Time to Pay

by Lyndon Stacey

  ‘Yeah, could be. So what did you think of last night, eh? The feedback was absolutely brilliant and I’ve had three calls already . . .’ He faltered. ‘Oh, Christ, I’d forgotten – Pips said you had a bust-up with a tack thief in the middle of it all! Are you OK?’

  ‘I think a “bust up” is putting it a bit strongly. I walked in – he clobbered me; end of story,’ Gideon said ruefully. ‘But – no, I’m fine. Just a bump on the head and a stiff neck. I’ve had worse. Are you going to notify the police, or not?’

  Giles shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Pippa doesn’t think anything’s missing. It hardly seems worth all the hassle. Unless you feel strongly about it . . .?’

  ‘Good Lord, no! I’ve spent more than enough time with the cops lately. If you’re happy, I am. After all, it must be a million-to-one chance they’ll ever catch the bastard. So . . .’ he went on in a lighter tone, ‘Graylings Sparkler is officially launched and has the wind in her sails.’

  ‘Yes, it’s amazing! If I’d known starting my own business would give me such a rush, I’d have done it ages ago!’

  After a lazy morning, Gideon stayed to lunch at the Priory, where the talk alternated between the attempted theft and the ballooning success of Giles’ apple wine. Three more calls had come in: two from customers wanting to place orders and the third from a regional paper, keen to do an interview with Dorset’s newest entrepreneur.

  ‘Eve’s ideas were brilliant – just added the final touches,’ Giles told Gideon. ‘Especially those perfume burners, or whatever you call them. It was very subtle, but it made all the difference.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s done a fair bit of research into that sort of thing.’

  ‘Feng shui,’ Lloyd put in, knowledgeably.

  ‘No, not feng shui. The whole business of marketing. Apparently it’s a proven fact that adding just a trace of the right scent into the retail area – not even enough for people to be aware of it – can improve sales dramatically. Eve uses something in the gallery, and it seems to work. She’s been very successful. She sold two of mine last week.’

  ‘Wow! It must be good!’ Giles joked.

  Gideon laughed.

  ‘OK, I asked for that, didn’t I? Actually it’s a mixed blessing, because if she sells too many, I’ll have to get on and do some more. But anyway, I’ll pass on your gratitude.’

  ‘Yes, please do. And why don’t you bring her over one evening for a celebratory meal? How about tonight?’

  Gideon shook his head. ‘Can’t do tonight. I know that right away. She’s got a “do” on at the gallery. She wants me there, too. She says she’s got someone coming who may be interested in commissioning me for a portrait. But I’m sure she’d love to come, another time. She said how much she enjoyed it last week.’

  ‘I’m probably going to be out tonight, anyway,’ Lloyd announced.

  ‘Oh? And what made you think you were invited?’ Pippa enquired, echoing Gideon’s thoughts.

  Lloyd pulled a face at her.

  ‘So, where are you going tonight, then? You didn’t say anything earlier,’ she queried.

  ‘No, I’ve only just remembered – Gideon saying about the “do” at the gallery reminded me. Amber’s school are putting on a fashion show, and I promised to be there. Amber’s my daughter,’ he added for Gideon’s benefit. ‘Not exactly my idea of a fun evening – a bunch of flat-chested ten-year-olds modelling home-made clothes – but it means a lot to her.’

  ‘Well, of course she’d want her daddy there!’ Pippa exclaimed. ‘And you’ll be clapping just as hard as everyone else, when it comes to it.’

  ‘OK, so I’m really a big softy,’ Lloyd admitted, smiling at her. ‘But you didn’t have to tell everyone!’

  Gideon felt he’d had enough.

  ‘Well, if I’m going to do anything with my troubled friend out there, I’d better get moving,’ he said, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. ‘Eve’s expecting me at six, and I’ve got to brush my hair and clean my nails before then!’

  Gideon supposed the evening exhibition could be counted a success – inasmuch as he apparently said the right things and was given the commission to paint three golden retrievers belonging to a retired colonel and his wife – but he couldn’t truthfully have said he enjoyed it.

