Guilt Edged (28 page)

‘Of course it wouldn't,' Charles said. But his face seemed stiffer than usual, and his voice less resonant. What was he up to? ‘And don't forget to check all the cupboards and in the safe.'

‘Why don't you start with the safe,' I agreed, ‘while Charles and I stay here? That way neither of us gets to see the combination. And I'll bet that if you've got a masterpiece of a miniature, that's where it will be.'

Aidan stared furiously at me, but then got up and left us alone in the kitchen. I didn't feel it necessary to start a conversation. Neither did Charles, ruminating on the implications of what I'd said.

It was like being in a dentist's waiting room. The elegant kitchen clock, about the only timepiece in the house that wasn't two hundred years old, ticked irritatingly away: perhaps if he changed it he'd spend more time in the kitchen. Aidan was away so long that I thought he must have run into Griff. In fact he must have been checking the whole house, because he came back with a vicious smile on his face. ‘Everything is where it should be. Now, get out of my house before I recommend that Charles takes legal action against you for unlawful detention and defamation.'

‘And there I thought it was you that was unlawfully detained,' I said affably. ‘I'd love to leave your house, but I can't without Griff, can I? Did you find him?'

‘You can wait in the car.'

‘Don't worry – I will.'

G
riff was in the passenger seat of the car, shaking. Shock? What should I do? Go back and, cramming humble pie down my throat, ask Aidan to call his tame doctor? But even as I dragged open the passenger door I realized that he was convulsed with laughter.

‘Get in and let me shut the door, my love! We're both getting soaked!'

I didn't argue. He slammed the door and I ran. Collapsing in the driver's seat I gasped, ‘Tell!'

‘May I suggest you move the car first? In fact, I'd further suggest you put a good deal of road between us and Tenterden. You might even want to go the back way, if you can see well enough.'

‘Via Leeds? Hell's bells. The Ashford road's bad enough …' But I wanted him to talk.

The wretched man kept mum until we were clear of the town, though still lapsing into occasional giggles.

‘My darling, you are a heroine,' he said at last. ‘That appalling drive, then bearding two monsters in one den. And now – can it actually be raining harder?'

‘Probably. So what were you up to?'

‘Listening in, some of the time. But when Aidan went walkabout, I beat a judicious retreat. Not empty handed.' He was off again, his chortles almost drowning the slap of the wipers.

‘You didn't nick his best silver! No, you couldn't have done. He'd have noticed.'

‘I did better. I nicked Charles's clothes. No, they're not in the car; you're not an accessory after the fact. You know that holly hedge, designed to keep would-be plunderers at bay? The one with particularly sharp points? That's where poor Charles will find his clothes. It's likely he won't be able to wear them again. I know, I know … But hell hath no fury like an old queen scorned. And in years to come I dare say Aidan and I will laugh about it.'

I gaped. If anyone had betrayed me like that I'd never want to see him again.

‘My loved one, I can tell you're appalled. But neither of us would win medals for fidelity. We've remained friends because – well, who knows why?'

‘You can forgive him – for that?'

‘Without wishing to usurp dear Robin – and unless I'm much mistaken we still haven't heard from him – forgiveness is an excellent idea. Boiling with resentment hurts you more than it hurts the person you've got a grudge against – who probably doesn't know, anyway. My late and pretty much unlamented father – who died well into his nineties – spent his twilight years reliving all the battles he'd had during his long and colourful life. And this time round he won them all. By then his opponents had been dead thirty or forty years, of course. But he still got his blood pressure spiking away to horrific heights because of those real or imagined slights. Foolish old man. And, to be profoundly serious, my love, when I was awaiting my operation, I was getting flashbacks of all the awful things I'd ever done and deeply regretting them. And asking forgiveness. In fact, while I was waiting for the anaesthetic to kick in, I was reciting the Lord's Prayer. I got as far as “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us”. I had to wait till I woke up to finish it.' He chuckled. ‘But, dear one, I'm no saint, and I did so enjoy tucking those Armani underpants into the hedge.'

