A Shroud for Delilah (DCI Webb Mystery Book 1) (5 page)

Childhood remedies came to mind. A mug of hot milk and a couple of aspirins? It was worth a try. Anything to break the morbid treadmill her brain had embarked on.

She was halfway down the stairs when some slight, indistinct sound brought her to a halt, heart pounding. Control yourself! she thought furiously. Much more of this and she’d really become neurotic. But after another step the sound came again, louder and this time indisputable. Her palms tingled and the couplet flashed through her head: ‘By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.’

Water in the pipes. A mouse. All the explanations Michael had sleepily put forward over the years when, fearful in the dark, she had nudged him to go and investigate. Oh, Michael! God, I wish you were here!

She reached the foot of the stairs and stood stock-still, ears straining. Across the room a chink in the curtains pointed a shaft of moonlight towards her, bleaching the carpet in its path. To the left the flight of stairs led down to the darkness of the passage. Then, as she stood there, with the suddenness of an explosion, light blossomed down below.
Someone
had
switched
on
the
passage
light
!

Scarcely knowing what she did, Kate moved slowly forward until she stood in the middle of the room facing the stairs. No use rushing back to bed. She couldn’t hide there not knowing what was below, and there wasn’t a lock on Josh’s door. It would mean waking him and bundling him into her room, and there wasn’t time. All these thoughts cascaded through her mind in a split second, unformed but recognized and accepted. And now there were definite footsteps down there, footsteps that made no attempt to be stealthy, coming closer and closer. If only she’d grabbed something with which to defend herself — the carving knife? No, she thought shudderingly, not the carving knife. No point in making it easy for him. And as the thought crystallized, a man’s head and shoulders appeared in the stairwell. Kate froze, waited motionless.

He didn’t see her till he reached the top step. Then he stiffened. ‘God in heaven!’ The words were jolted out of him and at the same moment his hand reached for the switch and the room flooded with harsh light. Kate’s eyes hadn’t left his face. It changed from a silvery blur to reveal shape and colour, with an expression which must have matched her own. Though she was too terrified to anticipate his words, what he said surprised her.

‘Who the bloody hell are you? What are you doing here?’

Kate moistened her lips. ‘I think,’ she said sharply, ‘it is I who should ask you that.’ ‘Easily answered. This is my flat.’

‘Your—’ Realization hit her, bringing with it an enervating wave of relief. ‘Mr Mowbray?’ she whispered incredulously.

‘The same.’

‘Oh, thank God! I thought you were the murderer!’

‘You’re too kind.’ His voice was brisk, impatient, but as she backed to a chair and lowered herself into it, he said curiously, ‘You meant that, didn’t you? Why the hell should I be a murderer? And you still haven’t said what you’re doing here.’

She struggled to collect herself. ‘I’m Kate Romilly. I work at the shop.’

‘Good God! And Martin let you have the flat? He might have mentioned it, for Pete’s sake. He knows I sometimes use it.’ He hesitated. ‘Look, I’m sorry. It appears neither of us is at fault, and I can see you’ve had a fright.’ She heard amusement creep into his voice. ‘Mind you, I’m not denying you frightened the hell out of me, too, standing there white and motionless in the dark like an avenging angel! Are you all right now?’

‘I think so.’

He came forward and helped her to her feet and for a moment they stood looking at each other. He was broad-shouldered and rather stocky. His thick straight hair was platinum-blond and the eyes, engaged on their own assessment, a clear hazel, edged with stubby lashes. His mouth quirked suddenly.

‘An unconventional meeting, Miss Romilly!’

Belatedly she remembered her thin nightdress and felt the colour come to her face. ‘I was going to make a hot drink. I couldn’t sleep.’

‘I don’t know about a hot one, but I could use the other kind. Have you anything in the house?’

‘Only sherry, I’m afraid.’

‘Better than nothing. I suggest then that you point me in its direction while you find yourself a dressing gown, and when we’ve both recovered our nerve I’ll leave you in peace.’

She showed him the cupboard where she’d put the sherry and hurried back upstairs. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed her worst fears. The thin cotton clung to her body like a second skin and her hair was tousled and untidy. Swiftly she brushed it, caught up her dressing gown, thrust her feet into slippers. What a way to meet your new boss! Tomorrow, with Madge, she’d be able to laugh about it.

When she reached the kitchen suitably sheathed, he had two glasses ready.

‘Sit down,’ he invited. ‘You still look shaken. I really am sorry about this.’

‘I’m not usually so craven, but everyone’s talking about the murders and I couldn’t get them out of my head. So naturally, when I heard you coming in...’ Her voice trailed helplessly away.

‘There was nothing craven in the way you faced me. No hint of turning and running.’

