Authors: Anna Jacobs
Mrs Hockton waited until the client had left before taking a cup of coffee in to Mr Greaves. ‘I had a caller who said he was a private investigator working on behalf of Emily Mattison.’
‘Delightful woman. What would she be inquiring into?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘What did you think of him?’
‘I liked him. He has the sort of face you trust instinctively and excellent manners. A big contrast to that Pulford creature.’
She went out, shutting the door quietly behind her.
He read the letter and reached for the phone. ‘Is that Emily Mattison?’
‘Yes.’
‘Henry Greaves here. I believe you sent a private investigator to see me today.’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Could you give me some idea of what this is about?’ He heard a sniff and she blew her nose. Was she crying?
Someone else took over the call. ‘Chad here.’
‘I’m sorry if I upset your wife – um, partner.’
‘It’s not you who upset her, Mr Greaves. Let me explain.’ He outlined the bare bones of the situation.
Henry listened, amazed. ‘Are you sure this young woman is Emily’s daughter?’
‘Des is pretty sure. We sent him to see you because it upsets Emily to talk about it. Besides, he’s the one who’s found the daughter, so he can tell you exactly what he knows and show you the proof. Then perhaps you can communicate with your client and see if she would agree to meet Emily.’
‘I’ll definitely speak to Mr Monahan. Thank you for being so frank. It’s not an easy situation for your partner, I do understand. It’s just that my client is having difficulties with her ex-husband at the moment, so may not be able to arrange a meeting yet, even if she wants to. She might have to go into hiding, though we hope it won’t come to that. I’ll get back to you in a day or two with her response.’
‘Thank you.’
Henry put the phone down and strolled into the outer office. ‘When Mr Monahan returns, could you please send him straight through to me, Mrs H? He’s quite bona fide.’
‘I didn’t doubt it. I can always tell.’
He smiled as he walked back to his room. She was right. She was the best judge of human nature he’d ever met.
When Des returned to the lawyer’s rooms after his belated meal, he was shown straight through to Mr Greaves. He held out his ID card. ‘I assume you contacted Ms Mattison?’
‘Yes. She’s … um, rather fragile about this, so I spoke to Chad mainly.’
‘Yes. Who wouldn’t be upset? I’ve brought the case folder along. I thought it might save us both a lot of trouble if you looked through it first. Start at the back.’
‘Thank you.’
While Mr Greaves read carefully through the documentation, Des studied the office. It belonged to someone who liked to live well, he’d guess, not a legal go-getter hunting for the big cases and huge sums of money.
Eventually, Mr Greaves put the documents back into a neat pile in the folder. ‘Amazing, the things that happen sometimes. I’ve met the husband. He’s an extremely difficult man. He made Mrs Hockton so nervous she pressed the panic button.’
‘He upset her that much?’
‘Yes.’
‘I saw Pulford when I was investigating the case. And he was walking out of your building when I came here earlier on. He looked brutal. How do you wish me to refer to your client? I doubt she’ll still be calling herself Mrs Pulford.’
‘She’s Ms King now. It’s her maiden name.’
‘Look, if she needs protection from that fellow, I’m happy to offer my services. I’m sure Emily would approve of that and pay my expenses.’
‘Thank you, but Ms King has a neighbour who is an ex-policeman. He’s keeping an eye on her. We’re hoping that’ll be enough.’
‘It might not be. I asked around about Pulford. I managed to speak to a couple of his work colleagues and they were glad to blacken his name. They detest him and hinted at nasty tricks, though neither would specify what he’d actually done.’
Des hesitated, adding, ‘And I saw the photos of Ms King and her son’s injuries when I was speaking to the neighbour who took them.’
‘I saw her face the next day.’ Mr Greaves shuddered. ‘Pulford said he was going to stay in the town, find a hotel room. If he lingers, we may have to take out a restraining order.’
‘Do you think that’ll stop him?’
Mr Greaves looked shocked. ‘You think he’s that dangerous?’
‘I don’t know him well enough to say for certain … yet. But he probably is.’
‘Could you give me a call tomorrow, Mr Monahan? I’ll speak to my client and see what she wants to do.’
When he went to show his visitor out, Mrs Hockton was looking annoyed again.
