Folly (20 page)

‘We've got to try to figure out answers for all those questions. First we decide whether to start looking for connections from the present and work back, or figure out a starting point in the past and come forward.' He paused to unwind the scarf from his neck. ‘Let's call the police. We should have done that right off.'

‘I called them just before you got here – I think.'

‘What do you mean, love?' He noticed what he'd called her but it was OK, she wouldn't be aware of it. ‘You think you called?'

‘I think I did. I went into that silly screaming fit. I must have hung up.'

‘They would still have logged the call. And probably traced it.' He wondered why the police hadn't called back. He picked up her phone. It appeared to be still connected. ‘Hello,' he said into the mouthpiece.

‘Just hold the line, sir. A unit is on its way. Stay inside and don't attempt to confront the intruder. Stay calm and don't move or touch anything.' The voice sounded like a recording, or someone accustomed to repeating herself frequently.

‘They're coming,' Tony said, starting to take closer notice of the kitchen. Apart from a couple of open and sagging drawers, he didn't see evidence of more than a cursory look around. ‘I can hear sirens now. Whatever happens, we don't give them any reason to start getting stroppy.'

A siren arrived and cut out. Seconds later the doorbell rang but, before Alex could move, they both heard footsteps scrunching around the outside of the house, coming toward the kitchen entrance.

‘Attacked on both flanks,' Tony said with a grin, but Alex didn't crack a smile.

A uniformed constable arrived cautiously at the open door.

‘It's OK,' Tony said. ‘Come in, please. I'll answer the front door.'

He left Alex staring dully at the policewoman and strode to answer the bell with two barking dogs at his heels.

‘Harrison? You get around.' O'Reilly sounded mild enough but his dark eyes were sharply appraising. ‘I look for Alex and you're never far away.' He stamped snow from his shoes and brushed at his coat.

Before Tony could invite the man in, he stepped past him, searching in every direction. ‘Where's Alex?'

‘In the kitchen.'

Walking in that direction, O'Reilly said, ‘You were here with her the whole time?'

Tony followed. ‘No … I got here just after she called you people.'

‘Were you expected or do you really make a habit of following her around?'

If this was the charming side of Detective Inspector O'Reilly, Tony hoped he wasn't around if the man got nasty.

O'Reilly paused before going into the kitchen. He looked back at Tony. ‘Did Alex know you were coming?'

‘We originally planned for—'

‘I asked if you were expected.'

Tony clamped his back teeth together and breathed deeply through his nose. ‘Not exactly,' he finally said.

‘Right you are,' O'Reilly said. The dogs beat him into the kitchen. ‘Hello, Alex. Another rough arrival on the home front? What's your name, Constable?'

‘Bishop, sir.' With shiny blonde hair pulled back at the nape and her young face scrubbed, Bishop had the glow of an outdoorswoman.

‘Keep your ears open while you make us some tea, would you?' O'Reilly told her. He closed the door to the outside and stood facing them, his hands in his coat pockets.

Alex made a move toward the constable, filling a kettle, but O'Reilly shook his head. ‘Stay where you are. You look shocked. Don't worry about noises outside. Your grounds are being searched.' He frowned. ‘It's very cold in here.' Even as he spoke, he fixed on the pinned announcement in the middle of the table and went straight to it, bent over with hands behind his back.

‘The door was left open,' Tony began. ‘Before Alex got here.'

‘Someone turned all the heaters off,' Alex cut in. She felt the tension between O'Reilly and Tony.

‘And you found this when you got here?' O'Reilly said, still staring at the copied cutting. He glanced back at Alex.

Her throat jerked when she swallowed. ‘Yes,' she said quietly. ‘I never saw it before. It's to frighten me, right?'

O'Reilly's incline of the head was noncommittal. He pulled surgical gloves from one coat pocket and plastic bags from the other, but he went to the door and outside, returning with an officer carrying a camera. ‘Get that,' O'Reilly said, pointing to the dart and paper.

After photos from every angle, O'Reilly bagged the dart and the paper separately. He handed them to the photographer, who went back outside.

