Ring of Guilt

by Judith Cutler

  As if on cue, Freya Webb bounded over, stopping short as she saw Harvey. I introduced them formally. ‘Harvey thought that after my name was so impugned yesterday, I might need some support,’ I added, my chin raised a little. I was quite pleased to have remembered that nice word impugned, too.

  He nodded. ‘Accusations like that can ruin the purest reputation. It’s an honour to stand shoulder to shoulder with her.’

  She looked as if she suspected that more than shoulders were involved, but smiled. While Harvey looked at all the pieces for sale, nodding occasionally to himself, I asked, ‘What’s the latest on Dilly? Not to mention Chris Mason?’

  ‘They’re still hoping she’ll make it. But she lost a lost of blood, as you saw.’

  ‘Is selling a ring enough to make anyone want to kill someone? Let alone your wife?’

  ‘As I’m sure your aware, domestic violence doesn’t operate on the level of logic. Could I just ask you to explain that business of the pendant once more?’

  ‘Might have been p . . . paranoia on my part. But I was worried about the secrecy she wanted. A lot of deals are confidential.’ I flicked a smile at Harvey. ‘But this was secretive. And involved cash and no receipts. That isn’t how Griff and I function. Ever. Absolutely everything we do is logged.’ X’s contributions apart, of course. ‘That’s why I asked DI Morris for advice.’

  ‘So you really expected someone to frame you?’

  ‘Yes. So although the tea bowl business was a shock, it wasn’t a surprise. If you see what I mean.’ I added, for Harvey’s benefit, ‘Lowestoft, Good Cross Chapel. And I’d seen it before, at the Broad-Ticemans’ place. Or its twin.’ I’d never even thought of that. My poor blancmange brain! ‘There must be others floating round in fairs like this. Bloody things. And why on earth should the B-Ts be in cahoots with Mason?’

  She blinked. ‘They needn’t be. They could have simply had the same devious idea.’

  ‘Bit of a coincidence,’ I muttered.

  ‘So you suspected it was a plant,’ Freya said, making a little winding gesture to get the conversation back where she wanted it. ‘That’s why you didn’t touch it?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Her smile was pretty bleak. ‘You were right not to have done. It was clinically clean. More than just a polish-with-a-duster clean.’

  I pulled a face. ‘Wouldn’t there be the odd bit of DNA on it?’

  ‘Only a bit. A hair from the Community Support Officer. But nothing, repeat nothing else.’

  Harvey joined in. ‘I hope whoever got it that clean didn’t damage the bowl in the process. If it was in good condition it was worth – what, five hundred pounds? Maybe more?’

  ‘I didn’t look all that closely, but yes. And it looked perfect. Have you run to earth the guy who planted it? I know the CCTV pictures weren’t great, but—’

  ‘He pops up, but again, not very clearly, on your Mrs Walker’s camera pictures,’ she said, pulling a face. She looked around. ‘I take it you gave her the morning off?’

  ‘No. No, actually I haven’t spoken to her today. I assumed she was with her new boyfriend, Mr Banner. They may just have lost track of time. She’s never let us down yet,’ I added, a frown appearing of its own accord. ‘Of course, she might just be caught in traffic.’

  ‘On a Sunday?’

  ‘And the doors aren’t open to the public yet. This is her first fair – she might not know you should get in early.’

  ‘Let me know if she doesn’t come – say, within the next half hour. I can understand that you might not wish to disturb love’s young dream, but I wouldn’t have the slightest compunction.’

  Another nice word. No time to worry about that now, however. ‘Have you . . .’ I searched for the police formula ‘. . . any reason to believe he’s not kosher?’

  She smiled grimly. ‘Maybe I’m just paranoid too.’

  I could have sworn she looked over my shoulder at Harvey. Perhaps he thought so too. He produced his card. ‘You might want to check me out too. I don’t know if it’s relevant, but because I do some voluntary work, I’ve had to have a Criminal Record check too. Negative,’ he added with a smile that didn’t so much as flicker towards the smug end of the spectrum.

  She nodded. ‘As a matter of interest, Lina, do you happen to know where Mrs Walker met her new boyfriend?’

