Brought to Book (19 page)

‘Remember, I don't know anyone else in town!' he teased. ‘There's a good film on – I checked.'

‘Let's make it tomorrow, then.' Lindsey's heart set up a slow thumping as he got out of the car and came round to open her door.

‘Would you like to come up for a nightcap?' she asked, as he walked her up the path.

‘Thanks, but I've already had my quota of alcohol. I'm driving, remember.'

‘Coffee, then?' She couldn't let him go yet.

He took her hand and kissed the fingertips. ‘There's nothing I'd like more, but I don't think it'd be very wise.'

She turned and fumbled the key into the lock, and as the door swung open, turned back to him. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.'

‘It was you who made it lovely. Same time tomorrow?'

She nodded, and, since there was no help for it, closed the door.
It wouldn't be wise,
he'd said. Did that mean he wanted her, too? Shivering a little, she made her way slowly up the stairs.

Rona was sound asleep when the banging started, and for some minutes it wove itself into her dream. Then she heard Gus barking and came abruptly awake, sitting up as she identified the noise as someone knocking on the front door. In the same moment, the doorbell began a long, continuous ring. Was someone ill? The house on fire? Max—?

Not stopping to switch on the light, she half-fell out of bed and ran barefoot down the stairs. The hall was dim, only a faint light coming from the fanlight over the front door, where Gus, still barking, was leaping excitedly up and down.

‘All right, I'm coming!' she called. ‘Who is it? What's wrong?'

Abruptly the noise stopped, and sudden silence assailed her ears as she fumbled with the locks and chain Max insisted that she use. As the last bolt slid back, she turned the handle, tightly gripping the dog's collar with her free hand.

The heavy door swung open on to a deserted street. No frantic figure stood on the step, no retreating footsteps sounded in the darkness. Only the fact that the gate was open indicated that someone had been there. She was about to run to it and look up the street when, at her side, Gus growled softly. And suddenly her sleep-befuddled mind cleared, and she realized her terrifying vulnerability. She darted back inside, dragging him with her, and with shaking fingers replaced the chain and bolts. Then, sinking to her knees, she pulled his warm body into her arms.

‘Who was it, boy?' she whispered. The dog was still distracted, his ears pricked, his eyes on the door, but after a minute, when all remained quiet, he turned to her and licked her ear. Unsteadily she rose to her feet, shivering in her thin nightdress, and, picking up the phone, rang Max's number. It went on ringing for a long time, during which her shivers intensified to a teeth-rattling shaking.

‘Yes?' She jumped as his sleep-clogged voice sounded angrily in her ear. ‘Who the hell is it? Do you know what time it is?'

Her mouth was dry, and she had to moisten it before she spoke. ‘Max, it's me. Someone's been banging on the door and ringing the bell.'

He came instantly awake. ‘You didn't open it?'

‘I did, actually, but no one was there.'

‘Rona, for God's sake! Haven't you a grain of sense? You could—'

‘Don't shout at me, Max,' she whispered. ‘I'm frightened.'

There was a pause, then he said in a resigned voice. ‘Hang on. I'll be over in five minutes.'

The radiators had long since cooled and the house felt chill. Rona lit the gas fire before returning upstairs for her dressing gown, while Gus, bewildered by this change in routine, waited for her at the foot of the stairs. When she reappeared, he followed her into the sitting-room and they sat together on the rug by the fire to wait for Max.

B
y the next morning, the events of the night seemed melodramatic and unreal.

‘It was because I was half asleep that I panicked,' Rona told Max over breakfast. ‘If I'd stopped to think, I'd have realized it'd only have been some yobs on their way home.'

‘At two a.m.?' Max asked cryptically.

‘Perhaps they'd been to a party. Did you never ring doorbells and run away?'

‘Ringing doorbells is one thing, nearly knocking the house down another. From what you say, it's a wonder he didn't rouse the whole street.'

‘I did hear a window being pushed up,' Rona acknowledged, ‘but by the time I got the door open, it was all quiet.' She laid her hand over his. ‘Sorry to have dragged you over. Thanks for coming, though.'

