Tainted Ground (29 page)

‘About twelve hours.'

I now saw that my left arm was in a sling.

‘Do you remember phoning me?' Patrick repeated.

They were both furious and had lost patience with me and had not even told me how bad were my injuries.

‘Go away,' I said, closing my eyes. ‘I don't know what I remember. I don't even know if
this
is real or not.' The things that were swilling around in my mind were preposterous. Marjorie Brandon, a different woman altogether to the one I had met, had hit me? They had a thug of an accomplice, probably their son, by the name of Teddy? I had found the gold? I had been hit by a car after walking along the main road in the dark? The last was the only thing of which I had no recollection at all.

‘Brandon's made an official complaint,' Carrick said, getting to his feet. ‘In writing, this time. Do you remember going to his place and bawling him out, accusing him of the murders, of leading a life of crime and just about anything else you could think of?'

‘Oh, yes, I can remember that bit,' I said.

‘I thought I told you to
apologize
to him.'

‘Go away,' I said, knowing tears were trickling down my face. ‘I'll talk to you again when you're off those bloody pills.'

The DCI went, shaking his head sadly at Patrick on the way out.

‘If you loved me—' I began.

‘I do,' he interrupted, pulling his chair up closer. ‘Nothing's going to change that.'

‘But I took the gun, broke into the locked garage, confronted Brandon …' My head hurt so much I felt sick. I had to stop talking for a moment.

‘It was still in your pocket and would have taken a bit of explaining away if I hadn't been issued with a permit. Brinkley arranged for me to have it.'

‘Why?' At least no one had made off with it.

‘You and I are still on several terrorist organizations' hit-lists. Ingrid—'

‘I know, you've been given the boot and it's all my fault.'

‘No, I haven't. But your position's a bit iffy now. Don't worry about it.'

‘Go away,' I said.

‘I was going to suggest I take you home, to Devon, when your wrist's been put in plaster.'

‘I've broken it?'

‘Yes, they're waiting until the swelling goes down.'

‘What else have I done to myself?'

‘Hasn't anyone told you?'

‘Patrick, I've only just woken up.'

He smiled to himself in infuriating male fashion. ‘Not quite. You've been telling the doctors and nurses you found a big bag of gold. Other than the wrist you're only very badly bruised. And you've two super black eyes.'

‘I think I did find the gold, actually.'

‘What, the ingots? Where?'

‘In the river.'

‘But—'

‘I can't remember what I did with it afterwards.'

The pig actually smiled again, patting my arm. ‘It's all right. Don't worry about anything.'

‘Go away.'

‘OK. I'll come back later.'

‘Don't bother. Just ask Elspeth if she'd mind bringing me some clean clothes.'

By the door he paused. ‘Did you find anything in the locked garage?'

‘What locked garage?'

‘You just said you broke into the locked garage.'

But it had gone, I had no memory of it.

I must have slept, for when I next woke up the late-afternoon sun was shining across the bed. The sun. When had I last seen the sun? How wonderful. I moved the hand not in the sling and from which someone had removed the drip attachment while I slept into the bright light and could feel the warmth. It was a part of emerging from my bad, dark dream.

The events in my mind were much more in focus now, at least, everything but walking along the main road. This was not to say that most of it could still be a dream and I was merely recollecting it more clearly. What I needed was proof. The main problem with obtaining that was the men who would have to go and find it for me, were the same ones who thought me deluded, suffering from amnesia, or whatever, after being hit by the car. The infernal imagination had survived unscathed, however, and now presented me with a neat little scenario of white-coated experts discussing with James and Patrick what was wrong with me, utilizing all the very latest psycho-babble, the whole boiling lot's heads going up and down like nodding donkeys.

I tried to get my thoughts in order but I ached and throbbed all over. It seemed logical, that until proved otherwise, I should regard everything I could remember as having actually taken place, no matter how bizarre it might appear. One problem was the dreamlike quality of my memories, the colours over-bright, lurid, the people stagey, almost grotesque caricatures of themselves. Not to worry, I would ignore that as well and put the phenomenon down to medical reasons.

