by Fay Sampson
The stairway was dimly lit. The offices had been adapted from a moderately sized private terraced house She wondered if Thomas Nosworthy had once lived ‘over the shop’ next door.
She was startled out of her thoughts by the realization that someone was standing on the landing above her. The shadowy figure was not directly at the top of the stairs, but looking down over the banisters at her side.
‘What do you want?’ Frances demanded. ‘I thought I told you there was no need to contact me again.’
Suzie climbed the remaining stairs before answering. She did not want to feel at a disadvantage by standing below Frances.
‘Something’s happened. I’m sure you know about it …’
Before she could finish, Frances cut in. ‘Not here, if you don’t mind. We’ll do this in my office.’
She led the way into a large room at the back of the house. It was furnished simply, with a large modern desk, a leather armchair and shelves of books and files which reached to the moulded plaster ceiling. A window gave on to the roofs of houses, and beyond that the moorland tors.
It occurred to Suzie for a panicked moment that Tom, on the pavement at the front of the house, would not be able to hear if she shouted.
Still, it was ridiculous to think that anything could happen to her here.
Frances settled herself behind her desk and motioned Suzie to the armchair. She was unsmiling. There was no hint of welcome or recognition in her face.
‘You were saying?’
Some of the first impetus had gone out of Suzie. She wished she had not sat down. Should she stand up again and confront the seated Frances across her desk?
‘Nick’s missing. He went out to meet someone after work yesterday and hasn’t come back. The police found his car on the other side of the moor. At Fullingford.’
‘And?’
‘This has to do with the Eileen Caseley murder. And probably with her will. Nick was warned off the case, the same way you did to me. You know something about this, don’t you? Was it you he was meeting yesterday?’
‘What a remarkable suggestion. As far as I can recall, I’ve never met your husband.’
‘Where were you yesterday evening?’
‘I don’t think that’s any business of yours.’
‘Nick’s missing. If that doesn’t make it my business, I don’t know what does. The tyres on his car were slashed. So were the ones on your cousin John’s car yesterday.’
She saw the startled expression leap to Frances’s face.
‘I don’t …’
‘Suzie! What are you doing here?’
Suzie turned. John Nosworthy was standing in the doorway. His usually pleasant face was alarmed.
Frances rose. ‘I could say the same of you, John. I would like to know what this is all about. Just what are you accusing me of?’
Suzie was on her feet too. Her voice was rising. ‘I won’t know that until I or the police find Nick and I know what’s happened to him.’
‘You think I kidnapped him? That’s ridiculous!’
‘You didn’t want me to go on investigating the Caseley case, did you? You tried to stop me, to protect Philip. And then Nick found out something from Bernard Summers that would make things look very black for Philip indeed. A cast-iron motive to kill Eileen before she could change her will. Only he didn’t know she’d already signed the codicil. Bernard Summers died because of what he knew, and now Nick has gone.’
Frances’s face was blank.
‘Suzie.’ John came forward and stood between the two women. ‘What you’re suggesting is crazy. You can’t really think Frances had anything to do with Bernard Summers’ death? And as for Nick …’
‘Thank you, John. I think I can defend myself,’ Frances said, tight-lipped.
‘Then why did you choke me off?’ Suzie broke in. ‘Before that, you left me your card and told me to contact you if I found out anything. What is it you were suddenly so afraid we’d discover? It was the gold, wasn’t it?’
‘Shall we just leave this whole investigation to the police? I’m sure they’re looking for your husband, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, but at Fullingford. I think they’re wrong. I think someone drove Nick’s car there to throw them off the scent. I don’t believe he’s on that side of the moor at all. I’m sure he’s here, and that you know where.’
‘And just how was I supposed to get back from Fullingford after I’d done this dastardly deed? Walk?’
Suzie was left silenced.
‘Suzie, you’re barking up the wrong tree,’ John tried to placate her. ‘I’m sure whatever Frances did, she had a good reason for it. She’s right. Let the police deal with it. Of course you’re upset about your husband. I really hope he’s all right. Can I get you something? A cup of tea?’
