Authors: Ann Granger
Tags: #Mitchell, #Meredith (Fictitious character), #Markby, #Alan (Fictitious character), #Historic buildings, #Police
"She wasn't reasoning like that, Zoe, with a cool brain. She loves the donkey, she believed it in danger, she rescued it." He looked across the fields. "I'll get the local farmers to check their outbuildings and put out an appeal for searchers." He indicated the Shetland. "Hadn't you better put these animals in the paddock or in the barn?''
"Thank you," said Meredith and tipped the hall porter who had brought up her modest suitcase.
She looked round the room she had just taken at Springwood Hall. Staying here would probably make a sizeable dent in her bank balance. Newly and beautifully decorated and furnished, the linen crisp, flowers and fruit on a table and a range of free toiletries in the bathroom. It would have been nice to have come here on a happier occasion, relax, put her feet up. But this was not a holiday break but a grimly serious business. As for the decision to stay at the Hall, some instinct had brought her back here, the memory of that huddled corpse and the white face of young Zoe Foster.
Meredith unlocked her case and took out the binoculars she'd brought along. Going to the nearest window, she pulled back the curtain and surveyed the view. This room was on a corner of the house and there were windows in both exterior walls. From this one in the side of the house she could see green lawns and the swimming pool building. Beyond that were hedges and beyond them pastureland and an enclosure, a sort of yard containing a rickety building.
She put the binoculars to her eyes and twiddled with the focus. The distant building leapt into view. That must be the Horses' Home. A real eyesore, as Eric claimed, unless you were particularly rustic minded. The
barn was in a state of near collapse, patched with corrugated sheeting, loose and missing slates on its roof. Just beside it, in the foreground as she looked through the binoculars, was a large steaming midden. A horse trough and old-fashioned pump stood in the middle of the untidy yard and right at the back, half hidden by the barn, was what looked like a rusting caravan propped up on bricks.
In a paddock to the right grazed a motley collection of animals, including a piebald cob, two gloriously scruffy Shetland ponies and what looked like a broken-down racehorse with a faded, sad elegance about its bony frame. The whole place resembled a tinkers' camp. Picturesque and highly individual, maybe, but understandably not the sort of thing Schuhmacher wanted his guests gazing upon.
As she watched a motorcyclist appeared by the gate. There must be a lane there, disguised from here by an untidy hedge. He got off his machine and opened the gate, lugged the motorbike inside and fastened the gate again. A girl came out of the barn—it looked like Zoe— and the young man took off his crash helmet. The two began to talk together, Zoe gesticulating wildly. The young man put his arm round her shoulders and gave her a comforting hug.
Feeling that further covert observation would be impertinent, Meredith left that window and went to the other, at the back of the house. Beyond the gardens stretched farmland and in the distance a vast expanse of woodland visible as treetops. The ground must fall away over there into a kind of valley. The dark mass suggested conifers and were Forestry Commission planting, no doubt. It would be difficult to search, dark, extensive, and in the way of official plantations, full of identical trees so that to get lost would be easy. But there were some searchers making their way slowly across the farmland in a long strung-out line, like ants. They hadn't reached the woodland yet and long before they did
would be out of sight, descending the slope down to the treeline.
A distant buzzing high above struck her ear, growing louder. She peered upward curiously. A helicopter came into view and made its way across the sky like a large bee.
Meredith put the binoculars in their case, changed into jeans, waxed jacket and gumboots and with the binocular case hung round her neck, set out to join the hunt. She didn't know where Alan was, but ten to one, he was out there somewhere with the search party.
She felt nothing if not out of place clumping along the elegant hotel corridor in her outdoor wear. But there was a surprise in store for her even before she left the hotel.
As she arrived at the far end where the lift was situated and put out a hand to press the call button she saw by the illuminated arrow that the lift was already on its way up. Seconds later she heard a muffled bump and the doors slid open.
The Fultons stepped out.
They stared at one another in mutual astonishment. "Meredith?" exclaimed Leah. "What a lovely surprise. How very nice— M
"To see you again, er, here ..." Denis, frowning at Meredith in a doubtful way, finished his wife's sentence. He blinked. Perhaps he fancied she was just a hallucination. But there was no reason why he should not be as surprised as Meredith felt.