Elspeth arrived, took one look at me and embraced me like swans' down.

‘It's that bad?' I asked. ‘I haven't dared look in a mirror.'

‘You're not badly hurt, that's all that matters and the rest will mend. There's no one around – do you need me to come with you to the loo, or anything? I've brought your sponge bag and dressing gown.'

A quarter of an hour later, having washed myself, one-handed, as well as I could, including the areas that actually appeared to be going black and blue as I watched – I had thought for a moment that the mirror was faulty – I was far more comfortably back in bed.

‘He's completely at sea,' Elspeth said, smoothing the covers. ‘Patrick, I mean. He simply doesn't know what to make of this.'

‘It's because I have a reputation for a vivid imagination,' I said. ‘Even I can't separate fact from fiction right now.'

‘You could relate it all to me and I could write it down. Would that help?'

‘I could try but it won't make any difference. Patrick, and more importantly James Carrick, still won't believe it. In his eyes the Brandons are OAPs and that's that.'

‘All this happened to you because you called on the Brandons? How incredible!'

‘I've no real evidence to back it up. Only the gold, if I really did find it.'

Her eyes glowed.

‘Only I can't remember what I did with it,' I added.

Elspeth rummaged in her bag for pen and paper. Then she paused. ‘What a dreadful woman you must think I am!' she cried. ‘I haven't even asked you if you want anything to eat or drink.'

‘Tea,' I pleaded. ‘And something sweet to give me energy. I must have missed all the mealtimes.'

She went away, muttering about neglectful husbands and absent NHS staff.

My arms ached as though I had been weight-training with far too heavy weights. Come to think of it they had ached like this when I had entered the mill, crossed the hall and rung the …

There was a box of tissues on the bedside table and I snatched one and cried a little into it. I was starting to remember. My arms ached from hauling the gold out of the river in the old kit bag, I could feel the rough, sodden canvas under my fingers even now. I looked down at my hands. Two of my nails were broken from picking at the knots in the tight nylon rope. After succeeding in opening the bag to discover the ingots bundled up in bubble-wrap I had dropped the undone end of the rope back in the river and rolled another stone over the hammered-in end of the metal spike to make everything look just the same as when I had found it. Then what?

Just a blank until I had returned to the mill.

Returned? Where had I been? Where had I gone, no doubt hugging the bag to myself as it was much too heavy to carry one-handed?

Elspeth came back with the tea and a large iced bun with a cherry on top.

‘You're bound to be upset for a few days,' she said consolingly when I had dried another few tears.

‘No, it's just that Patrick and I always have sticky buns at the nick,' I gulped. ‘It's turned into a little ritual, a joke between us, really.'

She cut it into small pieces for me as my mouth was very swollen.

‘If you're going to tell me what you thought happened someone else should be here,' Elspeth said solemnly. ‘As a witness. This is bound to end up in court.'

‘You won't believe what I think happened either,' I told her.

‘Try me.'

Elspeth was helping me drink the tea as even my good hand was too shaky to hold the cup. I said, ‘Marjorie Brandon appears to be the brains behind a career in crime the pair of them have had. She hit me and dragged me into the flat by my feet where she hit me again. They have a yob helping them who might be their son called Teddy who arrived shortly afterwards.'

‘I know about him. Edward, she referred to him as. He works in the States and she made him sound very grand. Oh, my
dear
.'

I had dissolved into tears again. My imagination did not seem to have hijacked my brain after all.

‘I'm going to call Patrick,' Elspeth announced when I had been persuaded to eat something. ‘He ought to be here with you anyway.'

Patrick arrived about twenty minutes later – he had been working at Manvers Street – and brought with him a witness in the shape of Lynn Outhwaite and a tape recorder. It was all official and Elspeth did not have to write anything down. I thought for a moment she would be asked to leave and prepared to protest but Patrick solemnly gave her permission to stay.

