by Bill Kitson
Hardy accepted that, and made a couple of notes in a small Filofax he had pulled from his coat pocket. After a few seconds he looked up. ‘Strictly off the record; do you know where Brian Latimer and Barbara Lewis are?’
‘No, we don’t,’ Eve spoke before I had chance. ‘Not for certain, although Adam has a theory. In fact,’ she added, ‘I’ve never known Adam not to have a theory.’
‘I’m not suggesting you tell us, but if you can get word to them, please inform them that they are no longer being sought, and that it’s quite safe for them to come out of hiding.’
The chief constable turned to Hardy. ‘We must also remember to notify the Mexican authorities that their victim isn’t Latimer.’
They thanked us and with Pickersgill in tow, headed for the door. ‘This has been very interesting,’ I told the chief constable. ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen John sitting for so long without speaking.’
The chief grinned. ‘Me too; and I’ve known him far longer than you.’ He stopped with one hand on the doorknob and handed me a fifty-pence piece. ‘For the tea bags.’
I think I may have mentioned before that I ought to stop making prophecies, because of the regularity with which they come true. My comment to Hardy that there may be more to the motive for the murders than the trunk road scheme was another example. However, this one would bring danger to Brian and Barbara; a danger they shared with Eve and me.
Chapter Sixteen
‘How are we going to set about getting the news to Brian and Barbara?’ Eve asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘If we simply walk up to the door of the Hall and knock, I doubt they would answer. They won’t know it isn’t a trap. For all they know, we might have been persuaded or bullied into cooperating with the police. Remember, their only experience of the local force is with Ogden.’
‘You have a point.’ I thought over the problem for a minute. Eve had thrown up a snag I hadn’t foreseen. ‘Why don’t you write a note to Barbara, explaining why we’re there and we can take it with us, knock on the door, and push the note through the letterbox. If you phrase it right, once they’ve read it, they should realize that we’re there to help, and hopefully they’ll know that we haven’t been put up to it.’
Between us we concocted the note and later that afternoon, as the light was beginning to fade, we set off. Shortly before we left, I had an idea. I nipped into the study and collected the gold coin I’d secreted in my desk drawer and put it in my coat pocket.
The weather had turned appreciably colder during the day, and there was a feeling of snow in the air. As I drove, I glanced around; the sky was uniformly leaden-grey, another indicator of what we might be in for. I mentioned the possibility to Eve, who groaned. ‘Not again; I thought we’d had enough of travelling in snow last winter.’
Our first problem came when we reached the entrance to Rowandale Hall. The lodge was empty. I remembered hearing gossip in the village pub. ‘The caretaker who lives there is away visiting his daughter and her family in California. I recall overhearing someone talking about it in the Admiral Nelson last week,’ I told Eve.
His absence didn’t create the problem in itself, but the ten-feet-high wrought iron gates were secured with three chains, each bearing a sturdy padlock, set at varying heights. ‘He obviously wasn’t leaving anything to chance,’ Eve commented, pointing at the chains. ‘What do we do now?’
‘One thing’s for sure, it’s scuppered any plans I had for driving up to the front door.’
‘There must be another entrance if Babs and Brian have got in.’
Eve was right; the problem was in finding it. We were already in semi-darkness, and missing a narrow lane, or choosing the wrong one, would be easy to do.
During the next thirty minutes, I began to appreciate just how numerous were the cart tracks, unmade roads, and dead ends in the vicinity of the Hall. This snag was compounded by the many promising-looking entrances that led to us staring at a five-barred gate, being eyed with mild curiosity by the sheep or cattle in the field beyond.
As I reversed with considerable difficulty for the fourth or fifth time, my language was less than polite, although deep down I knew the problem was of our own making. We had deliberately delayed setting off for the Hall until dusk, to avoid attracting the attention of the police or media. The amnesty on the runaway couple would not come into force until after Hardy took over the investigation the following day and it was beginning to look as if our haste to inform Brian and Barbara that they were no longer fugitives had backfired on us badly.
Eve put her hand on my arm. ‘Hang on, Adam. Why don’t we go back to the main gate? The stone wall surrounding the Hall grounds is only about eight or nine feet high. I’m sure we could climb over it and then walk up the drive. It’ll be much easier than struggling to find another way in, and you won’t swear half as much.’
‘Brilliant, Evie. Why didn’t I think of that?’
‘You don’t have a monopoly on good ideas, Adam.’
We parked across the end of the drive, secure in the knowledge that nobody would be using that entrance–unless they had a bulldozer. I took a torch from out of the glove compartment and checked that the batteries weren’t dead before we set off for the nearest section of wall.
From a distance, the stonework looked rough, and there appeared to be places where the mortar was missing; giving us good points to establish finger and toeholds. However, it was obvious that the shadows cast by shrubs and bushes surrounding the wall had deceived us. On closer inspection, the surface was smooth, the stones lined up perfectly, and the mortar was intact. ‘Let’s try further along.’
I followed Eve, knowing there was little alternative. Eventually, the torch beam picked out a promising spot. The mortar had crumbled in places and the long-deceased stonemason had been less than accurate in aligning the stones. Or possibly this was where his apprentice had been doing his training.