‘I'm not as sanguine about it as you appear to be,' he returned. ‘Coming on top of that note in the park—'

‘Oh Max, not that again!'

‘What worries me most about the whole business is the thought of you in your nightdress standing at the open door. If someone had been waiting round the corner of the house, he'd have been inside in a flash. Don't you ever, ever, do anything like that again.'

‘No, I agree it was silly. I wasn't thinking.'

He stirred his coffee reflectively. ‘When we spoke yesterday, you said you were seeing Harvey's aunt. What did you do afterwards?'

‘Came home.'

‘Did you go to the park?'

‘No, it was too late when we got back. Why?'

‘Just wondering aloud. So you were home the rest of the day?'

‘Actually, no. I was in need of company, so Gus and I went to Dino's.' She looked at him challengingly. ‘Don't even
think
of telling me not to go out after dark.'

‘I wouldn't dare. But did anyone there pay you particular attention?'

She shook her head. ‘They were all couples or family parties. And before you ask, no one followed me home, either. Anyway, I was back by eleven, a good three hours before the knocking started.'

‘Well, I'll be here tonight, and tomorrow we'll be up at Spindlebury, but when we get back, I want you to come and sleep at Farthings for a while.'

Rona flung him a look of exasperation. ‘If you're determined to play nursemaid, why don't you come here?'

‘Because I wouldn't get here till about ten, and I don't want you alone after dark.'

‘But Max, the place is like Fort Knox – you know that. The back garden's completely enclosed, so the only access is through the front door, which is solid as a rock. And before you say it, I won't open it again.'

‘I wish you'd never started this bloody biography,' Max said forcefully.

‘I told you, this was drunken yobs – nothing to do with the bio.' Yet there'd been the note, and Meriel's threatening phone call . . .

‘All I'm saying is, this – harassment – only began when you embarked on it. No arguments, my girl; on this occasion I'm putting my foot down.'

‘You're so cute when you're masterful!' Rona drawled in an American accent, and ducked as he threw his napkin at her.

The night-time drama, however, continued to prey on Max's mind and eventually, abandoning his painting, he dialled Marsborough police station and asked for DS Duncan, who happened to be one of his pupils.

‘Archie, it's Max,' he said, when the sergeant answered. ‘Sorry to bother you at work, but I wonder if I could ask a favour?'

‘Sure, fire away.'

‘I don't know if you've heard, but my wife's writing a book on Theo Harvey, the thriller writer.'

‘Yes?'

‘Well, as you know, there was an open verdict on his death, so it was never satisfactorily explained. I wondered what the police thinking was at the time?'

‘Hey now, Max, I can't go divulging stuff like that!'

‘Were your lot involved?'

‘Not personally, no; he wasn't on our patch.'

‘But you must have pals in Buckford and Stokely divisions?'

‘Look—'

‘I'm not asking you to bend any rules. Just have a casual chat with them, that's all.'

Duncan said cautiously, ‘About what, exactly?'

‘Basically, whether they suspected suicide or murder, and if so, why and who.'

Duncan gave a short laugh. ‘You don't want much, do you?'

‘It's not classified, surely, once the case is closed?'

‘It is to Joe Public.'

‘Well, this Joe is on a need-to-know basis.'

‘Let's get this straight: are you asking me to do your wife's research for her?'

‘God, no; this is strictly for my benefit.'

‘So what's your angle in all this?'

‘Sorry, I should have explained. She's being harassed, Archie; enigmatic notes, doorbells in the middle of the night. I don't like it.'

‘I shouldn't think you do. And you reckon it's because of this book?'

‘Some of it certainly is, and I'd like to know who's worried about it and what it is they don't want to come to light.'

‘Have you reported this officially?'

‘Up to now it's been too nebulous; the bell-ringing only happened last night.' He paused. ‘Any chance of someone watching the house?'

‘Absolutely none, with the current state of resources. We're stretched as far as we can go.'

Not reassuring, Max thought.

‘Still,' Duncan added, ‘if things get heavy, come back to us.'

‘Thanks,' Max returned dryly. ‘And in the meantime?'

