Guilty Pleasures (27 page)

‘Jesus, you needed help from that old soak? Sorry, Lina. Out of order there.'

I said nothing, largely of course because I'd done my best to convince Morris that Pa was a sozzled halfwit.

Freya's chin went up. ‘When I met him he seemed fly enough.'

To stave off another spat, I muttered, ‘He was having a good day. He has bad days too. Very bad.'

She shook her head as if at a midge. ‘Whatever. Thanks to the documentation Lord Elham provided, we are aware of two young women much the same age as Lina, and looking very similar. Frances or Frankie Cartwright, daughter of Pauline Webster, is a teacher working in Canterbury.'

‘Canterbury! So I could—'

‘Canterbury, New Zealand, Lina. She hasn't left the place in five years.'

‘So she's completely eliminated from your enquiries,' I said bitterly. ‘And not likely to want a touching reunion with Pa.'

‘Or you. Sorry.'

‘What about Olivia Thingy? The one whose brother was a bad egg, according to my father?'

‘The Honourable Olivia Petham married Lord Allonby. God, the inbreeding of all these aristos!'

‘One risk my father never took,' I said dryly.

‘Their daughter, Florence, was registered as Lord Allonby's daughter. She went to Benenden School, started a degree in natural sciences at Cambridge and then dropped out big time. Worked her way round the world, with special emphasis on places where drugs were the norm. She used to work at a betting shop in Hastings. At one time she seems to have been what they loosely call an escort. Now she's involved in what are even more loosely described as “promotional activities”.'

‘I suppose she couldn't have what you might call a professional association with Cashmere Roll-Neck? In any of these jobs?'

‘For God's sake, Lina, the man's called Simon Bonnaventure!'

I had an idea that Morris was about to ride to my rescue. So I got in first. ‘I can't remember names. Or words. Whereas my father had a French vocab book, I had an ordinary English vocab book. So I could write new words down and learn them. Haven't quite got there with names yet. OK? Could she have been blackmailing this Bonnaventure guy, who seemed to pride himself on being respectable?'

‘In which case it was probably more likely that
he
would assault
her
,' Morris objected.

‘Whatever,' Freya chipped in. ‘This Florence Allonby is almost certainly the person recorded having an altercation with Bonnaventure; there is DNA at what we are still preserving as a crime scene and we would like to establish that it's hers. Before that, of course, they have to locate her and pick her up. All that's the MIT's baby now, however. We don't even have to think about that any more.' She reached for and unscrewed a bottle of water, finishing it in two long gulps.

‘And how long have they known this?' Morris asked quietly.

She felt around on the chaos of her desk, went green, and dashed from the room.

‘I presume for some time,' he said. ‘Why the hell didn't she tell you? Spare you a lot of grief?'

‘And you a lot of CCTV coverage,' I added, squeezing his hand. I'd promised not to talk about Freya's visit last night, or I might have poured a little fuel on his obvious anger. ‘She's got a lot on her plate.'

‘She's got quite a large team to help her eat it, to extend your image. What a silly expression that is,' he said suddenly, sounding amazingly like Griff in one of his outbursts of pedantry. ‘A lot on your plate's almost always better than not enough.' He touched my face. ‘Do you want to meet these half-sisters of yours?'

‘One day. When I've got less to worry about.' I grinned. ‘Neither Pa nor Griff would regard Florence as a
suitable acquaintance
, would they? Not, before you ask, that that would bother me. I wonder what happened to the silver spoon she was born with? Sounds as if it got horribly tarnished. Perhaps she got to know her father wasn't her biological one and—'

‘That's pure speculation, Lina.'

‘So it is. What I'd really like to know, and I'm not sure Freya would have the answer to, is why this Fl . . . Fl—'

‘Florence,' he mouthed.

‘Thanks. Why Florence should be bombing around in my haunts. Seems to me there's still a lot unexplained here.' Then I thought of something of more immediate interest. Though my face felt stiff as I spoke, I managed to smile. ‘Hey, what's that about your getting a promotion? Well done you.'

