“Oh yeah, they give a discount to the police don’t they?” Michael said with a bright smile for the Chief.
“Do they?” Richards asked. “Doesn’t matter though. I’d pay full price for that Peri-Peri chicken. It’s that good.”
Johns glanced back down at the file. “How about we eat at Nandos and run a copy of this over to the chap Helen Ryes mentioned.” He searched for the name in his notes. “Thomas Albright. That’s it. He’ll be able to translate it.”
“Sounds like a fun day. We’ve also got the appointment with Jinks at the forensic lab at eleven o’clock. Better get on the road,” Richards said turning to go when Johns’ phone rang.
“Yes,” Johns said into the phone. “Okay. Sure, send him down. I’ll talk with him.”
Johns told Richards and Michael to bring a car around to the front. The men left and in a few minutes, there was a brisk tap at his door.
“Come in Mr. Turner,” Johns called and the door swung open to reveal Alistair dapperly dressed and smiling.
“Mr. Turner, what can I do for you?”
Johns always found Perigrine and Alistair hard to read. Their dubious history was filled with unanswered questions regarding their involvement in possible criminal activities. He met them on a case in which they were mixed-up in a sting operation having to do with a group of counterfeiters. Somehow they managed to twist free of the major criminal counts, and got off serving a minimal sentence. Johns had a feeling there was always much more to the two men than what they appeared.
Alistair found a chair and sat down. “I’m here for two reasons. I read Russian and wanted to let you know that you have a thief problem at your house.”
Johns stiffened. His mind churning and red flags popping up. “Thief problem?”
“I think your Romani water travelers are parked along the Calder River somewhere below your farm and they’re messing about in your barns and are helping themselves to a few eggs. Mrs. Littleword ran into one this morning. Someone calling herself Miri.”
Red flags were forming themselves into flashing red warning signals in Johns’ mind. Miri was Stephan’s older sister. If the Romani people were camping on his farm, it was no longer a safe place for Martha and Helen or his mother. Whoever was hunting the Romani would be watching their movements. If Alistair was right, they would soon learn about the farm and see Helen. Johns’ instincts told him to act immediately. He needed to know Polly and the girls’ whereabouts.
“Did you leave my mother in the house, Alistair?” he asked.
Alistair shook his head. “Polly went down to the river to see where the water travelers were tied up.”
Shaking his head, Johns picked up his phone and dialed his mother’s number. No answer. Not a positive sign.
“Did you happen to hear where Helen and Martha went?” he asked while trying to dial Martha’s number.
“They left for The Grange. Something about work.” Alistair sat up in his chair. “Do you want me to run over there and check on them?”
“No, but I do want you to try and remember exactly which direction you saw Mum walk. She’s not answering her mobile, something she never does.”
He dialed Martha’s number. The phone call was only on its second ring when she answered.
“Hey, big guy.” Martha’s voice sounded cheerful. “What’s up?”
A pleasant zing zipped through Johns when he heard her voice, but he didn’t have the time to play phone-footsie with her. Instead, he asked, “Martha, are you and Helen somewhere fairly safe at the moment? You were supposed to call the constabulary when you left this morning and have an officer accompany you to work. I think it would be best if you both come immediately to the constabulary. I’ve been talking with Alistair Turner and he told me about the Romani woman, Miri, being at the farm this morning. If the Romani are being followed, the farm isn’t safe anymore.”
“We’re wrapping up our work. It’s about nine thirty now. I’ll talk with Helen. I don’t think she’ll mind coming over.” Then Martha said in a low whisper, “Probably have to bring Piers with us. He’s being cozy with Helen this morning.”
Johns got an idea. “Martha, is Piers close by or will you please have him call me immediately?”
Martha said she would have him call, but her tone told him there was a lack of enthusiasm for the request. He knew Martha didn’t like to be managed. As a few minutes passed, Johns and Alistair waited tensely without much conversation. Finally the phone rang.
“That you, Cousins?” Johns asked without even a hello into the receiver.
