Except for Kathy.
‘I didn’t much like it,’ she said. ‘It was too fruity.’
‘It was a fruit pie,’ I said, gritting my teeth.
‘Yeah, well,’ she said, ‘I guess it was at that.’
Hobbes smiled. ‘We’d best get out of here and give the lass some space. Shall we all go through to the sitting room?’
‘Yes, Daddy.’
I went upstairs, changed out of my suit and into more normal wear, olive chinos and a crisply ironed white shirt. Going back down, I had to squeeze myself in beside Kathy on the sofa. I thought Hobbes looked a little ill at ease on the oak chair, but I approved that he’d got her away from Mrs Goodfellow. I’d have hated the cooking to be disrupted.
‘What are we doing this afternoon?’ asked Kathy with a smile for Hobbes. ‘After luncheon, that is.’
‘I really must get back to work.’ said Hobbes. ‘There was a break in at the bank last night.’
‘Wow, I didn’t realise how crime-ridden this quaint little town is.’
‘Perhaps Andy can look after you? Until I’m free.’
‘Do I have to?’ I said, wondering about kicking him; I might have had he not been so hard and had I not reminded myself that I was on my best behaviour. ‘That is … umm … I don’t want to interfere with Kathy’s plans.’
‘I have no plans … I was just hoping to spend a few hours with my daddy.’
‘Unfortunately, I have a job to do, and will probably be busy all afternoon. Andy will show you the sights. Won’t you?’
‘I guess so,’ I said, unable to see why she couldn’t go with him. He had, after all, taken me to numerous crime scenes without any problem. Perhaps he thought she would eat the evidence. I smiled, putting on a brave face. ‘Actually, I’ll be glad to.’
‘Thanks,’ said Hobbes.
‘In the meantime,’ I said, ‘tell us what happened at the bank.’
‘Person or persons unknown drilled into the vault from the cellar of the shop next door.’
‘I noticed one of the shops was being renovated,’ I said.
‘That’s the one. The builders weren’t at work yesterday, yet witnesses report hearing heavy machinery.’
‘So, the builders didn’t do it?’
‘It would seem not. The perpetrators apparently used an unusually powerful drill that made short work of the old bricks in the cellar and the reinforced concrete walls of the vault. They must have known precisely where they were going.’
‘Umm … does that mean an insider job?’
‘It’s a possibility, but the buildings down The Shambles are old and it’s possible that documents or plans fell into the wrong hands.’
‘Did they leave the drill behind? That might give some clues.’
‘No, there was nothing,’ said Hobbes. ‘They evidently had plenty of time to clear up.’
‘But wasn’t the vault alarmed?’ asked Kathy.
He looked puzzled and then smiled. ‘I take it that you’re asking whether there was an alarm in the vault. Yes, there was. Only it wasn’t working, because the wires had been cut by the drill. Unfortunately, it was not a modern alarm, which would have had back up power.’
‘Cut to the chase,’ said Kathy. ‘What was stolen?’
‘Bank officials are still checking records, so they don’t yet know about everything. However it is clear that Colonel Squire’s gold has gone, along with at least two other gold deposits.’
My mind made a connection. ‘Was Colonel Squire’s gold the same stuff that you retrieved from the gang?’
‘It was.’
Another connection popped into my head. ‘And don’t you have something in there?’
‘I did,’ said Hobbes. ‘That was also stolen.’
‘Hey,’ said Kathy, ‘Inspector Hobbes is back and this time it’s personal. I can see why you have to get out there. I’ll bet you want to kick some butt.’
‘I will do my job in my normal manner.’
‘But, how can you just sit here when the bad guys have gotten your property?’
‘Because,’ said Hobbes, ‘I want my dinner.’
‘It’s important to get your priorities sorted out,’ I said, repeating a lesson I’d learned from him and that, one day, I hoped to apply to my life.
She shrugged. ‘Well … OK … I suppose. But, what if the bad guys get away? It’s yours, Daddy. Was it cash? How much was there?’
‘I can’t remember,’ said Hobbes.
