Smile and be a Villain (11 page)

‘Oh, what a pity,' I said. ‘I wonder – do you think it would be all right if you gave me her phone number? We could try later.'

‘Oh, well, if you met at church, I suppose it wouldn't matter.' She pulled out her own phone, found the number and read it off to me while I entered it in mine. ‘You're that couple who found Mr Abercrombie, aren't you?'

We were becoming used to this. ‘Yes,' said Alan, ‘and please accept our condolences. It appears that this congregation will miss him very much.'

‘Hmph. That's as may be. He was a charmer, but there was something about him … however. If you do manage to talk to Alice, you might remind her about the flowers. There'll still be plenty to do tomorrow morning.'

‘Well, there's another one in the negative column,' said Alan as we walked back to our room.

‘Or at least not one of the walked-on-water crowd. Alan, what are you going to do about following up on your gambling idea?'

‘First, I'm going to find a computer somewhere and see what I can find there. If I still have questions I'm going to the Commission in the morning. Meanwhile, it's too late for tea and far too early for dinner. Why don't you come with me to the library? They're sure to have at least one computer for public use, and I'm sure you can find something of interest while I surf.'

‘I didn't even know there was a library. Lead the way, great explorer.'

It wasn't far away. Nothing is very far away from anything else in Alderney. It was small, as one might expect, but new and clean and well-stocked. An assistant showed Alan the somewhat antiquated computer he could use, and helped him to log on.

I was pleased to find the mysteries of some of my favourite American authors on the shelves, and took one down at random to while away a few minutes. Of course I knew I couldn't check it out, but if I couldn't stand not to finish it, Annie could always order it for me.

Alan was taking a long time. He must be finding something of interest. I got tired of my book – not as good as I'd hoped – and went outside to get some fresh air and try to call Alice Small. I got no response, not even voicemail. Oh, well, maybe she was one of those people who hate voicemail. I went back in the library and wandered about, went outside again to place the call, went back in. I finally sat down next to my husband, who was still absorbed in his research.

The assistant approached. ‘I'm sorry, sir, but we're closing in a few minutes. Perhaps if you could finish up what you're doing? I can print a few pages out for you, if you like.'

He sat up and stretched. ‘No, that won't be necessary, thank you. You've been a great help.'

‘So did you find what you needed?' I asked when we were out in the sunshine and I'd tried Alice again.

‘There's a lot of information on the Net. Too much, indeed. I may stop at the Commission offices tomorrow for help in sorting it all out. But I learned several things that seem to knock my theory into a cocked hat. For one thing, a licence to operate an e-gambling operation out of Alderney costs a great deal of money. If I read it correctly, the cheapest licence, for the first year only, is over £17,000. After that it doubles, at least. That's just for the licence. Then one must prove one has adequate funds to operate, that is, to pay out on bets. There are all sorts of forms and requirements, and frankly I was getting a headache trying to make my way through it all.'

‘Hmm. It does sound daunting. I'm not sure our get-rich-quick priest would want to get involved in that.'

‘No. And I thought it was such a good idea. Have you managed to reach Alice?'

‘No, and I've tried over and over again. It just rings and rings, no voicemail, even. I thought modern phones always responded in one way or another.'

‘Perhaps it isn't a modern phone. I suppose there are still a few old-fashioned ones around. Still, given her state of mind, it's a bit worrisome, don't you think?'

‘I do, actually. I'd like to make sure she's all right, but I have no idea where she lives, or works, or anything. Do you suppose the Visitor Centre is still open? Someone there might have some ideas.'

‘It's well past their official closing time, but we could try.'

It was closed, but someone was just leaving the Wildlife Trust office next door. We hurried.

‘Sorry, we're just closing, but was there something you needed?' The man looked tired, but he was still pleasant. Of course he was. This was Alderney.

‘We're sorry to bother you,' I said, ‘and actually we were hoping to talk to someone next door. I'm trying to find the address of a lady I met at church, and I don't know where to begin.'

‘You've tried the church?'

‘We did, earlier. Someone gave us her phone number, but she doesn't answer.'

‘What's the lady's name?'

