‘I should go,’ dithered Richard. ‘It’s dark. I’ll get lost.’
‘Why haven’t you gone home for Christmas?’ Thea wondered. ‘Have you walked here? Do you know something about Natasha’s death?’ The questions flooded out of her, almost involuntarily. He had been there on Saturday afternoon, slouching boyishly in the background, like a face in a picture that gathered significance the more you looked at it. He might be a missing link, a crucial factor. ‘Why were you here when it happened? What were you doing?’
‘Steady on!’ he protested. ‘You’re worse than the rozzers. I’m not answerable to you. I’ve told you everything you need to know. More, if anything.’
‘The Scots make more fuss about the New Year than Christmas,’ said Drew, answering her first question on Richard’s behalf.
The implied support seemed to fortify the young man. ‘Listen – just you three stay in here, doing whatever you were doing before I came. Pretend I’m not here. I’m leaving – okay? I’ll go. You don’t need to show me out.’
Drew was quick to grasp the underlying message. ‘Why not?’ he asked Thea, in a sudden change of mind. ‘What does it matter to us?’
‘I told Gladwin when Marian Callendar did it. I’ll tell her about you, as well,’ she warned Richard.
‘Snitch.’
Drew and Timmy both snorted identical laughs at that. Thea felt seriously and unfairly outnumbered. She regarded herself as being firmly on the side of the law and its enforcement agents, but there had been moments when she had sympathised with wrongdoers, or felt the police were misguided. She suspected there could be circumstances where she might add her weight to the balance in favour of a suspect, against the official agencies. There had been times when she’d felt a definite affection for someone who turned out to have done terrible things. This Richard was a likeable fellow, with no sign of malice in him. She remembered feeling sorry for the trauma he appeared to be suffering in the aftermath of Natasha’s murder.
‘You said when you first got here that you wanted to talk about Saturday. Then you wanted to know whether Mrs Callendar had been into Natasha’s house. Now you want to get in there yourself. What’s next?’
‘I never actually said that. It was you, who gave it away just now.’ He raised one eyebrow at her, like a schoolmaster pointing out the subtext of an argument. ‘It’s all smoke and whispers, isn’t it? None of us has said anything for definite.’
‘You mean, I haven’t got anything concrete to tell the police. No evidence.’
‘Precisely.’ The Scots emphasis gave the word an almost comical force. ‘You’d make a terrible witness in a court of law.’
‘Fortunately, I’ve never been called upon to put that to the test,’ she said, bravely, closing her mind to the knowledge that recent events in Winchcombe were almost certain to lead to her being called as a witness when the trial eventually took place. By then, she feared, she would have forgotten all but the crudest basic facts. The system was deplorable, with its delays and games and subtle tricks.
‘Let’s get on with it,’ said Drew. ‘Timmy and I are going to have to go in a minute.’
A sad resignation gripped her. Drew’s visit, so delightfully unexpected, had turned into a fractured series of interruptions. She had only ever seen him in the process of unravelling a crime. All their encounters had been overshadowed by police and violence and fears for their own safety. They’d had no chance to be normal, to sit companionably together in front of a film, or stroll along a Cotswold footpath. The closest they had come had been at Cranham, earlier that year, when he had brought both his children along. Drew’s children were always going to be part of the picture, anyway, not to mention Maggs and Den and the constant demands of his business.
She wanted to beg him not to go. She shuddered at the prospect of forced jollity on TV as the only way of passing a long dark Christmas Eve. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘It’s been rather a messy visit, hasn’t it?’
‘It’s not finished yet,’ he said firmly. ‘I vote we let Richard do what he has to do, make another pot of tea, and decide on our New Year Resolutions.’ Then he winked at her, which she remembered she’d done herself, for the first time in her life, very shortly after first meeting him. Then, she had meant him to feel included, reassured. Now she drew a very similar conclusion, with the roles reversed. He meant she shouldn’t worry, that he wasn’t going to abandon her. That he was speaking for Richard’s benefit, but his words had a different, deeper meaning for her.
