In Search of Hope (27 page)

Chad came awake with a jerk.

‘We have a flat,’ she informed him as she brought it to a halt.

‘Damn! I hate changing tyres.’

‘I can do it.’

‘Is there anything you can’t do, woman?’

‘Lots.’ She opened the car door and got out, shivering in the cool night air. ‘I don’t enjoy changing tyres in the dark, though. I’m glad I’m not on my own.’

‘Nice to know I have some uses.’

‘Stop fishing for compliments and get out the spare tyre.’

Ken went to Reception and asked for Mr Pulford, giving his first name and explaining that he was expected. The woman phoned through to the room and told him Mr Pulford would be down in a minute.

He came hurrying down the stairs and took Ken into the hotel bar. ‘Did you find out where she is?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well?’

‘I’m hungry and thirsty. Aren’t you going to offer me a drink, even?’ He waited and as the minutes ticked by without even an offer of a half of beer from the miserable sod, he took his revenge. ‘That information will cost you a hundred pounds on top of the twenty you’ve already paid me. Payable in advance.’

‘Tell me where they are!’ Pulford’s voice was so loud people turned to stare at them.

‘Not till after you give me the money.’ Ken waited again, not liking the vicious expression on his companion’s face. He was beginning to wonder if this guy was a bit of a fruit loop.

‘Very well.’ Pulford pulled the money out of his pocket, but kept hold of it. ‘Where are they?’

Ken twitched the money away from him. ‘In an antiques centre halfway up to the moors, on the road to Todmorden. Chadderley Antiques, it’s called.’

‘Don’t even think of moving till I’ve found it on my satnav.’ He got out his smart phone and fiddled around. ‘It isn’t known.’

‘It used to be called the Drover’s Hope. Used to be a pub.’

Ken waited, not because he couldn’t have escaped, but because he didn’t want any trouble.

More fiddling, then: ‘Ah. There it is.’

‘Can I go now?’

‘How do I know you’re not cheating me?’

An outstretched arm prevented him from leaving without causing a scene. Ken kept his cool. ‘Look, Mr Pulford. I’ve done what you asked and I’ve told you the truth. You’ll have to take my word for it, I know. But I’m
not
lying to you.’ He crossed his heart mockingly.

Another minute’s scrutiny, then: ‘Very well.’ Pulford stood up. ‘Not a word to anyone.’

‘Do you think I’m crazy? I’m keeping my head down till I’ve finished my probation.’

Ken walked out of the hotel as quickly as he could without attracting attention to himself. He was glad to be away from that sicko. He didn’t envy the poor wife when the guy found her and felt a bit guilty for pointing the finger.

Then he touched the pocket with the money in and shrugged. You did what you had to.

Once back at his hotel room, Des tried to ring Chad’s mobile, but got the same mechanical voice telling him the service wasn’t available. Was there something wrong with the phone or was Chad somewhere with no coverage?

He didn’t like to go home again till he’d wound things up with his client, so he went back to his hotel room. He was sick of the sight of it. He checked that Pulford was still in the hotel, had a meal and went down for a drink in the bar. He was about to call it a day when Pulford came into the bar with a scruffy young fellow.

Where had he seen the younger guy before, Des wondered? Somewhere. He couldn’t figure out where, though.

He couldn’t get into a position from which to lip read so found it very frustrating to watch them. He could see enough to tell that the pair were not on good terms, however.

When the younger guy left, Des followed his gut instinct and walked out after him.

On the street he caught up and said quietly, ‘Want to earn some money?’

The guy spun round. ‘You’re the second person to ask me that today.’

He looked about to run for it, so Des spoke quickly. ‘I saw you talking to Pulford, and all I want to know is what you were talking about.’

‘How much are you offering?’

‘Fifty quid.’

‘Fine. Would you buy me a coffee, too?’

‘Sure. Let’s go in that café over there.’ When they were seated, Des paid for a coffee and a piece of cake.

‘Well, you’re more generous than Pulford, I’ll say that for you. And I need to do less to earn the money. I’d like to see the cash first, if you don’t mind.’

‘I don’t blame you.’

