CHAPTER TWELVE
After a week of cold, gloomy, overcast weather, the clear blue sky of Sunday brought much needed relief. From the warm interior of the car, the view of the sea gave no clue to the season, though inland the trees were bare and frost still clung to the grass in sheltered patches. Winner had chosen a pub a few miles to the other side of Greycliffe and had decided to take the old coast road to enjoy the view. It hadn't occurred to him until they had turned off that this was the first opportunity he would have to see where Nigel Stewart had met his end.
He took advantage of a straight section of the road to look across at Sally. She was wearing a pale grey mohair jumper and charcoal grey trousers to ward off the cold wind. The sun glinted off her pale hair. Winner couldn't think why he hadn't really been attracted to her before. She caught him looking at her and he turned his attention back to the road. They hadn't spoken much since he picked her up. They were both happy to take it slowly, neither of them sure whether the indistinctly remembered alcohol induced warmth and closeness of Friday night would spill over into their next meeting.
"You appear to have recovered from the excesses of Friday night," Winner said, as if to justify his looking at her.
"I was a bit groggy first thing yesterday, but I felt better as the morning went on. How about you?"
"Not too bad," Winner lied, remembering a rushed shower and breakfast of soluble aspirin to be ready for ten o'clock when Toby arrived.
"It was just as well I was OK," she said, "because I needed to do a bit more Christmas shopping."
"Do you buy a lot of presents?"
"Not really, but my brother's got two young children and I like to get them something special."
Winner braked for the sharp right hand bend, then grabbed at the sun visor as the low winter sun shone straight into his eyes.
"It was the last chance I had to take Toby to the computer shop. It would have been nice to make it a surprise, but you know what kids are like. The wrong model could have been a disaster. Mind you, he won't get it before Christmas."
The road opened out into a longer straight stretch, allowing Winner more opportunity to look at the view and Sally. He was wondering whether to mention Stewart's crash, though he didn't want to say anything that would spoil the mood of the day. As it was, Sally raised the subject first.
"Where abouts was it that Nigel's car went off the road?"
"Two or three bends after the end of this straight, as far as I know."
"Would you think it ghoulish of me to want to stop and have a look. I don't want to make us late for lunch."
"No. To be honest, I'm quite interested to have a look myself. We'll have to stop in this car park, though. I don't think there's anywhere safe to pull up further on."
"It's all right. These shoes are fine for walking."
Winner drove into the parking area at the end of the straight. There was only one other car there, though the view was superb. He wondered whether the occupants of the Toyota were actually there for the view. The woman was intent on her knitting and the man was reading the Sunday Times. Turning off the motor, he reached over and pulled their coats from the back seat. Sally took hers and got out. Winner would have helped her into her coat, but by the time he had gone round the car she was already zipping it up. A steady cold wind drove into them as they crossed the road and walked around the first bend. Winner wasn't actually certain that they'd be able to identify the scene of the accident, because the safety barriers were sure to have been replaced. The place that he assumed was the spot didn't show any signs of recent disturbance.
"I thought this would be where it happened," he said, "but it must be further on."
Just then a convoy of three cars came round the bend in front of them and they had to step up onto the low bank to get clear. Sally held Winner's arm to steady herself on the uneven surface. She kept hold when they carried on walking.
There was no mistaking the crash site when they finally reached it. Two straight lines of rubber smeared along the road surface cut straight across the oncoming carriageway, ending directly in front of the safety barrier. For ten feet either side of the skid marks the barrier lacked the patina of corrosion that soon came to metalwork in the sea salt air. They walked up and leant on the top rail, looking down at the rocks far below them. There was nothing much to see, except for scarring of the mud where the rescue services must have winched the wreckage up the cliff.
Winner leaned over slightly to get a better look. The rocks must have been washed clear of any debris by the waves and tides. He looked up, about to say something about how quickly it must have happened, but Sally was moving away, her face suddenly taking on a greenish tinge. Before he could move, she had gripped the barrier further along. Her shoulders hunched as she swayed forwards over the barrier and the remains of her breakfast were scattered down the cliff. Winner rushed over and put his arm round her shoulders. He handed her a wad of tissues from his pocket.
"Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea stopping here," he said. "Do you want me to go and get the car? I'll take you back home if you want."
She dabbed at her mouth. Winner could feel that she was shaking. He led her away from the edge of the cliff and they started walking slowly towards the car park. Winner was relieved when the bends in the road concealed the site of the accident.
"I'll be all right," she said, after a while. "It was just the thought of it. You know. What a way to end your life - and so young."
"Dreadful. I don't suppose you feel like lunch now?"
"Don't worry. I'm not ill. It just caught me by surprise, that's all. I'll be fine for something light by the time we get there."
