Secrets on Saturday (36 page)

“So you want me to do something?” Lois was not keen. She was tired, and was sure that Ellen had gone to bed early. Maybe getting a cold, or just feeling like an early night.

“Indeed I do,” Ivy said. “I want you down at The Lodge as soon as possible. I’ve got a feeling in my bones that something’s up.”

Lois suddenly remembered Frances. Was this her Sign? “You haven’t been talking to Mrs. Wallis, have you?” she asked.

Ivy’s caustic reply convinced her that it was not the sign. “Who’s she when she’s at home? Don’t talk rubbish! Get over here, and bring your cop with you,” Ivy said firmly, and hung up.

Oh my God, Lois thought. It must be something to do
with Reg. Frances had said he was behind the whole thing. And Ivy knew more than she’d ever told about the Coxes and the Biggses. She was sure of that. She dialled Cowgill, and thanked God that he answered. He could not believe his luck when he heard Lois’s voice. “Listen, Cowgill,” she said urgently. “No backchat, just do as I ask. Please.”

He listened carefully, told her to do nothing until he got there. “Do
not
try to enter the lodge,” he said. “That’s an order, Lois.”

But Lois had put down the telephone and was pulling on her coat. “Got to go out for half an hour!” she yelled to Gran in the sitting room, and was in the van and on her way to Ringford before Gran could get to the door to stop her.

Now Lois was certain Ellen was in danger. She had no idea why, unless William Cox had escaped from wherever he and Herbert Everitt were being held. Cox might have gone to Ellen’s cottage to threaten her. But why? He had no reason to. At least, not unless it was connected with Ellen’s poor sister. It had begun to rain, and the roads were slippery with mud deposited from huge tractor tracks. Skidding on a bend, Lois realized she was driving too fast, and slowed down. The familiar journey seemed to be taking hours.

There was a car parked outside The Lodge, and Lois drew up behind it. She didn’t recognize it, and could see nobody inside. Probably a courting couple indulging in a bit of the other in the back seat, she thought, and didn’t look too closely. She walked up Ellen’s garden path and knocked at the door. There were no lights, and her alarm grew. She told herself that, of course, the old lady had gone to bed. She was probably snoring happily and dreaming of chocolate cake.

She was about to turn and go back to her car, when the door opened slowly. She could see a dark figure and knew that it was not Ellen. “Get in here quickly,” said a voice, and she began to back away. A hand came out and
grabbed her arm. “This is a gun, Mrs. Meade, and I shall not hesitate to use it.”

A quavering voice called out from the sitting room, “Do as he says, Lois! Please do!”

Looking hopefully back into the road, and seeing no sign of Cowgill, Lois reluctantly did as she was told. Once inside, she saw in the dim light of a dying fire that Ellen was tied up in a chair, pale as a ghost and her face wet with tears. Lois rushed across and tried to untie the narrow string that was cutting into Ellen’s wrists.

“Get back!” snapped Reg. “If you both do what you’re told, she’ll be free in a while. Matricide has so far been against my principles,” he said, and laughed.

He’s lost it, thought Lois, mad as a bloody hatter. What does he mean, anyway? Matricide? Then the penny dropped. Ellen is Reg’s mother. And his father? She looked at him, and the resemblance was clear. An unholy alliance, since it was her sister Martha, and not Ellen, who had married William Cox. She looked from one to the other, and Reg laughed again.

“You’ve twigged, have you, Mrs. Meade? Not the quickest off the mark, are you? Fancy yourself as a bit of a detective, I hear. Well, look where it’s got you. A nice old lady tied up and in tears, a desperate, wounded man, and yourself looking into the barrel of his gun. Not what you’d call an unqualified success. Of course, if I’d known about your little hobby, I’d not have asked you to clean Everitt’s house, would I?”

“You mean your uncle?” Lois said sourly, sitting down heavily on a chair next to Ellen. The pointing gun did not frighten Lois much. It wasn’t the first that had been aimed at her over the years, and she hoped she would be warned when Reg was about to use it. If she had known she was number four on the list for tonight, she might not have been so confident.

“What uncle?” Ellen said, sniffing away tears. “He ain’t got no uncle. There was just Martha and me, and Cox didn’t have no brother. Not that I know of, anyway. Now just you listen to me, Reg,” she said, gathering her
strength. “This is the wrong way to go about things. You’ll come off worst, and that’s a fact. You stay here with me until you’re better, then go. I’ll not say a word.”

“Too late to try mothering,” Reg said, all smiles gone. “You couldn’t get rid of me fast enough when I was born, could you? Sent to an orphanage, and good riddance. And Auntie Martha?” There was venom in his voice now. “Did she know that her own sister had bunked up with her husband? With yours truly as the result?”

“O’ course she did. Organized sending me away before it showed. A job in service, she told everybody. Then you come along, and she was ready with the orphanage. She weren’t having me in competition with her! No, she did it all. Took you away, a few days old, and I never saw you again until recently. Then I come back to the village, spinning a tale about not liking the job.”

Good old Ellen, thought Lois. She’s keeping it going, hoping I’ve got Cowgill following on close behind. But where the hell is he?

F
LOSS
P
ICKERING HAD AGREED TO GO BACK WITH
Ben to his house for a coffee. “I expect the folks will have gone to bed, but if they haven’t, they’ll be pleased to see you,” he said encouragingly. As they walked down Blackberry Gardens, Ben remembered the sound he’d heard. “It was like a shot,” he said, telling Floss. “But Mum and Dad said they’d not heard it, and I was late for meeting you, so I forgot about it.”

“Where did it come from? Which direction?” Floss was curious.

