3 Inspector Hobbes and the Gold Diggers (34 page)

‘Why didn’t you tell the police?’ I asked, maintaining a superficial calm while I was seething internally, although part of me was ecstatic that I’d managed to hurt Denny, if only a little. It felt like revenge.

‘Because,’ said Hobbes, ‘I suspect that Mrs Duckworth had found out that Sir Gerald and Mr Barker had already rendered the local police impotent by means of bribery and terror.’

‘That’s right,’ she said.

‘But,’ said Hobbes, ‘you do know the whereabouts of Mr Duckworth’s notes, do you not?’

She hesitated before nodding.

‘Where are they?’

‘Under a layer of megalodon teeth in a box in the museum’s storeroom.’

‘Where did you keep them before?’ I asked, impressed and proud that she’d managed to thwart Sir Gerald, while at the same time my loathing for him and Denny was rising.

‘In the back garden. I wrapped them in plastic bags to keep them dry and hid them in a big conifer.’ She smiled. ‘After wrecking the house, Denny took the shed apart and dug up the garden, but I don’t think he ever thought of looking upwards and, even if he had, he wouldn’t have seen much. The branches were really dense and I don’t think he ever suspected.’

‘Well done, indeed,’ said Hobbes, his chuckle rumbling through the room. ‘May I be permitted to examine the notes when we’ve finished our tea?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Daphne, shaking her head. ‘At least, not easily. I don’t have a key to the museum yet and even if I had, I haven’t been briefed on how to disable the alarms. Security is quite tight. Apparently there was a break in a few months back.’

‘There was,’ said Hobbes, ‘and Andy was of considerable assistance to me in apprehending the perpetrators.’

Although I gave him a glance conveying gratitude, he didn’t acknowledge it, so perhaps he was only speaking the truth. Not that it mattered, for she favoured me with a huge smile.

‘But,’ he continued, ‘you wouldn’t mind me looking through your husband’s notes when we can get to them?’

‘No, not at all. I’d love to know what all the trouble has been about. Do you have any ideas?’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised to find it’s all connected to the rocks in the Blacker Mountains.’

‘What about them?’ I asked.

‘I’ll tell you when I have confirmed my suspicions,’ he said, putting his empty mug back on the tray and standing up. ‘Now, I have work to do. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so, if I were you, Mrs Duckworth, I would stay here tonight. You can sleep in Andy’s room and Andy can take the sofa. Look after Kathy if she comes down, please.’

‘But where will you sleep?’ I asked.

‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Goodnight.’

He left us alone.

‘I don’t want to turf you out of your bed,’ said Daphne.

‘It’s alright,’ I said, ‘you won’t have to.’

‘Andy!’ she said, opening her eyes wide, ‘What are you suggesting?’

‘Umm … nothing … What I … umm … meant was that I was turfed out of my room yesterday. I didn’t mean to imply that I intend sharing it with you.’

For a moment I was worried I’d offended her. Then, she laughed and I laughed, too. Although I realised she’d been teasing, the mere idea of sharing my bed with her turned me hot and cold in turn.

‘Who, exactly,
is
Kathy?’ she asked, after a long pause.

‘She’s Hobbes’s daughter,’ I said. ‘She turned up out of the blue a few days ago and I think she shocked him. He hadn’t realised he had a daughter. Why do you ask?’

‘I’m just curious. You see, I caught a glimpse of someone, who I now believe was Rupert Payne, hand something to her this morning. I’d quite forgotten with all the excitement, but I remember thinking that something … shady was going on.’

‘That’s interesting,’ I said, ‘because I’m almost sure I saw Rupert getting off the bus this evening. He was looking very smart and prosperous, which was odd as he was sleeping rough yesterday.’

Daphne shrugged. ‘Don’t forget, his father is in town. The boy probably just got his pocket money.’

‘Oh, yes,’ I said, ‘I hadn’t thought of that, though last night he sounded scared of his father and I formed the impression he wouldn’t dare approach him for money, because that would mean admitting he’d lost his wallet. I wonder what he was doing with Kathy. Perhaps he got money off her.’

‘Who knows? You could ask her.’

