Rainstone Fall (11 page)

Her eyes were resting on a gardening calendar pinned to the wall by the table. ‘No, can’t say I do. It’s a one woman show, this,’ she said but a note of doubt had crept into her voice.

‘I think the dead man’s name was Albert Something.’

‘Oh? The police didn’t mention that.’ She frowned, then smiled brightly and rose. ‘Sorry, can’t help,’ she said with determination. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do.’

‘Oh, all right.’ I got up and went outside into the brightening afternoon. Gaps had appeared in the cloud and the mists were burning away fast. ‘So what kind of herbs are you growing? Poisonous ones? I saw the sign.’

‘Nah, that’s just to scare off the kids. Not that it’s working too well. Somehow the place is a magnet for bored children, nutters, vandals and prowlers. And of course private detectives, the police, drunk neighbours and all the other wildlife Somerset has to offer. I’m thinking of getting a noisier gun. Yeah, I grow all kinds of herbs, medicinal as well as culinary,’ she explained. She was walking me back to the broken gate to make sure I really left.

‘And you’re making a living that way?’

‘I’m still here, aren’t I?’ she said sharply. I guessed this wasn’t a favourite topic.

Just then I noticed that now there appeared to be only one scarecrow standing guard. I pointed at it. ‘Ehm . . .’

‘Yes, I can stand very still if need be. You learn that when you’re hunting for pigeons with an air gun.’

At the gate I offered her a cigarette as a parting gift. She took two, gave me a lopsided grin that died on her face even before she had turned round, then trotted back towards her muddy camp.

The Land Rover started straight away as though eager to get out of the place. As I negotiated the muddy track and the even muddier ford I couldn’t help thinking that Gem had looked just a little worried ever since I mentioned the name Albert, though she had ploughed on bravely enough through the rest of our conversation. If she really was as worried as I thought then it was only a matter of time until she made some kind of move – if only to find some more cigarettes to calm herself down. In which case it was a private detective’s duty to wait round the corner and follow her. I turned left along the lane, since I presumed she’d go right towards the nearest spot of civilization, found a passing place wide enough to turn the Landy around in and point it the right way, then waited.

And waited. The stuttering engine sound of a microlight plane crossing the valley did nothing to convince me that this was a sport I should rush to get into, though I envied whoever was up there the freedom to buzz across the countryside without having to follow the roads. It was quite pleasant sitting there with the windows open while the sun went in and out of the cloud breaks. But after a while it got tedious, so to pass the time I started worrying about things: about Jill’s son, locked up somewhere, terrified of what might happen to him; about me and Annis; about Tim and Annis; about the dead guy in my car, despite Grimshaw’s assurances; about Thursday’s break-in, despite Tim’s assurances.

I could hear the surge of the Volvo’s old engine long before it gained the track, so had plenty of time to start my own car and wonder how I was going to follow the woman without her spotting me behind her in an empty, if winding, country lane. When I first caught a glimpse of the Volvo ahead of me my worries disappeared. Not only was the rear window of the estate blind with mud and obscured by who-knows-what junk in the back but half the glass was missing from her only wing mirror. Nevertheless I let her get a couple of bends ahead to be on the safe side. The speed at which she pushed her old banger along confirmed to me that this was one worried woman – or one with one hell of a tobacco craving. As if to confirm the latter she stopped her car on a double yellow line in Larkhall, jumped out and disappeared into a convenience store. Two minutes later she came out with a copy of the
Bath Chronicle
and two packets of cigarettes and dived back into her car. A moment later a white puff of smoke appeared from the driver window, a black puff of smoke from the car’s exhaust and we were off again. She turned sharp left, crossed a couple of main roads and headed west into the country again. For a while we were more or less following the Kennet and Avon canal then the Volvo slowed and without indicating turned into a narrow tree-lined track between empty fields. As the track curved around into a slight depression crowded with more trees a police constable by the side of the road gave me the first indication that the circus was in town but by then it was far too late. The Volvo had already stopped on the track in front and Gem had got out, looking back at me without apparent surprise. I’d have to work on my shadowing technique. Beyond, a patrol car, a big grey Ford and a technicians’ van were crowded into the small gravelled space in front of a tiny crumbling bungalow. It looked like a post-war prefab that had managed to survive into the twenty-first century by hiding under a clump of trees in the countryside.

