Authors: Hazel Holt
Since Rosemary happened to mention that Patrick was going to tea with Mrs Dudley the next day, I decided to go and have a look at the lane. I parked just before the turning to the farm, hoping that no other car would want to get by. I remembered Bob had said that, because of the dry weather, there hadn’t been any useful tyre marks where Daniel was killed so I wasn’t very hopeful of finding anything. But, by a piece of luck, the opening of the turning was in a hollow which had held the rain that had fallen before and, although the ground was dry and baked hard, there were definite marks where it had been damp and where a vehicle had stood. I bent down to examine them and was disappointed. They were like small squares (reminding me of the pattern on my curtains)
and didn’t look like tyre marks to me. Still, I thought I should tell Bob about them and see what he thought. I suddenly panicked that there might be heavy rain or they might be obliterated in some way before he could come and look at them, then I remembered that my mobile phone also worked as a camera.
I took it out of my bag and regarded it doubtfully. I’d never tried to use it as a camera, in spite of Michael having explained how it worked. I can only cope with very basic technology.
I switched it on and pressed things until it said menu and finally found something that looked promising. I crouched down and pressed things again, hoping that I was doing the right thing.
Back in the car I thought of using the mobile phone to tell Bob about the marks, but I was afraid of messing up the photos (if I
had
taken them) so I had to wait until I got home.
Fortunately I was able to get through to him quite quickly and told him what I’d found.
‘They don’t look like tyre marks,’ I said, ‘but I thought I’d better let you know about them.’ I described what they looked like and he asked me to repeat it. He sounded quite excited.
‘Were they any use?’ I asked. ‘I think I may have been able to photograph them on my mobile, but I’m not sure.’
‘I’d really like to look at the photos. I have an idea of what the marks may be … Would it be convenient for me to come round on my way home?’
When he came I watched anxiously while he pressed things.
‘Did I manage to take anything?’ I asked.
He smiled. ‘Well, they’re not exactly professional standard, but I can see quite clearly what they are. They’re the marks of off-road tyres.’
‘Is that good?’
‘Not all Defenders have them, so it does narrow things down a bit more.’
‘And you’ll go and have a look yourself?’
‘Most certainly. And I’ve widened the search. It doesn’t seem that anyone who had anything to do with Daniel has a Defender, so it may well have been hired. Of course, whoever it is may have gone further afield, but at least I can start by checking places that hire Land Rovers in the area.’
‘And you’ll tell Patrick?’
‘Of course.’
After that, I thought I might have heard from Patrick, but Rosemary told me he’d had to go up to London – something about selling the flat.
‘So it does look as if he’s going to be staying down here,’ she said. ‘Mother’s delighted.’
‘But what will he
do
down here?’ I asked.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea. I’m just glad that, whatever it is he’s going to do, he’ll be doing it in Taviscombe. Anyway, what I really wanted to ask you is if you’d come shopping with me in Taunton. I’ve got to find a birthday present for Delia and I need all the help I can get to find something – anything – she might like.’
It was, as I expected, a fruitless expedition and Rosemary ended up (as I always knew she would do) buying Delia a generous Marks & Spencer token.
‘More birthdayish’ Rosemary said, ‘than actual money, and she’ll have the pleasure of spending it herself. I don’t know about you but I feel it’s time for lunch and a nice sit-down.’
‘Good idea. We’re near the precinct so let’s go to the tea room there; they do light lunches.’
‘This is nice and peaceful,’ Rosemary said, ‘after that crowded food hall. Still we did buy
something
so it wasn’t quite a wasted journey and I was able to get those special cheese biscuits for Mother – no one has them in Taviscombe.’
We sat for a while over our lunch, just enjoying being somewhere away from home, and the cafe began to fill up with lunchtime office workers.
‘Look,’ Rosemary said, ‘isn’t that Maurice Shelby? I think he’s seen us but he’s not going to join us.’
I laughed. ‘He did join me that time over a toasted teacake and was quite human, but I imagine the thought of having his lunch with
two
females was just too much for him.’
