come and collect it soon, he was planning to put it all in store. But the only thing on my mind, when he first told me about his divorce, was the concern that Karen would rip him off. I didn’t for one moment consider the divorce might mean he and I would be free to get together. Married, for crying out loud! And then he locked me in the tack room and tried to incinerate me! And the horses! Poor dumb brutes, what had they done to him? He liked horses. He was good with them! I feel as though, as though I never knew him at all.’
Realising her raised voice was attracting some interested glances to their table she leaned across it and whispered, ‘Do you know, Jess? I think being betrayed by a friend is worse than being betrayed by a spurned suitor. If you’ve turned a guy down he might, I suppose, go off his rocker with frustration and try and bump you off. But friendship is supposed to be something you can rely on.’
There really was no answer to this. ‘How about the stables?’ Jess asked. It seemed a safer subject. ‘Have you been able to start the repairs?’
Penny looked, if anything, glummer. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to carry on. The insurance people are being difficult. They found out I kept that gas canister in the tack room. All right, I know I shouldn’t have done. Funny thing, it was Andrew who always wanted me to move it out. Then there’s Solo. He’s eating his head off and costing me money but I can’t hire him out as a riding horse. I’m hoping to get some sort of temporary shelter rigged up before winter, but I’ll have to reduce the livery fees and as to rebuilding the stables . . .’