‘Who are you? Police?’

‘Private investigator.’

‘Licensed?’

‘Fully licensed. Do you want to see proof?’

‘Yes. I don’t want to get into any trouble with the police.’

Des pulled out his ID card. ‘Here you are. And I like to stay on good terms with the police, so I won’t be leading you into any trouble, I promise.’

After a careful study of Des’s face and the ID photo, the young guy said, ‘What do you want to know?’

‘What you’re doing with Pulford. Every single detail. And … I might be even more generous if the information is useful. But I’m good at telling when someone’s lying.’

‘Fair enough. Who needs to lie? I only met the fellow tonight. He’s not a friend or anything.’

The young guy started talking. Des prompted him a couple of times, asked questions and was satisfied he was being told the truth. He pushed the fifty pounds across the table, followed it with another twenty. ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure. Been a good day for earning a bit on the side.’

‘Don’t go back to Pulford. He’s trouble.’

‘Can’t stand the fellow.’

‘Oh? Why not?’

‘He’s a fruit loop. Something wrong up here.’ He tapped his forehead.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘I don’t know. He just … makes me feel uncomfortable.’ He looked at the menu. ‘I might grab a meal while I’m here.’

Des returned to the hotel. Pulford’s car was still there. He wondered whether to disable it, but decided against it. He doubted the fellow would leave and go after her tonight. Bit difficult stumbling over the moors in the dark.

No, he’d get up early and follow Pulford discreetly.

He tried Chad’s mobile phone again, but there was still no answer, so he went to bed.

After his informant had gone, Steven started to go up to his room, then changed his mind and found a quiet corner in the bar. He ordered a single malt. As he sipped it, he checked the area around the antiques centre on his satnav.

The place seemed to be on the edge of the moors, away from other habitations. If he could park somewhere out of sight, he could perhaps approach it from behind and break in. Then he’d drag Libby and Ned home, where he’d make sure his wife agreed to give a statement to the police saying they were now reconciled.

But he mustn’t get caught. The trouble was, the antiques centre was bound to have a good security system. How was he to get round that? What the hell did he know about electronics? He could use gadgets like his smart phone but he didn’t know how they worked, let alone how to break into a security system.

So he’d have to wait until dawn and hope someone got up early and switched the security off so that he could get inside.

It wasn’t a good plan. He needed a lot of luck if he was to get near her. But time was on his side. He had plenty of that, too bloody much, so he could hang around in the area as long as he had to. Days, if necessary.

If he didn’t die of boredom first.

He drained his glass of whisky and left the hotel, going out to an off-licence he had noticed on the way here, which was also a minimart.

He passed a café on the other side, then stopped and moved back, still keeping to the other side. Yes. That was Ken and he was talking to a man who looked familiar. Steven studied him carefully. He’d been in the hotel. On his own. Strange that he was talking to Ken, who wasn’t staying at the hotel.

When the man paid money to Ken, Steven’s suspicions were further roused. Something was going on here. It might not be connected to him, but there again, it was best to be sure.

When the guy came out, Steven nipped into the café and sat down at Ken’s table, smiling at the young fellow’s shock. ‘If you want to earn another fifty pounds, come to the hotel car park in quarter of an hour.’

He saw Ken hesitate, so added, ‘If you don’t turn up, I’ll call the police and lay a complaint against you for picking my pocket.’

‘Hey, man, chill! I’m always happy to earn more money.’

Steven arrived back at the hotel in time to see the stranger put something into a car and go up in the lift.

He took £50 out of his wallet, then waited in the car park until Ken turned up. Steven had been sure he would come.

Ken greeted him with, ‘Show me the money.’

Steven pulled the money out of his pocket. ‘Tell me about the guy you were talking to.’

He listened in annoyance, handing over the £50 when he was satisfied all had been explained. ‘Do not – go near – that guy again.’

‘Definitely not. I’m outa here.’

He watched Ken hurry out of sight, then studied the stranger’s car. Not now. Later.

He carried out his original plan and bought some supplies from the minimart in case he had to hang around near the antiques centre. He left them in the car.