  ‘He came into the shop,’ I said slowly. ‘And he was so pleased to see her here. Took her for a very long lunch. And then she came asking to have time off so she could have her hair done on Tuesday when they planned their first date.’

  ‘Let’s just hope their affair moved rather quicker than she expected, then,’ she said, and turned to move away.

  Not yet she couldn’t. ‘Freya, you never answered my question about Chris Mason. Did you run him to earth? No? And would you mind my asking if the five hundred pounds I gave Dilly just before the assault on her ever came to light?’ She didn’t need to answer either question. ‘A man can get a long way with that much cash in his pocket.’

  ‘True. He won’t need a cash machine yet. And he may avoid using his mobile phone. But we’ve still got a few tricks up our sleeve, Lina – surveillance cameras. Number recognition cameras. We’ll pick him up soon. Don’t worry. Ah! The paying public.’ She turned back for a moment, dropping her voice. ‘We’ve put out a statement about the assault on Dilly, but haven’t mentioned you at all. With luck, the other stall holders will be so irritated at having to traipse through the hotel for alternative loos you won’t figure in any conversations at all. If they do, well, we’ll just have to hope that having Mr Sanditon here will allay everyone’s fears.’

  If there’d been punters for everyone else and none for me, he might have had to. But there was hardly anyone around yet.

  ‘Tell me about this Lowestoft tea bowl,’ he said, ‘and the Broad-Ticemans.’

  I gave a quick resumé.

  He nodded. ‘You’ve seen that they’ve got a lot of money tied up in the property and in paintings?’

  ‘They’re rich,’ I exploded. ‘Bloody rich.’

  ‘Only if they can sell their assets. The way the market is now they may actually be suffering cash poverty.’

  ‘Poor things,’ I said, not very sincerely, perhaps because I knew at first hand about the commoner sort of poverty. ‘But why try to get at me? What had I ever done to them? We inhabit different worlds. No competition, no rivalry. She played with me like a cat playing with a pretty dim mouse.’

  ‘First, you’re pretty but not dim. Secondly, I’ve known bored young women like her do odd things simply because they have the power to do them. You might have been imagining the whole camera and DNA thing; she might just have wanted to show you things and have some company for lunch. And when you pulled out, she got miffed and decided to teach you a lesson. Or not. Simply behaved as she usually does, with no consideration.’

  ‘Are they and Lady P best buddies?’ Lady P sounded so much more grotesque than the name I’d really known her by, Nella.

  ‘I’ve never seen them in each other’s company. Nor am I likely to now. And not just because Lady Petronella’s in prison. Afterwards, no one would want to be tarred with her brush. Knowingly fencing, forging provenances, ringing silverware . . . She’s rather brought the whole profession into disrepute, hasn’t she? And you can’t rub shoulders with people like that without calling your own honesty into question.’ As if to reassure me that that didn’t apply to me, he put his arm round my shoulder and kissed me. What Griff, even my father, would have made of such public displays I dreaded to think.

  Although we certainly didn’t need Mary Walker to fight back the hordes descending on the stall, Webb’s official anxiety was infectious, and I caught myself looking regularly at my watch.

  ‘Why don’t you simply phone the woman? You’re her boss, after all.’ Harvey changed the angle of a plate by a millimetre.

  ‘I know I am. Mind you, everyone assumes it’s the other way round. Funny, I can’t get round
to calling her Mary. She was a teacher,’ I added. ‘Retired and lost her husband almost immediately.’

  ‘Did she talk him to death? Go on, phone her. No need to sound headmistressy.’ He watched as I fished out my mobile. ‘Now what are you doing?’

  He might as well have the truth. ‘I’m practising what I want to say, in case I have to leave a message.’

  ‘Everyone I know leaves garbled messages.’

  ‘I want to get them right.’

  Sure enough, I was switched to voicemail. ‘Good morning, Mrs Walker. Lina here. I’m just a bit worried that I haven’t seen you today. It’s not a problem if you can’t make it – but just phone me back when you get this to say you’re OK. Bye.’

  ‘Very good. You could give lessons.’ He was about to kiss me again when he said, ‘Punter approaching from your left?’ He stepped back and let me take centre stage.

