3 Inspector Hobbes and the Gold Diggers (30 page)

‘What about Sid?’ I asked.

‘Don’t worry, he can look after himself, but I suppose I should have a word with him.’

‘Do you really think he’ll be alright?’

‘He always has been and I doubt this time will be any different.’

‘But what about Denny?’

‘I’m sure he’ll be alright too, just as long as he keeps out of Sid’s way.’

‘What? Denny’s really strong and he’s really mean.’

‘You’d be surprised what Sid can do. You’re forgetting what he is.’

‘He’s a nice old man.’

‘No, he’s not. He’s an old vampire, who chooses to be nice. I’m far more worried about Denzil Barker’s well-being, and I’d like to give him a word of warning before he does anything else he’ll regret.’

‘Good,’ I said uncertainly, but slightly reassured. ‘There’s another thing – Sir Gerald was confident Denny could beat you, and don’t forget, you are injured.’

He shrugged. ‘I hope it won’t come down to violence, but if it does, well, who knows?’

Some of my reassurance evaporated, but the jut of his chin suggested he was not to be argued with. ‘OK,’ I said, ‘but could you explain about the rocks?’

‘I showed them to a geologist who had them analysed.’

‘And what did he discover?’

‘She
confirmed they are perfectly ordinary rocks, just the same as any other in that region of the Blacker Mountains.’

‘Well, in that case,’ I said, ‘it hardly seems worth the effort.’

‘On the contrary, it was most illuminating.’

‘I don’t see why. And what’s it all got to do with Hugh Duckworth’s death?’

‘Mr Duckworth was, I understand, an amateur geologist as well as being a historian. He was planning to publish a booklet on the Blacker Mountains.’

‘But what has that got to do with his death?’

‘I think,’ said Hobbes, ‘that it is likely that his research had the potential to reveal a certain inconvenient truth.’

‘What truth?’

‘That the rocks around Blacker Hollow are quite ordinary.’

‘You keep saying that, but it doesn’t make any more sense. I don’t get it.’

He shook his head. ‘I’ll leave you to think about it for a while longer. It’ll do you good. In the meantime, let’s go and tell Sid your news. Come along. And quickly.’

As he strode from the alley, I followed, even more confused than usual. The rocks completely baffled me, because I could see no significance to them at all. Had they been valuable I might, perhaps, have seen a motive for keeping them secret, even for killing someone, but they weren’t.

However I looked at what had happened, it seemed to me that Hugh Duckworth had been murdered and that someone, possibly Hobbes, even though it had taken place outside his jurisdiction, should be investigating. I suspected Denny and it was chilling to know that I’d given him a reason to hold a grudge. Perhaps Daphne also suspected him. She was certainly afraid of him and with good reason. Even so, I didn’t know why he’d attacked her after she’d left Blackcastle. I wondered if she had something Sir Gerald wanted. Could it be information? Possibly the inconvenient truth Hobbes had mentioned? Yet, despite my fear of him, I recognised that Denny was the hired help and that he was only doing what he was told to do. It was clear Sir Gerald was behind her problems, although it would be difficult to prove. I really hoped Hobbes would help her and make her well-being his priority, despite the importance of recovering the stolen gold and catching the rest of the gang.

As we crossed The Shambles, heading for the bank, which although still festooned in police tape, was open for business, Hobbes asked about Kathy, reminding me of what was apparently his true priority. ‘She was a little dispirited at lunchtime,’ he said, ‘and I hoped you might bump into her and keep her amused for a while. It’s a shame I’m so busy at the moment because I’d like to spend more time getting to know her. By the way, where is she?’

‘At the Feathers,’ I said, embarrassed. ‘She was talking to Featherlight. They appeared to be getting on very well.’

He frowned. ‘You left her at the Feathers?’

I nodded. ‘I had to find Sid. She’ll be alright.’

‘I hope so, but it’s no place for a lady, especially one on her own.’

‘But Featherlight was looking after her. He wouldn’t try anything on, would he?’

‘No. In his own peculiar way, Featherlight is an honourable man. I’m just not so sure about some of his customers.’

‘He can take care of them.’

Hobbes brightened. ‘Of course he can.’

