Time to Pay (16 page)

‘Lloyd is? But that's weird.'

‘Yeah. I know. But that's why I didn't want to show it to Rockley just yet.'

‘OK. Have you asked Lloyd about it?' Tilly said, as they turned into the yard.

‘No, I haven't, yet, but he's got a copy of the paper – I hope you don't mind.'

She shook her head. ‘No, not at all.'

‘But I haven't said anything about the phone numbers. I wanted to see what he came up with himself. Pippa doesn't know either – can we leave it that way for now?'

Tilly slid her feet out of the stirrups and dismounted. ‘Gavin, get that horse away from the others before he kicks somebody! Honestly! You haven't got the sense you were born with! And that wasn't much,' she added, under her breath.

She turned back to Gideon. ‘Don't you think you might be playing this list thing up too much? I told you, Damien was always writing stuff down in a kind of shorthand. It doesn't necessarily mean anything sinister.'

Gideon dismounted and looked at her across Comet's back.

‘Humour me. Please?'

She shrugged. ‘OK.'

‘And you won't mention it to Lloyd or Pippa?'

‘Not if you don't want me to. But let me know if you find anything, won't you?'

Spurred on by the sudden realisation that Pippa's birthday was only a couple of weeks away, and aided in his resolve by what the weatherman had called ‘prolonged showers', Gideon spent most of Tuesday working on the portrait of Skylark. With classical music on the radio, a slice of cold quiche for lunch, and no interruptions, he worked through until late afternoon, at which time he pushed aside his tray of pastels, stretched, and informed an eager Zebedee that it was time to go for a walk.

It was still raining and, after trudging round the Graylings woods for an hour or so, Gideon returned to the Gatehouse, firmly shut the front door, pulled the curtains on a darkening world and lit the fire.

In due course he fed Elsa and Zebedee, and was standing with the fridge door open, wondering what he could concoct that might be even remotely appetising from half a tin of salmon, a cold baked potato, and a pot of strawberry yoghurt, when the telephone rang.

‘Hi, handsome. Want some company?' a husky voice enquired.

‘Now, which one are you?' Gideon wondered aloud.

‘I'm the rich bitch that's going to give you a clip round the ear if you don't behave!' Eve warned him. ‘I was going to say I'd come over, but now I'm not sure I will . . .'

Gideon laughed. ‘Oh, please! Please come and see me.'

‘That's better. And again . . .'

‘Please come – I haven't seen you for three days and I've missed you . . .'

‘OK, OK – you can stop now. I'll be there in about three-quarters.'

‘I've missed you dreadfully,' Gideon continued as if she hadn't spoken. ‘And if you happened to pass a fish and chip shop, mine's a large cod and chips with salt but no vinegar.'

‘You cheeky bastard!'

‘Well, I've got nothing in the fridge.'

‘You don't deserve me!' she told him, and put the phone down.

Left to kick his heels for the best part of an hour, Gideon switched on the light in the porch, put a bottle of wine to chill and went back into his studio to take a critical look at the portrait. After a period away from the easel he could often see better where – if anywhere – he was going wrong.

This time, he was pleased with his work. Skylark's handsome head looked out of the paper at him, eyes shining and coat looking soft to the touch. All it needed was tidying up, adding the whiskers and other delicate finishing touches, and it would be ready for the framer.

Whistling softly with satisfaction, Gideon turned out the light and went back into the hall.

There, on the table beside the telephone, lay the list and, on a whim, he picked up the receiver and dialled the one number that had remained unanswered the night before.

For several seconds it looked as though he was going to be out of luck again but then, just as
Gideon was on the point of giving up, there was a click and a male voice said, in the tone of one whose patience had been stretched to the limit, ‘If that's you, Hodgkins, I'll string you up by your balls from the flagpole!'

‘Well, that's one way to get rid of nuisance callers,' Gideon said with amusement.

‘Oh, that's not Hodgkins, is it? I do apologise. Who is it?'

‘I was about to ask the same.'

‘Sorry. Garth; Garth Stephenson. Somehow the boys have got hold of my mobile number and they've been plaguing me with calls and text messages, night and day, since the day before yesterday. I'm going to have to ask Orange to give me a new number.'