  It wasn’t the man who’d left the tea bowl, but another, equally nondescript one. It wasn’t a piece of china he held in his hand. It was a squeezy bottle. And it was pointing at me.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘Darling, it was a choice between my suit and your face. No contest. Now, are you sure he didn’t get you?’

  We were lying on the floor, me on my back and Harvey on top of me, in the cramped space behind the display area where he’d pushed me away from the jet of bleach. It was all too clear that in other circumstances he’d have enjoyed it very much indeed. Actually, I would too. At last he moved enough for me to roll away and on to all fours. On the other side of the display table there was a lot of yelling. I crawled beneath to see what was going on. Mistake. All I could see was feet, a lot of them: if I twitched the pleated fabric modesty panel, goodness knows how many pieces of china I would pull off.

  At last, both of us picking our way round some splashes that were rapidly giving the carpet the clean of its life, we got to our feet. Harvey shed his jacket and sniffed.

  Bleach. At least it wasn’t acid. Meanwhile, the scuffle had moved from our stall to way down the room. Punters were pressed up against stalls – at least one man was trying to nick something from a display under cover of all the chaos.

  Without stopping to think, I hurtled towards him. ‘Stop, thief!’

  That improved everything no end. Or not. By the time I got there the brooch or whatever was back where it should be, and everyone close by looked as if not even Benecol would melt in their mouths. At least the stall holder had time to lock the case – idiot, leaving it open in the first place. And I was close enough to see that under a pile of navy blue was the guy with the bleach bottle.

  I assumed he’d have to stay there till he was cuffed. But somehow he was using the scrum to ease himself free.

  In his dreams.

  A great rococo brass candlestick found its way into my hand. As soon as I could get in there, his skull would feel it. With luck it’d be the last thing he’d ever feel. There was just that candlestick and his skull in the whole world.

  Until someone grabbed my arm. A voice said, ‘Don’t be a bloody fool. We need him to talk, woman. Just behave yourself.’

  I couldn’t not. I was in an arm lock myself, and I knew from bitter experience that, bar fighting very dirty indeed, there was nothing I could do to free myself. But then the candlestick was gone, and my arm was my own again. Harvey was gathering me up and holding me tightly, but it was a hug, not a restraint. The police had the man I’d been ready to kill on his feet and there was a sudden silence.

  ‘OK,’ Freya yelled. ‘Fun’s over, everyone. Just carry on spending your money!’

  Would they hell. Not with all that lot to talk over. What was really needed was someone with a bit of initiative printing off a load of T-shirts saying, I SURVIVED THE BLEACH BOMBER. I had a nasty feeling that Harvey and I were about to become the focus of everyone’s attention. We couldn’t even retreat to the quiet of our stall because it was suddenly an official crime scene. Where the white paper suit brigade had popped up from, and so promptly, too, I’d no idea.

  So we had to act normal, even if neither of us felt like it. I turned to him with a smile. ‘I didn’t know you could do arm locks.’

  ‘I can’t. I don’t. This guy suddenly appeared from nowhere, disarmed you, and then vanished. Weird. But thank God he did. What the hell were you thinking of, Lina?’ There was an edge to his voice I’d never heard before.

  I shook my head. ‘It’s what I do. You know there’s this fight or flight hormone? In my case, it only operates one way. Fight. Has as long as I remember. I thought the therapy had sorted it out. Sorted me out. But sometimes . . .’ I’d better tell him another thing he wouldn’t like. ‘Usually I turn my anger on myself. I self-harm. No, not with a razor. I don’t cut myself. I hit myself. Hardly ever these days. So if I had a row with Griff, say, a really bad one, I wouldn’t punch him – oh, never, ever – but I might black my own eye.’

  He managed a smile. ‘So if we ever have a row, I must handcuff you first? For your sake, not mine?’

  I kissed his cheek. ‘Exactly. Now, what am I supposed to do with all this lot before one of the Scenes of Crime Officers knocks something over?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not you, Lina. Us. OK?’

  Before I could say anything, one of the SOCOs reared up, like a polar bear clutching a pretty poor fish. ‘This your mobile? ’Cos someone’s trying to leave you a message and she’s run out of time twice.’

  I grabbed it and pressed the call button. Only it wasn’t. It was the conference button. So now everyone in the hall heard poor Mary Walker’s tearful confession that she’d got terrible cystitis and couldn’t leave the loo. I managed to switch the bloody thing off just as she was explaining – in detail – what had caused it. Too much information all round. Even I was blushing.