“Yes, Chief. What do you need?”
“Would you do me a big favor and take the girls to Healy for the rest of the day? I need them somewhere safe. They’d probably prefer being there than tucked into a jail cell here at the constabulary. Flower Pot Cottage isn’t safe and neither is the farm until I get some men over there.”
“Absolutely,” Piers said.
Johns was beginning to think better of Cousins. He was proving to be a good sort after all.
“Thank you, Cousins. I’ll keep in touch. One thing more, I know the Calder runs through your estate. If you wouldn’t mind having your gamekeeper check to see if there are any canal boats tethered anywhere along your banks, I would appreciate it. Boat numbers, colors and flags would be extremely helpful.” The Chief hung up the phone. Alistair’s expression was grim.
“Something on your mind, Mr. Turner?”
Johns detected the muscles of Alistair’s jaws twitching, but otherwise the man was unreadable.
“I would like to give you some advice, Chief, that is if you’ll have it?” Alistair said.
“Appreciate anything you’re willing to share, Mr. Turner,” Johns said with genuine interest. He knew Alistair was unsure, or perhaps unwilling, to say everything on his mind, so he waited.
“I would offer that you might be careful who you choose to translate the document the gypsy man gave you. I think there may be some unscrupulous or more likely, dangerous people, who’d like to get their hands on it.”
Johns regarded Turner intensely for a brief moment. “Why do you think this?”
“You’ve got a Russian letter, two murders in as many towns and three gypsy boats with unusual house flags. Those flags have a black eagle on them and if I’m not mistaken it’s an imperial eagle.”
“Meaning a Russian heritage perhaps?” Johns asked.
Alistair shook his head, “Meaning those Romani have something that’s caught the attention of a person who hires eastern European hit men.”
“How did you learn this?”
“Helen Ryes told us at breakfast. Piers Cousins heard the men’s accents when they were going to kill him on the bridge, but I guess you probably already know this.”
“Yes, and I’ve got a colleague in ACRO who is checking on known criminals fitting the descriptions Cousins gave us last night. We’re focusing on illegals from eastern Europe and of course Russia. The background checks on the Romani family have come back clean. They’ve got a nice English pedigree going back a few generations.”
“Let me come with you to search for Polly,” Alistair said. “I would like to talk with the Rossar-mescros and Perigrine will be useful as well.”
“Thank you, but I don’t want to involve either of you in something potentially dangerous. I’m going to try my mother one more time and if she doesn’t answer, I will take another constable with me to find her. In the meantime, Mr. Turner, if you should come across any information regarding the men we are seeking, I would greatly appreciate a head’s up.”
Alistair glanced down at the file still open on Johns’ desk with the infamous document lying on top.
“I’m taking this to a man Helen Ryes suggested in Nottingham. He may be able to translate it. He’s retired from a branch of the government that dealt with translations. It probably holds the key to this entire investigation,” Johns said, never taking his eyes off Alistair.
The debonair, well-dressed man’s face never hinted at h
is inner thoughts. All he said was, “Whoever you show it to, will most likely need serious police protection. Not everyone who’s worked for the government is of the highest moral fiber.”
Johns considered his point. He stood up and walked over to the corner table where the hot water maker sat and flipped the button at its base causing the water to begin to boil and hiss. “That’s a copy. The real letter is in London for carbon dating and DNA testing.”
He turned to Alistair who was now standing in the doorway and said, “If this man can’t help us, I would appreciate your assistance. I don’t want to endanger your life Mr. Turner…yet.”
Alistair laughed good-humoredly at the Chief’s remark. “How dull for us. The offer is there if you need it. Thank you for your concern.”
As Johns watched, Alistair disappeared around the doorframe into the hallway and the phone rang again on his desk. Reaching over, he grabbed the receiver.
“Yes?” he said. “Thank God, Mum. Where are you?” Listening, he said in a serious tone, “I’ll be right there.”
Johns hung up the phone and hurried out of his office to where Endicott and Richards were waiting for him in the parking area. He jumped into the car.
