Time to Pay (37 page)

‘Sure.'

‘How is he?'

‘Pretty rough, I think. He's only semi-conscious.
Look, if you ride back, be careful with the horse when the chopper comes down, we don't want another accident!'

It was just over twenty minutes before the helicopter paramedic reached the hut in the clearing, and during that time Reuben gave no sign of a return to consciousness.

Gideon sat with him and the dog, talking to both, and taking in the details of his surroundings as his eyes adjusted fully to the poor light. In spite of the chaos left by whoever had trashed the place, there was no sign of dirt or neglect. As a home, the hut was spartan, to say the least, but there was no smell beyond the inevitable tang of woodsmoke and a rather pleasant overtone of pine resin.

These things he noticed almost in passing, his brain being occupied with the worrying question of just who had carried out this vicious attack. According to Tilly, Reuben had been on the gallops the morning before, standing watching the horses as he often did, so the attack had taken place in the last twenty-four hours. It was difficult to believe it was a coincidence that his name had come up at Towcester.

On the other hand, if it wasn't a coincidence, then someone at the racecourse had overheard their conversation and moved exceedingly fast.

Who?

As far as Gideon was concerned, the finger of suspicion fairly stabbed in the direction of Lloyd. However one looked at it, there really wasn't any other option. Aside from Pippa, Giles and Eve,
the others had all been members of Damien's family. Gideon didn't think Lloyd had been close enough to overhear the conversation between Beth, Tilly and himself, but he would have had to be deaf not to have heard Freddy's enthusiastic chanting of Reuben Bones. As a long-time friend of Damien's, it might well have reminded him of the charcoal burner at the farm, and led him to have drawn the same conclusions as had Beth and Tilly.

Lloyd.

The ramifications didn't bear thinking about.

He looked down at the battered face of the man on the bed. It was difficult to tell how old he might be, but although he remembered Tilly saying he could be anything from fifty to seventy, Gideon thought he looked nearer the lower end of that estimate. From what he could see, he got the impression of a strong face, lined but not wasted. Could the Lloyd he knew
really
do something like this? In spite of his dislike for the man, he found it hard to believe.

Gradually the heavy throb of the approaching helicopter intruded onto his deliberations, and he abandoned the unpalatable train of thought in anticipation of the paramedic's arrival.

‘Help is on its way. They'll soon be here,' he told the unconscious man, reflecting, even as he did so, that to a man such as Reuben the information was likely to be more painful than soothing. Having successfully shut himself away from the world for thirty years or more, it would surely be a mental torment to have the world, in its most busy, authoritarian guise, invading his tranquil haven.

From that point of view, Gideon thought it was probably a good thing Reuben
was
unconscious.

‘But I don't understand. Why would someone do that to a man like Reuben?' Tilly asked, frowning.

She and Gideon were riding back to the farm on horses that had grown cold and fidgety with waiting while Reuben had been examined, transferred to the air ambulance and borne away. The police observer who had accompanied the paramedic had taken their details and remained at the hut to await the arrival of a forensic team.

‘I mean, he doesn't trouble anyone,' she went on. ‘Hardly anyone even knows he's there. And he's got nothing to steal, you can see that.'

‘Except perhaps the diary,' Gideon pointed out.

Tilly's head snapped round.

‘Do you think that's what they were after?'

‘It's possible, don't you think? Probable, even.'

‘But why now, suddenly? Just when . . .' She broke off as her thought processes caught up. ‘You don't think someone overheard us?'

‘It's possible. After all, Freddy was shouting Reuben Bones at the top of his voice.'

‘But hardly anyone knows about Reuben. In fact, outside the family and staff, probably only you.'

And Lloyd, Gideon thought, but he didn't say it. In spite of his suspicions, he had no proof. Much better to let Tilly work it out for herself. He looked back at the hermit's sheepdog, which was trotting quietly behind Tilly's horse at the end of a long piece of rope. ‘Good lad, Buddy.'

‘What are we going to do with him?' Tilly asked, her attention momentarily diverted. ‘I expect he'd be all right with us, just as long as someone didn't let him out by mistake. There are so many comings and goings at our place.'

