Deadfall (33 page)

Linc opened his eyes.

Hesitating on the threshold, one weathered hand trying in vain to smooth his rebellious dark curls, the forester looked ill-at-ease.

‘Ah, Jack. What can I do for you?'

Before he could answer, Nikki came in. ‘Anyone like a coffee? I'm just making one.'

Two affirmatives and she'd gone again, calling the same query to Crispin as she crossed the yard.

‘Nikki says it's something about Jim Pepper,' Linc prompted. ‘Sit down, man, why don't you? You know his son's been arrested, of course?'

Reagan sat, still looking awkward.

‘Yes, sir. That's what started it.'

‘Started what?' Linc strove to remain patient.

‘Well, he's been making threats again. Phil Sutton told me that Pepper went absolutely ballistic the night Davy was arrested. Apparently he blames you.'

‘Well, there's a surprise,' Linc murmured.

‘Phil says Pepper was completely out of his skin by nine o'clock and when Pete at The Wheatsheaf suggested he went home to sleep it off, Pepper started throwing his dustbins around. Anyway, last night he was there again and drinking like there was no tomorrow. One or two of the lads escorted him home and apparently he was shouting the whole way about how it was your fault and that he was going to get even with you in a big way. They told me. They thought I should warn you.'

Linc sighed once more. The morning had started badly and was getting steadily worse. This he could definitely do without.

‘Has anyone told the police?'

‘Er, no. I don't think so,' Reagan said uncomfortably. ‘The thing is, Jim Pepper has a nasty way of finding out who says what around here, and he particularly doesn't like snitches. Things happen to people who cross him, if you know what I mean?'

‘Yes, I think I probably do,' Linc said heavily. ‘Well, thanks for telling me. I'll have a word with Rockley sometime, but not just now – I've had enough of him for one day.'

‘Two coffees,' Nikki announced brightly, coming back into the office. As it was a non-public day she was wearing hipster jeans and a figure-hugging lambswool jumper, and Linc noticed with amusement an appreciative gleam in Reagan's eyes as they followed her hip-swaying progress round the desk. Nikki's body language always became a couple of degrees more eloquent whenever there were admiring male eyes around.

Linc accepted his coffee and thanked her, then
turned his attention to the forester once more as she gathered up some empty mugs on her way out.

‘I've been meaning to have a word with you about the old oak out on Piecroft Common. You know, the one the children play on. One or two of the branches look pretty rotten. I'd like your opinion. Can we go out and have a look at it – tomorrow afternoon, perhaps? It's no good trying to stop the kids using it, they've been doing it for years and their parents before them. But we might need to take a couple of those branches off. I just hope we don't have to have the whole thing down – they're bound to think we did it to spoil their fun.'

Reagan nodded. ‘It does need looking at. What sort of time were you thinking of? I shall be at the timber yard most of the day, so it doesn't matter to me.'

‘Okay. How about after lunch, then. Two o'clock? Good. Otherwise we'll just keep putting it off and there'll be an accident and hell to pay!' Linc wrote it in his diary and underlined it, before turning to other matters.

When he'd parted from Reagan, Linc headed for the mill to inspect the subsidence the millwright had mentioned. There was in truth little to see from the bank, and as Saul had said it was difficult to tell how bad the damage was. It had probably been caused by shrinkage now the pond was empty and had begun to dry out. Linc could only hope that there wasn't a cloudburst before they got round to reinforcing it. He had a word with the workmen on the roof and returned to his office for yet another meeting, this time with a picture restorer who was due to start work on cleaning all the pictures in the
house. It was a job that would take months and cost tens of thousands of pounds.

By the end of the day he was dog-tired and happy to accept a spur-of-the-moment invitation from Crispin to spend the evening ‘vegging out on the sofa' as he put it, with a few beers, a pizza and a DVD. With their atypical upbringing, it was the kind of normal, brotherly behaviour they'd missed out on.

‘So where are Nikki and Beverley tonight?' Linc asked as they settled down in front of Crispin's top-of-the-range home cinema complex.

‘They've gone to see a play. Beverley thought it would probably be terribly provincial, but she's gone anyway. I hope it isn't for Nikki's sake or she'll never hear the last of it.' Crispin made a face. ‘If Bev's pining for the cultural delights of London, why the hell doesn't she go back there and leave us in peace?'

