Guilty as Sin

by Judith Cutler

  Jane promised to do her best, though she was pretty sure they must have been Martin’s friends, since he was the only one who could really give permission, wasn’t he? And he was going to be away for at least two weeks. A cruise, she rather thought. Lucky fellows. On the off-chance, I got his contact details – on the off-chance, it happened, of sending them to DC Knowles.

  His card was still tucked in the case Griff had bought to protect what he considered a laughably expensive phone – until he’d seen all the things it did besides phoning, of course. Was I phoning as a victim, who was entitled to know how things were progressing in the search for my assailant, or as Josephine Public with news he hadn’t asked for and might not want? In the end I plumped for the former, eliciting the information that police now thought there was a connection between the three church crimes, which were in turn linked to a countrywide pattern of raids on remote churches. Accordingly, the investigation was now being handled by a national task force.

  ‘In other words, kicked into the long grass,’ I observed.

  ‘On the contrary,’ Conrad said. ‘Instead of a few bumpkins dashing round on bikes, a lot of resources will be put into the operation. Do you remember how loads of farm vehicles got nicked at one time? Since the campaign went national, the figures have dropped dramatically. That’s what we’ve got here. A whole team of heritage officers sharing information, finding ways of protecting vulnerable sites, liaising with organizations like English Heritage, and so on. And fewer people like you getting assaulted in graveyards.’

  ‘But no news of who clocked me?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Look, if you know enough about me to know I’m that Lina, you know I’m incorrigibly nosy.’

  ‘Ye-es,’ he conceded doubtfully.

  ‘Well, something that neither you nor this here national team may know is that there was an unexpected addition to the Dockinge village hall antiques fair. Not so much a stall, as an outside area devoted to selling garden statues and other stoneware. The owners packed up early and made a rapid exit. They nearly crashed into a bus. I didn’t mention it when you interviewed me at the William Harvey because my brain wasn’t working. And there’s something else you should know.’ I repeated Jane Dockery’s information, mentioning in passing that Martin Fellows, who had presumably approved their late application, was away for a couple of weeks.

  I’ll swear I heard him sigh.

  ‘Look, give me Kent’s member of this new team and I’ll contact him or her direct. Don’t tell me: no one’s been appointed yet.’

  ‘I’ll make sure it’s passed on, don’t worry.’

  But I did.

  After our weekly Pilates and drinks session, it was clear that the girls expected to come back to our cottage again. Anticipating this, I’d already encouraged Griff to host some church meeting there, so I had to spread my hands apologetically. Neither take-out, Indian or Chinese, had a decent eating area, so I looked hopefully at Laura and Honey. Laura’s boyfriend was decorating their tiny flat; Honey just said her parents had banned her and Spencer from hosting parties after a Facebook invitation disaster.

  ‘But you’re adults, not children!’ Laura exploded. ‘And what the hell are you both doing, living at home at your age?’

  ‘Loads of people do. Have to. Lina does,’ she added with a hint of accusation.

  ‘True. It’s not a problem most of the time. Only when we both want friends round at the same time, which isn’t often.’

  ‘What about your workroom? We could eat in there.’

  I shuddered. ‘I know what’s in some of those chemicals I use. If you want to risk it, I’ll be downstairs!’

  ‘As bad as that?’ Laura put in. She’d been looking at the pub’s gastro-menu and shaking her head at the prices.

  ‘I wear a mask and goggles when I’m using most things,’ I said truthfully.

  Even Honey didn’t persist after that. And just in case she did, I raised the question of a new look for my hair, which engaged them both in loudly contradictory ideas until we all gave in to hunger and went our separate ways – or I did, at least, since Honey and Laura lived only a couple of hundred yards apart.

  The streets of Bredeham were so quiet I almost wished that Spencer had turned up to see us all home safely. But I fingered my torch, heavy enough for a cosh, I suspect, and reflected that I could outrun most would-be assailants. In the event, I didn’t have any problems at all. The meeting over, Griff was already in the kitchen, tying on his apron and breaking eggs for his omelette supper. Soon he was making one for me too, and considering the girls’ suggestions for my hair. White with a pink or purple streak did not, for some reason, meet with his approval.