We entered Grossman’s Bank, a solid, dark, heavy-barred building that looked as if it had not changed since Queen Victoria was sitting on the throne. My footsteps rang on black and white tiles as we approached a varnished door with a gleaming brass handle. Hobbes knocked and a diminutive, skinny man with pointy elbows, wearing a tight black suit and steel-framed, half-moon glasses, opened the door.

‘Good afternoon, Siegfried,’ said Hobbes. ‘Is Mr Sharples in?’

‘Good afternoon, sir,’ said Siegfried, with a slight Germanic intonation, giving us a quaint bow. ‘He’s in his office. Please, go straight through. He’s expecting you.’

‘Thank you,’ said Hobbes, leading me down a gloomy corridor to the enormous, polished, panelled door at the end, a door intended to impress. It bore a brass plaque with the legend: ‘Dr Sidney Sharples, manager.’ As he knocked, it swung open without a sound.

Sid, immaculate in a navy blue, pinstripe business suit, was behind a vast desk in an old-fashioned and rather grand office, with half a dozen armchairs arranged in a semicircle around a log fire. Rising from his green leather chair, he removed his spectacles and smiled.

‘Wilber, Andy, welcome.’

Walking around the desk, he approached with his hand held out. As I shook it, I was again struck by the delicacy and softness of his plump fingers and couldn’t see him faring well should Denny ever catch up with him.

‘How can I help you? Would you like a cup of tea? Or can I arrange an overdraft?’

‘I never say no to a cup of tea,’ said Hobbes, sitting in a leather-covered armchair.

‘Yes please,’ I said, ‘tea would be nice.’ I wriggled onto the chair next to Hobbes, finding it was surprisingly deep and astonishingly comfortable, and stretched out my hands, warming them at the blaze.

Sid pulled a cord on the wall and Siegfried entered, once again treating us to his bow.

‘A pot of tea for three, if you’d be so good,’ said Sid.

Siegfried bowed and departed.

Sid sat down with us and I wondered if his smile was a little forced, though I believed his welcome was sincere.

‘It’s good of you to drop by. It makes a pleasant change from Colonel Squire. I suppose he has a good reason for shouting and threatening, but it doesn’t help. Still, I suspect the colonel is all bluster and is mostly harmless, which is more than can be said of his friend, Sir Gerald.

‘But, enough of my woes! How are you getting on with the investigation, old boy? Any progress?’

‘Some,’ said Hobbes, ‘and Andy has recently provided me with some interesting points that, combined with the physical evidence, are quite revealing.’

‘Well done, young fellow,’ said Sid.

I smiled, looking suitably modest, which wasn’t difficult as I had no idea what I’d done that was so significant.

‘Furthermore,’ Hobbes continued, ‘Andy informs me that Sir Gerald plans to send his manservant, Mr Denzil Barker, commonly known as Denny, round to talk to you.’

‘One more won’t make much difference,’ said Sid with a shrug.

‘Mr Barker,’ said Hobbes, ‘is not noted so much for his talking as for his extreme acts of violence.’

Sid nodded. ‘I see. Any idea when I might expect him?’

‘No, except that it’s unlikely to be in full public view. Mr Barker, I have been led to believe, favours encounters down dark alleys and on lonely footpaths. He is, according to a young lad I was talking to, particularly handy with a sock filled with sand.’

‘Thank you for the warning. How will I recognise him?’

‘Tell him, Andy.’

‘Oh … umm … right. He’s a big, brawny man, like Hobbes and just as ug … umm … unusually strong, and he has a bald head and a tattoo of a red rose on his right arm.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sid.

‘Besides that,’ said Hobbes, grinning, ‘Andy is too modest to mention that Mr Barker has a variety of superficial injuries to his face, including a bloodied nose and a split lip that he obtained when Andy knocked him down.’

‘Well done that man,’ said Sid with approval and some amusement.

‘And there’s one other thing. Mr Barker may be somewhat lacking in trouser material on his rump following an encounter with Dregs.’

‘I get the picture,’ said Sid. ‘What do you want me to do about it?’

‘When you meet him, go as gently as you can,’ said Hobbes. ‘He’s suffered enough for one day.’