Late as it was when we got back, I insisted he had a long hot bath: being soaked to the skin was bad enough, but having to sit in wet clothes was worse. He also had a medicinal glass of red wine, though I was anxious about mixing alcohol and his pills. I checked all the instructions and there was no explicit warning, so I let him have his own way.

‘So long as you promise me you'll oversleep tomorrow,' I said threateningly, and headed to bed myself. My heart ached a little too – until I finally admitted that it was bruised pride, not unrequited love, it was suffering from. At least there was a text from Carwyn: progress was being made, he said, and he'd give me more info in the morning.

But he didn't, of course.

At least, apparently none the worse for his soaking, Griff insisted on taking the Internet business helm. He waved aside my half-hearted protests, saying truthfully that I had more than enough to do in my workroom. Apart from tea breaks and a lovely salad lunch – Griff at his best with smoked salmon, avocado pear and mixed leaves, and a large spoonful of capers, not to mention his special dressing and wholemeal bread – I worked without interruption, after leaving further messages for Freya and Robin. There was nothing else to worry about, after all, so long as I didn't think about Carwyn and his broken promise. I couldn't do anything about Toby Byrne, who was still unconscious, according to Richard, who'd evidently managed to contact the hospital without Charles's assistance; I needn't do anything about the dratted white horses, because I'd dumped them on Yorkshire Trading Standards and also because Carwyn would be getting his south-western colleagues to check out Totnes, and someone would be knocking on the door of the shop in Hastings Paul had identified; I needn't do anything about stolen miniatures, since the Thames Valley police were deeply involved with them too. Most of all, I found I needed to be worrying less and less about Griff. He really seemed perkier than he'd been for months – even perkier than before he'd admitted to being less than well.

‘Lina! Come quickly!'

I was on my feet and down those stairs like a shot. It was only when I saw the phone in his hand and the smile on his face to realize I didn't need to panic.

‘Robin!' he mouthed, handing it over.

‘It's a girl, Lina,' Robin was saying. ‘A beautiful girl. Perfect.'

‘And Freya?'

‘Fine. Now. They were both poorly to start with. Both in Intensive Care for a while – though they let Imogen stay with her in an incubator. Which is why I've not been in touch. But she's fine now. They both are. Oh, Freya wants a word.'

I could hear the phone being dropped and picked up. In the background were various muffled gurgles.

‘Lina? I really could do with a hamper. You know how rubbish Robin is with food. No, hang on – take it to the rectory. Not here. They say I should be able to go home later this week. As soon as Imogen's well enough. Got it?'

‘Got it,' I said.

‘Good. Are you shagging Carwyn yet? Or are you still hanging out for bloody Morris?'

‘I'll tell you everything when I see you,' I promised, fingers crossed tightly behind my back. On the other hand, she'd certainly enjoy the story of the confiscated underpants. ‘In the meantime, all our love. Griff's putting the champagne on ice right now.'

‘So long as he saves some for me …'

There was a muffled noise and Robin chimed in: ‘No booze – she's breastfeeding.'

‘And how long will she keep that up?' I asked Griff as the call ended. ‘Freya's not really one for patience, is she?'

‘Motherhood has been known to change a woman.'

‘I still reckon Robin'll be mother. Well, the difference between their salaries for a start …'

After
Today
, Griff's favourite news programme was
PM.
Feet up, he was listening to it when someone rang the front doorbell. Since I was involved with glue and paint, I let him open it, though I admit I called down to remind him to check who the visitor might be. He grumbled loudly that of course he would. Then I heard voices: whoever it was had been admitted. Brian and Helen? What were they doing here?

Though they were both seated and clutching cups of tea by the time I'd cleaned up and made myself respectable, I thought they looked embarrassed. But Griff kept general chatter going for a few minutes, before excusing himself to check something in the kitchen.

Helen led. ‘We're after a favour, Lina. I know you don't do your divvying to order, but we … we really need some help. There's a lot riding on it. Tris's future, really.'