  Downloading the footage from the camera in the photo frame took even less time than that from the radio, yet neither showed anything suspicious. As Griff and I were leaving, however, a Nissan Micra arrived, its unlovely shade of green making Griff shudder exaggeratedly. A woman not much older than me drooped out, even her hair dispirited as the door refused to lock. Her burden of files was out of her arms and into Griff’s before you could say ‘case study’. If I’d had the sense I’d been born with, I’d have been there before him, making sure I dropped them to give me a chance of seeing the notes on Dodie. But, as Griff escorted her up the short path with as much grace as if she were the Queen herself, not one of her overburdened public servants, I consoled myself with the thought that if anyone could talk his way back into the house to eavesdrop on the conversation, it was him. Reluctantly I left him to it: there was no point in overegging the pudding, as he would say, and in any case I had some serious work to do on Harvey’s vase.

  I emerged from my workroom a couple of hours later, stretching to ease the niggle between my shoulder blades, to hear the sound of a woman’s voice. My first wild thought was that Griff had persuaded the Nissan-driving social worker to join him for coffee, but a glance though the window showed me that it was Tony’s totally out of character Juke – twice the size of the Micra, but an equally off-beat reddy-orange. So the voice must be Moira’s. I stayed upstairs to eavesdrop, more or less shamelessly.

  ‘In short,’ she was saying, though I was prepared to doubt the veracity of that, ‘while it was in Dodie’s best interests to have a neutral observer during the case study review, it might well be argued – and her family may take this view – that with your background it is not impossible that you may have had some hand in her present circumstances. We know otherwise,’ she said, raising a hand to silence him, ‘but it was a risk.’

  ‘In that case it was most fortunate,’ Griff responded, very dryly, ‘that I was able to summon you. I know, Moira, that you’ll be as bound as I would have been by the need for confidentiality, but let’s for goodness’ sake remember that we’re friends working for the same ends. Let me offer you a restorative sherry – no? A very small one? Perhaps you might like to try one or two of my cheese biscuits to absorb the alcohol.’

  I would, in her situation. In fact I’d prefer the biscuits to the sherry, the very smell of which made me heave: one of my more unsuitable foster mothers had been addicted to it. Meanwhile, though I should by now have put in a sociable appearance, I stayed where I was, hoping the sherry fumes wouldn’t drift upwards.

  The good news was that Dodie could see an NHS consultant within a month; the bad news was that her BUPA membership had lapsed about a year ago. Emma Foyle, who must be the social worker, said that the case notes showed that Dodie’s son had taken the decision when the contributions had risen to what he considered unreasonable levels, and had agreed to fund personally any one-off consultations and treatments required.

  ‘So will he pay for an immediate eye consultation?’ Griff demanded.

  ‘He’s away at the moment for a couple of weeks, apparently, so Emma considers that in view of the swift availability of free treatment, there’s no need to contact him.’

  I could hear the smile in Griff’s voice. ‘Clearly you don’t.’

  ‘
If a man can afford to go on a cruise, I think he should stump up, don’t you?’

  Cruise? Wasn’t that guy Martin on a cruise, too? But there were lots of ships on the sea, and loads of folk aboard them.

  Perhaps the sherry was beginning to go to Moira’s head. ‘What if he’s using her money to pay for the cruise? I’d say rattle his cage now! Spoil the bugger’s holiday!’ she added recklessly.

  It was a good job she lived within easy walking distance; that Juke would have to stay where it was for a bit.

  ‘Besides,’ she added soberly – if that wasn’t absolutely the wrong word – ‘I hear the NHS is operating an unofficial ageist policy, so older people don’t get the treatment they deserve. I’ve heard of so many appointments cancelled, operations delayed times beyond number, that one almost believes it. What if they think she’s too gaga to bother with?’

  ‘What indeed? My dear Moira, may I top you up? The merest smidgen? Say When! There. Now, how can we ensure that they don’t?’

  SIXTEEN

  Pa’s face was a study. I identified pleasure, guilt and apprehension, mixed with something I’d rarely seen before: self-doubt.