‘I could,’ I said, ‘but she can be … unpredictable. Sometimes she’s not too bad and I can tolerate her, but at other times she’s awful. She’s thrown things at me and been rude to Mrs Goodfellow and she’s selfish and …’

‘Don’t talk about me behind my back,’ said Kathy, entering the sitting room and staring at me through red-rimmed eyes. ‘It’s not fair.’ Running to the front door, she opened it and fled into the night, slamming the door behind her.

‘Oh, no …’ I said, ashamed and sorry. ‘I didn’t mean …’ I turned to Daphne. ‘I didn’t think she was listening, or I wouldn’t have … I didn’t mean to upset her.’

‘I know.’

‘I’d better go and find her. I feel somehow responsible for her.’

‘I’ll come too.’

‘No, I’d better go alone. Hobbes said you should stay here.’

‘I think he meant
we
should stay here, but, if you’re going out, I’m going with you. I don’t want to be left here on my own.’

Although I had a ton of misgivings, I couldn’t dissuade her, and anyway, she had a point. Getting up, we put on our coats and set out.

The heavy clouds had blown away and the moon, ripening towards fullness, lit up a clear sky that still held a faint hint of pink towards the west. A man down the street was scraping ice from his car’s windscreen and somewhere in the distance I could hear a gritting lorry. I wasn’t at all surprised that Hobbes had been correct about the frost.

‘Chilly, isn’t it?’ I said.

Daphne nodded, pulling up her collar. ‘Any idea where she’ll be?’

‘No, not really. She doesn’t know her way around too well. She seemed to like the Feathers, though, so we could try there first.’

We walked through town, hardly seeing anyone, except for some shivering tobacco addicts huddled outside the Barley Mow in a cloud of smoke. On the way, I tried to prepare Daphne for the full horror of the Feathers, but it was peaceful and almost homely when we arrived. A coal fire was blazing in the fireplace and two old boys were playing darts, while Featherlight slouched against the bar, a mug of beer in one hand, shovelling pork scratchings into his mouth with the other.

‘Evening, Caplet,’ he said, spraying crumbs. ‘And with yet another beauteous lady, I see. Welcome, my lady.’

For a moment I was nonplussed and disconcerted by his affability, but then he’d always managed a certain old-fashioned charm with women in his pub – not that there were many.

‘What can I get for you, this cold evening?’ he asked.

‘Umm … nothing actually … the thing is, I …umm … we want to ask you a question. Is that OK?’

‘If that was the question,’ said Featherlight with a chuckle, ‘then, yes, it was OK.’

‘What?’

He sighed. ‘Oh forget it. Fire away, Caplet.’

‘Right … umm … have you seen Kathy?’

‘Of course I have, you dolt,’ he said frowning. ‘What sort of stupid question is that? You brought her in here yourself.’

‘No, have you seen her since then? In the last few minutes?’

‘I regret I have not set eyes on the fair Kathy since Hobbes took her away.’

‘Thanks.’ I looked at Daphne and shrugged.

‘Hiya, Andy, what’s up?’ said Billy, emerging from the cellar, looking dusty and pink in the face.

‘We’re looking for Kathy.’

‘What?’ Featherlight roared, the furrows in his forehead deepening. ‘Why? What have you done to her? I’ll smash your face in.’ He took a step towards me, his face taking on a purple tinge.

‘Stop,’ said Daphne. ‘Andy didn’t do anything. She overheard something, got the wrong end of the stick and stormed out. We just want to make sure she’s alright.’

Featherlight stopped. ‘Sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean any harm. I’m just worried about her. She’s sweet, but she may have problems.’

‘What sort of problems?’ asked Daphne.

‘Well, besides having Hobbes as a father, and hanging around with Caplet, there’s the other thing.’

‘What other thing?’

Looking around, lowering his voice to a whisper, he leaned towards us, smothering us in beer fumes: ‘Drugs.’

‘Really?’ I said.

‘No, not really,’ said Featherlight, the purple tinge returning, ‘it’s the sort of thing I’m always joking about. Sometimes, Caplet, you can be a real clod!’

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know. What sort of drugs?’

‘How the hell would I know? Hobbes found out, though.’

‘Is that why he was so angry when he came out of the pub?’