Eve scaled the wall first, with my help–or hindrance. As she started her climb, I put my hands out to support her and prevent her from falling. Seconds later, she was astride the top of it.
Now it was my turn. I made it, having acquired several painful bruises to my shins on the way, which provoked a further outburst of Anglo-Saxon. I joined Eve and shone the torch onto the far side to inspect our landing area.
‘What are those?’ Eve gestured towards the bushes below us. ‘Are they what I think?’
In amongst the foliage I could just see one or two dark, shrivelled fruits that the birds had missed. ‘They are–if you think they’re brambles. Lots of them by the look of it. Better let me go first and I can clear a space for you.’
Chivalry is all right, but it can have its drawbacks. The descent was far more difficult than the climb had been. Luckily, the bushes, which were capable of delivering countless scratches, did not quite extend to the wall side.
Having reached ground level, I helped Eve down, seizing the chance to hug her as she landed. She didn’t seem to object. ‘Now all we have to do is battle our way through this lot.’ I indicated the wilderness of foliage, which appeared far denser at ground level than it had from above. ‘I suppose we could try and force our way straight through. The only problem is we don’t know how far they stretch.’
‘Why don’t we follow the wall back towards the gates? You said yourself that the bushes are thinner close to the wall, and they’re bound to have been cut back near the drive.’
We adopted Eve’s suggestion, which on reflection was a sound one. I say ‘on reflection’ because it certainly didn’t seem so at the time. Itwaswithconsiderable relief that we emerged onto the grass that ran alongside the drive. ‘Now all we have to do is walk up to the front door, pop the note through the letterbox, and attract their attention.’
My confident statement was greeted by silence. A long silence, which Eve broke eventually. Her voice was soft and apologetic as she said, ‘Adam, there’s a bit of a problem.’
‘What is
it?’ I went for a little humour. ‘Don’t tell me–you left the note in the car.’
The silence was even longer. ‘You didn’t–did you?’
‘Yes, Adam. I’m sorry.’
‘We’ll have to manage without it. One thing’s for certain; no way am I going to attempt to fight my way through that Amazonian jungle again unless I have to.’
The drive was protected by trees which gave an eerie backdrop to our path. It seemed to go on for miles, but was probably less than half a mile. During our walk, the only sound was that of Eve’s footsteps, and even those seemed curiously muffled. We were no more than half way I guess, when Eve stopped walking. ‘Adam, switch your torch on for a second. I think the snow has started. I felt something cold and wet on my hand just now.’
Sure enough, the torch beam picked out occasional snowflakes that drifted lazily across the path of light. Great fun! At least the wind wasn’t blowing strongly. I’d forgotten that we were protected by the trees there. When we emerged from the avenue, and the tarmac gave way to gravel that crunched underfoot, I felt the wind sharp and cold on my cheeks. Ahead and to our left I could just make out the massive, dark brooding shape of the mansion.
We walked for a minute longer and then climbed the wide stone steps leading to the front of the building. I switched the torch on; intent on examining the huge oak double doors for a knocker or doorbell, and then started to laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘If I was you, I wouldn’t get too upset about that note you left in the car. It wouldn’t have done any good even if you had remembered it.’ I gestured to the doors. ‘There’s no letter box.’
‘Of course! The mail would be left at the lodge, wouldn’t it?’
‘Naturally; they wouldn’t want the postman trudging all the way up the drive when they had their own man to do it for them.’
‘That doesn’t help us, though. Got any bright ideas as to what we do next?’
I had a couple of ideas, but neither of them seemed particularly bright. ‘I reckon all we can do is hammer on the door, and if you call out for Barbara, we’ll just have to hope they hear us. And if they do hear us, we’ll have to hope they trust us enough to let us in. One thing for sure, having come so far and gone through all that morass of undergrowth, I’m not about to give up now.’
Ten minutes later my knuckles were getting sore. Added to which, Eve said she was starting to get a sore throat from yelling Barbara’s name. ‘Wait there a minute,’ I told her.
I went back down the steps, which were just beginning to be coated with snow. I found what I was looking for. I returned to Eve and handed her a stone that was about the size of my fist. ‘Use that and keep hammering on the door. My hand isn’t making enough noise.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to try round the back. There has to be more than one entrance.’
Like much of what we’d attempted that afternoon, going round to the back of the house was easier said than done. I trudged down the path that ran along the facade of the building for what seemed an age. As I walked, I wondered why people needed to build such enormous houses. When I eventually reached the far end I found my route was blocked by an immense stone wall. No way was I going to even attempt to climb another one that day. As it turned out, climbing that wall would not have done me any good, as it formed the back of the old stable block, converted since mechanisation into a series of garages.
Having reached this impasse, I took the only option open to me and retraced my steps to the front door. I paused for a word with Eve, whose assault on the oak was as yet yielding no results, before continuing my trek. ‘Keep it up, Evie, I’m off to try the other end. There has to be a way to get round to the back of this blasted mausoleum somewhere.’
