Time to Pay

by Lyndon Stacey

  Gideon made an ironic bow. ‘Glad to be of service, but I think maybe an alarm might be a good idea. I don’t think my head can stand many more clobberings.’

  ‘Well, Giles is going to ring the security people tomorrow. He was talking about getting the house updated, while they’re at it, and maybe even your place.’

  ‘Actually, that’s not such a bad idea,’ Gideon said, and told her about Elsa and the papers, and his conclusion.

  She was shocked.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Well, ninety-nine point nine per cent, yes. It’s either that or I’m going completely off my trolley!’

  ‘And they didn’t take anything?’

  ‘Not a sausage. I didn’t say anything earlier because I didn’t think it was worth worrying Tilly with, just as she’s looking a bit brighter.’

  ‘She is, isn’t she? I was thinking that,’ Pippa agreed. She bent to look at the inside of her horse’s fetlock. ‘Oh, Sky! You’ve kicked yourself, you clumsy great oaf. I’ll have to wash that off; it’s got dirt in it.’

  ‘I’ll get you some water,’ Gideon offered, having already put Blackbird back in his stable. In due course he delivered to her half a bucket of warm water from the kitchen, and a handful of cotton wool.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Oh damn! That’s my phone. You couldn’t just answer it for me, could you? It’s in my coat. It might be Giles . . .’

  Gideon obediently located the phone and flipped the lid.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Oh. That’s not Pippa Barrington.’ A woman’s voice.

  ‘Well spotted,’ Gideon said, amused. ‘But I can pass you over.’

  ‘Well, actually, it was Lloyd I wanted. He’s not answering his phone. Can you tell him the kids were ready half an hour ago? He was supposed to be taking them to the pictures. It’s bloody unfair – poor little loves! I’m his wife – ex-wife, Harriet,’ she added somewhat unnecessarily.

  ‘Well, he left here,’ Gideon consulted his watch, ‘about an hour and a half ago. But he did need a pretty major clean-up.’

  ‘Thinks more about his bloody hunting than he does his own kids!’ Harriet Lloyd-Ellis complained. ‘Well, I suppose he’ll turn up here eventually – when he’s good and ready – but it’ll be too late for the cinema. It’s such a shame when Archie was so excited. How do you tell an eight-year-old that his daddy can’t be bothered to take him out?’

  The phone clicked off before Gideon had time to answer, which was just as well, really, as he hadn’t a clue what to say.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to be in Lloyd’s shoes when he finally shows up,’ Gideon said, reporting the conversation to Pippa.

  ‘He’s probably fallen asleep in the bath,’ she laughed. ‘But I should imagine Amber and Archie have a pretty good idea what their dad’s like by now.’

  ‘Where does Harriet live?’ Gideon asked. ‘The code looked familiar. I thought for a minute it was somebody at Tilly’s place.’

  ‘Yeah, same area. A couple of miles up the road from the farm,’ Pippa said, coming out from under Skylark’s belly. ‘There, that should do you, old boy. It’s not very deep. I’ll put a bit of purple spray on and it should be fine. Oh, and by the way, talking of Lloyd – have you still got that bit of paper we found in Nero’s things? Lloyd knows a fair bit about betting and bookies, and I wondered if he might be able to make sense of it.’

  ‘It’s still in the folder – in the Land Rover,’ Gideon said, surprised. ‘I’d forgotten about it. Why the sudden interest?’

  ‘Just curious, you know me,’ Pippa said, but she avoided his eyes and he wondered, with insight, whether the request had actually originated with Lloyd. It would be just like him to want to show off his superior knowledge.

  ‘All right, I’ll do you a copy. But I think we ought to leave the original where it is, as it’s really none of our business.’

  ‘Oh well, if you don’t think we should . . . I didn’t mean to be nosy. Perhaps we should show it to Tilly first.’

  But Tilly, when she was shown the paper, later that afternoon, exhibited little interest in it.

  ‘Oh, that was typical of Damien. He always used to scribble memos to himself in some kind of personal shorthand that no-one else could understand. Sometimes even he forgot what he’d meant by it, so I shouldn’t think there’s much chance of us being able to decipher it. I should bin it, if I were you.’