‘I'll see what I can do.'

‘Lindsey? Is that you? Can you talk?'

‘Hello, Mum.' Lindsey was surprised; her mother seldom phoned her at the office.

‘Can you talk?' Avril repeated agitatedly.

‘Yes, no one's with me at the moment. What is it?'

‘It's your father. I'm worried about him.'

Lindsey frowned. ‘Why? What's happened?'

‘He doesn't look at all well, and at breakfast this morning he had a – a funny turn.'

‘What kind of turn?'

‘He went all pale and clammy and had to leave the table.'

‘You mean he was sick?'

‘No, but I caught him swallowing indigestion tablets. He's living on them at the moment.'

‘Has he seen a doctor?'

Avril gave a snort of derision. ‘Have you ever known a man go to the doctor?'

‘You should make him, Mum, if you're worried.'

‘It would be easier if you backed me up. I wondered if you'd come to supper tonight?'

‘Oh, I'm sorry, I can't. I'm going out.'

‘Surely you could postpone it? Your father's health—'

‘Mum, I can't – it's a date. There's a new man in my life, and it's too early to start messing him about.'

Avril said stiffly, ‘Of course, if that's more important—'

‘I could come tomorrow,' Lindsey broke in, holding down her irritation, ‘though I don't know how I'll persuade Pops if you can't. Is it down to work, do you think?'

‘How would I know? He never discusses it.'

‘You could always ask him,' Lindsey pointed out.

‘If you're just going to make clever remarks, don't bother coming.'

Lindsey said carefully, ‘I'll see you tomorrow morning,' and put down the phone.

Damn, damn, damn! she thought, clutching her head in frustration. Rob hadn't mentioned the weekend, but she'd been hoping he might suggest spending the whole of Saturday together. Now, if he asked her this evening, she was committed to visiting her parents.

Impulsively she reached for the phone and called her sister. ‘Ro,' she said quickly, ‘be an angel and pop round to see the parents this evening. Mum's just been on. She's in a lather about Pops and wanted me to go, but I'm seeing Rob. I did say I'd go tomorrow, but he might suggest our doing something, and I don't want—'

‘What's the matter with him?' Rona cut in sharply.

‘I don't know – probably nothing. You know how she fusses. She wants me to talk him into seeing the doctor.'

‘What did she
say
was wrong?'

‘Oh, that he's pale and living on Rennies, and he had what she calls a funny turn at breakfast. If you go, it would let me off the hook.'

‘I honestly don't see how I can, Linz. We're off to Spindlebury first thing in the morning, and there are things to sort out before we go.'

‘Please?'

‘Why don't you drop into the bank this afternoon? It's only five minutes from your office.'

‘No chance; I've got wall-to-wall appointments, and a lunchtime meeting for good measure.' A pause, then: ‘Could you go?'

Rona gave an exasperated laugh. ‘I've never known anyone like you for passing the buck. All right. I'd like to satisfy myself he's OK.'

‘Bless you. I owe you one.'

‘This Rob business sounds pretty heavy,' Rona said curiously.

‘Let's just say it's going well. But Ro – you'll never guess – he and Hugh came face to face last night!'

She went on to give a brief synopsis of their meeting. ‘Hugh was pretty po-faced,' she ended, ‘but Rob took it in his stride. Said he didn't blame him for wanting me back.'

‘Perhaps Hugh will get the message,' Rona said.

She spent the rest of the morning transcribing her interview with Agnes Lethbury.
God, Aunt Agnes, what have I done?
If only Theo had told her! she thought in frustration.

Over lunch, her thoughts turned to preparations for the following day. Max had agreed to look out some sleeping bags, but they'd need a couple of pillows and possibly a duvet. Presumably there'd be central heating at the cottage – Theo had been there in winter – but she hadn't thought to ask. They'd also need basic provisions for breakfast the next morning – cereal, bread and butter, coffee – and they'd better take a kettle. It would be fascinating, she reflected, to stay in the house where Theo had done his writing, even if his personal possessions were no longer there.

She gave her father a quick call before setting out to see him.