‘Alice Small.'

‘Oh, Alice! Yes, of course. Actually she lives quite close to me – I'm Philip Cooper, by the way – and I'm going home. If you'd like to come with me, I can show you.' He sized us up in a quick glance. ‘It's not too far, but I'm afraid I didn't bring my car.'

‘We're spryer than we may look,' said Alan with a smile, ‘and we like to walk.'

It was, indeed, not far, and all downhill, to the bottom of Victoria Street and then just a short walk down Braye Road.

Our guide showed us her front gate, and then paused. ‘That's odd,' he said. ‘She always leaves her door just a little ajar, so the cat can get in and out. Perhaps the wind blew it shut.'

‘There's not been any wind today to speak of,' said Alan, suddenly sounding very much like a policeman. He walked up to the tightly shut door and rapped sharply. The only response was a frantic mewing from somewhere within.

‘Why, she's shut even the windows! And her car's here.'

The uneasiness I'd been feeling turned to real fear. Alan hammered on the door again, and called out. Only the cat responded.

Alan tried the door. It was locked.

‘She never locks her door!' said Philip. ‘Nobody in Alderney ever locks a door!'

Alan turned, looking grim. ‘Dorothy,' he ordered, ‘check for an open window somewhere. We need to know what's happening.'

‘Now, wait a minute,' said Philip in alarm. ‘I admit this is peculiar, but there must be some reasonable explanation. I really can't let you—'

‘I am a policeman,' said Alan. ‘I have no authority here in Alderney, but my wife and I have reason to be worried about Ms Small's emotional balance. You may notify the police if you wish, but I intend to enter this house and make sure that all is well.'

I found a window that was slightly ajar. It was upstairs, overlooking the roof over the back stoop. There was a sturdy trellis.

‘Dorothy, you weigh less than I do. Do you think you could climb up?'

‘No. My knees won't do it.' I turned to Philip, who was looking more and more upset. He was middle-aged, but a small man who looked fit and active. ‘I know you don't know who we are, and have no reason to trust us. But my name is Dorothy Martin and this is my husband, Alan Nesbitt, and we had a conversation with Alice a day or two ago that disturbed us a good deal. I do urge you, as her friend and neighbour, to get into her house and see why she's shut herself in and isn't answering her door – or her telephone.'

The cat yowled again. That must have decided him. He scowled, but he climbed up the trellis nimbly enough, pushed the window open and disappeared inside.

It was only a minute or two before his head and shoulders reappeared at the window. ‘She isn't here. And the cat's bowls are empty. She would never have left without providing for him. Something's wrong. I'm coming down.'

‘P
hilip,' I asked as he stood outside once more, ‘if Alice somehow ran into trouble, wouldn't she have called you?'

‘She doesn't have a mobile. She couldn't phone anyone. We need to do something!'

Alan wasted no time, but pulled out his phone and called 999. ‘Constable Partridge? Ah, good. Alan Nesbitt here. We have a possible emergency. I'm at—' he turned to Philip – ‘where am I?'

‘Seventeen Braye Road.'

Alan repeated it. ‘The resident appears to have left the house in rather peculiar circumstances. Can you come, or send someone? Good.' He clicked the phone off. ‘Good man,' he said. ‘No unnecessary questions, and he'll save the necessary ones till he gets here. I could have used a few like him back in Belleshire.'

I watched the light dawn in Philip's eyes. ‘You're the ones – did you find Mr Abercrombie?'

‘We did,' I replied, ‘and, in a way, that's why we're so worried about Ms Small.'

‘Mrs. She prefers Mrs, even though she's a widow. And I hope you don't think she had anything to do with that man's death.'

‘No, we don't. As far as anyone knows, Mr Abercrombie's death was accidental. He fell down a steep hill, hit his head on a rock and died of severe brain injuries. Why do you ask?'

‘Oh. Well.' Philip shifted from one foot to the other and looked anywhere but at us. ‘No reason, really. I mean – you said …' He came to a stop and looked unhappy.

Neither Alan nor I said anything. We just looked at him and waited.

