CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Sally drove them down to the marina, the heater full on and the windows steaming up, with Toby chattering away about his kidnap. Back on the quayside there was no sign of Jack Evans, but Winner was relieved to see that the Look Lively was back in its allotted berth.
Toby stayed in the Citroen while Sally phoned Lorraine and Winner went over and started his own car. He led the way as they drove to the house where he had once lived.
Lorraine was too relieved by Toby's safe return to start asking too many questions about what had happened and Winner was too wet and cold to stand around talking. He promised to phone her as soon as he could.
The flat was quiet. Although the door was wide open and there was stuff tossed about, there was no sign of anything actually missing. The sounds of a frenzied Cavendish battering open the door with the fire extinguisher had apparently been insufficient to merit investigation by any of the other residents. Winner had a quick shower and got into some dry clothes while Sally did a quick clear up. There was no way they were going to avoid talking to the police in the near future, especially if Riggs had gone down with La Mouette, but they wanted to clear a few things up before they did.
They were in and out of the flat in little more than ten minutes and were able to leave everything secure, because although the Yale lock was smashed from its mountings, the mortise lock was still working. Winner drove the hired van back to Petermere, fighting all the way to keep his eyes open. Once the van was safely back with the hirers, they stopped in a coffee shop for ten minutes and decided which part of the events could be talked about, and which parts would never be mentioned.
Sally drove them back to Sharmouth.
Winner was asleep before they got out of Petermere.
Now it was Saturday, and Sally and Winner sat in the living room at the dining table having a late breakfast. The sun was streaming in through the windows and there were occasional tapping and drilling noises from the hallway, where the carpenter was busy replacing the front door. Winner poured the tea and looked out at the pale blue of the early morning sea. A good day for a brisk walk on the sands.
"So you think we're quite safe now?" Sally asked, as Winner handed over her cup.
Winner ran his knife along the surface of the butter and deftly transferred the neat curl to his toast. "I should think so. The police seem happy with our account of the abduction, though I might have to make an appearance at the Coroner's Court. The only people who might have caused us any trouble are dead. Cavendish had other helpers, but they're going to be too busy talking to the police to worry about us. I'm sure nobody apart from us knows about the money."
"What are we going to do with it."
Winner paused for a moment while he opened a fresh jar of marmalade. Extra chunky, his favourite. "Ah, I wondered when we'd get round to that."
"Well, you have been asleep for two days."
"A well deserved rest, I'd say. To be honest, I must admit that I've felt a bit guilty hanging on to the original money that Nigel stole. I was wondering whether you'd mind me finding a way to give it back."
"There is plenty," Sally agreed.
Winner hesitated. "I'd rather like to do a good deed with part of the rest, if you agree."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I was wondering if we could find a way to make good the losses that Nigel created on the financing deals. It would still leave us enough for a nice house in the lower part of River Heights."
"A nice house for us? You envisage some sort of future together?"
"Only if you're happy about it," he said.
Sally dropped a dollop of marmalade onto a second triangle of toast. "I think so," she said.
Monday morning had an unreal quality about it, and although it had only been a one week break from the office, Winner felt as though he'd been away for a month.
Barry Freeman had walked in only minutes after Winner's arrival and was seated in one of the visitors' chairs. With no other senior staff that he could talk to openly, he had been keenly awaiting Winner's return.
"I can't remember a week like it," said Freeman. "After that meeting where Jenkins spilled the beans on Sanderman, things started moving at a cracking pace. Sanderman and two other staff resigned - well, we pensioned Sanderman off, but there was no way he could have stayed. Then later in the week Councillor Parker and Councillor Martin got sucked into it, and they had to resign as well. Cavendish would have been next, but he was killed under very strange circumstances. Apparently the police think he was pushed off the road by one of the directors of the development company."
"Yes, I heard about that. What happened about the superstore planning permission?"
"The permission went through, but now it looks as though the developers might have lost interest. Some story about the land being too expensive, but whether it had something to do with the director's death is anybody's guess."
"Every cloud has a silver lining, Barry. With things like this going on there's no way they'll risk any further cuts in auditing staff. By the way, I should tell you now, before rumours start flying about. I had a rather exciting week myself. You might not have connected the boat that got wrecked along the coast with Cavendish, but in fact it belonged to him. I was doing a little private investigation into Cavendish along much the same lines as your own and he tried to abduct my son to warn me off. It all ended rather nastily, I'm afraid, but Toby was all right, thank God."
Freeman looked stunned. "You weren't involved in the car crash?"
"No, I don't know quite how that happened."
"Is there anything else I should know?" he asked.
"No, it sounds to me as if all the culprits are either rounded up or dead. Altogether this has been a rather exciting couple of months for Sharmouth."
"Westerman's looking a bit strained from all the excitement, as you call it," said Freeman, "but at least this gives Forbes and him a chance to blame all our problems on the dishonest members."
Winner stood up and walked over to the window. Down in the scrappy patch of grass by the service lane a few early bulbs were struggling up, suggesting a hint of spring. A seagull was perched on one of the gateposts.
"I hope Westerman won't mind," said Winner. "Last week turned out to be not much of a holiday at all. I'm hoping to take ten days or a fortnight in March to get away. The budget will be all finalised by then."
"They don't give you any prizes here for not taking the time off that you're entitled to. I'll be having another week off myself. I just wish I didn't always end up always using up holiday in March. It's not really the best time of year."
"At least we've both still got jobs, Barry, even if the future is a bit uncertain."
Freeman told Winner about a course he would be going on, starting in three days time, then got up and left. Winner looked at his overflowing in-tray and settled back down behind his desk. After a week off there was always plenty to do. Already he could see that Peter Vaughan had spotted Freeman leaving and was heading towards his office with a sheaf of papers.
The Borough Page 42