"Hullo," she returned inanely and added, "I've only just arrived. I thought I'd join the hunt. Did you know—"
Leah interrupted. "About the little girl? Yes, how dreadful. Denis and I just arrived this morning too. Of course we knew nothing about the missing child until we got here. Perhaps we shouldn't have come. But we—" She glanced doubtfully at her husband.
"Things have been a bit fraught between us," said Denis loudly. He fixed Meredith with a slightly aggres-
144 Ann Granger
rive look. "I'm sorry about the bit of bother when you came to dinner. I hope you'll come again—I'll behave next time! But Leah and I—"
He fell silent and his wife took up the tale. "We both needed to get away from London for a while, and we thought about poor Eric who is a friend, after all. and having a dreadful time. So we thought we'd come down and lend him moral support as well as have a break. So here we are. Denis has known Eric for years—"
"And I didn't want him to feel de s erted!" confirmed Denis. "He's sunk everything into this place, you know."
More than ever, Meredith was reminded of the Tweedledum and Tweedledee aspect of dealing with the Fultons. As they spoke, passing the chain of speech back and forth between them, finishing one another's sentences and anticipating one another's thoughts, she found her head going from side to side like a spectator at a tennis match.
"Do you think we'd be any help with the search, darling 0 " Leah asked her husband.
"Got no boots," said Denis.
"Perhaps Eric could find us a couple of pairs ..."
"I'll see you both later'" Meredith hastily.
She stepped into the lift and the doors closed on them, each assuring her earnestly and in antiphon that they'd see her in the cocktail lounse before dinner.
Twelve
It took Meredith a quarter of an hour to walk over the fields to the line of searchers. When she neared she found that a rough track running along a hedgerow was the scene of a command point. Parked neatly were three civilian cars, a mini-bus and two police vans together with a Range Rover. One of the vans was clearly a mobile radio communications centre. A disembodied voice echoed from the barrage of electronic equipment visible through the open back doors.
Alan wasn't to be seen but the Danbys were standing a little way off and Meredith approached them. They both looked dreadful, strained and grey-faced. Worse, as Meredith came within earshot, she realised they were quarrelling.
"You're there at home most of the day!" Laura was saying energetically. "And Mrs. Barnes is there from eight till one. The children love Mrs. Barnes!"
"You're talking about them as if they weren't growing up!" Paul snapped. "Emma's eleven, nearly twelve. She needs her mother!"
"She's got a mother! She's got me! Dammit, I've never neglected the children!"
"You're busy, you're tired! The kid needs someone to talk to when she gets in from school or back from wherever she's been ..."
"You're at home!"
"I keep telling you, she needs her mother! She's growing up! She'll be a teenager soon. I tell you, Laura, when this is over, there will have to be some changes. You're going to have to work part-time!"
"I can't believe this! Apart from any other consideration, we'll all starve to death if I work part-time!"
"I'm aware I'm not a huge earner!" snarled her husband. "But we'll just have to cut somethings out, like— like holidays."
"We need our holidays! The children like to go away. Anyhow I can't just walk out on the firm! I'm needed."
"And you're needed at home! The firm will find someone else."
"I don't want them to find someone else!" yelled Laura, a rush of scarlet suffusing her pallid cheeks.
'That's it, isn't it? The whole point? You love being there, you love that blasted career of yours and we all play second-fiddle!"
"Rubbish!"
Meredith cleared her throat and they both whirled round.
"Oh, Meredith!" exclaimed Laura with obvious relief. "Alan said you'd phoned."
"Sorry to interrupt," Meredith apologised. "No news of any kind?"
"You're not interrupting," Paul said tersely. "We're just getting at each other because we can't do anything. Emma's taken off with an aged donkey from the rest home because she thought it was going to be put down. We're blaming each other. W T e knew she was upset about the threat to the rest home and I knew food was disappearing from the larder. We just never made the connection."
"Why should you?" she replied in practical tones. "Where's Alan?"