‘Well, I'd offer to take him, but I'm not sure Elsa would be too happy, and I'm not going to be there today – oh, shit! I'm supposed to be back by half past nine – what time is it?'

‘Ten to. You'll be all right – just.'

‘When I say back by half past nine I mean home, showered and changed, ready to set out for London.'

‘Oh, I see. Might be tight, then,' Tilly agreed. ‘Well, don't worry about Buddy. We'll look after him. He'd probably be happiest tied up in the barn. At least it's warm and quiet.'

In the event, Gideon and Eve were a quarter of an hour late setting out for London, a circumstance that Eve bore with good grace after Gideon had filled her in on the events of the morning.

‘If you seriously think Lloyd has something to do with all this, why would he have helped you out the other day?'

Gideon shrugged. ‘It made him look good.'

‘You mean he set the whole thing up? Don't you think you might be allowing your personal feelings to get in the way here?'

‘I don't know. I hope not . . . Maybe.'

Eve turned the Aston Martin onto the main road and accelerated hard.

‘I don't think it's fair to assume it's Lloyd, just because you can't think who else it might be. I
mean, what if someone was watching our party yesterday? The way that kid was shouting, almost anyone within fifty feet could have heard him.'

‘But the name wouldn't have meant anything, if they didn't know about the guy in the hut,' Gideon pointed out. ‘That's what it comes down to.'

Eve sighed. ‘Well, the police are involved now, so maybe you should tell them what you know and leave it to them, huh?'

‘Yeah, maybe.'

She looked sideways, but Gideon's face was giving nothing away.

‘What? Come on, I know that look.'

‘Oh, I don't know – it's this diary thing. If Damien was using it to blackmail the people on the list, it's going to be a hell of a shock for his family. They don't need that.'

‘
Gideon
!' Eve's tone was loaded with frustration. ‘This isn't just a bit of amateur sleuthing any more; we could be talking murder here! I know you wanted to keep Damien's name clean, if you could, but enough's enough, surely. While you're so busy trying to keep everybody else's name clean, you're going to end up with your own name on a gravestone if you're not careful!'

‘I will be careful. I just want to find this diary first. Tilly and I are going to visit Reuben tonight, if he's well enough for visitors. If he says the diary has gone, I'll go straight to the police, OK?'

‘And if it hasn't?'

‘Then maybe he'll tell us where it is . . .'

Eve just shook her head in defeat.

When Gideon picked Tilly up that evening, he collected Buddy, too.

‘I thought Reuben would be worrying about him,' Gideon told her, pulling into a muddy gateway to allow a large four-by-four to pass. The blonde at the wheel turned her head and waved.

‘Oh, it's Harriet!' Tilly exclaimed, and waved back cheerily. ‘Harriet Lloyd-Ellis, Lloyd's ex.' She lives just a couple of miles away. We'll be passing their place. I'll point it out.'

They had left the lanes and were travelling along the main road when Tilly pointed to a tree-flanked gateway.

‘It's down there. The drive's about half a mile long, and they have stables and quite a bit of land, or rather she does. It's still hard to imagine that they've split up. They were always sniping at one another, but most of us would have taken odds that they'd stay together; they'd been married for twelve years. Their squabbles were part of life – I mean, we used to laugh at them; nobody took them seriously.'

The hospital was starkly bright after the soft twilight countryside they had been travelling through, and Tilly's shoes squeaked on the shiny grey-and-white-squared lino. She and Gideon got several sideways looks as they traversed its myriad corridors, but it wasn't until they were at the doorway of Reuben's room that anyone questioned the presence of the dog.

‘I'm sorry. No animals,' the nurse said. She was middle-aged and wore an air of authority.

‘He's a PAT dog,' Gideon said, without so much as a flicker.

‘Oh,' she said, looking doubtfully down at Buddy, who was straining towards the door, possibly sensing that his master was inside. ‘So where's his official jacket?'

‘On the kitchen table,' Gideon said with a smile that was somewhere between apologetic and charming.