She wondered if something were expected of her – something she ought to say to Richard or Timmy? Some phone call she should make, or crucial detail she should remember. There was something ominous in the air, beyond the imminence of being left all on her own.
‘Oh, all right,’ she said. ‘Off you go, Richard. Let yourself out, will you? I’ve got myself too comfortable to get up.’
The young man wasted no time. ‘Thanks!’ he crowed. ‘You won’t be sorry. See you again, maybe.’
‘Bye,’ she said, thinking that she very probably would be sorry, if only because he’d just said what he did. And thinking, too, that she was highly unlikely ever to see him again.
He went out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Half a second before he could have had time to get into the kitchen, she remembered Blondie. ‘No – wait!’ she called.
Too late. There was a throaty bark, a snarl and a cry. ‘Oh, God!’ cried Thea. ‘What’s she done to him?’
Drew had moved to his son’s side, and was watching his incomprehensible Pokemon antics. He looked up much more slowly than Thea might have wished. ‘The dog – she’s attacking him. Can’t you hear?’ Her own dog, who had been at her side on the sofa, as usual, gave a mildly interested yap. ‘Shut up!’ Thea told her fiercely. ‘Drew – go and see what’s happening, while I hold her. I’ve no idea what she might do if we let her join in.’ A day earlier, she would have sworn that her spaniel was entirely incapable of wreaking damage on anybody. Now she wasn’t so sure.
‘Me? She won’t take any notice of me, will she?’ His reluctance to move seemed perverse and puzzling to Thea. It increased the panic she was feeling, and she half rolled off the sofa in her haste to set things right. She realised she was more afraid for the Alsatian than the man. He might kick her or touch her bad ear, or slam her in the door.
‘Richard!’ she called. ‘Don’t hurt her!’ The noise in the hall was not escalating, she realised. When she’d wrenched open the intervening door, she saw the white dog standing there wearing the ludicrous plastic cone, facing the closed kitchen door and growling. ‘Blondie. Oh, Blondie – are you all right? Poor girl. Did he give you a shock? Where did he go?’
He had obviously managed to escape the dog and carry on with his original plan. Perhaps he would even have the sense to let himself out of Natasha’s house by the front door, or scramble over the garden wall. He was hardly likely to risk coming back the same way, with the angry dog waiting for him.
But the Alsatian was whining more in self-pity than in anger. ‘He must have startled her,’ said Thea. ‘Poor Blondie. What a time you’re having. And I’ve neglected you all day, haven’t I? You must be hungry by now. Let’s take this nasty thing off you, shall we?’
She half crooned the words, soothing the animal as best she could. Drew had come into the hall, holding Hepzie lopsidedly in his arms.
‘Why do I always have to end up holding this dog?’ he demanded. ‘It was the same in Snowshill.’
‘Because she likes you,’ suggested Thea fatuously. Hepzie liked everybody, without discrimination.
‘That has nothing to do with it. Is Blondie all right? Where did Richard go?’
‘I don’t know and I don’t much care. I’m going to lock the back door, so he can’t get in again. The whole thing’s impossible.’ She was fiddling with Blondie’s collar and finally managed to remove the protective cone. ‘Have a look at her ear, would you? It seems better to me. And you can put Hepzie down. I do
n’t think she’s going to misbehave again.’
She went into the kitchen and turned the key in the back door. Then she bolted it for good measure. Half a minute later, there was a face pressed against the frosted glass and a persistent knocking. ‘Let me in!’ Richard called. ‘For God’s sake, let me in.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘You’ll have to open it,’ said Drew. ‘He’ll break it if you don’t.’
Reluctantly, Thea pulled back the bolt and turned the key. Richard scrambled in as if chased by a bull. ‘Quick!’ he gasped. ‘Out the front. Come and see.’
He led the way across the hall to the sitting room, followed by a bemused Thea, and a grumpy Drew, still holding the spaniel. ‘There!’ Richard pointed out of the window.
A Discovery was parked twenty yards up the road, attached to a smart-looking horsebox. The head of a horse could just be glimpsed through a small window at the front, thanks to a light from a house window just beyond the vehicle. ‘It’s Starfleet Sally,’ Richard announced. ‘I’m sure it is.’
