Secrets on Saturday (25 page)

“I’ve got plenty of time, if nothing else,” he muttered, and put the small white oval on a sheet of toilet paper. Then, with the heel of his shoe, he ground it into a fine
powder. This he tipped into a couple of inches of the morning’s pee and swilled it round. It was absorbed in seconds. Great! He waited anxiously until they brought the bucket, emptied and clean the next day, but nothing was said. Next he wondered how William was getting rid of his pill. Now he had plenty of energy to tap and scrape out a message, instructing him what to do. Footsteps outside, in what he imagined was a clinical corridor, were perfectly audible, and gave him adequate warning of an approach. Quite soon the reply came: “GOOD … IDEA.” A broad smile crossed Herbert’s face. His neighbour must have understood and stopped taking the bloody things.

Now Herbert looked at himself. There was no mirror, but it was enough to look down at his feet. He couldn’t see them. The excellent food and lack of exercise, plus hours of unnecessary sleep, had increased his weight dramatically. To carry out the plan he was formulating in his mind, he would have to be fit. But how to get rid of the extra kilos? If he started leaving food on his plate, they would get suspicious. So it would have to be exercise. That would be difficult, in this confined space. Still, it was all there was, so he began to walk round and round, holding himself well and making sure all his muscles were in use. If only he had his dog! But they’d said they couldn’t risk an infection because of his illness, and so he would have to wait until he was better. Illness! He felt as fit as a flea—if a little heavy! Round and round he walked. The only thing to do was to imagine a route he was taking with his terrier.

Now, out of his front door and down the path. Turn right at the bottom of the Gardens, into the footpath behind the houses. No, you can’t stop here, doggie. Wait until we get into the field. Through the gate and into the sunlit meadow. Cows grazing over on the other side, and not in the least worried. They’re used to seeing him, of course. The grass is cool and springy. Approaching the stile, and … there, over it safely, and walking quickly along by the sewage works. Not too bad today. Wind in
the right direction. Ah, here’s that nice young son of the Cullens. Morning, Ben!

Herbert’s stockinged feet made no noise on the floor, and the entire conversation with Ben was in his head. On and on he walked, until he heard an unmistakeable knocking on the wall. He stopped and listened carefully. “I … HAVE … A PLAN.”

“SO … DO … I.”

The rest of the evening was spent in laborious conversation, but at the end of it, both men felt considerably more cheerful. “SLEEP … WELL.” Herbert nodded and smiled. But he felt much too excited to sleep.

A
T HALF PAST FIVE
, L
OIS DROVE SLOWLY UP THE HILL
to Cox’s farmhouse. She was deliberately early, and was relieved to see that the agent’s car was not yet there. Since making the appointment this morning, she had thought a lot about his call. Why should he be so keen, when she had done her best to show lack of interest? Well, estate agents are pushy and thick-skinned. But Lois suspected some other reason. A trap? She had decided on an alternative plan, and driving past the entrance, she found the narrow opening half a mile up the road and managed to edge the car into it, more or less hidden in the tall grasses and hogweed. She locked up and walked along inside the edge of the wood towards the farmhouse. Seating herself out of sight behind the broad trunk of an old oak, she waited, listening for the sound of an engine.

At about a quarter to six, she heard a car approaching, slowing down, and then the engine cut out. He had arrived. She did not move, except to creep round the tree until she had a good view of the farmyard but was still concealed. She saw the agent go towards the house, looking around as he went. He opened the front door and walked in. There was silence for a while, and nothing happened. Lois had cramp in her foot and carefully changed her position. Another car! She heard it first, then saw it turn into the farmyard and drive across to the other
side of the yard, where it disappeared behind a barn. Again, nothing happened. She looked at her watch. Exactly six o’clock. The agent reappeared and stood in the centre of the yard, frowning and looking from side to side. Then he walked out into the road and peered in the direction of Long Farnden. Back into the yard, he suddenly put his hand to his mouth and whistled. Blimey, thought Lois, where did a smoothie like him learn to do that?