“Next door—the Wallises. The bloke’s been away quite a while. Probably in the nick. But the wife’s there. Name’s Frances, I think. D’ you think we should take a look? I’m still a bit worried …”

“Can’t see any lights,” Floss said apprehensively, but she agreed to go in with him up to the door. They knocked lightly. “We can always say we were just being neighbourly, checking that she’s OK.”

It was raining, and a leaking gutter dripped steadily on to the stone path which led to the back of the house. There was nothing stirring in the house.

“Come on,” Ben said, taking Floss’s hand. “Let’s just check the other door.”

Floss pulled back. “She’s probably asleep. She won’t thank us for waking her up.” But Ben insisted, and when they tried the back-door handle, they found it reluctant to open. With a couple of shoves, it gave way.

“Yoo hoo!” called Ben. Silence.

“Ben, please, let’s get out of here,” Floss said urgently. “I don’t like it. There’s a bad feeling.”

“Nonsense! It’s just dark. We’ll tip-toe into the sitting room, and if there’s no sign of her, we’ll tip-toe out again. I’ll be satisfied she’s asleep, and no harm done. You can wait here if you like. It’s funny she didn’t lock up properly, though,” he added.

Floss said she was not staying on her own, and would go with Ben wherever he went. He chuckled softly, and they went quietly through the hall and into the sitting room. Floss stopped dead. “Ben! Look on the sofa! It’s her, isn’t it?” There was something odd about the way she was sitting, slumped to one side and head down.

“She’s asleep,” said Ben. “We’d better go.”

He turned, but Floss grabbed his hand again. “No, she’s not. Put on the light, Ben. I think I’m going to scream …”

Ben flicked the switch, but Floss did not scream. She saw a trail of dark patches on the carpet. “Oh my God,”
she said, perfectly calm. “She’s dead, isn’t she. Best get the police.”

D
EREK WAS BACK FROM THE PUB EARLIER THAN USUAL
. “Hi, Gran,” he said, taking off his wet jacket. “Where’s Lois?” As Gran told him what had happened, he rapidly put on his jacket again and left the house, shouting back that he was going to Ringford to put a stop to this nonsense, once and for all.

He put his foot down, and careered along the narrow lanes, skidding dangerously on the bends. No bugger’s going to be out in this weather, he reassured himself, as he rounded a corner. He was wrong. Standing hard on his brakes, he slid into a high grassy bank and stopped just short of a car. In the middle of the road, and with hazard lights flashing, a man was fumbling with the offside front tyre.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Derek said, getting out and standing over the huddled figure.

“Good evening, Derek,” said a familiar voice. “I seem to have a flat tyre. Perhaps you could help. I expect we’re on our way to the same place.” He stood up, and was then taller than Derek. “Hunter Cowgill,” he said. “Shall we get stuck in?”

“R
IGHT
,” R
EG SAID
,
AFTER THE WHOLE SORRY STORY
of his birth and childhood had been thoroughly aired. “On your feet, Mrs. Meade. We have to leave now. Sorry, Mother,” he sneered. “We’d love to stay, but you’ll be fine. Have a snooze, and someone will soon be along. In fact, Mrs. Meade, we should hurry now.” He motioned Lois to her feet with the gun, and took a car key from his pocket. “Our carriage awaits,” he said, smiling crazily.

Humour him, thought Lois. At least if we’re out of here, Ellen will be all right. She went ahead of him, feeling the gun at her back, out of the cottage and down the garden path.

“Not your van,” he said, as she turned towards it. “We have a limo over there. Here’s the key. You drive and I’ll navigate.”

As she opened the door, she glanced into the back seat. What had happened to the lovers? She felt an urgent desire to vomit, but choked it back. “Take no notice of them,” he whispered in her ear. “They have gone to a far, far better place. Now, get in and no tricks.”

L
OIS
’
S HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL WERE SHAK
ing, but she gripped hard and tried desperately to think of something to say, anything to interrupt the sound of Reg’s quick, nervous breathing. He shifted in his seat from time to time, wincing with pain.

“I think I know where we’re going,” she said, and immediately regretted it.

But Reg nodded. “Good girl,” he said. “I’m glad you’ve been doing your homework. Not so stupid as I thought, heh?”

“I hear things,” said Lois, with an effort. “In my line of business, all kinds of gossip goes around. Some of the clients don’t like it, of course,” she struggled on, “and I have to tell my girls to be discreet.”

“I know one of your clients who wouldn’t like it,” said Reg. “No, turn left here. Looks like you don’t know where we’re going after all. No, your Mrs. Tollervey-Jones is very much against gossip. And with reason, of course,” he added, looking sideways at Lois.

He wants me to ask why, she thought. Right, then. “Why is that? She seems a very respectable lady.”

“And so she is … now,” he replied. “Don’t slow down,” he added, nudging her with the gun. “None of your delaying tactics!”

Lois quickened up. “Can’t go too fast on these roads,” she said. “So what’s the old dragon done in the past?”

“You’ll find out when we get there,” he said, his mood changing abruptly, “so shut up and keep going.”

As they approached Farnden Hall gates, Reg ordered her to turn in. “There’s nobody there,” said Lois. “She’s still away, isn’t she?”

“Shut up!” Reg said again. “Round to the back, by the stables. You know the way now. I’ve seen you there often enough.”

So the shadow in the corridor had not been a ghost, Lois thought. She had a sinking feeling that time was running out. Cowgill would have arrived at The Lodge, and Ellen would have no idea where they’d gone. He’d probably go up to the farm next, and then God alone knew how long it would take anyone to find her. She thought of Derek, and bit her lip. He’d probably just be leaving the pub. No help there, then.