Thea and Drew waited for elucidation. Starfleet Sally, Thea repeated to herself. Must be a racehorse, then, with a name like that.
‘She’s in foal. Due in a few days. She shouldn’t be moved.’
‘How do you know?’ Drew asked him. ‘What’s it to do with you?’
‘Never mind that now. They must be stealing her. We’ll have to call the police. Or Marian. She’s Marian’s pride and joy. She’s worth a fortune.’
‘Come on,’ Thea objected. ‘They wouldn’t be parked in full view in the middle of a village if they were stealing her. Who are “they”, anyway?’
‘That’s what I intend to find out.’ He strode to the front door and was outside before the others could react. They opted to stay where they were and watch proceedings from the safety of the window.
‘A horse,’ Drew said wonderingly. ‘Didn’t you say you thought the whole thing had to do with horses?’ He dumped Hepzie on the sofa, none too gently.
‘Did I? I suppose I did. It was the vet boy, Toby Something, who made me think that when he was talking about his mother. And then Juliet confirmed it, in a way. It’s obvious, really. Oh, look – that’s Ralph Callendar.’
‘The one you liked?’
‘Right. And his brother. The one who was arguing with his mother here yesterday. Edwin.’
The brothers had emerged from the Discovery and were facing Richard with no sign of guilt or annoyance. They even smiled as they spoke to him. But the younger man was plainly not satisfied. He waved his arms towards the horsebox and was evidently making accusations. ‘Oh, I can’t stand this,’ Thea decided. ‘I’ve got to hear what they’re saying.’ Before Drew could respond, she had gone outside, shamelessly approaching the three men on no other pretext than curiosity.
‘Calm down, man,’ Edwin Callendar was saying. This, it seemed, was his role in life – the one who told people to calm down and stop making a scene. He had done it with his mother only the previous day. ‘There’s nothing for you to get exercised about.’
‘But where are you taking her?’ Richard demanded. ‘That foal … you know how much is riding on it.’
‘Ha ha,’ said Ralph. ‘That’s a good one.’ The others blinked at him. ‘Riding on it – pun, see? It’s a pun.’
‘For heaven’s sake,’ his brother complained. ‘Be serious, won’t you. People are going to wonder what’s going on.’
Thea’s laugh was loud enough to make all three of them turn to her, as if noticing her for the first time. ‘What’s funny?’ Richard wanted to know.
‘It’s déjà vu,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘All Edwin seems to care about is what people will think. And yet he gets himself into public displays here in the middle of the village, that might have been designed to attract attention.’ She paused, staring hard at Edwin. ‘They’re not, are they?’ she added.
‘Not what?’ He was visibly struggling with a powerful urge to tell her to go away and leave them alone, but politeness was so ingrained in him that he couldn’t do it.
‘Designed to attract attention. Like a smokescreen.’ It made irresistibly good sense, as she thought about it, even though she had no idea what he might be trying to hide by diverting attention. ‘You didn’t stage a fight in the pub just now as well, did you?’
‘You’ve got flu,’ Ralph remembered. ‘No wonder you’re not making any sense. You must be delirious. Go inside, and get warm, why don’t you?’
‘I’m not delirious. And it’s you that doesn’t make sense. Why would you park a horsebox containing a pregnant racehorse just here if you didn’t want to attract attention?’
‘We’re waiting for someone, that’s all. The horse is perfectly comfortable. We’re taking her to another stables, where she’ll get five-star treatment. It’s nothing for anybody to be concerned about.’ He fixed Richard with a reproachful stare. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘It’s a funny time to do it,’ muttered Thea.
‘That really is none of your business. Either of you,’ Edwin joined in with his brother’s stance; the two of them, with the same long jawlines and arched brows giving Richard the same accusing look.
‘Where?’ Richard persisted. ‘Where will she be? You know I need access to the foal when it’s born. Everything’s depending on it. My whole—’
Edwin interrupted him, almost gently. ‘We’ve changed our minds, old mate. We’re backing out of the trial. It’s never been right, from the start. The old lady won’t stand for it, not with Dad dead. It was his idea, and without him to insist on it, we’re cancelling the whole thing.’