  Harvey, on the other hand, laughed, but kindly, I thought. ‘Nice when the silver generation discovers the joys of sex all over again. For goodness’ sake, Lina, don’t be a prude.’ He looked at me closely. ‘Griff’s got a partner – how do you deal with that?’

  ‘I suppose,’ I said slowly, ‘because they’re very discreet. Sure, Aidan spends time with both of us, but Griff goes to his place pretty often, and I don’t ask any questions. Any more than Griff asks about my sex life,’ I added, hoping he’d get the message.

  ‘He might not ask, but he’s mighty concerned,’ he said. ‘Isn’t he? Does he like any of your suitors?’

  ‘He quite likes Will.’ It was only as I answered the question that I realized that he was saying something else. ‘Why should you think he doesn’t like you?’

  Freya Webb appeared before Harvey could reply. The trouble was, I was now trying to work out the answer for myself.

  ‘We’re putting it about that your attacker is a loony making a random attack,’ she said.

  ‘In those precise non-PC words?’ Harvey asked, with a twinkle. ‘And are you saying it’s the same loony as yesterday, or are the public to assume that Lina attracts loonies like blood attracts piranhas?’

  ‘We’re just keeping our cards close to our chests. I came to ask two things: have you had any news of Mary Walker yet?’

  ‘Oh, the whole fair has had news of Mary Walker,’ Harvey replied. ‘Cystitis. Cystitis brought about by an excess of sex, to be precise. Lina’s phone was on conference.’

  ‘Shit! Oh, the poor woman.’

  ‘That’ll cure her of messing around with a bloke when she should have been working,’ I said, though I couldn’t quite tell whether I was joking or not. At least the other two laughed. So I must have been. And then I thought of Harvey and me, and I’ll swear the blush came up all the way from my navel. ‘What was the second question?’ I asked.

  ‘What do you want to do about your stall? Dismantle the whole thing and go off home?’

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘Why? Surely we can move the stock? I came here to sell antiques, Freya, not go into victim mode.’

  Perhaps people took pity on Tripp and Townen
d, now looking as if they were operating in some table-top sale. It could have been worse, as Harvey pointed out. we could have had our own personal boot fair out in the car park. Anyway, we sold more than enough to cover the event fees, and Harvey declared he was proud of me. At one point we had a mini-tiff, because he didn’t want me to put his ruined coat through our insurance.

  ‘It’s all a bit academic, anyway, isn’t it?’ he said at last. ‘It’s tucked away in an evidence bag for the duration. And remember, Lina, my jacket is disposable. Your eyes aren’t. So no more arguments.’

  What on earth will you tell your wife? No, I didn’t let the words out, but they formed themselves in my head for no reason at all. That divvy thing? And they bumped round in there long enough to worry me. At last they settled down in a corner deep enough to be buried, but I didn’t like the spiteful backward glance they gave as I left them to it.

  Halfway through the afternoon he insisted on getting us some food. Almost as he left the room, my phone went. This time I made sure I was pressing the right button. Good job, too.

  ‘Someone’s got it in for you all right, eh, doll.’

  ‘Any idea who?’

  ‘Me if you try and crack anyone’s skull. Bloody hell, talk about a street-fighter. I’m on to it, doll. Till I tell you different, watch your back. Don’t trust no one.’

  ‘That’s a big help, Titus,’ I told the dead phone. Had it been him who’d stopped me braining Domestos Man? Whoops. Had it been he?

  Although our route home took us pretty near Bossingham Hall, Harvey didn’t seem keen to go. In fact, he looked almost relieved when I got a call from Freya asking if I wanted an update. It meant going to Maidstone nick, but at least that didn’t seem so bad with Harvey to hold my hand. This time he didn’t argue about leaving the van unattended. Either he was reassured by a nice big CCTV camera that would peer at it every time it did a scan, or he thought my insurance would cover the van contents if it got nicked – after all, he’d bought hardly anything until the last ten minutes, when he’d alighted on a pretty Chinese famille rose plate without any help from me. There was a visible crack in it: I had the feeling that any time now I’d be asked to fix it.