A Question of Guilt (23 page)

Had the burglar been upstairs? If he had, he'd have found little of value. Apart from her wedding and engagement rings, Mum didn't go in for jewellery. But I'd better check, I supposed.

First, though, I'd have a good look around downstairs. I went to Dad's office, and the minute I went in the door, my heart sank. The computer monitor, keyboard and mouse were still sitting on his desk, but the tower was missing, and the external hard drive too.

I swore softly. This was terrible. All Dad's records were on that computer, meticulously backed up to the external hard drive in case something went wrong – correspondence, accounts, details of his suppliers and customers, everything to do with the day to day running of the farm. He was going to be utterly lost without all that, and if he was going to be incapacitated for long it would make it almost impossible for anyone else to take over the clerical side.

If I hadn't had my new laptop and the memory stick Dad had lent me, I'd have lost all my notes for my investigation, too. Though it was as nothing compared to what Dad had lost, it would have been a big setback for me. Thank goodness for my laptop . . .

Or had that been taken too? I hadn't noticed anything out of place in my room, but to be honest, the state I'd been in last night, everything but the bed could have been missing and I'd never have noticed, and this morning I'd been in a hurry to get out and make sure Mark had turned up to help Sam.

I struggled up the stairs and into my room, but everything seemed to be in place, and, to my relief, my laptop bag, still zipped up, was where I'd left it, tucked under the little upright chair behind the door.

I checked Mum and Dad's room, but everything there seemed to be in order too, no drawers pulled out, and everything on the dressing table as it should be. It didn't look as though the burglar had been upstairs, then. Perhaps Scrumpy, bless her, had frightened him off, and he'd decided to escape with the few things he had.

I was on my way back downstairs to call the police when the phone began to ring, and I hopped the last couple of stairs to answer it.

It was Rachel.

‘Sally! Are you all right? What's going on?'

I lowered myself to sit on the stairs.

‘Oh Rach, you may well ask . . .'

I went through everything that had happened, glad that at least I was now able to tell her that Dad had regained consciousness.

‘You think he's going to be all right, then?' she said anxiously.

‘I certainly hope so. Things are looking a lot better than they were yesterday.'

‘It's a terrible thing to have happened, though. Just terrible! I can't believe it.'

‘That's not all you won't believe,' I said grimly. ‘While we were at the hospital we were burgled.'

‘Burgled!' Rachel repeated, gobsmacked.

‘Yep.' I went on to tell her about it, what had been taken, and what hadn't. ‘Would you believe they had the tele all ready to carry out as well, then just left it!'

‘Druggies,' Rachel said. ‘Bet you – it was druggies, wanting something to sell so they could get their next fix.'

‘Perhaps. But out here . . . in the country? And if it had been any other night, they'd have found themselves looking down the barrel of Dad's twelve-bore.'

‘Perhaps it's just as well he wasn't there when they broke in then,' Rachel said wryly. ‘Have you called the police?'

‘Not yet. I was just about to ring them when you called. Not that I imagine they'll be able to do much. The stuff that's been stolen has already been fenced, I expect.'

‘There might be fingerprints . . .'

‘There might, I suppose. But . . . oh, sugar, I suppose I'm going to have to wait in until their scenes-of-crime people have been, and I wanted to go and see Dad.'

‘Tell you what,' Rachel suggested, ‘why don't I come over? I could stay until it's time for me to pick the kids up from school. I was going to offer to drive you to the hospital, but perhaps I'd be more use fielding the fingerprint bods.'

‘Oh Rachel, that would be such a help. I can give you a list of what's missing, tell you where the burglar went . . . then, once I've made the initial report . . . oh, and fed the hens . . . I can be on my way.'

‘I can do that too,' Rachel said. ‘Feed the hens, I mean. I used to love doing it, do you remember? But are you sure you'll be all right, driving all the way to Bristol?'

‘I'll be fine – though Jeremy did offer.'

‘Well, if he's up for it, I think you should let him.'

‘Oh, I don't know. I'd rather be independent. And I can't impose any more. He's been so good.'

‘Hmm. Yes. Very good, I'd say.' There was heavy innuendo in her tone.

‘What do you mean?' I asked.

