Standing at the threshold to the garden behind the small gate stood the slim figure of Monique Carstairs. She paused before pushing through and along the garden path. She had a grip on the handle of a stubby dark suitcase that trundled behind her on wheels. A pair of dark sunglasses was the only addition to the outfit that she had been wearing when she had left.
Albert dropped the curtain and turned to inform Diane but was too late. Diane’s chair was empty, and she was moving rapidly through the doorway to the hall beyond.
“How-“, started Albert.
“Your fingers stopped tapping,” Diane said over her shoulder as she reached for the front door.
Diane did not say a word as Monique stepped into the house and pushed her case into the hallway. Peering through the closing slit of the doorway, Diane looked over the garden and the street beyond. Nothing leapt to her attention at her as out of the ordinary, but she had to be certain that no-one had tracked Monique to the house.
Guiding Monique into the living room to the sofa, Albert asked if she wanted a tea, a coffee, water, something to eat. Diane wondered if he saw a little of his own daughter in Monique and his protective instincts were being triggered.
“Albert,” said Diane, “Would you take Monique’s bag to her room and then keep a lookout for the Inspector?” While she had worded it as a question, she knew Albert would do as she asked without response and understand the subtext of being the lookout.
Patting Monique gently upon her hand, Albert said with a reassuring smile:
“You’ll be safe here.”
Albert made his way past Diane, checked the front door was locked, and picked up Monique’s case with a huffing breath. Diane heard his heavy footsteps stomp up the staircase and along the short landing to the guest bedroom.
“How are you doing?” she asked Monique, who pulled off her glasses to reveal red-rimmed eyes.
“I still don’t know what to make of all this. I just don’t understand what’s going on.” There was a quiver in her voice, the sound of not-too-distant tears lurking.
Diane nodded slowly.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it. Inspector Crothers is a good man and he’ll have this under control in no time flat.”
There was a certainty to her tone that seemed to put Monique at ease a little, a certainty that Diane did not actually feel herself.
“It’s so kind of you to put yourself out like this. I’m sure you don’t take in everyone that comes to you for help.”
“Not often,” replied Diane. “Though I helped a poor young boy a few years ago that had seen something that put him in quite some danger. The Inspector, well he was Sergeant then, he helped on that case too. Or I helped him. It depends on who you ask. Anyway, you’re in good hands.”
Monique looked at Diane hopefully.
“What happened to the boy?”
“I don’t know for sure. He got a new identity and a new life somewhere. I get a postcard from different parts of the country every now and then, just thank-yous and best wishes, no details. But I think that shows he is doing well, and being smart about staying hidden.”
Monique nodded and sat back into the sofa, placing the glasses upon the padded arm.
“I can’t thank you enough either. If Inspector Crothers hadn’t suggested you, I don’t know where I would be right now. You’re so kind to take me in after we just met.”
“We try to do our part. A kind deed today can be the key to a successful tomorrow. I always used to try to impress that upon the children at my school. You can never tell when it is you that will need that helping hand.”
Diane heard feet on the staircase followed by Albert poking his head around the door.
“Inspector Crothers and another fellow. Probably police too, I’d say. Same taste in haircuts.”
“Now we’ll get to the bottom of this,” Diane said as she rose from her chair. Monique made to rise, but Diane waved her back. “Stay here and we’ll be right in. Try to relax, they’re here to help.”
Diane arrived as Albert was welcoming the Inspector and his friend into the house.
“Is she here?” asked Crothers abruptly.
“In the living room,” responded Diane who turned to the unknown guest.
Taking a cue, the stranger said:
“I’m Detective Inspector Mills, Shrewsbury C.I.D.”
Oliver Mills was as tall as Inspector Crothers though broader across the chest and his hands, which he offered to shake Diane’s, had thick, stubby fingers. His nose matched his chest, spreading a little farther across his face than was usual, and gave him the appearance of a boxer that had taken many a blow to the head.
Diane introduced herself and Albert and turned back to Inspector Crothers.
“Do you have any news of her husband?”
Crothers shook his head but replied, “I can’t discuss that. This is an ongoing investigation now.”
“Indeed,” said Diane with a raised eyebrow. “Then we won’t hold you up.”
She motioned the policemen into the living room and made inquiries about beverages as they settled into chairs.
“Come along, Albert. Let’s leave these gentlemen to their business.”
Diane paced briskly into the kitchen closely followed by Albert. Behind them, she could hear Inspector Crothers making introductions between Monique and D.I. Mills. Leaning into Albert’s ear, Diane whispered:
“Make enough noise for the two of us. Clink some cups and saucers for me.”
Albert gave a quick wink and headed further into the kitchen, leaving Diane just inside the doorway, out of sight of the living room, but not out of earshot.
“I’ve sent several uniformed officers to your house to make sure nothing gets disturbed. The scene of crime folks will be there shortly too.” Mills had a deeper voice than Crothers and spoke with a Welsh lilt.
“Now, let’s start at the beginning,” said Crothers. “Describe your husband to me.”
