The Moment She Left (13 page)

‘Where are you from, Jason?’ Katie asked kindly.

He regarded her warily, but his manner wasn’t hostile as he said, ‘It doesn’t matter.’

She seemed to mull that for a moment. ‘No, I don’t suppose it does,’ she agreed, ‘but I’ve seen you out on the square a few times lately, and you definitely seem to be focusing on this shop. Do we have something of yours, maybe? Something that might have belonged to one of your family?’

He shook his head.

‘OK, so why don’t you tell us who or what you’re looking for?’ Katie encouraged. ‘We won’t be able to help you if you don’t.’

Seeming to acknowledge that, Jason wiped his mouth with a sleeve as he said, ‘It’s not any of you.’

‘I think we’ve managed to work that out,’ she murmured. ‘Is it someone who used to work here, maybe? If you give us a name I’m sure we’ll be able to help you find them.’

Looking at Graeme, his cagey, light brown eyes glistening with uncertainty, he said, ‘Are you the Graeme what owns this shop?’

‘I am,’ Graeme confirmed.

‘So you’re her brother?’

Graeme frowned.

‘Does the name Sean Griffiths mean anything to you?’ the boy asked.

Graeme shook his head. ‘Should it?’

‘Yeah, as a matter of fact it should, but if you haven’t . . .’ He shrugged and looked at the others. In the end he said to Graeme, ‘I’ll tell you, all right, but no one else.’

As Graeme led the boy into his office for some privacy Blake and Katie watched, as intrigued as they were wary, until finally Blake returned to the workshop to call Andee.

‘I got the wrong person,’ he told her when she answered. ‘The boy who’s been watching the shop? It’s not Tyler Bennett.’

‘No,’ she replied. ‘I’ve just heard back from the Manchester police. Bennett’s serving time for aggravated assault.’

Not surprised, only relieved, he said, ‘Sorry for wasting your time. It seems it’s not only Jess I’m seeing everywhere . . .’

‘It’s OK, no need to apologise. Everything’s always worth following up. I had another long chat with Sadie this morning, Jess’s friend from uni. She still wasn’t able to tell me anything we don’t already know, but I’ll ask you the same as I asked her. When you gave the police a list of Jessica’s friends are you absolutely sure you didn’t leave anyone out? Maybe there’s someone she mentioned only once, in passing . . .’

‘I’ll talk to Matt again,’ he said, ‘but we’ve been over it a hundred times. We told the police everything we know. I swear there’s no one else.’

‘OK, but keep thinking and we’ll get together tomorrow. I’d like to talk to your wife as well. Is she due back any time soon?’

‘I don’t think so, but I can text you her number in Devon.’

After ringing off Blake picked up his tools and returned to work. He was still thrown by the events of the past half-hour, though grateful that the boy hadn’t turned out to be Tyler Bennett. Thank God that part of his life was behind him now; he just hoped with all his heart that one day soon he’d be able to say the same about Jessica’s disappearance.

It was early evening by now and Andee was walking into the flat as her mobile rang. Seeing it was Graeme she didn’t hesitate to click on. ‘Hi, what can I do for you?’ she asked, feeling guilty for sounding more
upbeat than she’d have managed had it been Martin or Alayna. They wouldn’t have wanted her to sound in good spirits, of course, they’d far rather think she was suffering for what she was doing to them – which she was.

‘If it’s not too much trouble,’ Graeme said, ‘there’s something I’d like to run past you.’

‘Of course, be my guest.’ She pulled open the fridge, saw a bottle of chilled wine and felt her spirits lifting even higher. Just what she needed.

‘Actually, it’s a slightly delicate matter,’ he confided, ‘so I was hoping we could meet.’

Immediately intrigued, she said, ‘Would you like me to come to the shop?’

‘Would you mind coming to my home?’

Remembering the nineteenth-century town house backing on to the Botanical Gardens, she said, ‘Are you still in the same place?’

‘I am. I’m sure you already have plans for this evening, so would sometime tomorrow suit?’

Though she didn’t have any plans for this evening at all, she said, ‘That should be fine, but it’ll have to be later in the day, if that’s OK.’

‘You tell me a time.’

She suggested five and said, ‘Is it about Jessica, by any chance?’

‘No,’ he replied, ‘it’s about a young lad called Jason and my sister, Rowzee.’