Now, as she was half expecting, two figures emerged from behind the barn. One short and rotund, and the other tall and thin. Not quite Laurel and Hardy, but close. Lois’s pulse was racing now. How long should she stay here? It was dangerous to move while they were in the yard, and she was certainly not going out to meet them, pretending she was house-hunting. A snatch of their conversation reached her.

“Well, where the bloody hell is she?”

“Been held up?” The tall one seemed to be spokesman for the pair. “Y’ know what wimmin are,” he added.

Ten past six. Time to go, thought Lois. But now another car, battered and dark red, turned into the yard. Oh God, not him! But it was Reg Abthorpe, and he strode over to the others. Now there were several raised voices, and Lois judged it a good time to leave.

“Look! Look, over there! There she is!” yelled the fat man suddenly. They all turned to look, and Lois ran. As one, they all followed, Reg Abthorpe galvanized into a surprising turn of speed. Then Lois tripped over a snaking bramble. They were gaining on her fast, and as she struggled to her feet, she felt a hand grasp hers and pull her up. Her feet hardly touched the ground as she was dragged along towards her van.

“Get in! I’ll drive,” said Derek, and they were back on the road and speeding towards Farnden in seconds.

“I
EXPECT YOU TWO WOULD LIKE TO BE LEFT ALONE
for a few minutes,” said Gran, taking one look at their
faces. “I’ll turn the oven down, and then Lois can have her tea after.”

Lois and Derek sat silently gazing at the carpet. Finally Derek got up and went over to sit beside her on the sofa. He put an arm around her shoulders, and she buried her face in his comforting warmth for a minute or two. Then she said in a muffled voice, “How did you know I was there?”

“I didn’t,” Derek said. “I was just walking along the road and saw you running. I’d seen the rest when I passed the farm. They were so busy shouting at each other, they didn’t see me. I saw it all. And got you out.”

Lois sat up straight, and looked at him. “Thanks,” she said, “and sorry. But what were you doing walking up there on your own?”

“I suggest,” Derek said slowly, “that we forget it happened. But I want a promise from you that you won’t have no more to do with whatever’s goin’ on! Go on, promise!”

Lois sighed. “I can’t,” she said. “It’s best I say now that I can’t, and not have to break a promise. It’s just that they know me now, and I’ll have to watch out. Not up to me any more. But I
will
promise to be very careful, if that’ll do.”

After another silence, Derek said, “I suppose it’ll have to do,” and when Lois repeated her question about what he was doing up there by the woods, he said quietly, “It’s dark early tonight,” and turned on the television.

F
OUR MEN WERE RUBBING THEIR SCRATCHED LEGS
, and the short, fat one complained of a sprained ankle. “For God’s sake, what’s it all about?” he appealed to Reg Abthorpe.

The agent exchanged a quick glance with Abthorpe, and shook his head. “Enough for you to know we have to be very careful of this Mrs. Meade. Her cleaning business is a cover for snooping. Probably a snout for the cops.
Mind you, she’s not that bright, if she comes snooping in a van with New Brooms all over it!”

Reg spoke now, and all turned towards him, as if he was the oracle at Delphi.

“Reg speaks,” whispered the tall one to his mate.

“What was that!” Reg quelled them with a brutal look. “As I was about to say,” he continued, “don’t underestimate Lois Meade. She’s crafty, and not in the least stupid. What’s new is that her husband seems to have joined up with her. Never heard of him being involved before. So we have to be extra careful.”

“How do you know all this about her, Reg?” The agent was respectful.

“I’ve got contacts,” Reg replied.

They locked up the house, and moved towards their cars. “ ‘Ere, Guv,” said the short, fat man, limping back towards Reg, “What about them two old farts? We got to do somethin’ about them soon, ain’t we?”

“No questions,” said Reg loftily. “Just do as you’re told. As always.”

