Folly (19 page)

‘See?' Mary said. ‘I told you the story gets a bit deep in places.'

‘I think it's interesting.' Alex broke her silence.

‘That pattern's really intricate,' Harriet said. ‘Violet is in her nineties now. She still makes lace-edged handkerchiefs but they're much more simple.'

Mary harrumphed and said, ‘If her eyes are like mine she's got my sympathy. Before we go on with this, I want to ask something about Reverend Restrick. Kev said the police won't say which hospital he's in. Don't you think that sounds as if they're afraid someone will get in and kill him?'

Tony smiled to himself. In this village everyone was a budding detective. ‘I suppose it could, but it could also be a big leap to think that. Could be the man's so injured they don't want a lot of visitors showing up.'

Alex put a fist to her mouth. ‘We shouldn't talk about what we think too much. You heard the way they were going on in the Black Dog, Mary. You, too, Harriet. If they could settle on a culprit they'd have him in the stocks by now. Then we'd have to make sure they threw rotten fruit and veg at him, not darts from the Black Dog.'

‘Unfortunately our village stocks are missing the top bit,' Harriet said with a smile in her voice. ‘But you're right. They were … well, to be honest it was mostly Kev Winslet who was ready to convict the first likely candidate.'

‘Did he have anyone in mind?' Tony asked.

‘Just a lot of stuff about how he heard the police were saying the man on the hill could be Edward Derwinter, which is silly when he died years ago. And how Edward coming back would mess things up for Leonard and Heather, because of the inheritance.' Harriet sniffed. ‘We still don't understand why that boy was sent away. He had a terrible stutter and sometimes he didn't talk for weeks on end, but that shouldn't have been a reason to hide him away like that. First he lost his mother and he'd been like her shadow up till she died. He turned very quiet then. And after he saw the little Cummings boy drown, he shut up altogether. If he did try to talk, you couldn't understand him. We all think old man Derwinter was ashamed of him.'

They were all quiet until Mary said, too loudly, ‘Kev should know better than to sneak around his employers' place listening for things that are none of his business. Those people have been good to him – they're good to anyone who works for them.'

Tony could sense Alex's distress. The past days had been too much for her. His father's warnings about not waiting too long to tell her about what happened to him in Australia weighed heavily. When was the right moment for something like that? He was almost sure she would believe his side of the story, but he couldn't be completely certain.

‘Is there more about the lace?' Alex asked. She swiveled in her seat to look at the sisters.

Neither of them answered, just gazed out of the windows.

‘Is there?' Alex pressed.

‘Don't say we didn't warn you. It sounds outlandish. There's a little edge of the bride's initials still on the lawn. Just the very top of the first one, and the second one, but a bit more of the third one. The letters M, then O, then S. There's a bit more of the S but we're all sure the first two are M and O from the very top shape.'

Alex shocked Tony by abruptly resting her forehead on his shoulder. ‘How will we ever make something out of that?' she said.

He stroked her black curls. Alex glanced down, then straightened up quickly. What he felt was more than the reaction of a friend.

‘Any ideas?' he asked the sisters.

‘Violet's sure she knows. Maria Olivia Scaduto. Says she could never forget anything that unusual.'

‘And Violet's in her nineties?' Tony said.

‘We don't all go dotty past the fine age of thirty-five, young man,' Harriet said.

‘Absolutely not,' Tony said diplomatically – if a little late.

‘She was Cornelius Derwinter's wife,' Mary said. ‘That's where Leonard's coloring comes from. Italian. Beautiful girl. Only saw her a few times.'

Tony watched ever fatter flakes of snow fluff the windscreen and slide to join the thickening heap on the Land Rover's bonnet. Inside, the temperature had dropped.

‘That doesn't make any sense,' Alex said. ‘Where's the rest of the handkerchief?'

Mary leaned forward and lowered her voice as if afraid of being overheard. ‘According to Violet, the whole thing was put in Maria's coffin.'