The constable put his face to the driver window. ‘Would you mind switching your engine off, sir? And could you tell me what you are doing here, please?’

‘Nothing, really. I think I must have taken a wrong turning, I’ll just back out again, shall I?’

‘I don’t think so, sir.’ He reached in through the open window and snatched the keys so quickly I didn’t get a chance to bite his hand. He pointed invitingly towards the bungalow. If I was where I thought I was then this could spell serious trouble. In my humble opinion Gem, who obviously knew a lot more about the expired gent in my car than she let on, had driven straight to Mr Albert Something’s house to check on his general well-being or more specifically his continued existence which, judging by the assembled police troupe, was now in serious doubt. And since I had vigorously denied all knowledge of the dead man’s identity I might find my own presence here hard to explain away. Gem was walking quickly ahead of me towards the bungalow where a multi-tasking uniformed constable moved across to intercept her while holding on to a cat and talking into her radio at the same time. I followed more warily and couldn’t stifle a groan when Detective Inspector Deeks popped out of the front door like an evil jack-in-the-box. He seemed to react with surprise at seeing Gem and with anger at seeing me. To my own surprise he charged along the few algae-green flagstones in front of the house, straight past Gem and the WPC to confront me.

He brought his face close and spoke in a low voice charged with fury. ‘What the hell are you doing here, Honeysett?’

‘I was just following her,’ I said, pointing at Gem who appeared to have instantly bonded with the WPC over the cat.

‘Why were you following Gem Stone?’

‘It’s a detective thing, you wouldn’t understand.’

‘Stop clowning around. You know whose shack this is? Was?’

‘Albert Whatsit’s who expired in my car. I’m only guessing, of course.’

‘You must be bloody psychic. Yes, Albert Barrington. The woman who drops round his free-range bleedin’ eggs once a week got worried. No one else seems to have missed him. Except you and Gemma Stone obviously suddenly decided that you did. Did you know all along who the stiff was? You’re a mad fuck, Honeysett, and I loathe the sight of you, you know that? I want you out of here, pronto, so I can forget I saw you here. Now get back into your . . .
thing
and drive it away.’

Did I know the
stiff
? Now what kind of language was that for a police officer? The deceased, surely. ‘Gosh, that’s a
gorgeous
animal,’ I said loudly and ducked from under his incinerating gaze to join Gem Stone and the WPC who were busy ear-scratching the confused and mewing cat the policewoman was holding. The cat’s fur was a marbled grey and black but the downy fluff on his stomach flamed in autumnal gold. Until that very moment I had never shown even the remotest interest in pets of any kind but Deeks probably didn’t know that. I was just getting a little confused by his attitude and wanted to buy myself some time to work it out. After all, he’d spent the last few years trying to make my life a misery whenever the chance presented itself and now he wanted to just forget I’d been here? ‘He really is cute,’ I said to Gem. ‘Was he Albert’s?’ The cat wriggled in the policewoman’s arms and sniffed at me.

‘You like cats then?’ Gem asked with just a hint of suspicion.

‘Yeah, I’m quite potty about cats,’ I lied. ‘Though I don’t have one myself at the moment.’

‘Yes, I suppose he’s Al’s, technically, though he’d only just appeared out of nowhere a short while ago, as they do. Al wasn’t sure he should keep him. He wasn’t very well, you know. He wasn’t even sure that he could afford to keep him . . . cat food, flea collars, worming tablets, vet bills . . .’

‘Do you know the cat’s name then?’ the constable asked Gem. She was obviously a cat lover herself and oblivious to the fact that her uniform had already collected enough cat hair for her to knit her own moggy.

‘He didn’t want to give him a name until he’d made a decision about whether to keep him, he thought it would make it more difficult to let him go. What’s going to happen to him?’

The constable pulled a pained face. ‘Normally, in these cases, unless someone comes forward to claim the animal, like a relative, for instance, then he would have to be put down –’

‘Put down?’ Gem echoed, horrified. ‘As far as I know Al didn’t have any relatives.’

‘How about you then?’ The policewoman smiled invitingly and held the cat out to her.