‘It may be a poisoned chalice, Lina. We'll talk later, OK?' This time he squeezed my hand.

Freya erupted back into the room, juggling two paper cups of coffee and another bottle of water. ‘MIT say they're up for a raid, provided, of course, that there are sufficient grounds for applying for a search warrant, which means they want surveillance and all the rest, which they want us to organize. Hunting for old silver isn't their remit, and there's no reason to suppose that your sister's lurking there or that she's concealed a body there.'

‘Half-sister,' Morris and I corrected her, as one. ‘And I'm not her keeper,' I added, feeling suddenly Biblical and pleased to get a quotation in before Freya did. ‘But I'd like to know if either of them knows anything about me,' I added, quietly. That wasn't a police matter, after all.

Ignoring us both, Freya continued, ‘Someone's on to the diocesan office, too, telling them to cough up the details of Robin's retreat.' She flushed and then went pale.

‘Excellent, ma'am,' Morris said, neutrally. ‘Would you prefer me to go and talk to him, or would you prefer to delegate that to one of your team?'

‘I've got a prioritization meeting in an hour. And it really is your case, isn't it?'

‘No problem. I'd welcome some help with the surveillance, if you've got some bodies to spare.'

‘Be my guest.'

All so very polite and so very far from cordial. What was going on?

Morris and Freya got to their feet to shake hands. The meeting, it seemed, was over. Not in my book it wasn't.

‘You remember the fake policewomen turning up just before the real ones came to take me in for questioning? Did you ever discover if it was more than a coincidence? You thought it was a serious enough possibility to keep our visit to my father secret.'

‘Procedures are in place to check the situation. I'm going for coincidence, just at the moment, but we'll see what turns up. But I'd expect you to contact me direct, as you always seem to, and not deal with the control room. Just in case,' she added, with a pale smile.

‘And – I'm sorry, but things are buzzing round my head in no particular order – did you ever find who'd robbed poor St Jude's safe?'

‘Now that's interesting: several of the missing communion chalice's cousins have turned up. Sotheby's suspected their provenance and contacted my office,' Morris said. ‘Sorry – I should have told you both before. It's major.'

‘You'd have had to get a word in edgeways first,' Freya said, not quite joking.

I wasn't going to apologize. ‘And did you manage to run make-up artists to earth? If not, here's a list from Griff of people operating locally.'

‘Thank you kindly. Now, anything else, Ms Townend?' she asked sarcastically. ‘Or are you a lady or an honourable?' she added, hand across her mouth as if pretending to have been caught out in a gaffe.

So many people had asked me this when they discovered my ancestry that I had an answer pat: ‘Neither. But always both, I hope.'

‘I'd have expected something a bit more impressive than this,' I said as Morris pulled up outside what seemed to be an ordinary Victorian country house north of Canterbury. ‘A bit more churchy.'

‘A few cloisters, a mad monk or two?'

‘Preferably. I take it it's too much to hope that you'll let me in on the interview with Robin?'

‘Initially. I'll mention you're around and would like to talk to him if he feels like it, but this really is a police matter, you know.'

‘No problem,' I said, looking wistfully at the pretty garden glowing in the sun. ‘I'll try and make this radio work. When are you getting your Saab back, by the way?'

‘About the same time as you feel free to use your van.'

I didn't have long to wait. Morris appeared from the side of the house, chatting to Robin as if they were old friends. There was no doubting the way Robin tensed as he saw me, however, although he gave me an air kiss and a tiny hug.

I found myself walking round the garden with him, Morris taking his turn on radio duty. I hoped he'd have more success than I'd had.

‘I'm sorry I just disappeared like that,' Robin said at last. ‘But I needed space.'

I nodded: space from overwork, when he'd totally lacked support, including from friends like me who should have taken more interest after I'd seen the state of his home.

‘The thing is, I'm also having a different calling from the one I had in the past,' he said. ‘An inner city parish, perhaps. And I may – I may be moving over to Rome.'

‘You mean bells and smells, and vows of poverty, obedience and celibacy?' I squeaked.

‘Why not?' he countered.