There were still holes in my memory of what had happened and as I spoke I could see the doubt on their faces, especially when I said I had found the bag containing the gold, but I carried on talking, dredging up every smallest detail I could remember, for a little while longer and then asked for a short rest.

‘How about the locked garage?' Patrick prompted ruthlessly, but stopping the tape. ‘Are you sure you still can't remember that bit?'

‘No,' I said, carefully sipping another cup of tea, unassisted this time.

‘Yet you can remember going in the unlocked one first that contained the blue car.'

‘I've just said so, haven't it? Oh, that's right, the alarm wasn't set and the keys had been left in the ignition. I had an idea it might be booby-trapped in some way so I didn't touch it.'

‘Whatever made you think
that
?' Lynn asked incredulously.

‘I was trained by MI5,' I told her. ‘It makes you twitchy.'

When we recommenced and that new recollection had been inserted for the benefit of the tape I went on to say that I could not remember what I had done with the gold and began to relate, again in as much detail as possible, what had happened after I had rung the Brandons' doorbell. Here open scepticism surfaced among my audience and when I spoke of how they had cooked and eaten dinner while I lay, tied up, out in the hall Lynn started to become restless. Even Elspeth looked doubtful and once again I began to doubt myself.

‘The Brandons are adamant that they didn't even let you in after you'd confronted them at the door,' Patrick said at one point.

‘I'm sure some of my DNA is on their carpet,' I retorted. ‘Are they still there, by the way?'

‘So far as I know.'

‘Only they were talking of going to France until things settled down again.'

Patrick shook his head. ‘I'm fairly sure they're still there. But you're ahead of yourself. This man Teddy – he's their son?'

‘I only guessed he was their son, from the way Marjorie spoke to him.' But I could not remember the exact words she had said.

‘I know I'm probably not supposed to say anything,' Elspeth suddenly interposed, ‘but if Ingrid put the gold somewhere after she found it and they looked for it in the place they left it and it wasn't there they're not going anywhere until they've recovered it, are they?'

Or got their hands on me again to make me tell them where I'd hidden it. I shuddered. Perhaps I would go home to Devon after all.

Patrick smiled at his mother in acknowledgement of this and said to me, ‘Go on. What happened after he arrived?'

‘They made me phone you. Marjorie said she would kill me there and then if I did not exactly repeat the message they gave me. I felt too awful to try to resist. He had a knife.'

‘But you had the gun in your pocket.'

‘My hands and feet were tied together and they all stood in a ring around me as I sat on the floor. They undid my hands so I could phone.'

‘Then what?'

‘I don't know. I passed out again. I think Teddy must have hit me. He was standing nearest to me then.'

Lynn said, ‘But why didn't they remove the gun from your pocket, or your mobile phone? Surely both posed a risk to them. I'm ignoring the skeleton keys, by the way.'

‘I've no idea.'

‘But you're saying that these people are hardened criminals.'

‘Brandon's attitude was that I was just the rector's daughter-in-law playing policeman and Marjorie was far more worried about Patrick. They probably didn't search me.'

But there had been something else in my pocket. I said, ‘May I have another break while I try to think about something?'

Patrick got up to stretch his legs. ‘And we haven't even touched on why you then walked up the main road.'

‘You still don't believe me, do you?' I stormed. ‘They must have loaded me in a car, driven up there, and then, when presumably I'd come round sufficiently to be mobile, left me in the road hoping I'd get killed!' What had been the other thing in my pocket that they could have regarded as a risk to them?

‘What, and risk someone else at the mill seeing them?' Lynn scoffed.

‘It's not that I don't believe you,' Patrick said. ‘You were knocked unconscious more than once and that affects the mind. You get vivid mental pictures, strange dreams. I know, when I was blown up in the Falklands I dreamt that I was a boy again and walking along Plymouth Hoe having a long conversation with Dad about the birds and the bees.'