‘Something else wrong?’ Mr Greaves asked.
Des paused beside him. Even the tiniest scrap of information could be of use.
Mrs Hockton said in a tight voice, ‘
That man
rang to tell us where he’s staying and he
ordered
me to inform you that he expects his wife to contact him at the hotel.’
Des said quietly. ‘Give me the address of the hotel and I’ll take a room there. I have to stay somewhere and it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him.’
They both looked at him in relief. He felt sorry for them. A lawyer who usually dealt with house sales, wills and other domestic matters was the last person to have the expertise and experience to handle a case like this.
‘Let me give you the number of my mobile phone,’ he suggested.
‘Good idea!’ Mr Greaves said. ‘Then I’ll phone my client and bring her up to date.’
When Des had left, Henry said, ‘I like that young man.’
‘So do I.’
He looked at her with a wry, twisted smile. ‘We’re out of our depth here, aren’t we, Mrs H? Oh well, we can only do our best. Could you get Libby on the phone, please?’
But Libby didn’t answer her phone and he was reluctant to leave a message. In the end, he got his secretary to type a note and left early to see if Libby was back. If not, he’d push the note through the letter box. That way he’d be sure she’d been warned about her husband.
When they got back from the antiques centre, Joss went to shower and change in his own house, and found a couple of messages waiting for him. One was from Leon’s unit, asking to be given the details about the package as soon as he got back, so he rang that number straight away.
Leon’s second-in-command rang back. ‘We’re just checking. No trouble with the package?’
‘The delivery went very smoothly. Ms King was helpful in caring for the package.’
‘Good. I’ll put her on the payroll. Are you up for another job?’
‘Not at the moment, I’m afraid. Ms King is in danger from a violent ex-husband and I’m riding shotgun here.’
‘Who’s the husband?’
‘A guy called Steven Pulford.’
‘Want me to check him out?’
‘I don’t think that’s necessary at this stage. His wife can probably fill me in on any details I need. He’s a macho, bullying workaholic.’
It was a while before he went back next door and when he did, he found Libby looking anxious.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Mr Greaves has twice tried to phone me. He didn’t leave a message. I wonder what he wants.’
‘Only one way to find out.’
‘I rang his rooms, but they were closed for the day.’ Libby sighed. ‘I’m wondering whether I should pack our bags, in case we’re forced to leave suddenly.’
‘Wouldn’t hurt to have your things ready.’
‘What if Steven’s already found us? What if he comes here?’
‘Then he’ll have to walk through me to get to you.’
‘He’s rather good at walking through people.’
‘He’ll be facing you
and
me this time, Libby. Two to one. I’d say we have the advantage.’
But she didn’t look convinced.
Joss knew something about the psychology behind these situations and wondered if she’d be able to break her conditioning to fight back if Pulford attacked her again.
As they were preparing an evening meal, Joss held up one hand. ‘Shh!’
The sound of a car coming up the hill from the village echoed clearly in the damp evening air.
Without a word, Joss put down his chopping knife and went into the front room. Libby watched him anxiously.
What if it was Steven?
What if there was a fight?
Who would win?
She shivered at that thought and for a few seconds couldn’t move. Then she thought of Ned and told herself not to be a coward, so followed Joss into the front room, standing close beside him, feeling the warmth and strength of his body.
The car turned off towards the cottages, and she held her breath. Then it came into sight and she recognised both the vehicle and the driver. Mr Greaves. Oh, thank goodness. Thank goodness!
Ned started shouting for his mother.
‘I’ll let Henry in,’ Joss said quietly.
‘Bring him into the kitchen. I have to keep an eye on Ned, see he eats his tea.’ If they had to flee, it was even more urgent that her son get a good meal into him.
He went to open the front door.
Mr Greaves didn’t look at all happy. He waited till he was sitting in the kitchen, where a sleepy Ned was just finishing some fruit and ice cream.
‘I’m afraid your ex is in Rochdale, Libby. He came to see me today.’
Libby closed her eyes, feeling sick. ‘I’ll leave at once.’
‘He doesn’t yet know where you live.’
‘He’ll find out. Anyone can check phone directories or the Electoral Rolls.’
‘Rose chose not to be listed publicly in either of them. She said old ladies were safer remaining anonymous. And we haven’t had time to register you.’