‘I’m not surprised,’ I said. ‘Sid reckoned you hadn’t looked at it since nineteen t…’
Hobbes’s cough interrupted me. He shook his head ever so slightly.
‘Dinner’s ready!’
Mrs Goodfellow’s shrill voice made me jump. I’d never worked out how she moved so silently, and wished she didn’t, for my nervous system must have been damaged by all the shocks. Still, it was some consolation to see Kathy’s reaction was even more extreme. I’d never before seen such a hefty woman do a vertical take-off.
‘Excellent,’ said Hobbes. ‘Shall we go through?’
Dinner was, of course, superb, the pork succulent and tender, the apple sauce fresh and sharp, the mashed potatoes fluffy, the glazed carrots and peas bursting with sweetness and flavour, and to top it all, there was the crackling, which just exploded into the taste buds and I think even Kathy was impressed, for she ate far more slowly than the previous evening. I put this down to her appreciation of what was before her, although it may have been connected with being full of pie. Even so, she still managed to find room for the apple dumplings Mrs G had somehow managed to rustle up, which made me appreciate the fruit at a new level and almost not regret the pie.
Afterwards, Hobbes sat back with a smile. ‘That was delicious, lass, thank you.’ He grinned at Kathy. ‘Now, perhaps you understand why I didn’t want to miss my dinner?’
Kathy nodded. ‘Yes, it was pretty good. Thanks a lot, Mrs Goodfellow.’
‘And now,’ said Hobbes, getting to his feet, ‘I’ve got bank robbers to catch. I hope you two have an enjoyable afternoon.’
He and Dregs departed and Mrs Goodfellow began the washing up.
I smiled at Kathy. ‘Is there anything you’d like to do?’
She shrugged, staring at me as if I were a cockroach. ‘What is there to do in this one horse town?’
‘I could … umm … show you the sights?’
‘What do you mean? Building sites?’
‘No … umm … there’s the church … and … and the park … and the museum … and the town. The museum’s got some sort of exhibition on, according to Sorenchester Life.’
‘OK, Mr Caplet, why don’t you wow me?’
‘I’ll do what I can, but you’d better make sure you wear something warm because it’s nippy … cold … out there.’
‘Let’s do it.’
She went upstairs to get ready. I waited on the sofa. I wasn’t much looking forward to the next few hours.
13
I waited and waited and then waited some more, before Kathy reappeared, wearing a red Puffa jacket that did nothing to hide her bulk, and a pair of tight blue jeans tucked inside cowboy boots. I sincerely hoped she’d never used them for actual riding, as I was quite fond of horses, so long as they kept their distance, for the feeling was not reciprocated. When I was small, a Shetland pony that was supposed to be taking me for a short ride along the beach had bolted and thrown me headlong into the sea. When I’d reached my teens, a larger and meaner specimen had chased me round and round a field, trying to kick me in the head whenever it wasn’t trying to bite me. On a third occasion, as I reported on a pet show, a dray horse had used me as a convenient scratching post, crushing me painfully against a stone wall. Still, on balance, I felt I would rather spend the afternoon with a horse than with Kathy, although the two were not entirely dissimilar.
‘Let’s do it,’ she said.
From her expression, she was looking forward to the afternoon with as much enthusiasm a
s I was, which, for some reason, felt like a snub. Nevertheless, I rose to the challenge, faking a cheerful smile, hoping to generate genuine cheerfulness.
I got up and, as I put on my overcoat, I told her that I liked her jacket. Although a blatant lie, I thought it might smooth the way.
‘Thank you, Mr Caplet,’ she said.
‘My friends call me Andy.’
She paused, just long enough to worry me, before smiling. ‘OK, Andy, show me the town.’
I escorted her along Blackdog Street towards the church and, although it would have been nice to have engaged in a scintillating conversation, I couldn’t think of anything to say until we were waiting to cross into The Shambles.
‘How did you get to Sorenchester?’
‘I caught a bus from London Heathrow Airport.’