Charles was in the spacious, high-ceilinged library of Burlingford Hall waiting for Andee to arrive. A table was set on the veranda with a flask of hot coffee, a pitcher of chilled lemonade and a plate of home-made biscuits. The veranda on this, the north-west side of the hall, offered a stunning view of the parterre, a feature of the gardens that did as much to pull in the weekend visitors as the many gazebos, follies, footbridges, lakes and orchards. It was where Bill Simmonds was currently busy trimming borders.

Charles felt deeply indebted to the man for staying on after his retirement. They’d known each other for a very long time, more than thirty years, since Bill had worked for Charles’s father, starting out as an apprentice gardener, and going on, over time, to become chief landscaper. It was Bill and his son, Micky, who’d restored and expanded the magnificent parterre before Bill had taken over as estate manager, a position he’d held for the last ten years prior to his retirement.

In many ways Charles still saw him as that, though Micky and his hard-working crew were running the
place these days, and doing a grand job of it too. Bill just popped in now and again, which seemed to be most days as far as Charles could tell, to tidy things up, mow the lawns, inspect the trees and keep a general eye on things. Charles had long realised that these sixty-two acres spreading widely and ruggedly at the outer reaches up to the moor probably felt as much like home to Bill as they did to any of the Stamfield family. Perhaps even more so, for Bill would certainly know them better, considering how well he’d taken care of them over the years, and it was obvious that he enjoyed eavesdropping on the visitors’ admiration of the gardens at the weekends.

Noticing Andee stopping her car to have a quick chat with the old fellow, Charles strode out on to the veranda ready to greet her. ‘Andee,’ he smiled, pulling her in to an embrace as she came up the steps to join him. ‘May I say how wonderfully fresh you’re looking on this dreadfully humid day?’

‘You may,’ she twinkled, ‘but I can assure you I don’t feel it.’ She stepped back to get a good look at him. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked cautiously. ‘I didn’t want to say anything at the party, but you seemed tired, or worried? And I’ve heard through the grapevine that you haven’t been well.’

‘I’m fine,’ he assured her, waving her to a chair, ‘but I will admit to having had a few issues with the old ticker over the past year or so, which managed to keep me away from Burlingford.’

He knew she must be thinking that Burlingford would surely be the perfect place for convalescence, but she was too polite to say so.

‘Is everything sorted now?’ she asked.

‘More or less.’ He suddenly realised that asking for her help was going to be even harder than he’d imagined, and now he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. In fact, it was starting to feel like a crazy idea even to have considered it. ‘Tell me about you,’ he said, pouring two glasses of lemonade and passing one over. ‘How’s Martin? I’d like to catch up with him while I’m here.’

‘He’d like that,’ she replied. ‘I know you two always got along, but I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that we’re no longer together.’

Charles felt genuinely sorry, but perhaps not as surprised as he might have expected. ‘Please don’t tell me he’s gone off to find himself again. I thought he was over that.’

‘No, it’s me who’s left this time. It only happened a couple of weeks ago, so it’s still early days, but I won’t be going back.’

Realising this was probably harder for her than she was allowing to show, he said, ‘You know, if there’s anything I can do . . .’

‘Thank you. We’ll be fine, eventually, I’m sure.’ Smiling, she raised her glass in a salute and took a sip. ‘What about you and Gina?’ she prompted. ‘Is she still in Dartmouth?’

‘She will be for a while. A friend of hers, Anna Shelley, I expect you’ve heard of her, has an art gallery there and Gina’s agreed to look after it while Anna’s touring the Middle East with a production of
King Lear
. Actually, we popped over to the Isle of Wight for a couple of days which I think she enjoyed.’

‘Only think?’

He smiled. ‘No, I know she enjoyed it. We went to a special exhibition of Julia Margaret Cameron’s work. The Victorian photographer?’

‘I can’t say I’ve heard of her, but I can see it’s something that would appeal to Gina. So how is she?’

Charles found himself nodding before answering. ‘Good, in herself,’ he finally replied, ‘but I guess not so good either.’

Andee frowned. ‘Please don’t tell me the cancer’s come back. I thought she’d been given the all-clear.’

‘She was, yes, almost six years ago now, so that’s certainly something to feel thankful for. She misses Lydia, our daughter.’

Andee blinked in surprise. ‘I remember who Lydia is.’