‘You're a schoolteacher?'

‘Yes. PE. Sorry, who did you say you are?'

‘I didn't, actually.' Gideon decided to opt for the partial truth. ‘I'm a friend of Tilly Daniels. She found your number amongst her brother's things, but no name. I offered to check it out for her.'

‘Tilly . . .? Oh, good Lord! Damien Daniels' sister. I heard about that. What a terrible thing to happen. They don't have much luck, do they?' Stephenson didn't appear to find anything strange in Gideon's rather weak excuse for ringing.

‘Why do you say that?'

‘Well, I mean, with Marcus' suicide and everything.'

‘Oh, I see. No, they don't. Would you have any idea why Damien would have your number written down? Were you in touch with him recently?'

‘No. As far as I can remember, I've never spoken to him personally in my life. I knew Marcus – but not well . . .' The voice on the end of the phone tailed off then came back strongly. ‘No, I'm sorry, I can't help you.'

‘Well, do you by any chance know Sam Bentley?'

‘Listen, I'm sorry – Mr er . . .?'

‘Gideon.'

‘Yes, well, I'm sorry, Gideon – I really have to go. I'm supposed to be on duty in the prep room in five minutes. Give my condolences to Damien's sister. Goodbye.'

Gideon put the phone down and stood looking at it, wondering what, if anything, could be gleaned from the conversation, apart from the fact that an evening prep class presumably denoted a boarding school.

Considering Gideon's flimsy pretext, Stephenson's reaction to his call had been remarkably patient, and Gideon couldn't really blame him for his eagerness to terminate it. What he couldn't decide was whether the man would have rung off just as quickly if Gideon hadn't mentioned Sam Bentley. Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing.

It was three o'clock in the morning when Gideon awoke.

For a moment he lay still, heavy with sleep, wondering what had woken him. Eve lay close, her cheek and one arm on his chest, and he could hear her breathing, quiet and steady. It hadn't been her, then.

A short burst of barking sounded from downstairs, and Gideon sat up, carefully displacing Eve, who turned over, sighed deeply and snuggled down again.

Zebedee very rarely barked at night and, even muffled as it was by thick stone walls and heavy oak doors and floorboards, Gideon could sense the dog's urgency. Something was bothering him.

Quickly and quietly, Gideon got out of bed and crossed to the window. It was almost pitch black outside, and although he could just make out the cream-coloured roof of the Land Rover beyond the front hedge, he could see little else. Feeling for his clothes, he pulled on jeans and a jumper, and pushed his feet into moccasins before leaning across to give Eve's shoulder a gentle shake.

‘Wha . . .? What's the matter?'

‘Shh! Zebedee's barking, and after the other night, I think I'd better just check it out.' Anticipating her next move, he said quickly, ‘No, don't put the light on.'

The bedclothes rustled as she sat up.

‘I'll come too,' she whispered.

‘No, you stay there. It's probably just a badger or something.'

‘I'd like to see a badger.' She slid across and got out of bed.

‘Honestly, Eve. It's probably nothing.'

‘Last time you just went to check on something you got clobbered,' she reminded him. ‘You need someone to look after you.' Her body showed as a faint silhouette as she hopped, stepping into her trousers.

‘OK, but be quick and quiet. No lights; if there is someone there, we don't want to scare him off.'

‘Speak for yourself. Personally, that sounds like a great idea.'

Gideon ignored her, easing the door open and pausing to listen.

From the foot of the stairs came a low, rumbling growl.

‘All right, lad. I'm coming,' he said softly.

By the time Gideon reached the bottom of the stairs, with Eve close behind him, he could see that Zebedee was standing staring at the front door, ears and hackles up.

Gideon picked up a torch from the hall table, and Eve touched his arm.

‘Wouldn't it be better to call the police, Gideon? Please.'

‘For a badger?'

‘You don't know it's a badger.'

‘Well, unless they've got a car in the area, who or whatever it is'll be long gone by the time the police get here. I'll just take a look, but I'll be careful.'

‘Take Zeb, then.'

