The Lost Child (11 page)

‘How come you believed her when she said he was at home? I mean she’s his sister, she was bound to lie for him.’ For Brodie it stood to reason, family backed family.

‘We didn’t, not initially, not even when the old girl, Ruby, backed it up. It was only when we caught up with Rosemary’s estranged husband that we believed it. He’d been there that day collecting some of his stuff and had argued with Rosemary; that had been what had scared Derek, he’d locked himself in his room all day. It was his statement that got Derek off the hook.’

‘Why would you believe Rosemary’s husband? It doesn’t make sense.’ Family by marriage was just as much family.

Jack shook his head and gave her a sardonic smile. ‘Believe me, if you had ever met Eddie Macey or Rosemary Tyler you would know that there was no love lost there. Macey had absolutely no reason to do that family a favour, that’s why it took him so long to come forward. Besides, he was a suspect himself for a while.’

This was news to Brodie. ‘So nothing stuck to him either?’

‘Nope, too many witnesses put him elsewhere, first at the village pub then at the Tylers’.’

Brodie pondered this for a moment. ‘Did you ever search the crypt, under the chapel at Hallow’s Court?’

Jack snorted, ‘Of course we did, and every other nook and cranny we could find. We weren’t idiots love, we covered everything we could.’

‘And you never found another trace, not ever?’

Jack sighed again, ‘Nope, not one. We brought dogs in, they were able to track her scent as far as the road but that was it.’

‘So someone could have taken her somewhere else?’

‘Could have done, I really don’t know. We put out a search all across the country, but every lead we got was either a false alarm or a hoax.’

They were interrupted by Mrs Pearson arriving with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. She eyed Brodie and raised an eyebrow at Jack, who winked at her to let her know he was coping with his young visitor.

After she had gone, Brodie watched as Jack dunked a digestive into his tea. ‘Do you think she could still be alive?’ she asked.

Jack paused, the soggy biscuit hovering precariously in front of his mouth. ‘Honestly? I’ve no idea. She could be. But there was a lot of blood on the cardigan so it’s hard to say,’ he said before plunging the sodden mess into his mouth. Mouth full, he added, ‘We did get a psychic call in, even followed it up. She said she thought Mandy had been killed and her body was buried in a field the other side of town. We dug it up, nothing was there.’ He swallowed. ‘Anyway, why are you raking all this up now? Everything I’ve told you, you must already know – it was all over the papers for long enough.’

Brodie contemplated showing him the little dog, then thought better of it. If he saw the toy he would be obliged to report it and she might start a whole snowball of trouble that she couldn’t stop and she didn’t want Derry getting the brunt of it.

‘Just wanted to know from the horse’s mouth. I grew up with this stuff, it bothers me.’ She was hoping that it would be enough of an explanation to keep him happy.

Jack frowned at her, then shrugged it off and took another biscuit.

‘Did you ever question anyone else? Was anyone else a suspect?’

Jack finished chewing before answering. ‘We questioned the whole village, even the Gardiner-Hallows. Fair play, he’s a strange bugger that Albert, mad as a box of frogs. For a while I thought he might have had something to do with it, but he had too good an alibi – he was ill in bed – and besides being odd he didn’t strike me as the type.’

‘But Derry did?’ Brodie said it defensively, as if he was suggesting that poor mad people were far more dangerous than mad rich ones.

‘Can’t leave any stone unturned kid.’

Brodie tried not to glare at him. She was sure he had done his best, but he hadn’t found the dog so there had to be more than one stone he hadn’t even looked at, let alone turned. ‘Well, thanks for your help. By the way, what was Esther Davies like when you questioned her?’ she asked, standing to leave.

‘The housekeeper? Buttoned up type, more snobby than the Gardiner-Hallows? I can’t recall, hang on,’ he squeezed his eyes shut as if looking back into his memories. ‘Now I come to think of it, she didn’t say much. She was upset I know, but her and Miss Gardiner-Hallow were in the house all day, the old boy had had a funny turn and they were seeing to him. Why do you ask, the old girl must be long dead by now?’

Brodie shrugged, ‘No reason, just curious, oh and she’s still alive – just. She had a stroke though, and can’t talk’

Jack laughed, ‘Blow me, I remember her as pretty ancient then!’

Brodie thanked him again, and let herself out round the side of the house so that she wouldn’t have to see Mrs Pearson again; she’d had enough of disapproving looks lately.