S
he would probably get hell from Tony. Alex whistled and leaned forward to peer through the windscreen, trying to keep a steady speed on the hill leading to her house. If she slowed down she could slip to a halt.

When they had walked Harriet and Mary safely into their cottage, Tony got a call to come to his clinic and set a sheepdog's leg. He left Alex at Lily's and she told him she'd wait for him to come and take her up the hill to get fresh clothes and supplies.

He had been gone a long time, called and said he'd be even longer, and she became afraid they wouldn't get up the hill and back again if they didn't go now. She stopped over at the Black Dog to tell her mother where she was going, collected Bogie and took off.

No one would be fooling around the lodge in this weather. It would be safe. With luck, she could do what she had to in record time, not that she owed Tony any explanations for her actions. Even if she had come to like being with him more than without him …

The Land Rover scrunched to a stop. Alex could already make out the turn to the right that came before the driveway at Lime Tree Lodge. Not that she felt like trying to go the rest of the way on foot. Letting the pedal up slowly, she slid back a little and made another attempt.

It didn't work, but the next try did.

Bogie sat close, leaned against her and swayed with every jolt. And managed to get in a lick to her jaw from time to time.

In this manner, creeping forward and sliding back inches, she reached the lodge, where inches of virgin snow covered everything. Winters were getting more extreme. Last year there had been sub-freezing temperatures in late April.

Rather than risk getting on an unplanned downward roll in the driveway, Alex stopped a little distance away from the front door. The outdoor lights came on and she got out of the Land Rover with Bogie trying to push past. It was funny how quickly a place looked deserted. This time she would leave more lights on inside the lodge.

She let herself into the house and shivered, even in her parka. The rush of air that met her felt more chilling than it was outside. It shouldn't be so cold in here. She hadn't turned off the heat, but a hand on one of the space heaters installed deliberately because they looked like antique radiators confirmed it was cold, and felt as if it had been for a long time.

The pipes will freeze.
Several descriptive words came to mind but she swallowed them all. These were the joys of owning a home and having no one to share thinking about the upkeep – not that she needed anyone, she reminded herself.

Bogie bustled around familiarly. She was glad to have him. That thought warmed her up and brought a grin to her face. It was amazing how quickly she'd become accustomed to her little sidekick.

Suitcases were kept in a cupboard under the main stairs. The space was finished and very dry so made a good storage area. Her mother said that in the Second World War that's where the occupants would have hidden during bombing attacks, not that Lily had actually been around for that. This area was just far enough from London not to have experienced much wartime activity, but Alex always got a funny feeling when she opened the door and thought about those who might have run under there to take cover. There were still several well-made cupboards that must have been used for supplies, and the area was reinforced.

Deciding on two small bags rather than a big one, she took the wheeled duffels into the hall but stopped before going upstairs. She needed to find out why the heat had gone off. In the morning she must call Simpson Brothers, who were actually father and son these days, and get them up here if possible. The Simpsons were the kind of family do-all firm that also did everything well without overcharging.

The heat ran on electricity and since the lights were working, there could not be a general failure. She looked at the circuit box and threw the breakers. She really didn't know enough to work out what might be wrong.

The lights were on. Nothing else looked unusual. The problem had to be peculiar to the heating.

Another check of the heaters showed they were still cold.

The only thing she could do was turn the heaters all the way up and hope at least some warmth came through.

Alex rubbed her hands together. A breeze, strong and icy, was coming from somewhere. She turned the nearest control and kept turning and turning. Frowning, she looked closer, then moved to the next heater. It was turned all the way off, as the first one must have been.

A rapid survey of the living room as she walked round revealed the same situation. Someone had turned off every bit of heat and it hadn't been her.

What she had been too preoccupied to notice were open drawers. The room wasn't turned upside down but there was no doubt someone had been in there searching for something. Cushions remained on couches and chairs but they were pulled out and untidy.

Alex stood still in the middle of the room and listened. What she heard was the beating of her heart.

The house sounded and felt silent, still.