  ‘It looks as though it’s something to do with betting. Did Damien bet on his horses?’ Pippa wanted to know. ‘I’m surprised it’s allowed.’

  ‘Yes, it’s quite legal. Jockeys can’t, of course, but trainers can. Not that Damien did very often. He always said it was a mug’s game.’

  In spite of Tilly’s obvious indifference, Gideon didn’t feel it was his place to destroy or bin the paper, so he decided to make a copy for Pippa that evening and leave the original where they’d found it.

  He was sitting in his study at the Gatehouse, looking at the columns of letters and figures written in Damien’s bold, rounded script, when a hand bearing a glass of red wine came over his shoulder.

  ‘You’re not going to do that lot tonight, are you?’ Eve asked, looking at the pile of correspondnce. ‘Why don’t you leave it till tomorrow and come in by the fire. It’s bloody cold in here!’

  ‘That’s exactly what I was going to do.’

  ‘So what’s that all about?’ She nodded at the paper he held. ‘Are you thinking of risking your worldly wealth on a horse?’

  ‘No, actually, this isn’t mine. Pippa found it in Nero’s file, but it doesn’t make a lot of sense. At least, it didn’t . . . We thought it had something to do with betting, but now I’m wondering if these aren’t phone numbers.’

  ‘They don’t look much like phone numbers,’ Eve said doubtfully.

  ‘Ah, but that’s because of the way they’re written down. If you rearrange the numbers so the first column has three and the second six, then put oh-one in front of them, they suddenly look exactly like phone numbers, and the letters in front could be initials.’

  ‘Well, I see what you mean, but it’s a bit of a stab in the dark, isn’t it? I mean – any set of nine numbers would look like a phone number if you put oh-one in front of them, and why write them down like that, anyway?’

  ‘I agree, it does sound a bit far-fetched, but look . . .’ Taking another sheet of paper, Gideon copied the numbers out as he had suggested. Tapping the result with his finger, he looked up at Eve. ‘Tell me what you see?’

  She frowned slightly. ‘Three of them are local codes. OK – you might actually have something. Not just a pretty face, are you? I’m impressed.’

  Gideon shook his head.

  ‘Much as I hate to disillusion you, I have to come clean. The truth is I recognised one of the numbers – or at least, I think I did. I’ll have to check, but I think this bottom one is Lloyd’s ex-wife’s. Harriet rang Pippa’s mobile this afternoon, and I answered it. I probably wouldn’t have recognised the number if it hadn’t ended in four fives, and I couldn’t swear to it even now.’

  ‘Why don’t you look in the directory?’

  ‘I did. She’s not listed, and neither is he.’

  ‘So what are the letters?’

  ‘Initials. H.L. Harriet Lloyd-Ellis. Or Henry, for that matter.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise he was a Henry. But you said it was his ex-wife’s number . . .’

  ‘Well, it depends when the list was made. He only moved out about four months ago. Strictly speaking, she’s still his wife; they’re only separated.’

  ‘And the other numbers?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ he admitted.

  ‘Six to one against . . .’ she read. ‘So, what do you think it is? Some kind of betting syndicate?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose that’s possible,’ Gideon mused.

  Eve straightened up, trailing her fingers across his shoulders and up into his hair.

  ‘Well, Sherlock, when you’ve finished you
r investigation, I’ll be waiting for you in the other room. It’s too bloody cold in here; I’m getting goosebumps.’

  ‘I’ll come right now. There’s no great mystery about a list of phone numbers, even if they were disguised. Tilly said that was nothing unusual.’

  ‘Well, if you wanted to be really nosy, you could always ring them,’ Eve suggested.

  Gideon laughed and got to his feet. ‘I can think of more entertaining ways to spend the evening,’ he said, slipping his arm round her waist.

  The following morning, after Eve had departed, Gideon drove to Bournemouth and spent the best part of two hours trying to explain to the doting middle-aged owner of a shih-tzu that the only way to stop her little darling growling at her husband was to make sure that the dog knew its proper place within the family pack. Feeding it at the table, letting it sleep on the bed and barge through doorways ahead of them, and sitting somewhere else rather than move it from the sofa, were all adding to the precocious creature’s sense of its own worth, he told the woman, as tactfully as he could.