‘So you flew to Britain?’ Sometimes I could catch on quickly.
‘Of course.’
‘How was your flight?’
‘Long and uncomfortable.’
‘But worth it to see your father?’
‘I guess so. I hope so. Are we going to cross this road, or do you plan to stand here freezing our butts off all afternoon?’
‘Oh, right … come on.’
We walked towards the entrance to the church. I had more than a few qualms about going back inside.
‘This,’ I said, ‘is the church. It’s very old.’
‘How old?’
‘Umm … I’m not sure … I’d guess at least six hundred years, maybe more. It was around long before Shakespeare.’
‘Did Shakespeare come here?’ she asked, sounding almost interested.
‘No, I was just trying to put it in perspective.’
‘OK. It’s not very big, is it?’
‘This is just the porch. Let’s get inside and away from the wind.’
As we entered beneath the Gothic archway, our footsteps echoing on ancient, patterned tiles, I continued, recalling the few facts I could remember: ‘Actually, it is quite big for such a small town. You see, hundreds of years ago, Sorenchester became very prosperous on account of the wool trade and the merchants decided to build something that would demonstrate their wealth.’
‘What a bunch of show-offs!’
‘Well … maybe.’
When we reached the main body of the church, I was impressed that there was no sign of the mess I’d caused. She showed little sign of being interested in the architecture, which many regarded as a first-rate example of English building, appearing equally unimpressed by the towering stone columns, the magnificent wood-vaulted ceiling, the spectacular carved fifteenth century rood screens and the superb stained glass medieval windows.
‘It’s smelly in here,’ she said.
‘It is a little,’ I acknowledged. ‘I’ve always put it down to generations of unwashed peasants worshipping in here, though it might be because of the damp. I think the roof leaked last winter.’
We walked slowly around until we came to a glass covered recess in a pillar.
‘That,’ I said, pointing at the gold goblet, ‘is the Roman Cup.’
‘Oh yes?’ she said, suppressing a yawn.
‘It’s made of pure gold, though it’s not actually Roman.’
‘Then it’s a stupid name.’ She perked up. ‘Pure gold you say?’
‘It’s priceless and it’s not actually a silly name, because it was donated to the church by Mr Roman, a Romanian refugee. Some believe it was once owned by Vlad Tepes, or, as he is more generally known, Dracula.’
Kathy raised her eyebrows. ‘No kidding? If it’s so valuable why isn’t it kept somewhere safe?’
‘Oh, it’s quite safe here. That recess is lined with inch-thick toughened steel and the glass at the front is bullet proof. What’s more there are all sorts of alarms and CCTV watching it. It was stolen some time ago, but your father and I got it back.’
‘You mean Daddy did and you tagged along?’
‘No … it really wasn’t like that. It’s a long story…’
‘Then, save it for the long winter evenings.’
‘Alright.’ I said, deflated, for it was a good story and I had saved Hobbes and another man from being murdered, not to mention helping solve the crime. Admittedly, things would have turned out very badly for me had Mrs Goodfellow not turned up in the nick of time, but I had, I considered, been quite heroic.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Kathy. ‘Show me something else.’
Leaving the church, we strolled around town. I pointed out Grossman’s Bank, which, like the shop next door, was festooned in police tape. It was guarded by Constable Poll, stamping his feet and blowing onto his long, bony fingers.
‘Afternoon, Derek,’ I said, assuming an easy familiarity with the lanky cop. ‘How you doing?’
‘Fine, except that it’s a nippy afternoon to be standing guard.’
‘That’s true. Is Hobbes in there?’
‘No, he looked in for a minute with his dog and left with Mr Sharples.’
‘Mr Sharples? Oh you mean Sid, the va … I mean, the director of the bank?’
‘That’s right,’ said Poll with a glance at Kathy.
‘Oh … umm … This is Kathy. She’s staying with us for a few days and I’m showing her around until Hobbes is free. She’s his … umm … I mean she’s new in town. From America.’ I hoped he didn’t think she was my girlfriend.