“I told you this earlier, Inspector,” said Monique, her voice betraying some agitation. “He works in Birmingham, he likes to play golf, he’s a good man, responsible, quiet, gentle, and loving. There’s nothing new, nothing alarming in his recent behaviour. And no, I don’t think he had a mistress.”
“Can you think of anyone with a grudge against him?”
“No, otherwise I would have told you already.” Exasperation sounded in her tone.
“Alright, I just wanted to get Detective Inspector Mills up to speed,” placated Crothers. “He will be working the investigation on the Shrewsbury end, I’ll be working the Telford angle, and I’ve spoken to my counterpart in Birmingham, an Inspector Sturgess, who will be making inquiries there.”
“I’m glad you’re all finally taking me seriously.”
“Inspector Mills would like to talk to you about the incident at your house. It would be too much of a coincidence for the two events not to be connected.”
Albert rattled a metal kettle even though the water was boiling in a plastic one. He looked over at Diane who gave him a thumbs-up and received a mug-on-mug clatter in return. Rufus, who had taken up an observing position near his water bowl, watched the antics with poorly disguised annoyance.
“No-one I can think of. I thought our neighbours were friends. I mean, we’re all part owners of the company, so we have to get along, don’t we?”
“What company is this?” asked Mills.
“MizzenMount Property Management,” said Monique.
“And that is…”
“The company that owns all of the houses and property in our community.” There was a pause before Monique continued. “It’s the company that owns our houses, and we all have a partial stake in it. The company built the houses, and we repay the company back over time to cover the loan payments. Or something like that. Jonathan dealt with that side of it.”
“So you all share the facilities, and you’re all stakeholders in each other’s properties?”
“Oh yes. The swimming
pool and tennis court and all that. We share it between us. And we pay the company every month for the houses and the upkeep.”
Albert dropped a baking sheet on the floor and apologized loudly to no-one.
“And how is the company doing?” asked Crothers. “Everything running smoothly?”
“There’s been a bit of friction at the tenant meetings recently. Jonathan said it was something to do with some people not paying their share and it was putting MizzenMount in a difficult situation with its creditors. You don’t think that has anything to do with this, do you? I mean, it’s not like it was our fault.”
“You never know what might be useful in an investigation,” said Crothers. “It could be the tiniest detail, so we have to ask about any tension or issues.”
“Oh. But I can’t be much help. Jonathan dealt with the business side of things.”
“It’s a beautiful area that you live in,” said Mills.
“It really is,” said Monique brightly. “We love it. There are so many trees and hills and little brooks. And so quiet away from all those big roads.”
“How long have you lived in the community?”
“Three years, roughly. We were one of the first people to sign up after we got married and MizzenMount was looking for tenants even before the houses were built.”
“Did you hear of anyone else that MizzenMount might have beaten out of buying the property?”
“I don’t know,” Monique’s voice sounded exasperated again. “We just live there and pay the company.”
“But you are part owners, so you might be held responsible if MizzenMount annoyed the wrong people. You didn’t hear of any company that might want the property?”
“Well, I hadn’t thought of it like that. Now that you mention it, there is someone trying to buy MizzenMount out now that there are finance problems. Some builder that wants a golf course and hotel. It’s been mentioned at tenant meetings too. But how could they be involved?”
“Do you have a name?”
“I don’t remember it; I was only half-listening at the meeting. They’re so dull. But Jonathan had some papers with the name on at home.”
Albert coughed loudly, and Diane turned to see the drinks arrayed on a tray. He handed the tray to her, and she noisily made an entrance into the living room.
“I hope everyone likes bourbon biscuits!”
Inspector Crothers snapped his notebook shut and looked over at D.I. Mills.
“Lovely,” said Mills as he turned from Monique.
After handing out the drinks, Diane and Albert played host and steered the conversation clear of the case. Monique relaxed noticeably, sipping on her tea and lounging backwards into the cushions of the sofa. Crothers and Mills were amiable, but Diane noted a strain in their demeanour as if they would prefer to be elsewhere but were too polite to leave. She had seen it many times with parents of disruptive children who had little interest in their child’s behaviour or in correcting it.
Eventually, as the drinks dried up, Crothers stood and placed his mug on the tray that Diane had left on the sideboard.
“Probably time for us to go,” he said, looking at Mills.
“Yes, yes. Delicious biscuits,” said Mills who handed his cup to Crothers. “Lots to do. I need to check in with the Crime Scene Investigator at the house and find out what’s emerged.”
Turning to Monique, Crothers said:
“We will be in touch very soon. I’ll let you know as soon as we find anything.”
“And I’ll let you know if Monique remembers anything,” said Diane. “Now let me show you out.”
Monique thanked the officers and finished her drink. She helped Albert collect the tray, and they took it to the kitchen where more rattling ensued.
Diane unlocked the door, and the men walked out into the yard. Crothers turned to say his farewell and found Diane directly behind him, her hand pulling the door shut behind them.
“Inspector,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I may have something to add that I’m not sure Monique knew about. And I don’t want to alarm her if it’s nothing.”
Mills went to speak but stopped when Crothers nodded to him. We should listen, it implied. Crothers gripped Diane’s elbow gently, and the three of them walked a little further down the pathway.