‘Just as well,’ she said. ‘He always looks so dismal. Actually, it sounds as if he has things to be dismal about. Jack says he might be struggling – not many new clients.’
‘I feel sorry for him. It must be so difficult for older solicitors like him these days when the whole procedure’s been speeded up and everything is timed to the last second and much more impersonal. I know Michael doesn’t really like it and he’s adaptable, so someone like Maurice Shelby couldn’t help being left behind.’
‘Perhaps he’ll retire, he must be well over sixty, and there’s always Alison’s money.’ She looked at her watch. ‘If it’s all right with you, we really ought to be going. Elsie’s going to the dentist so I’ve got to give Mother her tea. Come to think of it, I might just buy her some of the gorgeous gateau they sell here. That should cheer her up.’
I’d been putting off looking at Alan’s papers but the next morning, when there was nothing I really had to do, I decided to get on with it. I crouched down in the spare room, prising open one of the cardboard
boxes. As I opened it and started to take out some of the papers, I was aware of a slightly acrid smell – a reminder of the smoke from the fire in Eva’s garage. I took a large bundle of papers downstairs to my study and began to go through them. These were all articles that Alan had written over the years, scripts of interviews and notes for broadcasts, so I put them to one side together with those from the other boxes. Next I found a box of letters, mostly concerned with his work, though there were some from Eva, which I removed without reading and which I planned to pass on to Rosemary. There were also a few letters from well-known people that I kept separately to go in the biography. It all seemed quite straightforward and I’d made good progress by lunchtime.
Rosemary came round in the afternoon so I was able to give her Eva’s letters.
‘I haven’t come across any from Daniel,’ I said, ‘but there are still several boxes I haven’t looked at yet.’
‘Daniel may not have written letters – the young mostly communicate by e-mail or even by text messages. I don’t know what Eva did with Alan’s laptop or his mobile. I suppose they may still be at the cottage. I’d better ask Patrick. We didn’t get around to doing much in the way of clearing up when Eva died and Daniel came down to live there …’
‘Oh well, there’s no urgency, though I suppose
there may be things on the laptop that might go in the biography. Did Eva ever mention it?’
‘No, it was like the papers – I suppose she really didn’t want to face the fact that Alan was gone.’
‘Well, there’s not a lot left to do with them. I should finish sorting things out tomorrow and then they can go off for the publisher to deal with.’
Next morning I worked hard at the boxes, opening the last one with a sense of relief. I was intrigued to find that it contained a series of notebooks containing what looked like a diary written in Alan’s neat handwriting. Not an actual diary with entries for separate days, but a kind of narrative of some of his journeys. I began by skimming through it, but soon became fascinated and settled down to read it properly. It covered his work in several different countries and was written in a free, open style so that I could hear Alan’s distinctive voice coming through. As I read on, I became excited about what seemed to me a most unusual and brilliant piece of work, something that really should be published. I wished Eva could have read it – Daniel too – they would have been so proud.
As the narrative moved on to South America I was startled to find Donald Webster’s name leaping at me from the page. Then I remembered Eva saying that Alan had met Donald out there and he had rescued them both from some sort of tight spot. I read on eagerly,
enjoying Alan’s laconic account of how they’d met by chance and had found themselves caught up in a raid on a major drug dealer and how he’d managed to talk their way out of danger. All quite casual, typical of Alan, but I could see how frightening it must have been and could understand Donald’s admiration of him. They each seemed to have gone their own way after that and there was no further mention of Donald until nearly the end of Alan’s stay in the country.
It seems there’d been an explosion at one of the chemical factories – apparently not an unusual occurrence so there was no worldwide coverage in the press, although a number of workers had been killed. There was an investigation and, from the information given, it was pronounced to be an accident. But Alan, with his reporter’s instinct, was not satisfied, and from the contacts he’d made, he was sure that it had been the result of negligence on the part of the company. There was no actual evidence and many of the people involved wouldn’t talk to him for fear of losing their jobs with the company. But the general feeling was that Donald Webster, as the person in charge, had been aware of the situation that led to the explosion and had, presumably for financial reasons, done nothing about it.