  ‘Visit Dodie? You’re sure? You’re not, are you?’

  ‘It’s you that might not be. We’ve got two cameras set up, remember, to protect her from whoever it is who nicked all her stuff.’

  He gave a bark of laughter. ‘In other words, don’t startle the horses! We always were very discreet, Lina – had to be, with her husband’s position, after all.’ The impish but tender smile slipped from his face. ‘You have – you know – smartened her up a bit?’

  ‘Manicure, pedicure – actually, more like podiatry, removing corns and stuff—’

  ‘Spare me the grim details!’

  ‘Hair-do. Some M and S clothes.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘M and S, not S and M.’ We shared a sort of laugh. ‘New shoes – she’s walking much better.’

  ‘All that’s good. Main thing, Lina …’ I’ll swear he blushed. ‘Main thing, she doesn’t smell of pee, does she?’

  ‘Not these days.’

  ‘And she liked the flowers? And the picture of the Hall?’ He was sounding embarrassingly like a lovelorn teenager all of a sudden.

  ‘Very much. But her memory’s a bit … intermittent. You’re there to jog it, remember.’

  ‘But not to embarrass the hidden watchers, one of whom will no doubt be you.’

  ‘I can always turn the sound down, can’t I? Actually, there will be someone else in the cottage with you. It was the only way we could get … It’s this woman from the church who has responsibility for what they call vulnerable adults. She’s been very useful in dealing with Dodie’s social worker, and she’s going to make your tea and pass round cakes.’

  ‘Tea! I’ve got vintage Verve Clicquot in the cellar. And don’t tell me she might not like it.’ Before I could point out that it might interfere with any mediction she was on, he continued, ‘She loves it. Had a bath in it once.’

  Talk about too much information.

  He got up, suddenly agitated. ‘Hair cut. A decent shirt. That suit’s a bit too much.’

  ‘How about your good casual trousers and that cashmere jumper I bought you for your birthday?’

  He stared. ‘A gentleman does not go visiting in a jumper.’

  Perhaps not, even when he was a career criminal as well as a serial Lothario.

  ‘There’s a sale on in that gentlemen’s outfitters you like in Canterbury. I’ve got time to take you in now if you like. Do we need to sell some more of your treasures to pay for your new outfit?’

  ‘I know I’ve got Chinese stuff in there somewhere,’ he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his junk rooms. ‘What about Russian? There was this programme on TV the other day …’

  If Pa was anxious about his appearance, so was Dodie, but the good women of the church rallied round, though Griff insisted that no one should apply her make-up but himself. We provided good champagne flutes and an ice bucket. Griff escorted Moira to the cottage, and I ferried a strangely chic version of Pa, clutching proper flowers (me again) and his champagne. At which point we made a discreet but deeply frustrating exit.

  I headed straight to my workroom, to continue work on Harvey’s vase. But it’s hard to concentrate for long on very detailed work with brushes that are so fine it must be possible to count the hairs. So I did the section I’d promised myself I’d finish, and turned to a job a museum had sent me, a lovely piece of Meissen. As I moved round the room, I thought I could hear raised voices. Were they from the shop? But no one had pressed the alarm button, and Mary was so good at calming down irate customers I thought it best to leave her to it. All the same, I was nosy enough to want to know more. And perhaps I was mistaken – perhaps the noise was coming from the street. A quick look through the bathroom window – I had to perch on the lavatory lid to manage this – showed a very up-market black car parked down the road. I thought it was a high-end Mercedes, though I suppose that’s what Griff calls tautology. I froze. That Merc was just the sort of car Harvey would favour. I really did not want him to come charging up into my workroom demanding to see how much work I’d done. Surely Mary would be able to keep him away from me. Nonetheless, knowing that if he upset me, there was part of me capable of violence against the nearest object, I carefully locked both artefacts away and tried to achieve a measure of calm by going through the careful routine of cleaning up after myself. In any case, it was time I collected Pa and returned him to Bossingham, I reasoned, and I didn’t want to delay matters by going into the shop.