  ‘You have to make sure Chi-Chi knows that your husband comes above him in the pecking order,’ he said for the umpteenth time, and the doubtful look on his client’s face spoke volumes.

  He gave her a printed copy of the guidelines he had laid down for such cases, promised to send his account, and left, completely confident that Chi-Chi would continue to reign supreme. There was little point and no satisfaction at all in trying to help those who refused to acknowledge the truth. He just wished they wouldn’t call him in the first place; they sent his blood pressure rocketing.

  In the afternoon he travelled to Lymington to photograph the retired colonel’s retrievers, took a twenty per cent deposit payment and somehow, on the way back, found himself detouring to take in a couple of motorcycle dealerships.

  ‘You look pleased with yourself,’ Pippa observed, when he turned up to exercise Nero.

  ‘Just got a deposit for a portrait,’ he said, omitting to add that he’d also already spent it. He was almost certain that she wouldn’t approve, and he had no wish to engage in a lengthy argument on the perils of motorcycle riding.

  ‘Oh, good. Maybe you’d like to contribute a little something towards the upkeep of your horse,’ she suggested, with a sweet smile. ‘By the way, if you haven’t got anything specific planned for today, how about coming down to Home Farm with me? I thought of taking Toddy round part of the cross-country course, and I’d like to see how he handles jumping in company before I go hunting on him next week.’

  ‘Lloyd’s really got you hooked on that, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Well, it’s good training for eventers, besides being great fun. You ought to try it one day. Blackbird would love it.’

  ‘Mm, I’m sure he would.’

  ‘Well, don’t sound so enthusiastic. You never know, you might enjoy it yourself.’

  ‘Mm,’ he said again.

  They hacked the horses down the lane and through the ford to Home Farm, where their plans almost came to nothing when Nero caught sight of what was obviously his first donkey.

  For several long moments he took root in the gravel of the track, whilst the donkey began the bellows action of working itself up for a call. Then, when the trumpeting finally started, Nero panicked, turned on his haunches and attempted to retrace his steps to the yard at top speed.

  With an effort, Gideon managed to halt his charge and turn him back to face the object of his fear, which had now come forward to put its head over the fence and had, moreover, been joined by several others.

  Pippa stifled her mirth and rode Toddy closer to the long-eared onlookers to demonstrate that they were harmless and, after much coaxing, Nero was persuaded to go past.

  The cross-country jumping course at Home Farm had been Pippa’s thirty-first birthday present from Giles, and had more than paid for itself in the last two years, through hiring out for the use of riding clubs and private schooling. Putting the episode with the donkey behind him, Nero threw himself into the session with great enthusiasm, jumping fast and clean and giving Gideon a super ride.

  ‘Damien was right, he’s going to make a terrific steeplechaser,’ Gideon told Pippa as they pulled up with some difficulty at the end. ‘It almost makes me wish I was eight inches shorter and ten years younger.’

  ‘To say nothing of four stone lighter,’ she remarked.

  ‘Thank you for that.’

  ‘Actually, I’m glad you enjoyed it so much because I wanted to ask a little favour . . .’

  ‘Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this,’ Gideon pondered aloud.

  ‘You know Lloyd and I are doing this team chase thing later this month . . .’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Well, we’ve got a bit of a problem – you see, William Hadley’s had to drop out, so we’ve only got three riders . . .’

  ‘O-oh, no! No you don’t. You know I don’t do competitions.’

  ‘It’s for charity. The Turkish earthquake appeal.’

  ‘I’ll make a donation.’

  ‘But if we don’t find a fourth rider, none of us will be able to take part.’

  ‘That’s blackmail,’ Gideon pointed out.

  ‘I know. But it’s true.’

  ‘Surely there are other people you could ask. What about all Lloyd’s hunting friends?’

  ‘The entries had to be in weeks ago. Anyone who wanted to take part is already in a team.’

  ‘Well, it’s no good anyway. Even if I wanted to – which I don’t – there’s no way I’m going to risk someone else’s horse doing something like that.’

  ‘Oh, I know that. I didn’t mean on Nero, I meant Blackbird.’

  ‘Oh, that’s even better! Two complete novices, together.’