‘No, I'd rather he was here with you,' Gideon told her.

‘Now you're sounding really scary.'

His hand on the front-door bolt, Gideon dropped a kiss on her brow.

‘I just don't want him chasing badgers,' he said, slid the bolts back and turned the key. ‘Have you got him? He'll try and make a run for it.'

Moments later he was out in the cold night air and closing the door quietly behind him. After
the unlit house, the darkness in the garden was less intense, and he was easily able to make out the path leading to the front gate, the roof of the Land Rover parked in the lane, and the dark swell of trees beyond. Cloud masked the moon, and all but a scattering of stars, and a chill wind rustled the dry brown leaves of the hedge.

Gideon stood still, all his senses straining to catch whatever it was that had upset the dog.

Nothing.

No sight or sound of anything unusual.

Gideon relaxed a fraction, but supposed he'd better check the Land Rover and the shed before he went back inside.

Stepping over the low shrubs that bordered the path, he trod silently across the grass to the wicket gate, feeling the dew begin to soak the thin leather of his moccasins almost straight away. With his hand on the gate latch he became aware of a dim glow inside the Land Rover.

Hefting the rubber-covered torch in his hand, Gideon carefully operated the latch and started to open the gate. As he did so, the door on the far side of the vehicle shut with a muffled thunk, and a male voice muttered, ‘Fucking hell!' in tones of extreme frustration.

In the Gatehouse, Zebedee began to bark once more and, beside Gideon, the gate hinge emitted a dry squeal as he eased it open.

Instantly, the prowler took to his heels and sped away down the lane towards the road. Abandoning caution, Gideon tore after him.

It was a hopeless effort. For one thing, the man in front had a five-or-six yard head start,
and for another, he presumably wasn't wearing moccasins.

After only two or three strides, Gideon lost both of his, and from then on the outcome of the chase was never in doubt. He pulled up, hopping and swearing, just a few paces later, and switched the torch on. The feeble beam of light completely failed to reach the fugitive's fast-retreating form, and Gideon glanced at the fading bulb with irritation.

‘Hell and bloody damnation!' he said out loud, and making a mental note to renew the torch batteries, he began to retrace his steps, using the dim circle of light to locate his fallen shoes.

Reshod, he gave the Land Rover and the shed a cursory examination and then headed for the house, where he found Eve waiting for him on the step, her hand still in Zebedee's collar.

‘Badgers?' she enquired wryly.

‘Well, maybe not.'

‘What happened? Are you OK?'

‘Yeah, I'm fine – except for a bruised foot. My moccasins came off when I tried to run after him. But the bastard's slashed the canvas on the Land Rover.'

‘Oh, no, you're kidding! Was he trying to steal it, d'you think?'

‘I don't know. I rather got the impression he was looking inside it, but I can't imagine what he hoped to find.'

Eve shivered. ‘Well, if you've finished chasing burglars, shall we go inside? I'm freezing to death here.'

‘Why on earth didn't you wait inside?'

‘Because I couldn't see what was happening, and I thought you might need some help. D'you think it was the same person who broke in before?'

Gideon followed her into the relative warmth of the hall and shut the door.

‘I don't know. They had all evening to look around last time. Why would they come back?'

‘Well, to search the Land Rover, I suppose. It wasn't here that night, was it? Because you'd driven over to the gallery.'

‘But what the hell did he think he was looking for? I don't have much in the house, but I've got even less in the car.'

He sat down and kicked the moccasins off, stretching his damp feet towards the Aga.

‘Doesn't all this bother you?' she asked. ‘You know, I wasn't just shivering with the cold out there, I was really frightened!'

‘Oh, I'm sorry,' Gideon said, reaching out to rub her arm. ‘Well, obviously I'm not exactly overjoyed about it, but until I know who he is and what he's looking for, there's not a lot I can do. But at least he doesn't seem too eager for a confrontation, that's one thing.'

‘You're a strange one, you know, mister? When I first met you I thought you were pretty much of a big softy, but now I'm not so sure. You're so laid-back it's untrue, but you're soft like a polar bear is soft, and I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of one of those.'