‘I don’t want tea. I want Nick.’
She pushed past him in frustration and hurried down the stairs. She should have known it was foolish to come, that Frances wouldn’t tell her anything. The solicitor was too well schooled in the confidentiality of the legal system and the circumspection of law courts to give anything away. All she had done was perhaps to involve John in a fresh row with his cousin.
But something had made John afraid, from the first day she saw him.
She fled past the secretary in the downstairs office and tumbled out into the sunlit street.
Tom caught her. ‘No joy? You didn’t really think you’d get anything out of her, did you?’
‘Leave her alone,’ snapped Millie. ‘At least she’s trying to do something.’
THIRTY-ONE
‘I’ll drop you off,’ Suzie said, ‘and then take the car round to Mike.’
‘I’ll come,’ Tom offered.
‘No need. The walk home might clear my head. At the moment, I feel as though I’m wading through porridge. Nothing I can think of makes sense.’
‘You don’t think it was her, then?’ Millie asked. ‘Frances Nosworthy? She didn’t have anything to do with Dad?’
‘I really don’t know. She’s changed her attitude since the first time I met her. But I think she may be right about one thing. If she was the one who left Dad’s car at Fullingford, how did she get back to Moortown? There certainly wouldn’t have been a bus that late.’
‘And why?’ Tom said gloomily. ‘Nothing fits.’
Suzie left them at the end of their road and drove on up the hill to Mike’s garage. She tried to put on a cheerful face as she handed the car over and belatedly signed the hire agreement. But Mike was too shrewd for her.
‘Did you find Nick? Is he OK?’
This was the moment she had dreaded, when the Fewings’ family catastrophe would escape beyond the small circle of those who already knew and become public knowledge. She couldn’t bear the thought of the sympathetic curiosity of her friends.
‘I didn’t find him,’ she said reluctantly. ‘The police are looking for him.’
Mike gave her a measured look that was less shocked than she had expected.
‘I thought there must be something going on. It’s not like you to go tearing off in the middle of the night. A car crash, was it? And he’s wandered off?’
‘No, nothing like that … We think he’s been abducted.’
Mike did whistle through his teeth then. ‘Nick? Why ever would anyone do that?’
‘It’s a long story,’ she sighed. ‘Let’s just say we got ourselves accidentally mixed up with something too big for us.’
‘Look, Suzie, it’s none of my business what this is all about, but if there’s anything I can do to help …’
‘No, thank you. You were a real angel last night, but at the moment we’ve just run into the sand. I can’t think of anything else I can do.’
‘Have you got your car back?’
‘The tyres had been cut. The police have taken it away to check it for evidence.’
‘Keep the Nissan, then. This is no time to be stranded without a car. On the house.’
‘I
couldn’t.’
‘Heavens above, woman. It’s the least we can do. How are the kids taking it?’
‘I sometimes think they’re stronger than I am. But it’s beginning to get through to Millie. As long as we were chasing around doing things, we could believe we’d find him. But now all we can do is sit at home and wait for the police to ring us. One way or another.’
‘If it’s any help, Kay and I will be praying for you and Nick.’
‘Thanks, Mike. You’re a friend. And I’d be glad if you’d keep this to yourself.’
‘Trust me.’
She climbed back into the car. She had meant it when she said to Tom that the walk back from the garage would do her good. The rhythm of her feet on the pavement, the view out over the city, deep breaths of morning air. But Mike was right. She would feel less helpless with a set of wheels at her disposal. Even if she had no idea where she could go next.
Tom was waiting for her in the kitchen. He had made himself a mug of coffee and had the kettle ready to pour one for her.
‘Millie’s gone to lie down. She looks shattered.’