‘Poor Cris!' Linc sympathised. ‘Is she driving you mad?'

‘Well, I wouldn't have minded if she'd only stayed the week, as she originally said, but she's made no mention of leaving, and yesterday, when Nik was telling her about the Georgian Fair, she started talking about what costume she would wear if she went to it! Honestly, I could have strangled Nik! I mean, that's not for another ten days or so.'

‘You'll have to set a deadline. Can't you tell her you've got someone else coming to stay and will need her room?'

‘She's not an easy person to lie to,' Crispin said. ‘I've tried it and she always seems to know. She just keeps asking questions until she trips you up.
Besides, I don't want to upset Nikki at the moment. She's . . . well, she's in what you might call a delicate condition.'

‘Pregnant?' Linc exclaimed, and his brother nodded, beaming. ‘Well, congratulations! That's brilliant! I bet you're over the moon!'

Crispin nodded again. ‘But a little bit apprehensive, too.' He paused, then corrected himself. ‘Actually, to tell the truth, I'm absolutely bloody terrified!'

Linc laughed. ‘You've got time to get used to the idea. When's the baby due?'

‘Oh, not for ages yet. She's only nine weeks.'

‘Is she pleased? I mean, was it planned?'

‘Well, not as such,' Crispin admitted. ‘But – yes, she's very happy.'

‘What about the dragon?'

‘Hmm. We haven't told her yet. We wanted to wait a week or two. Make sure everything's all right, you know . . .' He snapped open a can of beer. ‘So how are things between you and the gorgeous Josie?'

Linc sobered up instantly. ‘Aside from the fact that her sister's accused me of assault and her parents don't know whether to talk to me or not, everything's looking rosy.'

Crispin sat up. ‘Who's accused you?'

‘Abby. I went to see her in hospital and she threw a wobbly. Somehow she's got it into her head that I was there when she was attacked. In fact, she told Rockley that it was me that actually attacked her! She seemed genuinely terrified when she saw me – it was awful! And the look on her father's face . . .'

‘But surely
they
don't believe you did it? I mean, they know you. Anyone who knew you would realise you'd never do anything like that.'

‘She's their little girl,' Linc reminded him.

‘Yes, I know . . . But what about Josie? What does she say?'

‘Josie's been wonderful. Rock solid.'

‘She's an amazing girl. I'll never forget that night at her place. I mean, you were so out of it, Bro, and then when you started throwing up we were all panicking but she stayed really cool. Even the doctor was impressed. If I were you, I'd marry the woman!'

‘You never know, I might even do that,' Linc told him calmly. ‘But I don't think her family would be very receptive to the idea just now.' In fact, he and Josie had decided, whilst drinking coffee in the hospital lounge, to put the announcement of their engagement on hold until happier times.

‘No, probably not.' Crispin looked thoughtful for a moment, then brightened. ‘Right. Enough of the emotional stuff! What we need is a dose of sheer escapism – bring on Rogan the Dark Destroyer!'

Linc cringed. ‘You haven't . . .'

‘Your face!' Crispin exclaimed, laughing. ‘No, I haven't. Actually it's the latest James Bond. Didn't think you'd have seen it.'

Linc relaxed. It could have been a lot worse. ‘No, I haven't. Put it on, little brother. Let's escape . . .'

When Linc parked the Land-Rover on the edge of Piecroft Common just after two o'clock the following afternoon, Reagan was nowhere to be seen. His own lateness was due to the fact that he'd mislaid
his mobile phone and spent ten fruitless minutes looking for it. Nikki had been in and out of the house and office all morning and it occurred to Linc that she might have picked it up by mistake, but he couldn't find her either.

‘Oh, she's having her hair done, I think,' Crispin told him, when asked. ‘Don't ask me why, it looked fine to me as it was, but that's women for you.'

Piecroft Common, on the north-eastern edge of the Farthingscourt land, was and always had been a favourite playground for the estate workers' children and those of Farthing St James, the nearest village. Although at the moment the common was deserted, Linc had no doubt that soon after four o'clock this area of sheep-grazed turf and the old oak tree with its two rope swings would once again be host to numerous energetic youngsters.