‘You didn't touch those?' O'Reilly said, and when she shook her head, no, added: ‘Good. We'll see if we get anything from them.'

‘I haven't been upstairs,' Alex told him. ‘I almost missed that they searched downstairs. They definitely aren't thieves or they wouldn't have left things that are worth a fair amount – things that are in plain sight. What are they looking for? Do you know?'

D.I. O'Reilly's smile probably appealed to women. ‘I think all three of us know. You want to go first, Harrison?'

‘Call me Tony,' he said, deliberately cloying. ‘Everyone does. Even my patients. I imagine they must be looking for that ring you've already got. What do you think, Alex?'

She didn't look amused at his sarcasm. ‘Right. But I think I want to hear I'm wrong about everything I've started thinking. Biscuits are in that tin, Constable.'

‘Why don't the three of us sit down and think about this. And while we're at it, I've come up with a few questions for you.'

‘Alex has been through a lot,' Tony said. ‘Let me bring her in to see you in the morning.'

That earned him a long, steady look from O'Reilly. ‘We should do this while things are fresh,' he said. ‘Unless you really don't feel up to it, Alex.'

‘I'm fine.' She waved Tony into a chair and O'Reilly joined them.

‘Do you think anything's missing?' he said.

She shook her head, no. ‘There are a couple of good vases and a decent little painting in the living room. They're still there.'

The kettle boiled and steam hit the cold air in a stream of white vapor. Rivulets ran through haze on the windows.

‘Here we are.' Bishop slid a floral melamine tray on the table. Three mugs of milky tea, the bags still inside, added more damp to the atmosphere.

‘Please take one of these,' Alex told Bishop, but she shook her head, pulled a chair to a corner and sat down. She drew out a very new-looking leather notebook and waited with pen at the ready.

While they dispensed with the teabags, more vehicles turned into the driveway and squidged their way through the deepening snow.

‘Isn't all that a bit of overkill?' Tony said, inclining his head toward the slam of car doors. ‘Sounds like an army. What are they going to find in weather like this?'

‘The sooner they look, the better the chances they'll find
something
,' O'Reilly said. ‘You remember what was around Brother Percy's neck when we found him, Alex.'

‘You think I could forget?'

‘Rhetorical question,' O'Reilly responded mildly. ‘It was the cincture from his habit. You managed to cut it through with a kitchen knife. Was there anything else you noticed when you were doing that?'

Tony waited to see if Alex would speak. When she didn't he snapped his fingers and said, ‘The shred of lace. What you found stuck in your pocket later, remember?'

The look she gave him was a reminder not to mention the Burke sisters.

Keeping his mouth shut cost Tony a lot of control. He hoped the omission wouldn't come back to haunt them in some way.

‘Alex,' O'Reilly prompted, so gently Tony had a crazy impulse to hit him.

‘Yes, in my pocket.' She looked at Tony and her worry showed. ‘I didn't find it till afterward. It's not much. It's wrapped up so it won't fray any more.'

‘Good,' the detective said. He took out another evidence bag. ‘Your fingerprints will be on it, so you might as well go ahead and drop it in here.'

‘You can get fingerprints from material?' Tony asked, and sensed it had been a mistake.

O'Reilly gave him a measured look. ‘Times change,' he said. ‘The answer would be yes.'

If Alex took any note of the fingerprint exchange, she showed no sign, but when she glanced at Tony again he knew they were both thinking how odd it might look if the police could tell the fabric had been pulled off the knife. ‘It's at my mother's,' she told O'Reilly. ‘I didn't want to carry it around. I'll give it to you tomorrow.'

‘We'll collect it as soon as we get back down,' O'Reilly said.

He sat quiet. Bishop's biro had a scratchy nib which sounded as if it were tearing up the paper.

‘Did Leonard identify the body?' Tony said, not expecting a straight answer.

‘What makes you ask that?'

‘We heard he went to see the body. The ring you found on the hill was a Derwinter ring. There can't be many like that. It would be natural to see if Leonard knew the man. Something had messed up the poor devil's finger – something like a very tight ring being pulled off. Whoever took it off must have dropped it and not been able to find it in the dark.'