The nurse gave him a long look, clearly not fooled, but allowed herself to be won over. ‘All right. Just this once. But if anyone catches you, I'll deny all knowledge and have you thrown out, I warn you!'

They thanked her and went on in.

‘You're shameless!' Tilly exclaimed, as the door shut behind them.

The collie, on seeing who occupied the bed, threw all his weight into his collar in an effort to reach it.

Reuben was lying propped up against a bank of pillows, his bruised, weather-beaten face looking swarthy against the crisp white bandage that was wound about his head. Seeing his dog, he held out his hands delightedly.

‘Here, boy! Come to me,' he said huskily, and the dog whimpered its eagerness.

Gideon let go of the lead and, seconds later, Buddy was on the bed, snuggling close to Reuben and licking his face enthusiastically.

‘Oh, crikey! I hope the nurse doesn't come back and see that,' Tilly said fervently, glancing towards the door. ‘I think that's taking Pets As Therapy a bit too far!'

While Reuben was occupied with his dog, Gideon had a chance to look at him properly for the first time and saw a man who appeared to be in his fifties, with a strong face and a couple of millimetres of dark hair.

Even in a hospital bed, it was clear that this man in no way conformed to Gideon's image of a hermit. If not particularly tall, he was well built and looked as though he possessed considerable strength. Far from shrinking, his gaze was direct and unafraid, and the look he levelled at Gideon over the collie's black and white head was full of gratitude.

‘Thanks,' he said gruffly.

‘No problem. How are you?'

‘I'll live. You're the ones who found me.' It was more of a statement than a question, and Gideon guessed that the police had told him.

‘Yeah. This morning, early. The sheep were out on the gallops.'

Reuben nodded.

‘So when did this happen?' Gideon indicated his injuries.

‘Last night. I was feedin' Buddy.'

‘Do you know who did it?'

‘No.' He shook his head. ‘But I know why.'

‘The diary?' Tilly asked.

Reuben shifted to reposition Buddy's weight, wincing as he did so. The bandage on his head was matched by one on his right hand, and there was clearly unseen damage, too.

‘Ribs?' Gideon asked, with sympathy.

The injured man grunted.

‘Must be gettin' old. Could've took 'im once.
Would've then if he 'adn't fuckin' jumped me.' He flashed a look at Tilly. ‘Sorry.'

She shook her head dismissively. ‘Doesn't matter. Reuben, did Damien give you the diary?'

Reuben's brows dipped and he looked down.

‘Didn't want no-one to see it, so I kep' it for him.'

‘Do you still have it?' Gideon asked. ‘Or did they take it from you?'

Reuben looked pointedly at Gideon. ‘Need to talk to you. Alone.'

‘To me?' Gideon was surprised. He glanced at Tilly, eyebrows raised and shrugging slightly.

‘Oh, all right,' she said reluctantly. ‘I'll go and get a coffee.'

When she'd gone, Gideon looked thoughtfully at the man in the bed.

‘Do you know who I am?'

‘You brought Buddy to me,' he stated simply. ‘And I've seen what you do with the horses. Damien spoke of you.'

‘I was with him when he died,' Gideon said softly.

‘I know.'

‘Do you know what's in the diary?'

‘Damien told me. He didn't want
them
to know.' Reuben nodded towards the door. ‘His family – reckon he didn't want them hurt.'

‘Did they take the diary? Whoever did this to you – did they find it?'

He shook his head with certainty.

‘I had it hid. Nobody won't have found it.'

‘Will you tell me where it is?'

Reuben rubbed the dog's fur contemplatively.

‘What'll you do with it?'

‘I don't know, yet,' Gideon admitted. ‘I need to see it first.'

‘Knew it would be trouble. Got him killed, it did.'

Even though he had suspected this, hearing it confirmed gave Gideon a jolt.

‘Damien? Are you sure?'

Reuben grunted.

‘Of course – Damien. He wanted to make 'em pay.'

He regarded Gideon intensely for several long seconds, then sighed. ‘I don't want it any more. The lad's gone and I should've burnt the bloody thing! But he trusted me.' Reuben shook his head in an apparent agony of indecision, and then said abruptly, ‘I'll tell you where it is.'