She considered this, but shook her head. ‘That’ll only delay him a little. He’ll go online and find someone to help him illegally. No one can stay anonymous these days. I’m sorry. I’ll have to forego the inheritance and leave. Would you … let me keep the money I’ve had so far? I’ll pay you back one day, I promise.’
Joss took her hand. ‘There’s a provision in the trust for us to allow you to leave here, if we’re unanimous. What do you think, Henry? Should we let her go?’
Mr Greaves nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘I think you’d be safer staying here for the moment, though,’ Joss said. ‘I’ll be with you and there are a few guys from the village within call. If you’re among strangers, well, they can ignore someone needing help.’
She bit her lip. ‘I don’t know.’
‘At least wait until morning. We need to make a plan.’
Mr Greaves nodded approval. ‘If you need more money, Libby, let me know. In fact, let me know what you’re doing at all times. I’ve told Pulford not to come to my rooms again. If he pursues you, we can take out an injunction to prevent him approaching you.’
‘As if he’ll pay any attention to that.’ She sighed. ‘But I don’t want to spend my life running, so I’ll … see how it goes. For a day or two, at any rate.’
‘There is something else I need to tell you about.’ Henry looked at her as if this wasn’t going to be pleasant.
Ned chose that moment to snuggle his head against his mother, with his thumb in his mouth.
She looked down to see his eyes closing. ‘Could whatever it is wait a few minutes while I put him to bed? If I force him to stay awake, he sleeps badly and gets very grumpy the next day.’
‘Of course it can wait.’ Mr Greaves turned to Joss. ‘Perhaps a cup of coffee might be in order?’
‘Or a glass of wine?’
‘Sadly no. Not when I’m driving and haven’t yet eaten.’
‘Coffee it is, then.’
Steven sat in his car, wondering if he was wasting his time. No, he was just checking out all possibilities, as he always did when he was working on a project. Besides, he had time to spare these days.
He sat a short distance along the street from the office building for over two hours, getting more and more irritated at what he was forced to do to get his own wife and son back. Oh, to hell with it! This was a stupid idea.
He started up the car but just as he was about to pull away, that old twit of a lawyer drove out of the car park.
Steven’s car was facing the wrong way. He managed to turn round quickly, annoying another motorist whom he held up, but he didn’t care. His need was urgent.
When he got to the end of the street, he thought he’d lost the lawyer, but saw him across the road, filling up the car at a petrol station. He slid into a no-parking zone, alert for police or parking officers, but his luck held and no one bothered him.
Once the car was filled, Greaves set off again, driving out of town.
That made it more difficult, because he might realise he was being followed. Luckily, there was enough traffic on the road for Steven to stay one or two cars behind him.
Greaves skirted a place called Todmorden, after which he turned off on to a side road that wound its way up the hill. He was the only one to turn, so Steven turned off and stopped, sitting at the end of the side road in his car, worrying. If he followed, he’d stand out like a sore thumb. If he didn’t, he’d lose the trail.
Then he saw a sign and laughed aloud. ‘
This road leads to Top o’ the Hill only.
’ It was a dead end. He got out and found a gate to stand on, watching for glimpses of the lawyer’s car winding its way up.
When it disappeared from sight among the houses, Steven got back into his car. He had to take the risk of following.
A Land Rover came down the hill. Steven flapped one hand, telling the other to back away, but the woman just folded her arms and waited. No way was the stupid female going to let him through. Then Steven saw a
Give Way to Oncoming Traffic
sign and realised he was in the wrong, so he backed the car until he reached a passing place.
With a triumphant toot on the horn, the Land Rover sped off down the hill. Steven made a vulgar sign at it and continued upwards.
The village was tiny. What a shabby hole! He slowed right down, looking right and left, but not seeing the lawyer’s car. There was only one road leading out of the village and it seemed to lead to a church tower right at the top of the hill, so he went up there.
Dammit! There were no cars parked at the church. Where the hell had Greaves gone?
Steven drove slowly back towards the village and saw an unmarked track with what looked like a grey slate roof beyond the bend in the track. He stopped to consider the best thing to do. If he went down the track and there was only one house, he’d have shown his hand.