“Jonathan Carstairs might be the focus of the break-in. That word ‘TRAITOR’ seems very odd if directed at Monique, but not so much for Jonathan.”
“You know he has enemies?”
“Maybe. His job is to liquidate companies, and there might be someone in the community where they live that got the short end of the stick from him because of it. This economy hasn’t been kind to many people recently.”
“So the ‘TRAITOR’ might have been someone that Jonathan saw as a friend but who held a grudge because he had sold his livelihood from underneath him.”
“Or her, Inspector.”
“Of course. And that might explain his disappearance too.”
“Possibly,” said Diane. “If someone will break into a home and damage it like that, it’s not a stretch to think they might be capable of more. A lot of anger went into that.”
Mills interjected:
“He could just be hiding out. Maybe he got a threat against him. I’m not sure his wife would have known; she seems pretty oblivious to anything that her husband is involved in.”
“We can hope that is the case,” said Diane. “I just sense something dark in this. I hope I’m very wrong.”
“We do too,” said Crothers. “Now, we must get on with our inquiries. Do you need me to post a police officer?”
“I don’t think so,” said Diane. “Albert and Rufus can take care of us.”
She turned back to the house and heard the gate shut behind the two policemen. She pushed open the door and found Monique in the hallway, turning to head upstairs.
“Albert suggested I get unpacked and take a rest,” said Monique.
Diane noted that she seemed calmer, much more so than when she had first arrived that morning. She concluded that it must be the relief that action was finally being taken.
“A very good idea. Make yourself at home, dear. Don’t worry about lunch, we’ll set something aside for you if you drop off.”
“You’re so kind,” said Monique as she mounted the stairs.
Diane clicked the lock on the front door and returned to the living room to see Albert lounging on the sofa again with his magazine.
“Backdoor’s locked too.” He did not look up from the magazine as he worked his slippers off his feet. “Make any progress?”
“It’s hard to say,” said Diane as she walked over to her writing desk and her notebook. “There are possibilities opening up.”
“Good! You’ll have it cracked by nightfall then.” Albert was jovial, his faith in Diane’s skills buoying his spirits.
“That’s a long time away, and there’s so much we don’t know.”
“Yet.”
“I’ve got plenty to do till then.”
“Release the hounds!” said Albert who was now lying across the sofa. “Let the hunt begin!”
Diane looked at her notes and tried to let Albert’s brightening spirits lift her own. She tried. A darkness sat heavily upon them, however, and the more Diane considered the possibilities, the more leaden her spirits became. There was a wicked person on the loose and, if the anger shown in the house was any indicator, the Carstairs may be in serious danger. And as the protectors of Monique, she and Albert may have brought that evil straight to their own door.
Chapter 4
“Birmingham New Street has been a bit of a bust.” Sergeant Barnes’s metallic voice came from the speakers of the car across the secure radio channel. “No-one recognized the picture we sent over. They’ve got someone in with the Transport Police now, looking over the CCTV footage of the platform. They think it’ll take a while; they have been putting in more cameras due to the terrorism issue.”
“Alright,” said I
nspector Crothers. “Keep in touch with them. What’s the news on our search?”
“The same outcome so far, sir. No-one remembers seeing Mr. Carstairs in the station last night. CCTV review there too. I’ve got a couple of lads looking for the crew of the train, but that will take some time. They could be anywhere on a train today.”
Crothers acknowledged the Sergeant’s report and disconnected, hanging the radio under the dashboard.
“Nothing new there either, eh,” said Detective Mills. “Goes about perfect with the unmanned station near his house too. He’s pretty elusive for someone that doesn’t seem to have a secret worse than he bites his nails.”
Crothers looked at the blurred hedges as Mills raced them along the motorway toward the Carstairs’ home. A disappearance with a vandalized home of a couple who had about as much connection with the criminal underworld as a mouse had with racketeering.
“There’s always a deeper secret if you search hard enough. I wonder what the Mr. and Mrs. Carstairs have that is keeping the closet skeletons company.”
“My money’s on a Mistress.” Mills dropped a couple of gears to take the exit at a reasonable speed. “Or on the missus having a friend of her own. There’s some natural tendency for promiscuity among the wealthier set.”
The car curved smoothly onto a roundabout and Mills flowed with the traffic and onto the northbound road.
“I’m not so sure,” said Crothers, frowning unconsciously. “Why destroy the house if he’s just running off with someone?”
“Throw everyone off the trail, maybe. Or it could be Monique Carstairs has a bit of a vicious streak and is getting her runaway husband into some hot water. Start a manhunt while he’s oblivious and shacked up with his mistress.”
“She didn’t seem the devious sort like that,” said Crothers. Though he admitted to himself, you really couldn’t tell the devious ones until they got careless.
Mills had been racing along a wooded road over a sequence of gentle ripples in the countryside when he braked hard on a rise and turned right into a wide driveway. There was no street sign or engraved wall at the entrance, but from the high fence, large secure gate, and the line of large houses standing beyond, Crothers assumed they had arrived.
The Diane Dimbleby Murder Collection Volume 2 Page 17