Alex had a problem squishing a fly but these were serious circumstances. She picked up one of a group of antique walking sticks she'd collected in a polished brass umbrella stand.

The beat of her heart in her throat hurt, but she followed the perishing current of air back into the hall and through to the kitchen. Running out the way she'd come in wouldn't help. If someone was around, they'd get to her no matter where she went.

The door from the kitchen stood wide open. She could see the stone wall at the side of the grounds and how snow heaped on every surface.

Again, someone had made a perfunctory search. Unlike the room at the Black Dog, nothing was broken here or scattered about. A single dart with a yellow flight stabbed a small square of printed paper, pinned it to the table.

She didn't want to cry but tears squeezed from the corners of her eyelids and burned. A few steps took her to the table and she read a copy of a simple announcement outlined with a single black line. Alex had never seen it before.

In Loving Memory

Of

Michelle

Infant daughter of Michael and Alexandra Bailey-Jones.

Taken before she drew breath.

We will never forget.

Bogie leaped up and barked wildly. An instant later the front doorbell rang.

Shaking, Alex stopped breathing. She called her baby Lily – but only to herself. She pulled out her mobile phone.

The bell rang again before loud hammering sounded. And the outdoor lights blacked out.

Alex screamed. The sound erupted before she could contain it. She punched in 999 and held the phone to her ear with both hands.

A disembodied voice at the other end asked the questions she had hoped she would never have to answer again. ‘Lime Tree Lodge,' she started. She heard meaningless questions but she talked over them, trying to keep breathing deeply. ‘I need the police. I think someone's been in my house. And now they're outside trying to get in.'

While she spoke a tall shape materialized from the darkness and faint white glow outside, approached the door and rushed toward her, arms outstretched. His head and lower face were wrapped in a black scarf.

Alex dropped the phone, raised the ivory head of the walking stick and braced her feet apart.

B
ogie stopped barking.

‘Dammit, Alex, why didn't you wait for me?' Tony caught her arms as she raised them, a stick held in both hands. He couldn't remember this sensation of frustration and protectiveness hitting him at the same time before.

She struggled against him until he took away the stick. ‘Tony?' Taking in short, shallow gulps of air, she pushed him away and sat down hard in a kitchen chair.

‘Alex? I talked to Lily and she said you'd only left a short time before. You said you'd wait. Look what you've done. You've scared yourself half to death – and me.' Bogie panted and jumped up to get his attention, ignoring Katie who had followed him in.

‘The snow was getting heavier all the time.' Her pallor, and the sheen on her face – and her obvious fight to breathe – could be the start of another panic attack. ‘Who would be up here in this kind of weather if they didn't have to be? I just thought … I could get a few things and be back in the village without any problems. I was afraid that if I waited another hour or so it wouldn't be so easy to get up here.'

Katie gave a thorough, whole body, almost levitating shake, showering Alex, who flinched.

‘Down,' Tony told his dog. He propped the cane against a counter. ‘Alex, why did you leave the back door open?'

‘I didn't.' She bent over the table. ‘Thought you were … I don't know.'

Tony rubbed her back. ‘Take a deep breath and hold it. Let it out slowly. Everything's OK now.' He saw a piece of copied newsprint on the table and reached for it before pulling his hand away. One of those darts pinned the paper to the table. The police wouldn't want it touched. ‘Breathe,' he told Alex, reading the announcement.

Crazy bastard.

‘I'm so sorry,' he said quietly, crouching beside her. At her other side, looking doleful, sat Katie, and Bogie muscled in to share the space. ‘Whoever's doing this is sick. And he really doesn't want you around here.'
Probably not the best thing to say
.

‘I would have called her Lily, not Michelle,' Alex said quietly, her breathing slower. ‘I never saw that announcement before. I don't even know what paper it was in, or whatever. Who would put it in?' She leaned back in her chair. ‘Why does someone want me to leave – that
is
what they want? Tony, is what's happening to me really something to do with these deaths?'