"Not here. Wish he was. He's overseeing the search from the station along with all his other cases. He's put a sergeant in practical charge of it all, someone he says is very reliable especially where children are concerned. His name is Harris and he's a middle-aged chap with greying hair. Over there somewhere." Paul pointed at a group of men conferring in a huddle.
As he spoke there was a distant shout. One man had
MURDER AMOMQ U5 147
detached himself from the group and was coming toward them. He was holding a bundle.
"We found this!" he called as he came up. "Sergeant Harris said to bring it back to the van and ask if you recognise it." The bundle was an old green haversack.
"Yes!" Paul leapt forward and seized it from him. It fell open and a motley collection of apples, tinned fruit, sliced bread and a packet of porridge oats fell out.
They all stood looking down at these pathetic foodstuffs in silence for a moment.
"Oh, dear God," Laura whispered. "Where is she? Paul?"
He turned to her and put his arms round her and she buried her face against his jacket.
Meredith walked quickly towards the knot of men. She wasn't abandoning the Danbys but neither could she comfort them and she was sure their basic relationship was strong enough to weather out this storm. On the other hand, if Emma weren't found safe ...
Meredith pushed the thought out of her head. The child was out there somewhere. It was a question of finding her.
She had reached the group but the men talking together ignored her. She waited patiently until they seemed to have finished their immediate discussion and then addressed the grey-haired man. "Sergeant Harris?"
He turned and stared at her distrustfully. "Reporter?"
"No!" Meredith was taken aback. Briefly she explained who she was. It didn't seem to convince him of her worth.
"Thought you might be a reporter. They'll be here soon enough, sniffing round. Beats me how they get to hear of things so quick! What's brought you out here then?"
"I'd like to help."
"Oh yes?" He gave her another jaundiced look. "We got plenty of help, thanks."
"Look," Meredith began, annoyance creeping into
her tone. "I don't want to get in the way! I just thought—''
But his attention had been taken and he turned away from her and began to talk briskly to a constable beside him.
It was a situation with which she was not unfamiliar. In his book she was the chief inspector's girlfriend. Wives and girlfriends didn't belong at the scene of operations. They were supposed to be at home, getting ready to fry up the sausages when the menfolk got in at the end of the day's work.
Meredith gave a little hiss and glanced back the way she'd come. From bad to worse. Plodding purposefully towards the group now came two figures she had thought she'd left behind at the hotel.
Denis and Leah had evidently acquired gumboots from Eric. Whether the borrowed boots didn't fit or whether this was just an unaccustomed type of footwear, the Fultons staggered along in them unhappily, clasping one another by the hand for support and mutual encouragement. They looked tiny and frail, even Denis who, although he was inclined to stoutness, was only just of middle height. Two people more out of place in their surroundings would have been hard to imagine. Yet there was something both endearing and admirable in their patent desire to help. Stumbling over the uneven ground, they had British determination stamped all over them. What Sergeant Harris would make of these two new recruits, Meredith did not like to think.
They had spotted her. Denis raised an arm and made the sort of gesture with which Roman emperors once responded to the roar of the crowd in the circus. It wasn't clear whether he was hailing her or asking her to wait for them. Meredith realised with horror that if she once allowed them to join her, she would be stuck with them for the remainder of the day. Her own efforts to help would be dogged by the constant distraction of the Fultons falling into ditches and getting caught up in brambles.
On the other hand, she did not like to run away from them when it was obvious she'd seen them. Fortunately at that moment Denis caught sight of the Danbys and the Fultons turned aside to express their sympathy and encouragement. It was likely they would be talking for some minutes and they could not reasonably be surprised if Meredith set off without them. Meredith turned back and swept the horizon with an impatient glance.
Across the fields and far to the right of the line of searchers, a mass of dark woodland seemed to beckon and she set off towards it. As she did, she heard Sergeant Harris call out "Oy!" Well, she wasn't going to upset his organised line. She was going well out of the way of it. Assuming that he was busy and if she didn't turn back, he would be content to let her go, Meredith pretended not to have heard and quickened her pace, slipping and sliding down the steep grassy slope, well aware that if Alan knew, he would have condemned this evasion of police instructions in the most forceful terms. But somehow, she felt what she was doing just might be of some use.