‘No, he hasn’t,’ I said, shocked. ‘Not nearly enough. He attacked my girlfriend today and he’s threatened her in the past and I reckon he killed her husband, but more to the point, he is a big, dangerous bastard.’

‘Language, Andy,’ said Hobbes, frowning.

‘Sorry, but he is,’ I continued. ‘You need to stay out of his way. I got lucky, but I doubt he’ll be careless again. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.’

Sid beamed. ‘Thank you for your concern. I really appreciate it, but there’s nothing to worry about.’

‘Yes, there is. I’ve met him – I know what he’s like.’

‘You don’t,’ said Hobbes, shaking his head. ‘You’ve only seen him when he’s working and, for all you know, he might be a friendly fellow in his spare time.’

‘No,’ I said, feeling, as I sometimes did with Hobbes, that I was in a madhouse. ‘He really is dangerous and he’s going to hurt Sid. He needs to be stopped.’

‘Don’t vex yourself about my safety, young fellow,’ said Sid. ‘I may have slowed down now I’m so advanced in years, but I am still a vampire.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘Vampires,’ said Hobbes, ‘are extremely strong, extraordinarily fast and uncannily agile.’

‘It’s true,’ said Sid, complacently.

I shook my head, not understanding how they could be so cool.

‘I see you don’t believe me,’ said Sid. ‘I’ll show you something. Do you see that glass paperweight on the table in front of you?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Good. Pick it up, if you would.’

‘Alright,’ I said, more confused than ever, but doing as I was told. It was a pretty thing, made of glittering crystal with a dandelion head entombed. ‘Now what?’

‘Throw it at me. As hard as you can.’

‘I can’t do that. It’s really heavy. I’d hurt you.’

‘Honestly, you won’t. Give it a go. I’ll be fine.’

‘Well, alright, if you’re quite sure?’

With a shrug, I pulled my arm back ready to throw and found my hand was empty.

‘What do you think of that, then?’ asked Sid, strolling back to his chair, bouncing the paperweight in his hand.

‘OK,’ I admitted, not having even seen him stand up, ‘that was fast.’ I’d always been impressed by Hobbes’s speed, but Sid was something else. I was trembling: not with fear, but awe.

‘You should have seen me in my heyday,’ he said, his eyes seeming to focus on the distant past.

‘I couldn’t even see you then,’ I said.

The old vampire chuckled. ‘Aye, well, maybe I’m still not so slow.’

There was a knock on the door and Siegfried entered, carrying the tea on a silver tray, setting it down and pouring us each a cupful, before departing with a bow. Although I’d never been great at recognising faces, a major handicap for a reporter, I couldn’t help thinking I knew him from somewhere. Then I realised how similar he was to Hobbes’s tailor. ‘He looks like Milord Schmidt.’

Hobbes nodded. ‘He’s Milord’s younger brother.’

‘Indeed he is,’ said Sid. ‘He’s been with the bank since before the war and I couldn’t do without him.’

Although I’d have guessed Siegfried was in his early forties, I’d come to accept that normal human lifespans didn’t apply to everyone in town and it was getting to the stage when I sometimes wondered whether actual humans might be in the minority. Not that it mattered because, somewhat to my surprise, I rather enjoyed living in a town with so many oddballs. As I sipped tea, I mused on my life, luxuriating in the comfort of the chair and recovering from the shock of Sid. At some point, I stopped paying attention to the conversation. I could scarcely believe I’d just described Daphne as my girlfriend and that it had felt perfectly natural, perfectly reasonable, to do so, though I barely knew her. Moreover, there was an even stranger fact. For some reason, I didn’t believe I was going to screw things up with her. Something made me feel as if she might put up with me, despite my shortcomings, which were legion.

I hated that she was under threat and kept going back to whatever it was that made her a target. It was obviously something important for Sir Gerald to go to such extraordinary lengths, but why should a wealthy landowner with a working goldmine feel threatened by a widow? There had to be something and I suspected it had to be something connected with the Blacker Mountains and, if Hobbes was to be believed, some ordinary rocks. My brain, not up to sorting out such complex problems, directed me to enjoy my tea.