Suddenly he thought of the housekeeper living alone in the flat above the garage; had the criminal already tried to break in there? Surely she would have telephoned him if she had been aware of an intruder trying to force his way in? Perhaps she would have done, yet if she was asleep, and unaware of any such happening she could possibly be in danger. For a moment he debated phoning her and then decided against in view of the late hour; he disliked the thought of rousing her from sleep and alarming her unnecessarily. He returned into the kitchen, locking and bolting the door behind him. He then selected a flash-light that he had seen earlier standing in one of the kitchen cupboards, and with this in his hand, made his way to the front of the building.
He exited the front door, locking it securely behind him as he went, and then walked the short distance in the moonlight to the garage complex. He held the flash-light ready in his hand, but kept it switched off; there was no sense in betraying his presence unnecessarily. He glanced up at the windows of the flat and saw that everything was in darkness. Moving quietly, he walked all round the building, and paid particular attention to any point where access might conceivably be forced. He paused for several seconds looking up the flight of stairs that led to the front door of the flat. Illuminated quite well in the moonlight, there was nothing to suggest that an intruder might have been up trying to force an entry. Satisfied that everything appeared to be in order, he finally returned to the house.
Once inside, he switched off all the lights and kept a watch through the windows. To his mind the possibility that the criminal might try again, although remote, could not be ignored, and he wanted very much to lay hands on whoever it was. He moved quietly from room to room, peering unseen through the windows. Reluctantly he had to accept that if the would-be burglar was still out there, he remained obstinately invisible. After about half an hour he saw a fox trot across one of the lawns, yet beyond that there was nothing. He kept the vigil up for a further couple of hours before finally accepting that nothing further was going to happen. Whoever it had been, it seemed obvious that they hadn’t expected to find anyone up and about in the house, and no doubt had abandoned any thoughts of breaking in at once. He debated contacting the police in the morning, and then dismissed the idea as being a waste of time. There was no evidence of entry, no damage done, the police would merely ask endless questions, make lots of notes, promise full attention, and that would be the last he would hear of it. He eventually tumbled into bed, and having mentally cursed because he had not taken his pill, fell almost at once into a deep sleep.
The sun was shining brightly when he suddenly woke. Almost at once the events of the night came tumbling back, and wasting little time he rose, and following a quick shower, he dressed and went down stairs. It was later than he had planned, but considering the lateness of the hour when he had retired that wasn’t to be wondered at. He went directly to the kitchen, and saw at once that June was already there, busying herself with breakfast preparations.
“Morning June,” he said cheerfully as he crossed the kitchen.
“Good morning Mr Isherwood,” she answered politely, but pressed on with her work.
He checked in his stride, aware that the words were uttered in the same cold frigid tone she had used the very first time he had met her.
“I thought we’d agreed to drop all this ‘Mr & Mrs’ nonsense?” he remarked in a casual voice.
“Your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” she said, ignoring the implied question.
He turned to look at her. Something had definitely caused her to withdraw once again into her shell, and the immediate thought in his head was that it had something to do with the nocturnal prowler he had disturbed.
“What’s wrong, June?” he asked quietly.
“Nothing is wrong,” she replied woodenly, putting a plate in to warm ready for the bacon and eggs she was cooking.
“Oh
please
,” he said in a slightly weary voice. “I’m not completely stupid. Last night you and I were talking in a quite friendly manner; you even agreed to help me out with the girls, remember? What’s happened?”
“
Nothing
has happened!”
“I’m sorry, I don’t accept that. I can tell from you tone that something has upset you. The least you can do is have the courtesy to tell me what it is?”
She suddenly stopped what she was doing, and turned to look at him with her usual expressionless face.
“Mr Isherwood; I have agreed to do your housekeeping; I have agreed to assist with searching through the effects in the upper rooms, I have agreed to assist with the care of the girls you say are coming today, and I want it clearly understood that this is
all
that I have agreed to!”
“Absolutely, and I couldn’t be more grateful. So why the cold-shoulder treatment?”
He thought for a moment that she wasn’t going to speak.
“Then why did you come creeping round my flat last night?” she snapped out at him suddenly.
“What?”
“You needn’t try to deny it; I saw you through the window. You came out of the house, and you went all round the garage. Why? Did you really imagine that I had left the door open for you? Did you think that because we had exchanged a few words it was an open invitation for other things? If that was what was in your mind, allow me to tell you here and now that if you so much as try anything like that, I will make you truly regret it!” Her eyes were blazing, and she said it with such vehemence he almost recoiled from her.
“So
that’s
it!” he exclaimed.
“You do not deny it?”
“Of course I don’t deny it!” he snapped back. “I came across to the garage block last night just to make sure that everything was secure.”
“Now why would you want to do that?” she asked sarcastically.
“Because somebody tried to break in here last night,” he said slowly, and with meaning in his voice. “I wanted to satisfy myself that the same prowler hadn’t tried to enter either the garage or your flat.”