I must have looked aghast.

‘No, he's not stolen anything, nothing like that. But it seems there's a chance of him getting what he insists on calling a proper job, and he needs a reference.'

‘And you're not happy giving it?' I asked with a frown.

‘Not exactly. Yes, a bit doubtful, I suppose.'

‘But he's immensely knowledgeable. I mean, he knows far more than many dealers I know. Far more than me. What's the problem?'

They looked at each other. Brian said, ‘We don't want to give him a bad reference without a reason. And to give him no reference at all – well, that'd scupper any chance he might have.'

‘But you've not told me why you can't give him a good one,' I pointed out. ‘I'd really hate to say the wrong thing. The trouble is, as Helen knows, he had a bit of a thing for me, and … it didn't end well. If he ever found out I'd had a hand in writing it, he'd go berserk. Rightly.'

Helen snapped her fingers and looked triumphant.

‘He won't. But it's interesting,' Brian said, ‘that you imply he's got a temper. He has. Not with us, not often, but with people he speaks to on the phone. His friends, not our clients. Which maybe doesn't count.'

Griff reappeared. ‘It seems to me, Brian, if I might join you, that you like and would recommend this young man, but both of the women have – implied – reservations. What have you said to the young man?'

‘Nothing yet.'

‘And do you have any doubts of his honesty? Because if so I don't know why you're asking Lina about his reference.'

Brian and Helen exchanged another look. ‘Actually, the police aren't happy with the way he checked the provenance of a couple of batches of miniatures we sold,' Helen said. ‘Which reflects badly on us, of course.'

As did the fact they were paying him zilch.

I made rewinding gestures. ‘The police have been round?'

‘Didn't they tell you? Oh, yes. They wanted chapter and verse on every single one. Seems Tris had verified both the seller's details and the rest of the provenance. On both lots.'

‘Yes, the Midlands … But surely someone else must have checked the payment details?'

‘All valid as far as our accounts department were concerned. The payment was made and went through. All fine and dandy. One was something Estate, near Alcester. Can't recall the exact name. Or the one in Worcestershire. But there's something worrying the police, no doubt about it. They wanted to know who'd bought the lots so they can examine each and every item in them.' She added the question my headmistresses had always asked me when something bad had happened: ‘What do you know about this, Lina?'

Too much by far? ‘I know at least one valuable miniature has gone astray. From a private collection. Thames Valley police were on to it – thought I might have nicked it. I hadn't. But someone has. Perhaps they're checking all batches of miniatures sold recently.'

‘All batches?' Brian repeated. ‘Not just ours?'

‘My theory would be,' I said, ‘that the stolen item is being sold with a group of others, so it goes under the auctioneer's radar. You see, I bought a really good miniature the other week, but it was tucked away in a batch of uninteresting ones – just like the ones at your place cheek by jowl with the brilliant ones.'

‘Which Tris was very dismissive about and you weren't.'

‘I hadn't seen the paperwork, Brian, just the miniatures themselves. And I didn't – don't! – know anything about miniatures. So I was just reacting. Instinct. Intuition. Whatever.'

Brian looked as if he was sucking a rotten tooth, but Helen said, ‘So is Tris involved in this scam or not? And can we write him a reference?'

Griff stepped in. ‘I don't think Lina's divvying powers extend that far, Helen. With all due respect, you have to make that judgement yourself. What I might, in your situation, be tempted to do is to give a fair evaluation of what he's done as an unpaid volunteer but say that until an ongoing police investigation is complete you are unable to comment on the honesty or otherwise of anyone at all in your organization. Anyone at all. That should cover it.'

My eyes rounded at the flow of official-sounding language.

‘So it's a no, then,' Helen said. ‘Poor Tris.'

‘Poor Tris,' I echoed.

I
was waving them off when I noticed a car parked opposite. It was Tris again, slumped as before behind the wheel of his battered Subaru. He wasn't looking in our direction. He wasn't looking anywhere. Just staring ahead.