I stared at the page until the handwriting became blurred. Then I read on. Alan didn’t want to let go,
but, reluctantly, finally decided that with no evidence or confirmed witness statement there was nothing he could do. He made some very forthright comments about Donald Webster who had, by then, been transferred to another country – actually, another continent.
I sat for some time considering what to do. Finally I decided to show Rosemary the notebook.
She came round quickly when I said it was something urgent and I sat her down and found her the entry. Like me, she was stunned. Finally she said, ‘I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad Eva died when she did. For heaven’s sake,’ she said fiercely, ‘she might have married him and then it all could have come out. How would she have felt then!’
‘This explains why he was so keen to “help” look through the papers,’ I said. ‘He knew Alan had been in the area and was afraid he might have written something. Which, thank God, he did!’
‘I always thought there was something wrong about that man – you remember, I never trusted him and was sure he’d hurt Eva in some way.’
‘You were certainly right about that,’ I said. ‘He fooled everybody – still does. When I think how sorry I was for him when he seemed so upset about her death!’
‘For all we know, it might have been just an act –
all that with Eva – just to get hold of the papers.’
‘I think he was genuinely attracted to her,’ I said reluctantly. ‘Oh, I don’t know – how can you tell with someone like that.’
We sat for a moment in silence, then Rosemary said suddenly, ‘The fire! Was that him, did
he
start it deliberately? Eva could have been killed in that fire – did he think of that!’
‘It could have been deliberate – I think we just assumed it was faulty wiring.’ I thought for a moment. ‘When Eva died he must have thought he was safe.’
‘He offered to help sort out the papers after she died – I’d have been glad to accept the offer, there was so much to see to, but, fortunately, I was so upset I couldn’t be bothered with them just then.’
‘He offered again when Daniel died,’ I said. ‘But then there was Patrick …’
We sat in silence again for some minutes.
‘What are we going to do?’ I asked. ‘Whatever we feel like, I don’t imagine there’s any way anyone could bring him to justice.’
‘We must confront him,’ Rosemary said. ‘Tell him that we know what he’s done.’
‘I don’t know that I could bear to look at him,’ I said.
‘Well
I
certainly can and I’ll tell everyone in Taviscombe what a loathsome person he is.’
‘He’ll deny it, of course.’
‘But we’ve got Alan’s notebook,’ Rosemary said.
‘Yes, but
he
said there was no evidence so nothing could be done. We could be sued for libel or defamation or something.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’
‘But I’m right. Jack will tell you so.’
‘We can’t let him get away with it.’
‘No, I agree, but all we can do is to let him know
we
know and that Alan described the whole affair – we needn’t go into details, just hint that there’s some damning stuff there. Frighten him.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then he’ll probably go away.’
‘And get off scot-free?’
‘I know that seems unfair, but he’d never know for sure if we might produce something positive against him.’
‘But can’t we tell the police?’
‘There’s nothing they can do without the real facts – and, anyway, it happened in another country so they couldn’t do anything anyway.’
‘It’s so frustrating. Will you come with me to see him?’
‘Yes, of course I will. Where shall we see him?’
‘We could confront him at Brunswick Lodge, then everyone would know.’
‘Libel!’
‘Oh, I suppose so.’
‘I’ll invite him round here. He’s been here for tea before so he won’t be suspicious and put us off, though I won’t tell him you’ll be here – that might surprise him and throw him off balance a bit.’
I telephoned and invited him round (‘for coffee’) and he arranged to come the next day.
He was a little surprised to find Rosemary, but greeted her in his usual easy manner.
‘We’ve invited you here,’ I said, ‘because of a very important matter.’
‘That sounds serious,’ he said lightly.
‘It is, very serious. As you know, Alan left a lot of papers, mostly connected with his work. You do know that, of course, because you offered your help in going through them.’