He wandered along the edge of Piecroft Copse to where the old oak stood. The ground beneath the huge, dipping lower branches was smooth and bare, hollowed by the tread and scuff of countless scores of children's feet. Two short pieces of stick hung suspended from it on separate lengths of knotted rope, trailing their frayed ends on to the earth below. It all looked extremely hazardous but Linc remembered himself and Crispin playing on just such a swing when young and couldn't recall any serious injury having befallen either them or their friends.

At first glance the tree was strong and healthy but looking up into the branches, he could see two dead limbs, devoid of bark and foliage, and one that still supported leaves but was to all intents and purposes just a shell, its core rotted and fallen away. The
trunk of the tree was enormous, fully six feet in girth, and bore the penknife scars of centuries of adolescent sweethearts in its rough bark.

Glancing at his watch, Linc turned away from the oak to look back to where he'd parked the Discovery. From this position, the vehicle was just out of sight round the edge of the copse and the common was devoid of life, the sheep at present turned out elsewhere.

‘Come on, Jack,' he muttered. Although he could see the potential problems with the oak himself, Reagan was a trained tree surgeon and much better placed to estimate the severity and extent of the damage. It wasn't like him to be late, though. Even if his attitude was sometimes questionable, he was normally reasonably punctual. Surely he hadn't forgotten their arrangement altogether?

‘Looks like he's not comin',' a rough voice observed from behind Linc.

He spun round and came face to face with the unshaven, yellow-teethed leer of Jim Pepper. His heart sank. How had this happened?

‘Looks like it's just the three of us,' Pepper said. ‘Nice and cosy, eh?'

Linc glanced from side to side but saw no one else. As far as he knew, Davy was still in custody.

‘Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't introduced my little friend.' Pepper moved his right hand away from the leg of his navy boiler-suit to reveal a hefty, four-foot-long steel bar. ‘Actually, it's not so little, is it?' he commented with an unpleasant smile. ‘My mistake.'

Linc's spirits dropped even further. He returned Pepper's arrogant stare with an impassive one of his
own, trying to concentrate on figuring a way out of the situation, but in reality not getting beyond wondering how fast Jim Pepper could run. He was fairly sure that reasoning with the man was a waste of breath, given his reported state of mind, and although he wasn't much more heavily built than Linc himself, the crowbar put all thoughts of physical contest firmly into the realms of crass stupidity.

‘This is crazy,' he said, taking a step back. ‘What d'you hope to achieve?'

Pepper stepped forward, lifting the bar menacingly.

‘Satisfaction,' he said. Silly question, really.

Linc took another step back

‘You're in enough trouble already. Don't make it worse.' He strove to keep his voice steady. ‘Put the crowbar down and walk away.'

‘Fuck you!' Pepper spat, stepping forward again.

That wasn't promising. Linc stopped moving. He could hardly walk backwards all the way across the common, even supposing Pepper let him. He wondered briefly what would happen if he took a step forward, but wasn't curious enough to find out.
Where the hell was Reagan?

‘What'cha going to do now, Mr
Honourable
Tremayne?' Pepper sneered. ‘I don't think your friend Jack is coming. Or
is
he your friend, I wonder?'

Was he indeed? Linc's mind raced, remembering Nikki's report of seeing Pepper and Reagan together outside the pub.

‘Maybe I know a thing or two you don't, Mr Public School Education.' Pepper pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his boiler-suit pocket and
waved it in the air. ‘I bet you'd like to know what this says, eh? Maybe I'm not the only one who's fuckin' sick of being told what to do by a toff!'

Pepper jabbed the sharp end of the crowbar into the compacted dirt at his feet and Linc couldn't help looking at the three- or four-inch dent it made.

‘Saw a man put one of these through his foot, once. Made a hell of a mess.' Pepper lifted the bar and lunged forward without warning, aiming the point at Linc's stomach.

Taken unawares, he stumbled back out of range, cursing himself in the next instant for not having tried to make a grab for the weapon. He steadied himself and waited with his hands spread in front of him, his curiosity over the possible contents of the note sidelined by more urgent concerns.