Winner unlocked the passenger door of his car and she slipped off her coat before she got in. He went round and sat in the driving seat, but waited a while before starting the engine, to give her time to recover from the shock. Despite the icy wind outside, the inside of the car was warm from the sun.
"I suppose it must have been an accident?" she said, half questioning.
"That's a strange thing to say. Nobody objected to the Coroner's verdict of accidental death."
Sally sat quietly, her mind in a spin. Winner seemed such a nice man. She felt very attracted to him. She desperately needed to talk to someone, but if she unburdened herself to Winner, would the tentative beginnings of their relationship be wrecked? She couldn't risk saying anything that might implicate her in the missing cash business.
Unknown to her, Winner was in a similar dilemma, feeling isolated by the things that only he knew. He decided to chance some minor revelations to gauge her reaction. He started up the car, regretting that they would have to drive past the scene of the accident again.
"To be quite honest with you," he said, as they drove out of the car park, "I'm a bit puzzled by this accident business. Nigel must have known the road really well. Apparently it was the route he usually took to and from work. He'd have had to be going at a hell of a speed to have smashed through the barrier. Of course the accelerator could have jammed down, or something like that, but the police reported there was nothing wrong with the car."
"What does that mean then? Suicide?"
"Not necessarily. He might have blacked out. He was too crushed by the impact for them to tell that sort of thing, though they tested his blood and he hadn't been drinking." Winner glanced across at Sally, who was still looking a bit pale. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you by talking about his injuries."
They drove past the skid marks and Winner noticed that Sally turned her head inland until the bend was well behind them.
He thought he ought to change the subject a little. She obviously felt the same as him about the accident, though she didn't have the same reasons as him to be suspicious. Or did she? Perhaps he wasn't the only one who knew that Stewart had been up to something. After all, she had been working in the audit office.
Did you know Nigel well?" he asked. "I was wondering, because to be honest, I didn't know
him very well myself, even though he worked for me."
Sally looked out of the window, unsure of what to say. She knew that she had been seen out with Nigel by one or two other staff members. She didn't know how far rumours might have got around. She couldn't really deny knowing him.
"He was, sort of, well, a bit of a friend, off and on, you know. That's what made it all so upsetting."
Winner pushed a Mozart cassette into the player and they sat quietly absorbing the music as he drove on into the outskirts of Greycliffe. So Nigel Stewart had been a bit of a friend, whatever that meant. Was she admitting to a sexual relationship? And why would she be doubtful about the accident unless she knew something about the cash?
Two miles past Greycliffe, Winner pulled into the car park at the Smugglers Rest and they left their coats in the car when they walked the twenty yards or so to the warmth of the pub. Sally had a glass of lemonade and lime to wash the bitter taste out of her mouth. Winner started off on orange juice, mindful of the need to drive back home. They both asked for plaice and chips, avoiding the roast turkey dinner that most people seemed to be ordering. There was a small table free near the log fire and Winner made straight for it.
"I'm not sure this is a very healthy relationship that's developing between us," Sally said. "We seem to spend all our time eating and drinking."
"It's the time of year. What else is there to do in the depths of December?"
Sally turned towards the fire, hoping that Winner wouldn't notice the slight flush brought to her face when she thought of something else she wouldn't mind doing in December.
"You're not too hot there, are you?" Winner asked.
"No, I'm fine. It's nice to be in the warm."
They talked for a while about their plans for Christmas. Sally was going to her mother's for the dinner. Her brother and his wife would be there with her two nephews. Winner was going to overdose on television and then take Toby out on Boxing Day.
Winner went up to the bar and collected two glasses of white wine to go with the fish. When he sat down again, he decided to risk raising the subject of Nigel Stewart again.
"I can't quite put my finger on it," he started, "but I have been wondering whether Nigel had been up to something he shouldn't. There's that strange business of the break-in at his house when nothing was taken."
"Have you said anything to the police?"
"No. It all seems so, nebulous. Is that the word? Nothing you could say for certain."
"You didn't find any clues among his papers?"
"What sort of clues?"
"Oh, I don't know. Just anything that seemed out of place. That sort of thing."
What, like ten thousand pounds, thought Winner. He was beginning to think that they were both skating around the same subject, trying to find out what the other knew without implicating themselves. How could he find out more without revealing what he knew?
The fish arrived and there was a break in their discussion while they made room on the table for the generously sized plates.
"There was his diary," ventured Winner, once they had got started on the plaice. "Everything seemed to be almost in code, if you know what I mean. Nothing sinister in that though. We all write things like JT at three in our diaries. It's just a sort of personal shorthand."
"You've got his diary?" That was a stupid thing to say, thought Sally. Now he's going to wonder if I've been looking for it.
"Was anyone else looking for it?"
"Not that I heard."
Winner decided that it was possible to tell her about the roof incident without bringing the cash into it.
"You see, I think someone's looking for something," Winner started. "Of course, it may not be the diary. It could be something else."