  Gathering my car keys and bag, I ran downstairs and straight out into the street. Even as I started the Fiesta – there was no way I could persuade Pa into the van – I began to beat myself up. I should have seen whether Griff needed help shifting Harvey. But he had Mary and Paul Banner to support him, and I really, truly did not want to see Harvey ever again. Just in case …

  It wasn’t angry voices but laughter that came from the open window of Dodie’s cottage. Had I ever heard her laugh like that before? Or Pa for that matter? Or even Moira, who was talking now?

  It was she who let me in, shoulders still shaking with ill-suppressed giggles.

  I couldn’t wait to see the footage on the spy cameras.

  On impulse, I asked Pa back to our cottage for a cup of tea. Firstly Griff and I could both hear about his afternoon together. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, if Griff still had a soft spot for Harvey, Pa most certainly didn’t – something to do with Harvey changing his surname, which Pa regarded as infra dig. Neither did Pa approve of his making me unhappy. So if Harvey had managed to sweet-talk Griff, at least I had reinforcements, immaculately turned out and full of jaunty self-confidence.

  In fact the black Merc had gone and all was quiet. So I let us into the cottage with a cheery call to Griff. His response was lukewarm at best. My God, what if the stress of all that shouting at Harvey had made him ill? I was in the kitchen in seconds. He and Mary were sitting at the table, the latter white and shaking.

  Pa did something amazing: he filled the kettle and switched it on. ‘Hot sweet tea,’ he declared. ‘Builders’ is best in a crisis.’ It was a good start, even if he wouldn’t know where we kept everything else. Griff unobtrusively reached out for china cups and saucers, milk and sugar. Whatever we drank, it would be elegantly served.

  ‘Bloody Harvey Sanditon!’ I raged. Anger – at my cowardly sneaking away – burned. It was a good job the cups were Worcester or I’d be smashing them.

  ‘I told you the man was a menace,’ Pa declared.

  But Griff was totally bemused. ‘Why are you talking about Harvey? He’s been nowhere near.’

  Mary lifted her head. ‘This man accosted me when I was on my way to the post. And yes, I thought it was Harvey for a moment – a big, well-spoken man wearing a designer suit and dark glasses. Ray-Bans. No, he didn’t touch me. But he snatched one
of the packages I was carrying and hurled it to the ground. And said—’ she seemed to look at Griff for permission to continue ‘—that he’d do the same to you, Lina, if you didn’t mind your own business. And we weren’t to tell the police or anything, or he’d do a lot more damage next time.’

  ‘Did he indeed? Well, maybe, if the CCTV’s done its job, we can spoil his fun,’ I said, determined not to show how rattled I was.

  ‘That’s just it, Lina,’ Griff admitted. ‘Either he knew the extent of our coverage or he was lucky. His car’s parked just within range, but he waylaid poor Mary further down the street. And at this time of the day, there was no one around.’

  ‘And it was one of Paul’s golf days,’ Mary added, near to tears, ‘or he’d have been with me.’

  ‘Have you called him yet?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t want to disturb him.’

  I nodded. I could understand her wanting to be independent and not spoil his day out.

  ‘He’ll be here within the hour anyway,’ she added, in a tone somewhere between brave defiance and pleading. ‘And I’ve missed the post,’ she added with a wail.

  ‘No problem: the clients will just have to wait another day. Griff’ll email them a plausible and heart-rending excuse. What did the guy smash, by the way? Don’t worry, Mary, our insurance will cover it,’ I added. ‘Much better he smash a vase than harm you.’

  She started to laugh, drifting into something that sounded close to hysteria. Pa, who’d been sitting silently at the far end of the kitchen table, suddenly got up and pottered off to the living room, returning a few moments later with a cut-glass tumbler half full of Griff’s finest brandy. That was Pa for you: couldn’t find a mug to save his life, but an unerring nose for the booze cupboard.

  ‘Here,’ he said. ‘If you don’t drink it, I’ll have to slap your face, and I don’t like violence.’

  She gulped some down before she trusted herself to speak. ‘The irony is, Lina, that I’d wrapped it with a trip to China in mind – and do you know, it’s still in one piece?’ She started to laugh again, but a glare from Pa stopped her. She sipped the brandy more slowly.