‘I couldn’t, because of my son.’

His eyes went swiftly to her hand. ‘So it’s
Mrs
Romilly. I beg your pardon. And you have a child with you?’

‘Didn’t Martin tell you
anything
about me?’

‘Only that he’d found someone at a moment’s notice to replace Molly. But admittedly I cut him short. I’d a lot of business to discuss and didn’t give it another thought.’ He finished his drink and reached out to refill his glass. ‘I often bed down here if I’m in the neighbourhood. I’ve an appointment in the morning, so there was no point in driving all the way to Chipping Claydon.’

‘What will you do now? You can’t go to an hotel this time of night.’

He smiled slightly. ‘It would serve Martin right if I knocked him up. No, I’ll sleep in the car. I’ve done it before.’

Kate took a steadying sip of sherry. ‘If you’d be more comfortable on the sofa, you’re welcome to stay.’ She made an embarrassed little gesture. ‘It’s your flat, after all.’

‘The best offer I’ve had all week. Sure you wouldn’t mind?’

She smiled. ‘Not at all. If the murderer does come creeping up, at least he’d find you first!’

‘What is all this about a murderer? You’re not really expecting one, surely?’

Kate eyed him incredulously. ‘Mr Mowbray, I don’t know where you’ve been for the past two weeks, but unless it was Outer Mongolia I can’t believe you’ve not heard of the Delilah murders.’

‘Ah! The writing on the mirror? That does ring a bell. Of course, they were in this area, weren’t they?’ He stood up and stretched. ‘If we don’t get some sleep, neither of us will be fit for much tomorrow. I’ve had a long drive and I’m just about dead beat. You go back to bed. I’ve my night things with me’ — he nodded to a valise on the floor — ‘so I’ll just use the bathroom, if I may.’

‘I’ll say good night, then.’

He raised his glass in a salute and drank from it. But as she reached the stairs his voice stopped her.

‘Mrs Romilly?’

‘Yes?’

‘Might one ask where
Mr
Romilly is?’

‘In Shillingham.’

‘Ah!’

She waited, but he made no further comment and after a moment she continued up

the stairs.

CHAPTER 6

The alarm rang for some time before Kate reached out sleepily to silence it. Then, suddenly wide awake, she sat up. Richard Mowbray was here!

Hastily she pulled on her dressing gown and opened the door. There was no sound of movement from below, and she went quickly into Josh’s room. He lay spread-eagled on the bed, warm and tousled like a small animal. Kate gently shook him awake and hurried to the bathroom. The mirror was misted up, the soap wet. Mr Mowbray was ahead of her.

She bathed quickly, supervised the intricacies of Josh’s school tie and explained the presence of the visitor downstairs. By the time they went down, Richard Mowbray was draining a mug of coffee.

‘I helped myself. Hope you don’t mind.’ Kate noticed that the hours of sleep had done nothing to lessen his pallor. He shook hands with Josh and put his mug on the table. ‘I’ll get out of your way, then. Thanks for the accommodation.’

‘Won’t you have some breakfast?’

‘No, thanks, the coffee was fine.’ And he was gone, taking his valise with him. Feeling distinctly underslept, Kate set about laying the table.

When she reached the office an hour later, Lana, a faint colour in her cheeks, was opening the mail while Richard Mowbray talked on the telephone. Martin arrived just as he finished.

‘Hello there — welcome back. You’ve met Kate, I take it?’

‘Indeed yes. In the middle of the night.’

Though she didn’t look up, Lana’s fingers paused briefly as Martin, looking from one to the other, exclaimed, ‘Oh God! Don’t tell me! Didn’t I—?’

‘No, you bloody didn’t!’ Richard said amiably. ‘I burst into the flat at one a.m. and — Kate — assumed I’d come to cut her throat.’

‘I did try to tell you on the phone, but you cut in about the Royal Worcester. So what did you do?’

‘It was too late to go elsewhere, so she kindly allowed me use of the sofa. But she’d a nasty few minutes, hearing me crashing up the stairs.’

Martin turned to her and spread his hands. ‘What can I say? I’m really very sorry.’

‘The bolt on the door is stuck,’ Kate said levelly, ‘which was why Mr Mowbray was able to get in. Could you have a look at it?’

‘So that he can’t again?’ Martin suggested with a grin. ‘Certainly. It probably only needs a spot of oil. Now,’ — he turned to Richard — ‘you’d better fill me in before old Carruthers arrives. How much is this stuff worth?’

‘Hell, I was going to entertain him upstairs. We’ll have to take him to The George.’

‘It’s quite tidy up there,’ Kate said. ‘You’re welcome to go up if you’d like to.’