‘All very logical,' O'Reilly said evenly. ‘But I imagine you're a very logical man, Harrison.'

And that, Tony thought, is as much as I'll get on the subject.

‘If it were Leonard's brother, wouldn't you be able to find that out through DNA?' Alex leaned toward O'Reilly, picking up her mug at the same time.

Tony had stopped himself from suggesting the same thing, expecting the detective to resent any more questions from him. He already knew the answer but should have assumed Alex was just as likely to ask.

O'Reilly took advantage of the door opening to avoid answering the question.

A blast of cold air rushed in with Lamb. Without acknowledging anyone, he went to stand behind his boss and handed him a folded slip of paper.

O'Reilly read it. ‘You don't say,' he remarked, his expression showing nothing, and put the paper in his pocket. ‘Anything outside yet?'

‘Could be,' Lamb said. ‘I'll take over here, Constable. They need all the help they can get out there. Time's against us – and the weather.'

‘I don't expect to find anything, but we need to check the house,' O'Reilly said. ‘You look as if you're done in, Alex. I'll have someone drive you and Bogie to your mother's and you can give the lace to the driver. We'll talk more early in the morning. Harrison, I'd like to see you, too. You'll be told when. I'll be staying at the Black Dog until we can wind things up. We'll meet there. Ask at the desk and they'll tell you where to find me.'

‘I'll drive myself down,' Alex said. ‘But thank you for the offer.'

Tony got up and looked outside. ‘It won't be easy for anyone to get down that hill without putting on chains,' he said, looking over his shoulder at her. ‘If you'd be comfortable with it, you could stay at my house tonight. I parked my car outside your gates and it's almost flat between here and there. Give Lily a call so she doesn't worry.'

He turned back to the window without checking either O'Reilly's or Lamb's reaction.

‘Our units are already chained up,' O'Reilly said. ‘We won't have any problems.'

‘Thank you,' Alex said, ‘but no. I'll take you up on your offer, Tony. Come on, Bogie and Katie, let's get moving.'

T
ony's house was warm.

He scooped the post from the hall floor and flipped through envelopes as she passed him with Bogie. ‘Hot toddy in order, I think,' he said, taking her by the arm. ‘Have you been here before?'

Katie bustled by with proprietary importance and disappeared inside.

‘I've only seen the house from the outside. What a relief to be warm. It's cozy in here – particularly for such a big house.'

‘A lot of it is closed off,' he said. ‘No reason to keep up extra rooms you don't use. If I hadn't been so smitten with the property in general – and the house – I might have thought twice about getting something so large.'

‘How long have you been back in Folly?' She knew it had to be considerably longer than she had but wasn't sure when he'd returned.

Tony looked up from the envelopes he had riffled through and set them aside on a demilune table. ‘About five years,' he said, but showed no interest in discussing the topic of returning prodigals. ‘Let's go in the breakfast room. I keep the fire ready in there. It's not a breakfast room any more but that's what it was supposed to be.'

The wide hall showed off an impressive dark wood staircase with a carved newel post and balusters. Stretching toward the back of the house before opening right and left, the hall continued and they took the left fork.

The breakfast room, as Tony called it, was a small room with waist-high wainscoting painted a deeper cranberry than the walls above, dark oak floors and a soft old Chinese carpet. Several wing chairs upholstered in dark, striped velvet faced a fireplace where he soon had logs crackling.

‘This is so comfortable,' she said, smiling at him and hunching her shoulders appreciatively.

He took her coat and shrugged out of his as he pushed open sliding doors that led directly into the kitchen. ‘Odd layout, really,' he said. ‘But it appeals to me. Do you like hot port?'

‘I've never had it but it sounds wonderful. And I really like this place – the way it's designed, too.'

‘Sit by the fire. This won't take long.'

She chose a chair from which she could see him moving beside a butcher block kitchen island with copper pans hanging from overhead hooks.

Weighted down by the fatigue that intensified by the minute, Alex curled back into the chair with Bogie on the floor beside her. Automatically, she kicked off her boots and pulled up her feet.