“Boys, we’re going to need to change vehicles. We’ll need the Land Rover for where we’re going.”
“Aren’t we going to Nottingham?” Richards asked, sounding disappointed and laying a protective hand on his comfortable paunch.
“No, we’re going to collect my mother whose bullheadedness has nearly got her killed. Call Jinx at the forensic lab and tell her we’ll be there later. Come on!”
In less than five minutes, the ten men pulled out of the yard driving a military, green colored utility vehicle. A light drizzle was falling, causing Johns to curse loudly about the English weather and drive even faster toward his family farm. He prayed he’d get there in time.
Chapter 15
THE RAIN WAS FALLING IN sheets around the car making Martha’s ability to see the road difficult. She was following Helen and Piers to Healy but remembering her pets at the farm, she slipped down a different road, making a slight detour to check on them.
Ditches were collecting rainwater and cast-off leaves along the narrow country lane. The temperature was dropping from the cold front moving in. Martha turned up the heat in the Mini Cooper as she worried about her pets huddled in the barn, probably distraught from the storm. With the wipers whipping back and forth across the windshield and the rain lashing the car, she was barely able to make out the beautiful timbered barns in the distance indicating she was getting closer to Johns’ farm.
Pulling in through the gate and slowly driving the tight road to the house, an uneasy feeling crept upon her. She reached for her purse and dug around inside for her cell phone looking at the time. It was still early, only a little after ten o’clock. Once she made it to the front of the old farm house, she saw Polly’s car still in the same place it had been earlier that morning. It was tucked into one of the old stalls of the front shed. Martha stopped the Mini Cooper and turned off the engine. As sudden blast of wind buffeted the car and whipped the rain with ferocity causing her to hesitate about going out into the storm.
A final thought for personal safety caused her to pick up her cell phone. She sent a message to Helen saying she’d made a quick stop at Polly’s to check on her pets and would be on her way to Healy in a few minutes. Throwing the car door open, she jumped out and ran toward the barn hopping over puddles and dodging small, muddy rivulets of water. She pushed hard on the big door, forcing it to swing open applying her entire weight upon it to shut it once again. There were no lights on in the old building making it dark and difficult to see in. Amos came rushing up with a cheerful greeting and a wagging tail.
“How are you, Fuzzy Pants,” Martha cooed lovingly to the furry four-pounder. “You are getting around so much better today.” Soon loud, distraught mewing came from the horse stall. Gus and Vera squeezed through the stall gate and came trotting over to Martha with their tails high in the air. They rubbed their sides along her legs mewing to be picked up.
“Well, aren’t you two being extremely affectionate?”
She reached down to collect both cats which wasn’t particularly easy because Gus was topping twelve pounds the last time he went to the vet. The vexed felines cried and complained about their harsh living accommodations while Amos sat smiling and wagging her tail so that it brushed the barn’s hay strewn floor collecting straw in the few inches of long wiry fur remaining on the tip of her tail.
“Come on, kids, I’m taking you with me. This has all been too much for you. Let’s get you in your carriers and into the car. I shouldn’t have brought you here. You would be much happier at Lillian’s.”
Whenever Martha would go out of town, she would often have a friend named Lillian babysit her menagerie. Stuffing the cats into one carrier and Amos into another, she comfortably tucked them into their tiny, portable dens. They became quiet and docile. Peeking in to see their faces, she knew by the cats’ expressions they might hold a grudge for a while.
Headed for the door of the barn with a carrier under each arm, she stopped dead in her tracks. Coming along the side of the building, she heard men’s voices speaking in an accent that sounded Russian. It immediately dawned on her, these could be the same men who attacked Piers or were skulking around her cottage.
If she went outside, they would run right into them. Quickly scanning the barn, Martha saw a huge pile of hay against the far wall. With no time to waste in case they should come inside the barn, she ran over and quietly burrowed into the straw, covering herself and the two pet carriers. She whispered to the cats and Amos to stay quiet.