As she waited for the next bus it felt like the whole venture had led her to a dead end, just as dead as the ones Jack Pearson had been led to. She reached into her pocket, the presence of the little dog that lay dirty and bedraggled in the warmth of her hand told her something different. Someone in Hallow’s End knew more than they were letting on and Brodie was going to find out exactly what it was.

*

Inside the safety and relative sanity of Meadowfoot Cottage Elaine examined the gift that Albert Gardiner-Hallow had bestowed upon her. Inside the tiny jar was something small, hard and black which lay alongside a tiny piece of paper. No doubt describing when and where it was found if Albert’s cataloguing was to be relied upon.

The rot of age had perished the rubber seal and rusted the metal clip that held the lid in place. The glass was rimed with old, adherent dust. The jar wasn’t going to release its contents easily, and it was hard to see through the grimy glass. Wiping it clean revealed the object inside to be a small glass eye, the type used for soft toys. Elaine couldn’t read the paper, it was rolled up and until she was able to loosen the lid she couldn’t remove it.

She had no idea what relevance the eccentric old man had placed on the item, or why he thought it might make sense to her. Curious, but mostly indifferent, she placed it on the mantel shelf and pretty much forgot about it.

Brodie was coming for dinner that night and Elaine had promised to cook her favourite meal – lasagne and garlic bread, all homemade. Apparently it was something Tony used to cook for her when he had lived at home, and the girl associated the dish with comfort. According to Brodie, Shirley’s speciality was anything that could be rammed into a microwave or shoved under a grill. Elaine couldn’t imagine that Brodie would go hungry at Miriam’s, but she wasn’t going to complain about the company. Without Brodie, she too would have just shoved something under the grill and made do. Having someone to cook for made it worth the effort. As she started to assemble the ingredients there was knock at the door. She was surprised to find Alex in the porch, holding a huge bunch of flowers.

‘I hear we owe you a debt of gratitude, my aunt tells me you were a great help with my uncle this morning. I wanted to bring you these to say thank you.’ He handed her the bouquet, an exquisite blend of hothouse flowers – hand-tied and expensive.

She was completely taken aback by this gesture. When Alex had shouted at his aunt and stormed out of Hallow’s Court that morning Elaine had written him off as an egotistical brat. She took the flowers and tried to keep the look of surprise off her face. ‘They’re lovely, but really, there was no need. I’m glad I could help.’

‘May I come in?’ Alex asked, his foot already making its way onto the doorstep.

Elaine was acutely aware that the kitchen looked like the aftermath of a food fight in a supermarket, but the lounge was still fine having been fussed at and dusted by Miriam that morning. ‘Of course, but please excuse the mess, I was just about to start cooking.’

Once he was inside he followed her through to the kitchen, much to her dismay. She had hoped to stall him in the lounge and hide the chaos. ‘I’ll have to see if there is a vase somewhere.’ she said, casting about for a bit of clear surface where she could rest the flowers.

Alex was leaning against the sink unit, arms folded and watching her with amused benevolence. ‘I’m sure there will be. My aunt would have considered it an absolute necessity, even in a holiday cottage. If not, I’m sure Miriam will lend you one.’

Elaine smiled at him and decided to worry about the flowers later. ‘I would offer you a drink, but unless you’d like tea or instant coffee I’m afraid my hospitality is a little lacking.’

Alex smiled. ‘Tell you what, why don’t we pop down to the village pub for a drink? It’s a lovely afternoon and there’s nothing better than a cold beer on a summer’s day. What do you say?’

Elaine eyed the ingredients she had laid out for Brodie’s supper as if they might provide an excuse to say no. The reality was that it would take her less than an hour to make the food, and Brodie wasn’t due until six. It was now two. She had mixed feelings about Alex, but had to admit his mercurial character intrigued her. Now that Jean had been disposed of she didn’t even have her to worry about and it suddenly occurred to Elaine that she was free to do exactly as she pleased. ‘Why not? Give me a minute to put all this away and I’ll be with you.’

Alex beamed. ‘That’s the spirit!’