‘Are you sure he hasn't got an ulterior motive? I reckon he fancies you, Sally.'

‘
Jeremy
?' I laughed. ‘Of course he doesn't!'

‘Why not? He's single, isn't he?'

‘Well, yes, but in his own words, a confirmed bachelor. And he's at least ten years older than me.'

‘So what? It might have been a lot when you were seven and he was seventeen. But now, it's nothing.'

‘Honestly, Rachel, you do talk rubbish! Look, I must go and get this call in to the police. They'll think I'm stalking them, I shouldn't wonder! Twice in two days!'

‘OK, I'll be over in . . . what . . . say an hour?'

‘You're a star, Rach.'

I put down the phone, thinking that actually everyone was turning up trumps. Rachel, I'd expect. We'd been mates for so long. But for someone I hadn't seen in years, Jeremy was being extremely kind. Was he just being neighbourly? He was, after all, a good friend of Dad's. Or was it possible Rachel was right and he had a soft spot for me? Oh, surely not!

In any case, I didn't have time to think about that now. I had far too much to do, and too many other things on my mind.

Sighing, I dialled the number for the police, and prepared myself for a long wait.

Would the phone never stop ringing? I began to feel as if it was actually attached to my ear. Many of Mum and Dad's friends who had left messages last night were ringing again, and I felt duty bound to return the calls of those who didn't. All were deeply concerned, and those who had tried to phone again this morning whilst I was waiting to get through to the police about the burglary were fearing the worst when they found the line engaged for so long.

Rachel arrived, bless her, and Jeremy too. The knowing look Rachel gave me when he arrived at the door made the colour rush to my cheeks. Was it really possible he fancied me? If so, I wasn't sure it was a good idea for him to drive me to Bristol again, as he was offering to do, but between them, he and Rachel bullied me into it.

The one person who hadn't called again was Josh, and the omission hurt me. But perhaps he was waiting for me to ring him. I grabbed a moment to try his mobile, but it went straight to voicemail. I left a message saying I was just heading off to Bristol, and updated him briefly about Dad's condition. Then I got my coat and bag and Jeremy and I set off, leaving Rachel to wait for the police, who might not arrive for hours. Rachel would be able to show them where the burglars had been; if they wanted a statement from me, it would have to wait, but I somehow doubted they'd bother unless they were able to collar an offender, and Jeremy agreed with me.

‘All they'll do is give you a crime number for insurance purposes,' he said. ‘To be honest, I sometimes wonder what the police force in this country is coming to.'

There was a huge cellophane-wrapped bouquet of flowers on the back seat of his car – he must have visited a florist in Stoke Compton early this morning, I guessed, and realized guiltily that I hadn't got a single thing to take Mum and Dad beyond the bare necessities.

‘We could stop off on the way if you'd like to buy flowers or grapes,' Jeremy offered.

‘It's OK, I'll take something next time,' I said. I wasn't sure whether flowers would be allowed in the ICU, and besides, anything I could buy in a garage shop or supermarket would look horribly cheap up against Jeremy's sumptuous offering. As for grapes, Dad didn't care for them at the best of times, and as things were I couldn't see that he'd be up eating them before they shrivelled to sultanas.

This time Jeremy came into the hospital with me, and I was glad of his solid presence beside me as we walked along the endless corridors. My heart was in my mouth in spite of Mum's reassuring phone call earlier. I've always hated hospitals, and I don't suppose all the time I had to spend in one after my accident helped. There's something about the smell that is universally horrible – antiseptic and linoleum, food trolleys and sickness – that gets right inside me, and the purposeful bustle, the false cheerfulness of the nurses and visitors grates on my nerves. Oh yes, I was really glad Jeremy was with me, even though I wasn't casting so much as a glance in his direction, just ploughing purposefully on and trying to hide the apprehension I was feeling.

At the door to Dad's room I paused, peeping in through the small window. Dad looked much as he had last night, immobile, his head swathed in bandages; Mum was in the chair beside him. Her chin was resting on her chest and she looked as if she might be asleep. When I opened the door softly, though, she jerked upright.

‘Sally! Jeremy!'

‘Hi, Mum.' I nodded in Dad's direction. ‘How is he?'

‘Resting. But oh, Sally . . .'

Dad's eyes flickered.