‘But you can’t!’ The howl of anguished protest rang through the darkening street and reverberated amongst the quiet stone houses. Richard ran to the back of the horsebox and began to fumble at the catches on the door. ‘I’ve got to have it. I won’t let you cancel it now. I’ll take her somewhere you won’t find her.’
Ralph calmly took hold of his hand, in a grip that must have been stronger than it looked. ‘Don’t be such a fool,’ he said. ‘It’s all over now. All your allies are dead.’
The words cast a sudden stillness over the scene. Then Edwin said, ‘God, Ralphy, you make it sound as if they were all murdered. Careful what you say.’
Richard was looking poleaxed, his hand still in Ralph’s grasp. ‘What?’ he stammered. ‘My allies? What does that mean?’
‘You’ve lost Natasha, for a start. And Dad. Mum’s got cold feet and Cheryl’s making everything impossible. Face it, Rick. It’s finished.’
‘Cheryl? What’s to do with her?’
‘Good question. She had a word with me today, in the pub, pointing out how careful we need to be. She’s got herself in a state about the Shepherds’ house-sitter, who she says is likely to cause trouble.’
‘That’s me,’ Thea blurted, desperate for an explanation. ‘What did she mean?’
Nobody answered her.
‘Tell me,’ she repeated.
Edwin gave her a patient look. ‘It’s really not your business,’ he said. ‘Do please go back indoors and leave all this to us.’
It was Richard’s hysteria that made it impossible for her to just give up and retreat. He really did care about the horse and what happened to it. It obviously mattered enormously to him. And if his allies were dead, that surely meant he was in some sort of jeopardy himself. At the very least, it presumably exonerated him from having committed any violent crimes. ‘I think Richard needs somebody on his side,’ she said.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Edwin. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to Richard. None of this is about him.’
‘So who is it about?’ Thea wanted to know. ‘Apart from Starfleet Sally, or whatever you call her.’
‘My mother, if you must know,’ came the unexpected reply.
Richard gave a muffled moan of frustration, as if his worst fears had just been confirmed.
Thea rubbed her head, where it still ached in spite of Gladwin’s pill. ‘Doesn’t
that make her one of your allies, then? If you both want the horse kept safe?’
‘You have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said, with polite impatience. ‘How could you?’
‘So explain.’
But he didn’t get the chance, even if he’d intended to, which Thea doubted. A car turned the bend at the end of the street and purposefully approached them. It stopped behind the horsebox, and a familiar woman emerged from it. Thea registered the car after a few seconds. It was silver-grey and had lettering on the door on the passenger’s side. ‘You work for Callendar’s as well then, do you?’ she blurted.
Cheryl Bagshawe recoiled slightly, glancing from Edwin to Ralph and back again. ‘What’s she doing here?’ she asked.
‘Good question,’ said Ralph. ‘We told her to go away.’
‘She fancies herself as a detective,’ sneered Cheryl. ‘That’s what it is. I told you in the pub she’s a menace.’
All around them were beautiful stone houses, restored in loving detail by a philanthropic architect in 1908, containing families and their Christmas trees, their mulled wine and pampered dogs. There would be carols playing, presents being wrapped, excited children going to bed early to hasten the coming morning and all its thrills. If they heard voices outside, they closed their ears to them. If they suspected that some sort of revelation was imminent, that the murder of Natasha Ainsworth might shortly be explained, they had more important concerns to keep them indoors. There would be noise and colour on the televisions, designed to increase the celebratory mood. Let other people solve crimes; it had nothing to do with them.
Thea wondered how loudly a person would have to scream before anybody would open their door and come to investigate.
She even wondered whether Drew could be relied on to protect her if she needed it. His prolonged absence was beginning to feel unnerving. Drew Slocombe fancied himself as a detective at least as much as Thea did. Things just happened to her, but he drove all the way from Somerset at the slightest hint of a mystery to be solved. They were very nearly as bad as each other, if you were to make an unbiased judgement about it.
Trouble in the Cotswolds (The Cotswold Mysteries) Page 22