  Eve was in her element, looking stunning in a flowing silk garment the colour of pewter, and wearing the biggest and most elaborate mother-of-pearl necklace Gideon had ever seen.

  ‘It is a bit OTT, isn’t it?’ she agreed, when he commented on it. ‘But you see, it’s kind of expected of me. It gives people something to talk about, and it’s no bad thing to have a trademark. I think some of the ladies only really come to see what I’m wearing; I’d hate to disappoint them!’

  By day, the gallery – a barn conversion full of glass and oak beams – seemed to catch and reflect the light, giving it a kind of luminescence, and the effect after dark was equally impressive, the windows turning into black mirrors and the pictures glowing under the clever spotlighting. Gideon spent the evening mingling with Eve’s guests, sipping drinks he didn’t really want, and wishing he could take his throbbing head home and lay it on a pillow.

  It was gone eleven when the last lingering visitor had been waved off the premises and Eve was able to switch off the lights and lock up.

  ‘Thanks for coming, and staying,’ she said, putting her arms round Gideon as they stood on the gravel outside. ‘I know it’s not really your thing.’

  ‘No, it was OK; I enjoyed it.’ She smelled faintly of some musky, exotic spice and, despite his headache, he pulled her against him, imagining the pewter silk sliding off over her smooth golden curves.

  ‘Liar. You hated it.’

  ‘OK, I did, but I got a commission out of it, so I can’t complain.’

  Eve pulled back a little.

  ‘I meant to ask you about that. That price you quoted – did I hear right?’

  ‘Did you see the car they came in?’ Gideon countered.

  ‘You know, you’re wicked!’ Eve told him, leaning against him once more and laying her cheek against his. ‘It’s a good job I like bad boys . . . Come home with me?’

  ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to let Zebedee out. He’ll be sitting cross-legged as it is.’

  Eve sighed. ‘Much as I love animals, that’s the one reason I wouldn’t have one; they tie you down so, and I love to be free. Oh well, I suppose I’ll just have to come home with you.’

  ‘You’re welcome to, of course, but I must warn you, I have the mother and father of all headaches.’

  ‘That’s not very original,’ she murmured, then more sharply, ‘Oh, your head! I’d forgotten. Why the hell didn’t you say something?’

  ‘It’s been coming on gradually.’

  She scanned his face with a certain amount of concern.

  ‘Do you think you should see a doctor?’

  ‘No,’ Gideon said firmly, ‘I don’t. It’s just the natural result of being clobbered and then spending an evening making small talk and smiling a lot. It’ll probably be better by tomorrow.’

  ‘Will you promise to see a doctor if it isn’t? Oh, God, listen to me, I sound like your mother!’

  ‘Actually,’ he said, amused, ‘you sound more like my mother than my mother does – if you see what I mean. She’s an artist, too, and she gets completely immersed in her work. It was nothing unusual for her to forget meals when my sister and I were growing up. We learned, very early, to be self-sufficient. But anyway, thank you – you’re very sweet.’

  She gave him another searching look.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘Well, in that case, I think I’ll love you and leave you. I’ve got to open up tomorrow, and I’m pretty well dead on my feet. But – ring me in the morning, OK?’

  ‘So you know I’ve made it through the night?’ he quizzed. ‘Be a bit late if I haven’t.’

  ‘Oh, don’t s
ay that!’

  Laughing, he drew her closer and kissed her soundly before seeing her to her car.

  The roads were fairly clear on the way home, and Gideon drove with the window open to keep him awake. The night air was refreshing, and he found himself wishing – not for the first time of late – that he were on a motorbike. It had been a couple of years since he’d wrapped his treasured Norton around a tree, through no fault of his own, and Giles and Pippa had given him the Land Rover. At first, comfort and convenience had kept him content, but the call of two wheels had never entirely gone away and had, over time, grown steadily stronger.

  With the promise of a financial boost from the portrait commission, he found the idea of getting another motorcycle very quickly put down roots and flourished, and by the time he reached the Gatehouse he was only left with the pleasurable task of deciding what sort of bike to buy.