He laughed. ‘Of course. She’s currently kicking up a storm over Syrian war crimes and making quite a name for herself with the media because of how passionately and eloquently she presents her cases, I quote. Not her, the
New York Times
. We can’t help feeling proud of her.’

‘You and Gina have done a lot for human rights yourselves over the years, so it’s not hard to see where Lydia gets it from. It’s OK,’ she said, glancing at her phone as it rang, ‘I don’t need to take it.’

‘If it’s urgent . . .’

‘It’s not, I promise.’

As she turned it off, he changed the subject with a gentle sigh. ‘So you and Martin are no more.’

‘Please don’t let’s talk about that,’ she protested. ‘I want to hear about you and whatever it is you’d like my thoughts on.’

His insides tensed. He shouldn’t have mentioned it at the party, should never even have considered involving her when no possible good could come of it, for either of them. ‘Actually, it’s nothing really,’ he said dismissively. ‘I don’t need to bother you with it.’

‘It won’t be a bother. Why don’t you try me?’

He was certain he wouldn’t, and yet was so desperate that maybe he had to. After all, what else was he going to do, who else was there to turn to?

As his eyes went to hers he found her regarding him in the way that had always made him wonder if she was reading his mind. Taking a breath, he made sure to keep his tone light as he said, ‘I know when someone talks about a friend being in trouble that they’re almost always talking about themselves . . . Well in this instance it really is a friend, but because of who he is, his connections, his position . . .’ He glanced down at his glass. ‘He’s being blackmailed and I was wondering if there might be some way of finding out, very discreetly, who’s behind it.’

She appeared neither shocked nor suspicious, but he knew better than to assume that he’d convinced her they weren’t talking about him.

‘My first question,’ she said carefully, ‘has to be, what is your friend being blackmailed about?’

His smile was brief. ‘And you know I can’t tell you that.’

She nodded. ‘OK, so let’s begin with how this blackmailer is making contact.’

‘By Royal Mail, I’m told. No emails or texts, I guess because they’re traceable.’

She didn’t disagree. ‘Have you seen any of the notes? Are they typed, cut-out newsprint, handwritten even?’

‘Typed, I believe.’

‘And has your friend met any of the demands?’

‘He has.’

‘And how is he getting the funds to the blackmailer?’

‘In cash, to a Post Office box number. Apparently the town or city has changed each time.’

‘I see. Then I’m afraid that tracing this person without knowing the full story is going to be extremely difficult.’

Though he’d expected this answer, he felt crushed by it anyway.

‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘has your friend confided in you? Do
you
know what it’s about?’

He nodded. ‘I had to know.’

‘
Had
to know?
’

His head was starting to spin. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he replied, dabbing his face with a napkin and watching Bill take off across the south lawn on his quad bike. ‘Gosh, it really is humid today.’

She was still watching him in that knowing way of hers. ‘Charles, I surely don’t have to remind you that you can trust me,’ she said softly.

He attempted a smile. ‘Of course not, but it isn’t my secret to share.’

‘Then why don’t you have a talk with your friend and see if you can persuade him to talk to me himself?’

‘What on earth are you doing?’ Pamela demanded, finding Rowzee on the terrace trying to attract Bill
Simmonds’s attention as he emerged from the estate’s apple orchard that bordered their garden.

‘I want to have a go on his mower,’ Rowz
ee
informed her. ‘It looks such fun.’

Pamela regarded her askance. ‘I sometimes wonder if you’re right in the head,’ she commented.

Rowzee laughed. ‘Wonder no more, it’s official, I’m absolutely not right in the head.’

‘Mm, that is definitely true if you’re fancying
him
.’

Rowzee’s eyes widened. ‘Who said anything about
me
fancying him?’

‘Well I certainly don’t, if that’s what you’re implying, and if you ask me, it’s the real reason you want to have a go on his mower. You ought to be careful he doesn’t think it’s a euphemism and start thinking you’re after his body.’

Finding that hilarious, Rowzee went to hug her.

Laughing too, Pamela said, ‘Ssh, he’s on his way over.’

They watched as Bill Simmonds strode unhurriedly across their lawn looking, Rowzee decided, a bit like John Wayne in
The Quiet Man
. Or maybe he was more like Gary Cooper. Whoever, he was a very striking man in his all-male, rugged sort of way; he just needed a gun on his hip and spurs on his boots to make him the complete film-star package.