‘No, it was because of the parlous state of the economy.’ He shook his head. ‘Of course that’s why he was angry, you idiot.’

‘Oh, right.’ Strangely I didn’t feel fear, for he was in a comparatively mellow frame of mind, thanks to Daphne’s presence.

‘Have you any ideas where she might be now?’ she asked.

‘Sorry,’ said Featherlight, shaking his big head. ‘My conversation with her was, alas, too brief. Why don’t you ask Hobbes to find her?’

I hesitated. ‘I don’t think—’

‘That is obvious,’ said Featherlight.

‘No, I don’t think I should disturb him. He’s really busy and there’s no reason to believe she’s in danger. I’d just like to find her and make sure. The only thing is, I don’t know where to start looking.’

‘I’ve an idea,’ said Billy. ‘If Hobbes took her drugs away, she might want to score some more.’

‘She might,’ I agreed, ‘but I can’t see how that helps.’

‘It could,’ said Billy.

‘How?’

‘Well, we had a young guy come in yesterday who I reckon was a small-time dealer. He dropped his wallet and I found it when I was cleaning up. It was stuffed with cash.’

‘That was Rupert Payne,’ I said, ‘but just because he had money doesn’t mean he’s a drug dealer.’

‘Of course not,’ said Billy, ‘but I know something about dealers. I’ve met a few in my time and, well, he gave off that vibe. So what I’m trying to say is that if you can find the guy, you might find her as well.’

‘It’s a possibility,’ I said, ‘but we have no idea where he might be. I thought I saw him near the church a couple of hours ago, but he could be anywhere by now.’

‘We haven’t anything else to go on,’ said Daphne, ‘so we might as well start there. He might still be around, or someone might have seen him.’

‘It’s worth a try,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’

Featherlight nodded. ‘You do that. We’ll keep an eye out for her back here.’

‘The way I see it,’ I said, as we walked out into the freezing night, ‘Rupert can be dangerous, so it might be better if I take you home before looking for him.’

She shook her head. ‘You don’t get rid of me that easily.’

‘I don’t want to get rid of you—’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘—but I’d rather you were somewhere safe.’

‘And I’d rather you were somewhere safe, but we ought to find her and we’ll be alright together. No more arguments.’

‘Oh … umm … alright,’ I said, unsure that I felt good about this. Then again, it meant she would be with me.

As we walked back along Vermin Street, I was too nervous to talk and Daphne seemed to feel the same way. The streets were almost deserted and the church was in darkness. The church hall’s windows, by contrast, glowed bright with electric light, while yells, screams and thuds penetrated the walls.

‘That,’ I said, ‘sounds like Mrs Goodfellow’s martial arts class.’

‘Isn’t she a bit old for that sort of thing?’

‘You’d think so, but she’s the teacher and enjoys it. Mind you, it’s possible it’s her marital arts class.’

‘You’re joking … aren’t you?’

‘No, she really does teach marital arts. It started with a printer’s error and she didn’t want to disappoint people.’

Laughter steamed from her mouth. ‘Liar!’

I couldn’t blame her, though the story was entirely true.

‘We could try there.’ I pointed to an alley, which led to Church Fields.

She nodded and hand in hand we walked into it, only a faint glimmer from somewhere ahead to show our way through the darkness. Neither of us spoke, both of us on tiptoe, trying to make as little noise as possible, though I wasn’t sure why. When something moved deep within the shadows ahead, Daphne gasped and I pushed her behind me, but it turned out to be nothing more than a fat ginger tom cat, who swaggered past, his insolent eyes radiating indifference to our pounding hearts. Breathing heavily, we continued through the crushing gloom until we were in Church Fields, where the pale light of a single, old-fashioned lamppost revealed a nightmare landscape of ancient gravestones and crumbling tombs.

I could honestly say that I wasn’t nervous. I was, in fact, suddenly terrified, reminded of the time, albeit in a different churchyard, when a pair of grave-robbing ghouls had tried to bury me. Back then, Hobbes had dissuaded them with a well swung shovel, but he wasn’t with us and neither, fortunately, were the ghouls. I doubted they went there because the medieval bones beneath Church Fields had surely crumbled to dust long ago.