‘It’s the best thing. I need to do the same.’ She took the steaming mug Tom offered her. ‘Mike said to keep the car. I had to tell him about Dad. I swore him to secrecy, but I’m afraid a lot more people are going to know about it before long. I had to ring Leila to say he wouldn’t be back to work.’
‘We can hack it. And if it goes public, maybe somebody will come forward and say they’ve seen something. You never know.’
The words were meant to be comforting, but for once they lacked Tom’s usually boundless optimism.
Suzie put the mug on the draining board. She suddenly felt overwhelmed with an enormous tiredness.
‘I think I’ll go to bed. It was a short night. I didn’t get to sleep till about five.’
She was halfway across the kitchen when the urge to reach for a lifeline became too strong. She got out her phone and rang DS Dudbridge’s number.
‘Mrs Fewings? How can I help?’
‘Is there any news of Nick?’
‘We’re searching. Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know if we find him.’
‘And you’ve no idea why his car was outside Clive Stroud’s house?’
There was a hesitation. ‘I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but we’ve taken Elizabeth Stroud in for questioning.’
‘His wife? You think …’ She thought of the tall, imperious woman handing her brandy. New scenarios chased through Suzie’s head.
‘We’re just covering every possibility. We haven’t arrested her.’
‘Thank you.’
She put the phone away and turned to Tom. ‘They’ve taken Elizabeth Stroud to the police station.’
Tom let out a whoop of laughter, which he cut short. ‘She certainly did look as though she was about to kill someone. I guess Eileen Caseley was one infidelity too far.’ He frowned again. ‘But I’m blowed if I can see where Dad comes into that.’
‘Maybe Elizabeth was the one who lured him to their house. What if it wasn’t someone from Clive Stroud’s office at all?’
‘Yes, but why?’
‘To incriminate Clive, if she really did have such a grudge against him.’
‘Sounds a bit extreme, don’t you think? Kidnap a perfectly respectable member of the population, just to get her own back on her cheating husband?’
‘I’ve no idea how a jealous wife’s mind works.’
‘But why Dad? She didn’t know him.’ He put out a hand and touched her briefly. ‘At least there’s one thing. If Elizabeth Stroud did set this up to blacken Clive’s name, she’s hardly likely to have done him any real harm, is she? I mean, doing him in would be going a bit too far.’
The silence developed around them. All this time, Suzie had been trying to prevent herself from thinking the unthinkable, that Nick might not simply have been led into a trap, and be lying somewhere waiting to be found, but was actually dead.
She gave a choking cry and fled from the room.
Suzie lay awake on her bed, haunted by the horror that Tom’s attempt at reassurance had conjured up in her. One part of her mind had known, of course, that if Bernard Summers was dead, so might Nick be. She had been filling the hours since his disappearance with frantic activity to stop herself from confronting that knowledge. Now she had run out of steam. She could do nothing but wait.
Now, in the stillness of the bedroom, her tired mind accepted the inevitable logic. Why should someone remove Nick from the scene, only to release him later safe and sound? What use would that serve? He would come back bursting with evidence against them. The only way they could be sure of his continued silence was through his death.
She gave an anguished cry of protest and turned over. She found herself confronting the empty side of the bed where Nick had lain only two nights ago. Where he might never lie again.
Mercifully, exhaustion claimed her mind. She slept.
She was awoken by the sound of the telephone downstairs. It took a startled moment before she leaped out of bed. It might be the police, ringing with news. It might even be Nick himself.
She went running downstairs, clumsy in her haste. She had not stopped to put on her shoes or comb her hair. She was part way down the flight when the ringing stopped. For a moment, she was terrified that the caller had rung off. But as she rounded the corner of the landing, she saw that Tom was answering the phone.
He held out the receiver. ‘It’s for you. They want to know why you weren’t at work this morning. I passed the buck.’
She took the receiver from him. ‘Hello? This is Suzie.’
‘It’s Margery, dear. From the charity shop. We were a bit concerned this morning when you didn’t show up in the office. I rang to see if you were ill, but I couldn’t get an answer. I don’t have your mobile number, only the house one. Is everything all right?’