  ‘It’s for charity,’ Pippa repeated. ‘No-one takes it seriously.’

  ‘Maybe, but I doubt if it’s meant to be a comedy.’

  ‘You’re quite capable of doing it – you should have more self-belief.’

  Gideon had a brainwave. ‘Tell you what. Why don’t I lend Blackbird to this William person, then everybody’s happy.’

  Pippa shook her head.

  ‘William’s got a broken arm.’

  ‘Don’t tell me – he did it on one of these team chase things.’

  ‘No. Out hunting, actually. Oh, come on, Gideon. Be a sport. It’d be fun.’

  ‘Remind me to look up the definition of fun again. My dictionary’s obviously got it wrong.’

  The horses had stopped for a drink in the ford, and Toddy began to paw at the water with his forefoot. Pippa pulled his head up and they moved on.

  ‘Lloyd said you wouldn’t do it,’ she said, after a moment or two. ‘I said you would.’

  ‘Then he was right and you were wrong,’ Gideon observed. ‘And that was well below the belt, Miss Barrington-Carr.’

  ‘Well, you’re so infuriating!’ she declared.

  When they got back to the yard, Lloyd was sitting on the mounting block waiting for them, talking animatedly on his mobile phone. His two liver and white springers were quartering the cobbles with heads down and stubby tails no more than a blur.

  ‘How’d they go?’ He snapped the phone shut and got to his feet, reaching for Toddy’s rein as Pippa dismounted. ‘Missed you,’ he added, putting his arm round her shoulders and kissing her.

  The two dogs came wagging across to greet them, milling around the horses’ feet fearlessly.

  ‘They were good,’ Gideon answered, jumping down. ‘It was fun.’

  Lloyd looked questioningly at Pippa.

  ‘Well, did you ask him?’

  ‘Yes, I did, but—’

  ‘I said I’d have to check my diary, but it shouldn’t be a problem,’ Gideon put in, the words as much a surprise to him as they no doubt were to Pippa. It had just been something in the way Lloyd had looked when he asked her. Moments later, Gideon could have kicked himself. What did it matter what Pippa’s boyfriend thought of him?
He didn’t even like the man. He didn’t normally let pride get in the way of his decision-making.

  Pippa turned to him, out of Lloyd’s line of sight, her eyes wide and incredulous.

  ‘Well, it’s time Blackbird did something for his keep,’ he added without a flicker, and had the satisfaction of seeing Lloyd momentarily nonplussed.

  ‘She did tell you that you have to do at least one day’s hunting with the Tarrant and Stour, to qualify?’

  Ducking under Nero’s neck to run his offside stirrup up, Gideon gave Pippa a look that promised payback, and said casually, ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘No. No, of course not,’ he answered, perhaps a touch too heartily, and Gideon wondered, with amusement, if Lloyd actually wanted him on the team, or whether he’d just seen the opportunity to make him appear in a bad light to Pippa. If that was the case, it showed how little Lloyd understood her. And, if it was the case, then the prospect of being a thorn in the man’s side provided the whole affair with at least one redeeming factor.

  When he’d returned Nero to his box, Gideon found Lloyd in the tack room with Pippa.

  ‘Oh, I did you a copy of that paper of Damien’s,’ Gideon said, taking it from the pocket of his jeans and giving it to him. ‘Pippa said you wanted to see it, though I’m not sure why . . .’

  ‘Oh, no real reason. Just thought I might be able to help you out with it,’ Lloyd said, glancing at the paper.

  ‘Well, to be honest, I don’t think it’s any of our business,’ Gideon remarked, watching him. He’d decided to keep his discovery to himself, interested to see if Lloyd recognised the last number for what it was. He showed no sign of having done so, however, merely folding the sheet and slipping it into his pocket. Gideon had been hoping for some reaction, however slight, and wasn’t sure whether the lack of it betokened incomprehension, or prior knowledge. If, as Eve had suggested, the paper was a list of members of a betting syndicate, then maybe Lloyd had already known what to expect when he asked for it.

  ‘I don’t want to feed until Toddy and Nero have rested for a bit, so I vote we have a cup of coffee first,’ Pippa said. ‘Anyone interested?’