As they finished off their fish, she listened intently as he gave her a minute by minute account of how he had disturbed the raiding party and the subsequent chase across the roof. When he had finished, he turned over his hands, so that she could see the scratches that were now fading away fast.
"You could have been killed," she said. "That was an incredible thing to do."
"I didn't choose to go climbing about on the roof. I just got caught up in it accidentally."
"So why didn't you go to the police?"
"Because as it is, you're the only person apart from me who knows I was there. If I go to the police, I'm breaking my cover and the raiders might learn my identity. The fact of the matter is that they may think I know who they are and what they were up to, even though I don't. That would put me in danger, because if their break-in was connected with Nigel, and if Nigel's death wasn't an accident, then I could be in danger as well. They might decide to arrange an accident for me."
Sally looked into his face as he spoke, as if trying to extract every last nuance, any scrap of detail that she could from what he was saying. She thought about what he had said. Maybe he had other reasons for not going to the police. It tipped the scales in favour of confiding in him. Partially, at least.
"I see what you mean," she said. "Can I talk to you in confidence?"
"Of course, just as long as you're not going to tell me you sabotaged Nigel's car. I'm sorry, that remark wasn't in very good taste."
"I have to trust you," she said. "When we start looking at the accounts in detail in the office, the facts are bound to come out. I don't know how good I'd be at making it look like a complete surprise. Nigel found a way of extracting cash from the Council. No, that sounds too clinical. He stole forty thousand pounds, or at least I thought it was forty thousand until you told me the other day that the accounts were fifty thousand adrift."
Winner hoped he looked appropriately shocked, "Go on," he said.
"Nigel had me infatuated. I found out about the theft, but he was obviously a good judge of character and he reasoned that as long as I was under his spell I wouldn't expose him. Besides, I was a party to the theft, because it was obvious that the two weekends that we got away together were being financed by the local taxpayers."
"So you couldn't, or wouldn't, go to the police either."
"That's right, but there's more to it than that. I told Nigel he couldn't hope to get away with it, because the difference in the accounts was sure to come out when the accountants prepared the final accounts, even if it wasn't detected beforehand. He said he had another scheme in hand which was going to raise far more cash and he would be able to repay the borrowings, as he called them, and then he could leave and I could join him after a discreet time. It was all lies, though. I can see now he would never have left his wife and children. I wouldn't have wanted to be the cause of that happening anyway."
"But what do you know about his scheme to raise more money? Was that all lies too, or was he hoping to cover his tracks and brazen it out?"
"Oh, there was something going on, but I don't know the exact details. What worries me is the thought that some people might believe that I knew what Nigel was up to. Just suppose that Nigel's death wasn't an accident. If the people concerned knew about my involvement with Nigel, they might think they needed to get rid of me as well. I've been dreading every ring on the doorbell or strange noise in the house when I've been alone. I had to tell someone."
"How about some dessert?" asked Winner.
They looked through the menu card. Sally's recent nausea and state of terror hadn't dulled her appetite so far as to prevent her from choosing a gloopy chocolate dessert. Winner decided on ice cream and went back to the bar to order. He asked them to put everything on one bill, then went back to join Sally.
"I have to say, your conduct hasn't exactly been exemplary," suggested Winner - "for a professional auditor."
"Are you going to turn me in?" she asked, not entirely sure whether she had made a serious mistake, or whether Winner was just winding her up. She had taken quite a risk.
"Don't be silly. We're in the same boat. Both of us should have gone to the police and didn't. The best thing is for us to
join forces and try and sort the whole mess out."
"I hoped you'd say something like that," she said, resting her hand on his.
When the desserts arrived they ate silently for a while, and then spent some time deciding how they would deal with revealing the theft of the cash.
"I don't know how incriminating the evidence will be," Sally said. "He dealt with all the paperwork himself. With a bit of luck we might be able to reveal the theft without anyone being able to identify the thief."
"There's not much to be gained by disgracing him at this point, is there? I mean, we wouldn't want to risk depriving his wife of a widow's pension."
Winner drained the last from his coffee cup and picked up the bill.
"What do you suppose happened to the cash," he asked, looking straight into her eyes.
In her relief at having found an ally, she almost told him, but common sense held her back. What she had told him so far could be put down to foolish involvement. To admit to having some of the cash would be to ask more of Winner than their tentative relationship warranted.
Despite her resolve, she felt sure that her voice would sound unsteady.
"I'm sure I don't know," she said, but her eyes told a different story. "How about you? What do you think might have happened to it?"
Winner thought for a moment as he picked up the bill. Sally's eyes were transfixed as he reached into his wallet and slipped out a couple of crisp twenty pound notes from a slim wad. He put down the bill with the notes and leaned forward, kissing Sally lightly on the lips.
"I haven't the remotest idea," he said.
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