Soon, the barn door’s hinges creaked, telling her she’d been right about them possibly coming inside. Amos growled in a low guttural way and Martha hushed her. Studying Martha sideways, Amos’ eyes questioned whether this approach was a sound one, but with dutiful compliance, she laid her head down between her paws in quiet submission.
The men were staying in one place. They must be waiting out the storm thought Martha. As if on cue, the wind died back. She heard car doors slam outside and the two men chattered nervously between themselves in the same Russian language.
Martha hesitated about what to do. Who might be outside? Would the men decide to hide, too? What if they picked the same haystack she was in? It was in the middle of her worried musings that an answer supplied itself. Martha heard a scratching noise and a soft rustling against her back. Her mind flashed “mouse” and she levitated out of the hay like someone had set fire to her back end.
“Ahhhh!” Martha screamed, bounding free from her hay-mound tomb.
The men jumped at the sound of her scream and turned around in time to see a crazed, straw-encrusted banshee flying at them. Turning frantically, they pulled on the door of the barn to escape, but as they got it open they came face to face with Johns, Detective Richards and Sergeant Endicott.
SURPRISE BLANCHED THE FACES OF all five men, but it was Sergeant Endicott and Richards who gave chase to the men as they ran out into the open pasture. Johns stayed put and watched them go.
Besides, with a green Mini Cooper parked not more than twenty feet away and the sound of that all too familiar scream, he wanted to get a better look at what put such fear into those two men that they were willing to take their chances outside in the storm instead of staying dry in the barn.
Johns poked his head through the door and everything went black. He woke up lying on his back with the subtle perfume of gardenias mixing with a pounding pain in his head. As he willed the barn roof to come into focus, a face slowly moved into his peripheral vision. It was like watching a sunrise. First, it rose from the horizon line and with its looming intensity so close, he shut his eyes to block-out the sheer magnitude and nearness of the orb.
“Are you alright?” Martha whispered into his ear.
He realized the perfume must be hers. Opening his eyes, he found himself st
aring into a dense mass of red hair riddled with straw pieces sticking out of it in every direction. A light pressure on his chest told him she had her head laying there.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a soft voice.
Her head popped up off his chest and again the orb loomed right next to his face causing him to blink.
“Checking to see if you were still alive,” she said, keeping her voice a whisper.
“You haven’t killed me yet. You’re doing a great job of trying. I’ll give you that, but I’m fortunately made of fairly hardy stock.” He winced as he tried to sit up.
Martha helped him into an upright position. “I thought you were one of the men coming back.”
Johns’ stomach took a nose dive. Like a man ready to kill someone with his own two hands, he took in her disheveled hair with pieces of hay mashed into it and his mind skyrocketed to a horrible place.
“Did they touch you?” he demanded. “I’ll kill them.” He tried to get to his feet.
Martha pulled him back down to earth with a firm tug on his arm. “Absolutely not, sweetie. They never knew I was in the barn.” She patted his arm. “I didn’t know it was your head I… well… tapped, until you were lying on the ground.”
“Tapped? You call that a tap?” He rubbed the protruding knot on the back of his cranium. “Woman, why are you so damned difficult?”
Martha smiled up at him sweetly and leaned in closely putting her index finger on his lips as a sign he should shut up. “You’re cute when you’re mad. Are you done fussing about that smidgen of a bump?”
Johns had never in his life been talked to by a woman like that, but he kind of liked it. Her closeness made his heart beat faster and the smell of her perfume filled his head like a drug. Martha gazed steadily into his eyes and smiled as she leaned in. He knew what was coming so he shut his eyes and… a light kiss nipped the tip of his nose.
“All better?” she asked.
His eyelids flung open and feeling stupid and terribly disappointed, he peered into her mischievous face. He reached out and with his heart thumping, he pulled her deep into his embrace and kissed her for a long time.
A Debt Is Finally Paid (A Marsden-Lacey Cozy Mystery Book 2) Page 9