It was as I heard Eve resume her attack on the door that I was struck by a terrible thought. What if I was wrong? What if Brian and Barbara hadn’t taken shelter in the Hall? The idea was only speculation, based on the amount of food they’d taken from Linden House. I didn’t think this was worth mentioning to Eve. Certainly not when she had a sizeable rock in her hand.
I reached the right hand side of the mansion and glimpsed what looked like an opening beyond the cornerstones. I was right; it was an arched wrought-iron gate that fronted a path along the side of the building. ‘They certainly like their wrought iron around here,’ I muttered. ‘Probably had their own blacksmith.’
Fortunately, this gate wasn’t padlocked, or indeed secured in any way. I touched it and it swung open. I shone my torch, aware that the snow was falling more heavily. I wondered briefly how Eve might feel about spending our winters abroad in future. The path was screened on one side by the building; on the other by some sort of evergreen hedge. Far from keeping the snow off me, this acted as a sort of wind tunnel, channelling the snow that was being driven by a strengthening wind straight into my face. The route to the back of the house was much shorter than the front of the building, and I soon emerged into a large courtyard. I reflected that Rowandale Hall was much like Mulgrave Castle in its layout. That was hardly surprising. There can’t have been that many architects working in the area during the Middle Ages.
I walked across the open space to the rear of the building; my efforts were rewarded when I noticed a narrow strip of light at about waist level. This proved to be from the bottom of a window, where the blind failed to reach right to the sill. My mood was lifted immediately, and I felt certain my theory was about to be proved correct. Alongside the window where the light was showing I could just make out the dark oblong of a door. I switched the torch on and stepped forward. As I reached for the doorknob, I stopped abruptly.
There’s nothing guaranteed to stop a man in his tracks quite as effectively as having an exceedingly sharp knife pressed none too gently against his windpipe. My assailant had appeared from the shadows silently and swiftly, and I knew at once who he was.
‘Brian, it’s me. Adam Bailey. Adam and Eve, remember. Barbara’s friends. We’re here to help. Eve’s banging on your front door.’ I was desperate to get my message across; not knowing what state of mind Latimer might be in, or how he’d been affected by the recent turmoil in his life.
My attacker didn’t reply, but a second later I felt the pressure on my throat ease as he reached past me and opened the door. I was thrust unceremoniously inside and the door was slammed shut. I blinked, accustoming my eyes to the bright light and heard the sound of bolts being drawn across. I was trapped inside the building with someone whose mental state I could not be sure was friendly.
‘Go down there; along that passage to your left.’
I obeyed–who wouldn’t? I walked along a short corridor, conscious that my knife-wielding assailant was shadowing me closely. A hand on my shoulder stopped me a couple of yards before the end of the passage. ‘Open that door; the one on your right.’
I did so and was pushed into the kitchen of Rowandale Hall. The room was massive; big enough to take the whole of the ground floor of Dene Cottage, I guessed. The kitchen contained only one occupant. Barbara Lewis was seated at the table; her expression anxious.
She relaxed slightly when she recognized the intruder. ‘Adam! What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to bring you some good news.’
I risked a glance over my shoulder and all but failed to recognize Brian Latimer. With the exception of the knife he was carrying, any resemblance to the wild man of the woods had gone. ‘Would one of you mind letting Eve in? Your front door might be able to withstand being battered by a rock, but her arm must be getting tired. Added to which it’s snowing heavily and she must be getting very cold. She can be very grumpy at times.’
‘We can’t open the front door, Adam. The police might be watching the house,’ Barbara said.
‘They’re not. We didn’t see anyone. That was part of the news I came to give you. You’re no longer on the wanted list. The manhunt will be officially called off tomorrow. Ogden has been removed
from the investigation and assigned to other duties. I know all this because we had a visit from Brian’s godfather this morning.’ I noticed Barbara’s puzzled frown and added, ‘He’s the chief constable.’
Five minutes later, Eve and I were reunited, and whilst we drank the tea Barbara provided, we filled them in with all we knew. I let Eve do the talking; she’s even better than me at it. Besides which, it gave me chance to study Brian Latimer.
It wasn’t only physically that his resemblance to the vagrant had gone. I could see that much of the stress and tension that had been all too apparent on our previous meetings was no longer there. His facial expression; even his posture were much more relaxed. I wasn’t sure to begin with if that was due to having the burden of suspicion lifted from him; or whether it was the fact that he was now back in the family home, or a combination of the two.
Then I saw him look at Barbara and realized that it had little to do with either his surroundings or innocence. I suppose my ability to recognize and identify the loving glance they shared might have been heightened by my own situation. I rejoiced quietly at what seemed to be their contentedness.
After a while Brian got up and walked over to one of the windows facing the courtyard. All the others had shutters in place, which was why they had not shed any light when I had passed them. He twitched open the curtains and stared out. ‘There’s a blizzard raging out there,’ he told us cheerfully. The snow is already settling and it doesn’t look like stopping.’ He turned to face us. ‘Why don’t you stay the night? Adam and I can go retrieve his car from the main gate and bring it round the back whilst you girls start preparing dinner.’ He smiled ironically and added, ‘It’s nothing fancy, I’m afraid, only Beef Wellington.’