‘Sal . . .' It was just a whisper, but it was music to my ears.

I leaned over the bed and took his hand in mine.

‘Oh Dad.' And then: ‘You old rascal, fancy frightening us like that!'

We stayed with Dad for about an hour. Anything more would have been too much for him, and in any case Mum was anxious for me to get back and see to things at home. She'd taken the news of the burglary well though.

‘It's only possessions, Sally. They're not important. It's a good thing you managed to transfer all your notes on to your new laptop, though, or you'd have lost all your hard work.'

‘Oh, shucks to that . . .'

‘Exactly,' Mum said. ‘Your dad is getting through this, and that's the only thing that matters.'

When we left the hospital and I switched my mobile on again it showed two messages waiting. The first, to my delight, was Josh, enquiring how things were and asking me to give him a call when I was able.

The second . . . I didn't know who the second one was. There was nothing but a moment of silence before it cut out. I went cold, remembering the silent calls of a few days ago. But this time there was no breathing to be heard, and it was only a few seconds before the phone went down at the other end and the line went dead. A wrong number, perhaps? Someone who realized they'd made a mistake in dialling and hung up immediately?

Jeremy glanced at me. ‘Something wrong?'

‘No . . . it's nothing.' I didn't want to go into all that now. ‘I must ring Josh though.'

‘Josh?'

‘My . . .' I hesitated. How to describe Josh? Boyfriend? That sounded stupidly juvenile. Lover? Hardly – not yet, anyway. ‘A friend,' I said. ‘You don't mind, do you?'

‘No, go ahead.' But he did look a bit put out, I thought, but I rang Josh anyway.

He answered more or less straightaway and I filled him in on the situation and told him about the burglary.

‘You're on your way home now?' he said. ‘Look, I'll try to pop in between jobs. It sounds to me as if you could do with some moral support.'

‘That would be great,' I said. ‘Hope to see you later, then.'

I'd scarcely disconnected when my phone rang again. I answered it, and was completely taken by surprise when the voice at the other end said: ‘Is that Sally Proctor? This is Alice Benson.'

‘Alice – hello!' My astonishment was echoed in my voice. ‘What . . .?'

‘Look, I can't talk now,' Alice said softly and rather hurriedly. ‘But there's something I should tell you. Could we meet sometime?'

I was staggered. I'd scarcely given a thought to my investigation since Dad's awful accident. Now, suddenly, here it was, rearing up to bite me.

‘Yes, yes, of course,' I said. ‘When . . .?'

Voices in the background.

‘I'll ring you again.' Same soft whisper. And then, louder: ‘Yes, that's right. Next Tuesday at the warehouse. The auction begins at eight sharp, but there's viewing from ten until twelve and again from four p.m. Thank you for your enquiry.'

The line went dead.

‘Well!' I said. I was puzzled now, as well as startled. Had Alice been saying she'd see me at the auction house, or was that just a way of covering up the fact that she'd been caught on the telephone?

Jeremy cast me an enquiring glance.

‘That is very odd,' I said. ‘The girl at Compton Properties – Alice, the one who knew Dawn – wants to talk to me. She wouldn't say a word before. And she sounds scared now.'

Jeremy laughed.

‘Lewis Crighton runs that office with a rod of iron, from what I've heard.'

‘Maybe. But it's more than that . . .' A little twist of excitement shivered in the pit of my stomach. ‘I'm on to something, I'm sure of it. And everything seems to be pointing to Lewis Crighton as being behind whatever it is.'

‘Wishful thinking, Sally,' Jeremy said lightly. ‘Ever the news hound, eh?'

‘Well, yes,' I admitted. ‘But I knew Alice was hiding something. And so is Lisa Curry, though I've as much chance of getting anything out of her as I have of walking on the moon. Well, I'll just have to wait and see if Alice phones me again – she said she would. Otherwise I'll go to the auction on Tuesday and hope to see her there.'

Back at the farm everything seemed to be running smoothly. The scenes-of-crime bods had been to dust for fingerprints and the local police had simply phoned with a crime number, as Jeremy had said they would. Rachel had fed the hens and picked up the eggs, and Mark Turnbull had stayed on after milking to help Sam with the various jobs that had to be done.