She still looked extremely suspicious. If his story of a possible intruder alarmed her, it did nothing to diminish her reaction to what she saw as the greater threat; his presence near to her home late at night!
“How do I know you are telling the truth?” she demanded.
“I ought to be pretty offended that you suspect I’m a liar,” he observed quietly. “Does it not cross your mind that if I had been the sort of man you obviously suspect me to be, I would have made a grab for you while you were still here, rather than wait until you had gone back home?”
“Maybe you needed a few more whiskeys to get your courage up,” she snapped back. “Oh yes, I saw the glass you used last night, and I know how much has been used!”
He spread his hands in a gesture of despair, sat himself in the chair at the end of the table, and looked at her. He could read suspicion, anger, and even fear in her expression, and in a way it made him feel sad that she should react in such a violent manner to what after all had only been an innocent act on his part.
“Well, I’m truly sorry that you think like that,” he sighed. “If you cannot take my word for it, as it happens, there is perhaps only one thing that may convince you that I’m not making this up. If you look outside the back door onto the patio you will doubtless observe, as I did last night, that there is a cigarette end lying there. I certainly do not smoke myself, nor have I any smoking materials in my possession. As far as I know, you don’t smoke either, and nobody else has been round that side of the house recently that I’m aware of.”
He saw the smallest flicker of doubt on her features. She suddenly turned, walked down the kitchen, opened the rear door and stepped out on the patio. He saw her searching with her eyes over the stone flags, and then she crouched down at the point he knew he had seen the cigarette end lying the previous night. She looked at it closely for a few moments, and then she straightened up and returned into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” she said shortly, and in a calmer voice. “Perhaps I may have jumped to the wrong conclusion. I swept that area late yesterday afternoon therefore I have no choice other than to accept that somebody has been there.”
“Well, I’m glad
that’s
out of the way,” Martin said, trying to convey the impression that he hadn’t taken offence at her unpleasant insinuation. “You had me quite worried.”
“If you would like to go into the breakfast room,” she said, but there was still no hint of even mild friendliness in her eyes or showing in her voice, “I will bring your meal in to you.”
“I’ll have it here,” he said firmly, “and for goodness sake pour yourself a coffee, and sit down and join me!”
He thought that she was about to refuse, but finally she said; “Very well.”
He settled down at the kitchen table, watching her as she went through the motions of transferring the hot food onto the plate she had been warming. She was dressed as severely as always, but in appraising her, he was left with the impression that she was naturally graceful of movement, and with only a modicum of attention to attire, and with her hair done a little more fashionably, she would be an attractive woman. If only she would allow herself to relax a little, and learn how to smile, it would make all the difference. To his mind there was little doubt that something in her life had really scarred her in the psychological sense, and although it was strictly none of his business he still wondered what it may have been.
She finished her preparations and then brought the plate over to the table. She swiftly produced cutlery and condiments, placing these to hand in front of him before returning to pour out coffee, and all without saying a word. Her tasks completed, she sat opposite him, a cup of coffee placed directly in front of her.
“Will you not eat something yourself?” he enquired, as he prepared to attack the excellent breakfast she had prepared.
“I had my meal earlier,” she replied shortly, “I usually eat at about six.”
He looked at her in mild astonishment. “You must rise very early to do that?” he observed.
“I always rise at five o’clock,” she explained. “I’m not one for lying around. I like to clean the flat and do all my domestic work before I come across and start my duties here.” She paused, and then held his eye as she added; “I apologise for my earlier remarks. I had no right to suggest that your motives were anything other than what you claimed.”
“It’s quite all right; I expect that if the situation had been reversed I might have made the same mistake.”
“May I ask if you have contacted the police?”
“No, I really don’t think it is worth all the hassle, do you?”
He was watching her as he spoke, and he thought he saw a slight flicker of relief as she heard his words. Was she a bit wary of the police, he wondered?
“Probably not,” she agreed. “After all, whoever it was didn’t get in, and the only proof that anyone has been here is that cigarette-end lying outside.”
“I’m glad you agree. Never-the-less, when George Dawkins comes in I think maybe we should ask him to check all the boundary walls, gates and other access points for security.” He paused, and then added; “I might even give our friend Peter Buxted a ring on that subject.”
She passed no comment on that, merely asking; “Do you think whoever was out there may try again?”
“I honestly couldn’t say; probably not, although I need to bear in mind that there was this chap asking an awful lot of questions about Springwater House in the pub. If it was him that was trying to gain entry last night then I suppose we ought to be prepared for anything?”
“There is no alarm system fitted in the house,” she observed. “Perhaps contacting Mr Buxted or some other security company might not be such a bad idea at that?”
He watched her for a few moments as he chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of his breakfast.
“Tell me,” he said as he swallowed, pausing before taking a further mouthful, “does the possibility that we may have some sort of criminal targeting us worry you? I mean; you are alone and isolated in that flat of yours?”