‘I can’t. I’ve got a dog who wouldn’t take kindly to introducing a cat. Anyway, herb beds and cats don’t really mix.’

Deeks appeared by my side and just stared at me as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Perhaps he couldn’t. I tried to ignore him.

‘How about you, Mr . . .?’ The constable proffered the wriggling thing.

‘I really can’t. My place is . . . ehm . . .’

‘Huge,’ Deeks completed. ‘A cat is exactly what you need. Thank you, constable.’ He relieved her of the cat and shoved him at me, where he clawed his way up my leather jacket so he could stare at me with enormous eyes.

‘Hang on . . . I’m not sure I can afford to take on a cat, you know? Vet bills, worming collars, flea tablets –’

‘Rubbish, the moggy’s yours. Now beat it.’

‘Hey, just wait a second –’

‘You’ve run out of seconds.’ He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me along to the Landy. ‘You’re getting out of here and I don’t want to see you again near here or Gem Stone’s or anywhere, actually.’ He opened the door for me. ‘Get in there before Needham turns up and hauls your arse down the station again.’

I deposited the cat beside me. The first constable supplied my keys. I backed the Landy up as fast as I could. I knew when I wasn’t wanted and despite my curiosity the mention of Needham had convinced me I’d better figure this one out from a distance. When I glanced back towards the bungalow I saw Deeks talking intensely to the constable while keeping an avuncular arm around her shoulder, the constable nodding, nodding, nodding. The cat jumped into the footwell. He looked panicked by the sudden turn of events. I’d have to get rid of the animal at the first opportunity or I’d end up like one of those private eyes who discuss their cases with their moggy and take them down the pub for a beer. At least we’d achieved a stay of execution for the thing. At the moment I had plenty of other worries. We needed to get Jill’s son back and for that we would break into Telfer’s house and rob his safe. But I now had new stuff to worry about: for a start, Deeks obviously knew Gemma Stone. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her there, nor did he object to her presence. Me however he couldn’t wait to get rid of. And since in the past few years he’d never missed an opportunity to drag me into Manvers Street under the flimsiest of pretexts this new attitude of wanting to keep me
out
of the interview room worried me not a little. Now I had an animal to look after, at least until I could find someone to foist it on. While rattling back towards Mill House through a fresh offering of drizzle from the man upstairs I couldn’t help marvelling at how, since answering that dreaded phone call from Griffin’s on that stormy morning, when I had nothing more hectic planned than squeezing a tube of cobalt blue, my life had suddenly become rather crowded. Sometimes though you just couldn’t back out or delegate. Serenity lay at the other end of burglary and – I was getting to know myself – a certain amount of mayhem.

I parked the Landy in the puddle-pocked yard close to the door and got out, walked round to the other side and opened the door for the cat to jump out. He looked at me with almond-shaped eyes of palest green, then looked past me left and right, sniffed, meowed and didn’t budge. ‘It’s just a bit of rain,’ I chided, ‘don’t be pathetic.’ He retreated into the furthest corner. I grabbed him. He scrabbled and clawed up my jacket and meowed. I carried him like a squirming baby indoors and set him down on the stone-flagged floor of the hall. He began sniffing around at once and cautiously inspected every nook and cranny. If he was going to give the whole of Mill House this kind of treatment he’d be a very busy cat for a few days. Annis appeared from the direction of the kitchen, having heard me suggest to the cat he may go ahead and spray my carpets if he was tired of life, and then started making exactly the same noises Gem and the constable had made. It had to be a genetic thing.

‘What’s his name? Kittykittykitty.’

‘He hasn’t got one and he won’t need one since he’s not staying. He’s just a refugee. He used to belong to the dead guy.’

‘Poor thing, lost your daddy.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Look at this as a transit camp,’ I told the cat as I squeezed past the mutual admiration society. ‘
A
clearing house
.’

‘How can you be so cruel? You could call him Tiddles.’

‘No chance!’ Last thing I saw when I slipped round the corner was Annis hugging him to her chest and examining his bits. As if I didn’t have enough competition already. I had nearly made it to the kitchen when she called me back.

‘Did you bring any cat food?’

I walked back warily. ‘
Cat
food?’