Although the pub was less than a quarter of a mile away, Alex insisted on driving. Elaine felt faintly ridiculous climbing into the immaculate, brand new BMW in her casual clothes. She felt like a bag lady in comparison to Alex, who was as suave and chic as his car. Whereas she was clothed in crumpled linen which still showed traces of Jean around the hems. Fortunately, when they reached the pub her garb seemed more the norm than his. If Elaine had stood out so sorely she would have been mortified by the attention, but Alex lapped it up as he stepped out of the car and drew the stares of the clientele.

Dutifully she followed Alex up the path to the door of the pub. As they passed a garden table she overheard a couple of men exchanging what they must have assumed were a series of sly, sotto voce comments. ‘Look out, ‘ere comes Lord Bountiful, don’t forget to doff yer cap Ted.’

Ted had pulled a face and whispered, ‘Looks like he’s got his latest squeeze in tow. Not his usual taste in crumpet that’s for sure.’

The other man had lifted his pint and shaken his head. ‘Nah, yer right there Ted, p’raps he’s decided to keep it clean now he wants our votes.’

Alex had gone on inside, but Elaine lingered in the porch for a moment wanting to hear what else the men had to say.

‘Little fucker ain’t getting my vote. Tory bastard. Besides, ain’t many round here’ll forget what he done. We might forgive, but we never forgets.’

Elaine would have liked to hear more of what Ted couldn’t forget, but Alex was waving her towards the bar. ‘What’s it to be, Elaine? Fancy a G ‘n’ T, or how about a Pimms, it’s quite the day for it.’

She plumped for the Pimms, gin always made her think of sodden old hags in Hogarth engravings. They took their drinks into the garden and found a table under some dappled shade, well away from Ted and his equally vocal companion. Alex raised his glass. ‘Cheers!’

Elaine reiterated the salutation and said, ‘I had the impression that you were here on a flying visit. Have you changed your mind?’

‘Not really, I’m due back in London tomorrow. But I had a bit of business to attend to today, thought I’d stay and touch base with the relics at home, and remind the locals that I’ll be counting on their votes soon.’ He bestowed her with a white-toothed smile and sipped his drink; he’d gone for the gin.

‘Well, there’s no point in schmoozing me Alex, I’m not in your constituency.’ she quipped.

He lifted his glass and tilted it towards her, ‘My interest in you has nothing to do with politics. I can assure you.’

Elaine felt her cheeks begin to blush, and realised that, as usual, her hand had reached up to her neck seemingly of its own volition. She really needed to break that habit.

Alex looked at her and narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. ‘For instance, that scar you so carefully try to hide. It intrigues me. How did you get it?’

The question shocked Elaine, she wasn’t used to people being quite so direct. She was aware that she was looking at him with her mouth open. She shut it and looked down at her glass.

‘Oh my dear girl, I’ve offended you! I’m so very sorry, it’s the politician in me, straight to the point and no regard for the opposition.’ He reached across and put his hand on top of hers. It was all she could do not to instinctively pull it away. ‘Please forgive me, I’m an oaf.’

He looked genuinely sorry and she felt a fool for being so sensitive. Brodie had been right, if you wanted to hide something it was better to put it into plain sight. ‘Please don’t apologise, it’s me. I suppose I’m a little conscious of it because most people pointedly avoid noticing it. I don’t remember very clearly, but it was some kind of accident with a sheet of glass when I was very young – so my mother told me.’

Alex nodded. ‘If it bothers you I’m sure a good surgeon could tidy it up. I have a few contacts who might be able to help.’

It had never occurred to Elaine that the scar could be altered. Jean’s hospital phobia had not inclined either of them to seek medical attention when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. To demand attention for something purely cosmetic smacked of the kind of vanity that would have horrified her mother. Had Elaine broached the subject of cosmetic surgery Jean would have run for the carbolic soap and washed her daughter’s mouth out. ‘It’s fine, I’m used to it.’ she mumbled.

‘I can see that I’m making you feel uncomfortable Elaine, and that’s the last thing I want to do. Let’s change the subject shall we? Tell me what brought you to Hallow’s End?’

Uncomfortable wasn’t the word for it. Elaine felt as though every inch of her personal space had been invaded by this forthright man, it seemed that he could see right through her and she found his rhetoric both intimidating and compelling. Alex wasn’t a man it would be easy to say no to. ‘My mother recently died and I decided to take a bit of a holiday. Devon seems like a nice place and Hallow’s End sounded intriguing so here I am.’ She could hardly tell him she had deposited her mother all over his garden and had come with the express intent of disposing of her somewhere in the vicinity.