At the hotel, he rang the bell at Reception, rousing a sleepy clerk from the rear office to pay his bill on the excuse that he’d had an urgent message and needed to leave really early in the morning.

Then he went to bed, to get what sleep he could.

He slept like a baby, waking at three a.m. as the radio alarm clock next to the bed went off. He wanted to reconnoitre the area round the antiques centre before anyone was stirring and it got light early in June.

It took him only a few minutes to shower and dress, after which he stopped in the hotel kitchen to pick up a sharp knife. There were plenty of them, so he doubted anyone would notice.

He slung his things into his Mercedes, then dealt with the car of the private investigator. He enjoyed disabling it.

‘Now try to follow me!’ Steven told it with relish.

He set off through the dark town, making his way up to the moors. No other vehicles were going in his direction and only two lorries came down the hill.

He drove slowly past the centre, looking for somewhere to park. He hadn’t passed anywhere suitable on his way – well, not in the last couple of miles – but luck was with him and he found a lay-by about half a mile up from the centre. He parked there, put on his trainers and set off across the moors, cursing the rough ground and the tussocky grass.

Grey light was filtering into the landscape now, even though it wasn’t yet dawn. His eyes quickly grew accustomed to the pre-dawn dimness and he had no trouble finding his way. It felt as if he was an actor in an old black and white movie.

He circled the antiques centre from about half a mile away, climbing over a dry-stone wall at one stage. But to the north and east there was only one wall. He couldn’t see any farms in that area and the land rose quite steeply at one point. He went south-westwards as far as the next wall, which was round a large private house in a little hamlet just down the hill. Yuppie tree-huggers, probably.

After standing for a moment, thinking hard, he moved closer to the centre. It had a lot of outbuildings at the rear, which might or might not be an advantage. Depended on whether they were included in the security system.

He’d read about Chadderley Antiques on their website. Why the hell had a big London dealer moved up here? It didn’t make sense. The man could have made far more money in London.

As the light increased, Steven found a few stones, the remains of some small shelter, and sat down on them. He didn’t want anyone to notice him standing up like a sore thumb. He wanted to observe what went on.

Libby slept badly and woke feeling as if she had a hangover, which she couldn’t have, because she’d not had anything alcoholic to drink last night. Worry. That was what was giving her a dull headache.

In other words, Steven. She knew he wouldn’t give up, not without a much better reason than an injunction. She was a possession to him, not a life partner.

It wasn’t yet light and Ned was still asleep. He’d sleep for a couple of hours yet, because he rarely stirred until after seven o’clock. She, on the other hand, felt restless and unable to go back to sleep.

She had a sudden urge to go down and sit in the small courtyard. She could watch dawn creep across the sky and maybe think up an alternative plan for getting away, in case Steven did find out where they were.

Would Joss be able to keep them safe? He seemed to think so. She wasn’t as sure. He was too kind – not nearly as ruthless as her ex.

On that thought, she got up, unable to lie in bed for another second. She put on her borrowed undies, jeans and a top, then went to the foot of the stairs. After she’d keyed in the security number, she was able to walk round the side of the display area, which was still electronically armed, and get out into the rear courtyard.

It was chilly outside and she wished she’d put a cardigan on, but she’d only stay here for a few minutes because she didn’t want to leave Ned on his own for long. She couldn’t see the dawn horizon to the east, because it was on the other side of the main road. She didn’t want to go so far away from the door.

But the air was cool and fresh, making her head feel better, so she sat down on the nearest bench.

Suddenly she thought she saw a light in one corner of the courtyard, as if someone was out there with a torch, and jumped to her feet, ready to dash inside. But the light slowly faded and there was no sign of a figure in that area. She must have been mistaken. It was probably a reflection of one of the security lights inside the buildings.

She sat down again, wondering whether she could meditate. No, she was far too agitated to do that. Besides, she had to keep watch at all times.

She’d just sit here quietly for a few minutes, before going back and waiting for Ned to wake up.

In the morning Des woke early, as usual, and decided to do a quick check that Pulford’s car was still there. Since his room was at the back, he couldn’t see the car park, so had to go down and look out of the front door of the hotel.