The question seemed to come from a long way away. Suzie wrestled to bring her thoughts back to everyday reality. It had not occurred to her for a moment that on any other weekday morning she would have been in the office of Age of Silver, behind the charity shop that helped to fund it. Dear, kind Margery, who managed the shop with her army of volunteers. Of course she would be concerned that Suzie was suddenly absent with no explanation or apology.
‘Sorry,’ she gasped. ‘There’s been, well, call it a domestic crisis. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you more at the moment. I should have rung you.’
‘Never mind me. It’s you I’m worried about. Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘No. No, thank you.’ Suzie was trying to order her thoughts. What about tomorrow? It was unthinkable that she could go back to work while the likelihood of disaster lay over the family. Should she ring the national headquarters, tell them she would be unavailable for – who knew how long?
She lowered herself on to the chair in the hall and let the receiver fall back on to its cradle. The impossibility of a future without Nick stretched away in front of her. At some point they would find his body. There would be a funeral. Life would go on. It seemed impossible to imagine it.
The doorbell rang, startlingly. Tom was striding to answer it. Suzie was suddenly conscious that she was in crumpled clothes, her hair tousled, shoeless.
‘Hi there, Tom. Can I come in? Is Suzie home?’
She heard the familiar warm voice of Alan Taylor, their Methodist minister. Next moment he was standing in the hall, in a sweatshirt that said ‘Chaplaincy Team’. His round, and usually cheerful, face was lengthened in concern.
As she rose from her seat he moved forward and hugged her. ‘Suzie! This is terrible news. Have there been any new developments?’
‘No. Nothing. How did you know?’
‘Mike told me. Don’t worry. He said you didn’t want it spread over the neighbourhood, but he thought I ought to know. I hope that’s OK? Don’t worry, I understand about confidentiality. It comes with the job. There are all sorts of people in the cong
regation who are hurting in ways the rest of you don’t know about. The names we print on the prayer list are barely half of it. But what happened?’
Suzie led the way into the sitting room and ran her hand over her untidy hair. ‘Nobody knows. He had a phone call yesterday afternoon, apparently setting up a meeting with Clive Stroud, the MP for Moortown. He told me not to wait tea. But he never came back. The police found his empty car outside Clive Stroud’s house at Fullingford. There’s been no sign of Nick since.’
‘Do you know why he’d be meeting Clive Stroud?’
Suzie wondered how much she should tell him. ‘It has to have something to do with the Eileen Caseley murder case. Do you remember that? A farmer’s wife was shot, just outside Moortown. Her husband’s been arrested for it. But it appears that she may have been having an affair with Clive Stroud. She left him – something – in her will.’
‘And what has all that got to do with Nick?’
‘It’s complicated. Nick didn’t know about the will, but he did know something important about the piece of land she left Clive Stroud. And the man who told him is dead.’
‘That’s scary. I can see why you’re upset. But there’s probably a simple explanation.’
‘That’s what I tried to tell myself yesterday. But today …’
‘Have they arrested the MP? It doesn’t look good for him, does it?’
‘No. They’ve taken his wife in for questioning.’
‘I see. Hell hath no fury, eh? The eternal triangle. But forgive me, I can see why she might kill the unfortunate Eileen Caseley, but why involve Nick?’
Suzie sighed. ‘That’s what none of us can understand. Nick had already told the police what he knew. It was too late to silence him.’
An expression of contrition came over Alan’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Suzie! I didn’t come here to play detective. It’s you I’m worried about. I was going to ask, “Are you all right?” But of course you’re not. Nobody would be. Would it help if we prayed?’
‘If you like.’ Suzie was immediately sorry that sounded so cold. She had prayed so many wild, helpless prayers during the night.
She was aware of Millie hovering in the doorway. Tom, she suspected, would raise his eyebrows in tolerant amusement if she invited him to pray, but Millie stayed listening.