‘And have you consulted Freya about these plans?'

‘Why should I?'

‘You know why.'

‘This is none of your business, Lina. Though,' he added with a grin, to show there were no ill feelings, ‘that's never stopped you yet.' He hugged me, more convincingly this time.

Stepping away, I said, ‘Imagine texting a woman to chuck her – that was rank bad manners, Robin. Inexcusable. You owe her an apology for that, apart from anything else.'

‘But—'

‘Face to face. Not a sorry letter or phone call. And certainly not a text. No, don't argue. You have to talk to Freya. Have to, must, need to. Understand?' And deciding that discretion was definitely called for, not just as the better part of valour, I turned tail and marched away. I stopped four or five metres away. ‘And you know that whatever you do, you're still my best friend and I love you,' I added, running back for another hug.

‘Bit of a waste of time as far as identifying the people in the pics, though,' Morris said as he started the car.

‘Morris, do you trust me?'

He cut the engine. ‘With my life. But,' he added, narrowing his eyes, ‘not necessarily when you use that tone of voice. It means you're up to something.'

‘I need to see my father and leave something for a friend. I could dress it up and tell you Pa wants more fizz and some food. He probably does, and I shall take him both. But there is another reason, and you may not approve.'

He took a deep breath. ‘In my job I have to deal with dodgy characters to get results. I'd rather you didn't. I don't want to know any details of your doings. But I respect you for telling me what you have, Lina. Hell, more than respect. Why isn't there more room in this bloody vehicle?' he demanded as the gear stick got in the way of his attempts to kiss me.

We'd agreed that he should ask for the loo so I could hand over the photos for Titus.

‘Look at them yourself, Pa,' I whispered. ‘And remember, I don't want to know how either of you knows anyone. Just names. Text me. OK?'

‘I don't want my little girl putting herself in danger,' he said.

‘More info, less danger,' I said, falling into Titus-speak again. ‘Meanwhile,' I added out loud, ‘You might want to sit down. Freya Webb's colleagues have located two more of your daughters.'

He pulled a face. ‘Did they care enough to find me? Don't know if I care enough to find them.'

‘For heaven's sake, Pa!'

He shuffled into hangdog mode. ‘It's not as if they definitely know about me, is it? Their mothers might simply have passed them off as their husbands'.'

‘Lord and Lady Allonby registered Florence as their joint daughter,' I acknowledged. This wasn't the time to tell him what else I knew about Florence.'

‘Married well, did she? Well, she would.
Noblesse oblige
,' he snorted
.
‘One thing at a time, Lina. One thing at a time.' He patted the envelope of photos, as if they were about to become his life's work. ‘And we don't want to rock any boats, do we? Now, tell me when the charming Freya will be round again. Lovely hair, with that beautiful pale skin.'

‘Don't you be getting ideas, Pa. I've an idea she's got the hots for someone else.'

‘What a dreadful expression that is. And how's young Robin?' he asked, as if by association, though I couldn't recall ever linking their names.

‘Not good.' I was explaining as Morris joined us.

‘Tell him to come and see me and drink some proper shampoo. I'm sure that gassy stuff he brings me doesn't do his brain any good. Now, what are you going to find to sell today?'

‘That didn't take long,' Morris observed as I stowed a couple of pearlware jugs in the rear footwell.

‘I always keep a stash of stuff handy for when I need a quick getaway. He prefers me to divvy, but sometimes that takes time, and I don't necessarily come up with anything special.'

‘He seems a lot better than when I last saw him. Sorry!' He pulled over to take a phone call.

I looked for something else to talk about while he finished his conversation. All in all, the less he knew about Pa the better, for all concerned.

‘My stomach says it's time for lunch,' I announced. ‘And there's quite a good pub not that far from Bugger Bridger's. You wanted surveillance,' I added. ‘The best place would be from his house, wouldn't it? No other cover nearby, after all. I'm quite happy to wait in the car while you go and talk to him. In fact, I'd really welcome your take on him and his house. Mind that pothole! Now, right at the bottom of this track.'