‘I think I’ve imposed enough.’

‘All the same,’ Martin put in, ‘it would be far more convenient if Kate doesn’t mind. Everything we want to show him is here.’

‘Old Carruthers,’ an elderly military-looking gentleman, arrived at ten o’clock and the partners duly took him upstairs. Kate could hear them moving about and the low murmur of their voices. At eleven, Lana took up a tray of coffee.

‘It must have been a shock,’ she commented on her return, ‘hearing someone come in the middle of the night.’

Kate sipped her coffee. ‘It wasn’t too pleasant.’

‘How very brave of you to go downstairs.’

‘Actually, I
was
downstairs. In the living room, that is. I was about to make myself a drink. But why does Mr Mowbray use the flat? Hasn’t he a home of his own?’

‘Yes, but it’s up on the Gloucestershire borders. In Chipping Claydon.’

‘I think he mentioned it. Not very convenient, surely?’

‘He spends most of his time travelling to sales and auctions, and he’s abroad a lot, so it doesn’t make much difference.’

‘He’s divorced, isn’t he?’

‘I suppose Mr Bailey told you. It’ll be two years ago now.’

‘Did you know his wife?’

‘She came here once or twice. I didn’t care for her.’

‘I gather he was pretty upset when she left.’

Lana didn’t reply and when Kate glanced at her, she was surprised to see her lip trembling. Could she be nursing a secret passion for Richard Mowbray? After a moment Lana said quietly, ‘The end of a marriage is always sad. At least Mr Mow-bray was able to weather it. Other people aren’t so strong.’

‘You know such people?’ probed Kate gently.

‘My brother.’ The long fingers tightened on the edge of the desk. ‘It was a combination of things. He hadn’t been well, he was made redundant, then his wife left him.’

‘It must have been the last straw. What happened?’

‘He — took his own life.’ She bent her head.

‘Oh, Lana — no! I’m terribly sorry. When did this happen?’

‘Six months ago. It nearly killed Father. That’s when he took permanently to his bed. Ralph was the apple of his eye, you see.’

‘Are there any children?’

Her mouth tightened. ‘Yes, Judy. A lovely little girl. Six, she is now — not much younger than your Josh. Since her mother went off without her, Father and I thought we’d be granted custody, but no.
She
came back and claimed her and the court gave in. But a child needs two parents, Mrs Romilly.’

‘Yes,’ Kate said numbly.

Lana raised her head. ‘Forgive me — I’ve no right to say this — but I’d assumed you were a widow. It was only when Josh came to tea and started chatting about his father that I realized — well—’

‘That I’d left him? Nothing’s really settled yet. We’re just having a cooling-off period.’ Why had she said that? Was that really how she regarded it, or was she simply trying to placate Lana, who was clearly upset?

‘I hoped it might be that. Josh seems to be expecting his father this weekend.’

‘Yes, he’ll be down in connection with the murder, anyway.’

‘The murder? Your husband’s in the police?’

‘No, he’s editor of the local paper. He—’

‘Michael Romilly?’ Lana exclaimed, as Martin had before her. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I make the connection?’

‘Probably because you thought I was a widow.’

‘Yes, I can see it would be difficult, living up to a man like that.’

Only when Kate thought about it later did that last remark imply she was herself to blame.

***

Madge telephoned the next morning. ‘Sorry to ring you at work, Kate, but Michael’s here. Or rather, he’s just left on his way to you. I tried to persuade him to wait, but he wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable.’

Kate briefly closed her eyes. ‘All right, Madge. Thanks for the warning.’ She put down the phone and went out into the shop, looking round it like a general sizing up the battlefield. Richard and Martin were out, Lana still closeted in the office. And Josh, when last seen, had been flat on his stomach on the living-room floor, a comic spread out in front of him.

‘Of course I’ll be all right,’ he’d said indignantly as she left him. ‘If I want you, I’ll come down.’

So she was alone, which was just as well. How much had Madge told him? She had no time to wonder. The door rocked open and Michael, his shoulders wet with rain, came briskly into the shop. He stopped on seeing Kate, and he too glanced quickly round to make sure they were alone.

‘So there you are. Have you finished playing games?’

‘I’m not playing, Michael. I told you that.’

‘I grant you’ve gone further than I expected. I thought you’d be staying with Madge till I came for you, but she tells me you’ve not only a job but a flat as well. Isn’t that overdoing it?’

‘I need both.’

‘My dear girl’ — she was always his “dear girl” when he was most annoyed with her — ‘you know perfectly well you’ve no intention of carrying this through. When you judge I’ve pleaded and cajoled enough, you’ll come back all right.’

Her head lifted. ‘Is that what you’re doing, pleading and cajoling? I can’t say I noticed.’