He couldn't stand a silence any more than most people. ‘Oh, it's just that – well, she didn't care much for Mr Abercrombie, and she's been acting odd since he died, and I wondered if – that is, whether – but she's a truly fine person, she would never …'

I took pity on him. ‘Mr Cooper, nobody thinks Alice had anything to do with Abercrombie's death. We knew about her feelings toward him, and we also knew she was very unhappy. That's one reason we wanted to see her.'

‘One reason. What was the other?' He was beginning to sound belligerent.

I was trying to decide whether to tell him the truth, and try to find out if he knew anything about Robin's attitudes, when a police car rolled up and Constable Partridge got out.

He went straight to the person who had the best right to be here. ‘Phil, what's wrong here?'

‘It's Alice. She's gone. And the house was locked up tight as a drum, with poor Sammy not able to get out, and not a bite of food nor a drop of water left for him. Her car's here, but she isn't. Something's happened!'

He turned to us. ‘And how is it that you are involved?'

It could have been an accusation, but it sounded like a simple question, and Alan answered it that way. ‘We wanted to talk to Alice, perhaps invite her to tea, and she wasn't answering her phone. Mr Cooper offered to show us the way to her house, and when we got here we couldn't get a response to our knock. We became somewhat alarmed, so I'm afraid we broke into her house and found the situation he described.'

‘I was the one who went in,' said Phil. ‘No one else could climb the trellis. I didn't really want to, but they insisted – and I'm glad they did. What are we going to do, Derek?'

The man was near tears. I can be slow on the uptake, but I saw in his eyes what I should have seen before. This man was, if not in love with Alice Small, at least very, very fond of her.

Poor guy! I was very much afraid something awful had happened to the woman, and even if it hadn't, she was so sunk in her grief, and her hatred of Abercrombie, that I doubted she had emotional space for other feelings.

The constable was responding to Phil's question. ‘First, we make a thorough search of the house. There may be some indication of where she's gone, and why. I'll ask Mr Nesbitt to join me in that search. He was a very senior police officer in England, and he won't have lost his skill. Mrs Martin, perhaps you could talk to Phil, see if he can call up any ideas that might help.'

And keep him out of our way, was the silent message. I nodded my understanding.

When they had gone inside, Phil and I looked at each other. ‘I'd rather go in and help them look. She's my friend. I might spot something out of the ordinary. I think I should help look.'

‘Phil, they're trained policemen. They know what to look for. I'm sure they'll ask you about anything that seems odd. Meanwhile, perhaps we could find someplace to sit? I hate to admit it, but I'm feeling a little rocky.'

It was the truth. Every now and then I feel my age, and this was one of the times. I was also feeling more than a little guilty. Alan and I had known that Alice was in great distress, and had done nothing about it. True, she had lots of friends on the island who could have stepped in. But they didn't know her story. She said she had told no one but us. We should have followed up, and we hadn't.

Phil broke into my thoughts. ‘We could go to my house. It's just over there.' He pointed. ‘We could have some tea, or something stronger if you prefer.'

‘Thank you. I'll just tell Alan.'

I called into the house, told the men where we'd be and left with Phil.

His house was small, but brightly painted and spotless. ‘Do you mind sitting in the kitchen?' he asked.

‘I live in my kitchen at home. I don't mind at all.'

We both decided tea was just what we needed, and while he went about making it, he asked, ‘Why did you really want to talk to Alice? Was it true, what your husband told Derek?'

‘Yes, in part. We had a very curious conversation with Alice a few days ago, as Alan said. She said she hated Abercrombie, and was glad he was dead, but she didn't act happy. We got to worrying about that and decided to talk to her. But that wasn't the only reason. Oh, thank you,' I said as he began to pour my cup of tea. ‘Yes, milk and sugar, please.'

I took a sip of tea. It was too hot to drink. ‘I said there was another reason,' I continued. ‘Alan and I have taken an interest in Mr Abercrombie, since we were the ones to find him, and we've found something rather odd. So many people, at the church especially, seem to have loved him. But there are a few besides Alice whose opinions are quite different. We thought Alice might have some insights into that.'