  Zebedee greeted him with his usual wild exultation, exhibiting the bouncing technique that had earned him his name. Gideon had tried, unsuccessfully, to train him out of it, but as he didn’t actually jump at people any more, but only up and down on the spot, he now let him get on with it. It was a harmless expression of his excitement, and Gideon championed individuality.

  Closing the front door, he looked round for Elsa, who sometimes got ‘bounced’, but she was nowhere to be seen, which was unusual. She spent a lot of her time on the Aga, and almost always appeared to welcome him when he’d been out. Shrugging, he quieted Zebedee and went through to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee before he went to bed. The cool air had soothed his head and he no longer felt the need for painkillers so, after calling for the cat a time or two with no success, he let the dog out into the garden for five minutes, then switched the light off and made his way upstairs, half-expecting to find Elsa curled up on his duvet.

  She wasn’t.

  Frowning, Gideon stood his mug on the bedside cabinet and began a search of the upstairs rooms. There was only another bedroom and a bathroom, and both doors had been shut, but he looked anyway, on the off chance that she’d got shut in before he left. She was nowhere to be seen.

  Really puzzled now, Gideon went back downstairs, turning the lights on again and stepping over Zebedee, who was lying in his customary place against the bottom step. The dog looked up and wagged his tail sleepily as Gideon stepped over him and went on into the sitting room.

  ‘Elsa?’

  He glanced round hopefully but there was no sign of her.

  ‘Now where the hell have you got to?’ he muttered, going back into the hall and opening the door of his studio. Another blank.

  Where had he last seen her?

  In the hall, when he left at half past five. He was almost sure she’d been sitting in the kitchen doorway looking reproachful, as was her custom when he went out several times in one day. The doors and windows had all been shut, so she had to be in the house.

  Deep in thought, he heard a whine, and became aware that Zebedee wasn’t with him. Normally the dog shadowed him, wherever he was in the house. Another whine, and Gideon went through to the sitting room once more. Zebedee was standing on the rug in front of the wood-burning stove, ears cocked and head on one side, gazing intently at the chimney breast.

  ‘What’re you up to, Zeb?’ Gideon asked, suddenly interested. ‘What’ve you found?’

  He went over to the fireplace and, putting one hand on the huge oak bressummer beam above it, he bent down and peered up into the gloom.

  There, on a dusty, cobwebby shelf, crouched Elsa.

  ‘Hello, little one,’ he said softly, and was rewarded with a pathetic, long-drawn-out meow.

  When he reached up to lift her out of her refuge, she drew back, but the ledge was too small for her to hide, and within moments, after a brief frightened struggle, he had her in his arms.

  Murmuring comfortingly, Gideon carried the cat into the kitchen and put her in her favourite place on top of the Aga. Brushing the dust and cobwebs from her sleek, tawny-flecked coat, he opened a small tin of sardines and poured her a saucer of milk, wondering, all the while, what could possibly have sent her scurrying for such a hiding place. Surely Zebedee hadn’t been chasing her? He’d never shown any inclination to do so, and Gideon suspected that if that had been the case, the dog’s guilty conscience would have given the game away as soon as he got home. He often confessed to his misdemeanours before Gideon was even aware they’d been committed.

  After eating two mashed-up fishes, and drinking most of the milk, Elsa settled down on the folded blanket where she normally slept, and began to wash, purring with apparent contentment. Gideon switched off the light and took himself back to his bedroom and a cooling cup of coffee.

  Gideon rose late the next morning, and had a leisurely breakfast before turning his attention reluctantly to the mounting pile of correspondence in his studio. He’d got as far as sorting it, several days previously, into order of urgency, with the items nearest the top those that should have been answered over a month ago, and those at the bottom, less than a week. The whole added up to a stack that teetered precariously on the brink of sliding onto the floor from its position on the corner of his desk.

  With a sigh, Gideon sat down with what remained of his second cup of coffee, picked up the top envelope and removed the contents. For a moment, he stared at the papers in his hand. It was a telephone bill. Nothing strange in that, except that he could have sworn he’d sorted it to more than halfway down the pile. Surprised, he looked for the date and found that he still had three days before it became overdue – nowhere near urgent, then.