His mouth tightened. ‘Pack your bags. I’m taking you both home.’

‘I’m sorry, Michael, but you’re not.’

‘Then I’m taking Josh.’

‘Wrong again. Josh is at school here. How could you look after him when you work such irregular hours?’

‘Damn it, he’s my son.’

‘You can see him. In fact, he’s expecting you. But I advise you not to do anything high-handed like taking him back with you, because then things would get really unpleasant.’

He stood considering, head bent slightly as he weighed the possibilities. It was such a typical stance, so familiar, that Kate’s body, not realizing its changed status, gave a little jerk of longing. Michael exuded virility like a male animal, confident and self-aware. No wonder she had rivals.

‘As it happens,’ he said, coolly looking at her, ‘this could be quite convenient. I’ll be spending some time here while this murder story holds and I’ll need a base.’

‘You can’t stay here, Michael. I didn’t come—’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Kate. You’re my wife and I have every right to sleep with you.’

Heat flooded over her, and the old treacherous desire. ‘It’s quite impossible.’ She heard her voice rise, but before she could continue the doorbell sounded its warning and Martin came in, pausing as he saw them facing each other.

‘This is my husband,’ Kate said woodenly. ‘Martin Bailey, my boss.’

Martin’s tone was smooth. ‘If you’d like to talk somewhere, I can hold the fort for a while.’

‘Thank you.’

Since she’d no wish to parade Michael through the office in front of Lana, Kate went out of the shop door and in the next one. She hadn’t looked again at Michael, but he followed her closely. They went in silence up the stairs. Josh was still engrossed in his comic, an open box of crayons beside him.

Kate said with forced brightness, ‘Look who’s here, darling.’

Josh raised his head, one strand of hair falling over his forehead. ‘Hello, Daddy.’

‘Hi there.’

No exuberant hugs, no flinging his arms round Michael’s knees. He was a very self-contained little boy. Was that her fault? Or should it rather be considered an achievement?

‘How’s school going down?’

‘All right.’

‘He’s enjoying it very much,’ Kate enthused, ‘and having Tim with him is a great help.’

‘The Netherbys are proving indispensable.’

Josh, opting out of the long words, returned to his comic. Kate said in an undertone, ‘Do you want to take him out somewhere?’

‘What about you?’

‘I work all day Saturday.’

‘Well, that’s just great, isn’t it? When the hell are we going to talk?’

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

‘Kate, for God’s sake!’ He paused. ‘Please come home.’

‘This is home. For the moment, anyway.’

Michael sighed with exasperation. ‘All right, we’ll postpone our discussion till this evening.’ He glanced at his son stretched on the floor. ‘What on earth can I do with him all day?’

Kate felt a tinge of sympathy. She didn’t doubt Michael was fond of Josh, but he wasn’t gifted with patience and found it hard to limit his keen, analytical brain to the compass of his son’s understanding.

‘Take him to a Chinese restaurant and then to the cinema. By the time that’s over I’ll be free.’

‘Right.’ Michael’s face mirrored his relief. ‘Come on then, Josh. Get your mac and we’ll go out for some Chinese.’

‘Great!’ Josh scrambled happily to his feet and ran up the stairs. His father’s eyes followed him.

‘How many bedrooms are there?’

‘Two.’

‘So he’s not in with you?’

‘No.’ She met his eyes steadily. ‘And nor will you be.’

He didn’t reply. No doubt he felt that after a meal and a bottle of wine — which he’d be sure to bring back — she’d be more accommodating. Josh reappeared fastening his raincoat and the three of them went downstairs and out to the pavement. The rain had almost stopped.

‘Family reunion?’

Kate turned to see Richard Mowbray approaching, and perforce introduced him to Michael, who said easily, ‘I’ll be down here for some days covering the murder. I take it there’d be no objection if I join my family upstairs?’

Richard glanced at Kate, and almost imperceptibly she shook her head.

‘Awfully sorry, old man.’ His tone was as nonchalant as Michael’s. ‘Can’t be done. There are all kinds of subletting clauses and we have to stick with them. Fire risks and so on.’

‘
Fire
risks? But surely—’

‘Sorry. Nice to have met you.’ And Richard passed into the shop.

Kate avoided her husband’s eye. ‘See you about five-thirty.’ She followed Richard inside and he turned from the vase he was studying.

‘Thank you,’ she said simply.

‘Any time.’

***

That afternoon was the busiest of the week. Possibly people came in out of the rain, but their shelter proved profitable and the cash register was kept busy. Kate tried to concentrate on her work, but her mind was on the evening ahead.
Children
need
two
parents
,
Mrs
Romilly
.