Constable Poll smiled. ‘You should take a look in the museum. It’s got a fantastic new exhibition of Viking gold that was found in a field over towards Hedbury.’
‘That’ said Kathy, ‘sounds like a great idea, and it would get us out of this goddam wind. My ears are frozen.’
‘Where are you from?’ asked Constable Poll.
‘California most recently,’ said Kathy. ‘I’m not used to this.’
‘What a great place,’ said Poll. ‘I went there on my holidays – my vacation I should say – two years ago.’
‘Yeah, it’s a blast,’ said Kathy grinning, ‘though your little town is kinda cute. Andy’s just been showing me the church. It’s so quaint and I love all the history. You have a pretty neat accent.’
‘So do you,’ said Constable Poll, grinning back. Then, standing to attention, he whispered: ‘I’ll have to stop chatting now. Superintendent Cooper is coming.’
The superintendent, an attractive woman in her late forties, with friendly eyes that belied a steely streak, was approaching. Although we’d only met a couple of times, I’d formed the impression she didn’t think much of me.
‘Thank you, Constable,’ I said, in a loud, unconvincing manner. ‘That was most helpful.’
He nodded and we turned away.
‘Nice guy for a cop,’ said Kathy.
‘Yes, Derek’s alright. Would you like to see the museum now?’
She shrugged. ‘Is it far?’
‘No, it’s just around the corner.’
‘Let’s go.’
When we reached Ride Street, although I pointed out the genuine Roman stone arch forming the entrance and the poster showing a golden crown to advertise the Viking hoard exhibition, Kathy ignored them, pushed straight past and joined a long queue.
‘Do you come here often?’ asked Kathy as we inched forward.
‘No, not really. I haven’t been in here since your father brought me here on a case. I don’t know why, because they’ve got some really amazing stuff.’
‘I’m looking forward to it.’
After about ten minutes, as we advanced another few inches and were next in line to pay, a sudden thought twisted me up inside.
‘Kathy,’ I whispered, the blood rising to my cheeks, ‘do you have any British money on you?’
‘What d’you mean, “on me”?’
‘Do you have any British money with you? Now?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Well … umm … the thing is, I haven’t either. I forgot. I’m sorry.’
‘You really are something else. Jeez!’
‘I just didn’t think.’
‘I can believe that, but, don’t worry, I’ll get us in.’
‘How?’
‘Watch and learn, buddy.’
But, just as the young couple in front had paid for their tickets and were heading inside, she groaned, swayed and tottered forward.
‘Pardon me,’ she said in a feeble voice, ‘I’m feeling faint.’
The young man, fortunately a strong young man, caught her as she dropped into his arms and, although his knees sagged, he held firm.
‘May I sit down for a moment?’ she murmured, exuding fragility.
The young man, with minimal assistance from me, supported her to a bench and the young woman, her face all concern, sat beside her, holding her hand, asking if she was alright. It was clear to me that she wasn’t and I was shocked how quickly it had come on.
‘Perhaps,’ said Kathy, ‘I might have a glass of water?’
‘I’ll fetch you one,’ said the woman at the till, hurrying away.
‘Shall I fetch Mrs Goodfellow?’ I asked, panicking and feeling useless. The old girl always seemed to know exactly what to do in a crisis.
‘No,’ said Kathy. ‘Stay with me, please.’
When the till lady returned with a glass of water, Kathy took it and sipped, before swaying and groaning. For a moment, I thought she was going to pass out.
‘Shall I call an ambulance?’ asked the till lady, taking the glass back.
‘No,’ whispered Kathy. ‘I’ll be alright in a few minutes. I have these turns now and again. It’s low blood sugar and comes on when I haven’t eaten enough. I’ve hardly had a bite all day, but I’ll be alright in a minute. I always am.’
My mouth gaped. How could she say such a thing?
‘Andy, would you sit with me?’
‘Yes, of course.’
She took my hand in her soft, pudgy one and gave it a gentle squeeze, leaving me puzzled and slightly alarmed.
3 Inspector Hobbes and the Gold Diggers Page 15