  Frowning slightly, Gideon reached for the next item and found another more recent invoice, but then a much older one that he’d actually written ‘Urgent’ on. Beneath this there were two or three envelopes, address-side down. That certainly wasn’t right. He knew damn well he hadn’t left them like that.

  He sat back and took a sip of his coffee, then looked around thoughtfully. Everything appeared much as he’d left it, except . . . Across the room, on an easel, was a portrait of Pippa’s horse, Skylark, that he was painting for her birthday and, seen in the light of day, he noticed a faint smudge mark across the nose, as if someone had walked carelessly close and brushed it with their sleeve. It was too high to have been one of the animals, even had they been in there, which, as far as he knew, they hadn’t.

  Eve perhaps, although she wasn’t in the habit of coming into the studio on her own.

  His frown deepening, Gideon opened each of the drawers in his desk.

  If he hadn’t specifically been looking for signs of disturbance, he probably wouldn’t have noticed any because, on the face of it, there didn’t appear to be anything missing. His desk was, essentially, his office, but he had no PC or laptop, and his mobile phone lived in his jacket pocket, for the most part. The desk drawers contained such unfashionable things as writing paper, pencils and pens, bulldog clips, an account book with carbon paper, and Sellotape. Never particularly tidy, Gideon couldn’t have sworn to it that anything had been moved; but the muddle just didn’t look quite the same muddle he was accustomed to seeing.

  The telephone rang, making him jump, and he reached out a hand for the receiver.

  ‘Is that Gideon Blake or a paramedic?’ Eve’s voice enquired dryly.

  Too late, Gideon remembered his promise to call her.

  ‘I’m sorry. But I did survive,’ he said, injecting a note of self-congratulation.

  ‘So I gather.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve not long been up, and the reason I forgot to call is because my headache has completely gone.’

  ‘And here I was, making myself ill with worry, and wondering whether I should ring there or the hospital . . .’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said. ‘Make the most of it . . . Listen, Eve . . . did you by any chance go into my studio when you were here last?’

  ‘Er . . . no, I don’t think so, but I might have done. Why?’

  ‘Well, remember that huge pile of mail I wa
s sorting through when you arrived the other day?’

  ‘The one you kept swearing at?’

  ‘That’s the one. Well, now it’s unsorted.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, it’s all higgledy-piggledy again. I left it ready to deal with, in order of importance, and now it looks as though someone’s knocked the whole lot onto the floor and picked it up again in a hurry.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t me,’ Eve said positively. ‘I’d have remembered that. One of the animals?’

  ‘And picked it up?’ Gideon queried, sceptically.

  ‘Ah, yes. See what you mean.’

  ‘And there’s another thing.’ He told her about finding Elsa hidden in the inglenook. ‘Something frightened her,’ he finished.

  ‘You think someone broke in?’

  ‘Well, got in somehow. There’s no obvious sign, but I might go and check again.’

  ‘But have they taken anything? What do you think they were looking for?’

  ‘I’ve absolutely no idea,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve only just discovered this, so I haven’t really looked to see if anything is missing. They didn’t take my electricity bill, more’s the pity!’

  After he rang off, he sat staring into space for a few moments. He couldn’t really imagine what might be missing. He had a fairly good music system but no TV, video or DVD player.

  His camera!

  In a flash, he was on his feet and heading for the sitting room, where his state-of-the-art digital camera was kept out of sight in a cupboard, along with several hundred pounds’ worth of lenses.

  It was still there, and so were the lenses, nestling in their case.

  What then?

  Why break in, if not to steal?

  He recalled his conversation with Eve, and set off, with Zebedee at his heels, to recheck all the windows and doors for signs of entry.

  There were none.

  The only possibility he could see was the bathroom window, which didn’t fit as closely as it should and could conceivably be opened from the outside by someone with a ladder and the appropriate tool. But that would presuppose that the person in question knew about it, and it certainly wasn’t obvious from the ground.