H
UNTER
C
OWGILL WAS HAVING A BAD DAY
. W
HEN
he awoke in his lonely bedroom, he looked at the rain lashing the window from a dead grey sky, and pulled the covers up around his ears, willing himself to go back to sleep. But what dreams would come? He had crawled wearily out of bed and gone through the morning routine. Shaved, showered and breakfasted—after a fashion—then he had driven through the rain to the police station,
where the lost, misguided and downright criminal awaited him.

He stood at the window of his office, and, realizing it was market day, hoped he might see Lois’s determined figure stalking through the rain. Instead, his internal phone announced that a Mr. Meade was in reception wanting to see him, at once if possible.

Cowgill sat down quickly. The last time Derek Meade had been in his office, he had accused the Inspector of having an affair with his wife. If only! Now what? “Send him up,” he said, and waited.

Derek came in with a steely look on his face. “Sit down, please,” Cowgill said. No good trying to be friendly, he realized. He would keep it strictly professional “How can I help you?”

“You know bloody well how you can help me—and the rest of my family,” Derek said. “I’ll come straight to the point. My Lois is involved with you again. Grassin’, or whatever you call it. I want it stopped. Right away, as from this minute. Refuse to take her calls, and have no more contact with her. She’s in danger already, from what I can gather, and I want it
stopped
!”

“Danger?” Cowgill said. “What danger?” What had Lois kept to herself? Perhaps this visit from Derek was opportune, if he divulged what Lois was keeping secret.

“Something to do with that farmhouse of old Cox’s. She won’t tell me anythin’ about it, but what I seen was enough. And don’t ask me any questions about it, else I shall be as bad as she is. So,” he said, standing up, “I’m goin’ now, and I expect my wishes to be acted on by you. I am,” he continued, with the ghost of a smile, “still the head of our house, though you might not believe it.”

Before Cowgill could remind him that he was in a police station, and that a Detective Inspector was entitled to ask him anything he liked, and expect to receive an answer, Derek was out of the door and on his way down the echoing stone stairs. Cowgill thought of asking reception to delay him, but decided against it. He knew Derek meant what he said, and he also knew that he should do
exactly as asked, if only for Lois’s sake. He knew she was headstrong, and however often she said she would be careful, in the excitement of the chase she could well do something foolish.

But then, she was an independent person. She had always refused money, and he knew he had no real influence over her. If he decided to have no more contact, she would just carry on by herself. It would be safer for her if he knew what she was up to, and could find out what she knew and hadn’t told him. By coffee time, he had convinced himself that, in spite of Derek, he would carry on as before, but maybe make
more
effort to keep contact, not less. He would just have to be more discreet.

A new meeting place? Perhaps the supermarket had served its purpose. There must be a limit to how many times Lois could claim an urgent bladder call. It might already have been commented on, even though the manager knew all about it, and had been asked by Cowgill to say nothing. Where else could he think of? It had to be somewhere easy for Lois to get to, and where she would naturally be seen regularly. An establishment belonging to one of her clients would be ideal, he decided. The owner would have to know, of course, and be trustworthy enough to keep his mouth shut. Or
her
mouth shut. Cowgill had a sudden inspiration. Farnden Hall, and the eminently trustworthy Mrs. Tollervey-Jones. But would she agree, and would Lois agree to involve one of her best clients in this game of cops and robbers? No, of course she wouldn’t. Nor would the ex-Chairman of the Bench.

He sighed. Perhaps if he forgot about it for a while, some other ideal location would come to him. Plenty of work to do, he thought, looking at the pile of papers on his desk. I’ll get through these this morning, and this afternoon I’ll prowl around, just like policemen are supposed to do.

* * *

L
OIS KNEW NOTHING OF ALL THIS
. S
HE
,
TOO
,
HAD
slept badly, but decided to concentrate on New Brooms’ work today. It was time she called on selected clients again, just to check that they were satisfied. Although she knew that most would not hesitate to complain if they were not pleased, it was good public relations to call in periodically and be her most charming self. After she had checked messages and post, she fetched her raincoat from the hall and told Gran her plans. “Best if I skip lunch,” she said, and then hastily added that she would make sure she picked up a sandwich somewhere.