Authors: Minette Walters
‘Right.’ He sniffed the wine. ‘But I would say that,
wouldn’t I?’
A very sore nerve, she thought. No wonder he
didn’t trust anyone. She perched on the edge of the sofa. ‘Plus,’ she went on, ignoring the comment,
‘you’ve been beaten up twice to my knowledge, had
your car windows smashed and the Poacher broken
into.’ She sipped her wine. ‘So what do they want
from you?’
He eased the still-bruised muscles in his back. ‘Presumably
they want me out, and fast. But I haven’t a
clue why or who’s behind it. Six weeks ago I was
a contented chef, presiding over a healthy little business
without a care in the world. Then I came home
from the markets at ten o’clock one morning to find
my assistant being berated by the Environmental
Health Inspector, my kitchen stinking to high heaven
of corruption, and me on the wrong end of a prosecution.’
He ruffled his hair. ‘The restaurant was
closed for three days while I cleaned it. My staff never
came back after the closure. My customers, predominantly
policemen and their families – which, incidentally,
is how the news of the Inspector’s visit got out
– deserted in droves because they reckoned I’d been
cutting corners to line my pockets, and the local restaurateurs
are accusing me of giving the whole trade
a bad name through my lack of professionalism. I’ve
been effectively isolated.’
Roz shook her head. ‘Why on earth didn’t you
report that break-in last Tuesday?’
He sighed. ‘What good would it have done me? I
couldn’t tie it in to the Health Inspector’s visit.
I decided to work with some live bait instead.’ He saw her bewilderment. ‘I caught two of them at it,
wrecking the place. I think it was a chance thing.
They discovered the restaurant was empty and took
their opportunity.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘I was so
angry with you that I had them both upstairs, gagged
and handcuffed to my window bars, before they even
knew what had hit them. But they were a tough pair,’
he said with genuine admiration. ‘They weren’t going
to talk.’ He shrugged. ‘So I sat it out and waited for
someone to come looking for them.’
No wonder he had been frightened. ‘Why did you
decide it was chance that brought them and not me?’
she asked curiously. ‘I’d have thought it was me every
time.’
The laughter lines rayed out around his eyes. ‘You
didn’t see yourself with that table leg. You were so
terrified when the kitchen door opened, so relieved
when you saw it was me, and so twitched when I told
you I hadn’t called the police. No one, but no one,
is that good.’ He took a mouthful of wine and
savoured it for a moment. ‘I’m in a catch twenty-two.
The police don’t believe me. They think I’m guilty,
but trying to use clout or cunning to wriggle out of
the prosecution. Even Geoff Wyatt, who was my partner
and who knows me better than anyone, claims
to have had the runs since he saw the Inspector’s
photographs. They all ate there regularly, partly
because I gave them discounts and partly out of a
genuine desire to see an ex-copper succeed.’ He wiped a weary hand across his mouth. ‘Now, I’m
persona
non grata
and I can’t really blame them. They feel
they’ve been conned.’
‘Why would you need to con them?’
‘The recession.’ He sighed. ‘Businesses are going
down like ninepins. There’s no reason mine should
have been immune. What’s the first thing a restaurateur’s
likely to do when he’s running out of money?
Hang on to dodgy food and serve it up in a curry.’
There was a twisted logic to it. ‘Won’t your staff
speak up for you?’
He smiled grimly. ‘The two waitresses have agreed
to, but the only one whose word might carry weight
is my assistant chef, and he was last heard of heading
for France.’ He stretched his arms towards the ceiling,
and winced as pain seared round his ribs. ‘It wouldn’t
do me any good anyway. He must have been bought.
Someone had to let whoever framed me into the
kitchen and he had the only other key.’ His eyes
hardened. ‘I should have throttled him when I had
the chance but I was so damn shell-shocked I didn’t
put two and two together fast enough. By the time I
had, he’d gone.’
Roz chewed her thumb in thought. ‘Didn’t that
man tell you anything after I left? I assumed you were
going to use my hatpin on him.’
Her candour brought a smile to his bleak face. ‘I
did, but he didn’t make much sense. “You’re costing money on the foreclosures.” That’s all he said.’ He
arched an eyebrow. ‘Can you make anything of it?’
‘Not unless the bank’s about to pull the rug from
underneath your feet.’
He shook his head. ‘I borrowed the absolute minimum.
There’s no immediate pressure.’ He drummed
his fingers on the floor. ‘Logically, he should have
been referring to the businesses on either side of me.
They’ve both gone bankrupt and in each case the
lenders have foreclosed.’
‘Well, that’s it then,’ said Roz excitedly. ‘Someone
wants all three properties. Didn’t you ask him who it
was and why?’
He rubbed the back of his head in tender recollection.
‘I was clobbered before I had the chance. There
was obviously a fifth man who went upstairs during
the brawl to release Tweedledum and Tweedledee
from the window bars. For all I know, it was that
hammering we heard. Anyway, by the time I came to,
a chip pan was in flames on the stove, the police had
arrived in force, and my next-door neighbour was
rabbiting on about how he’d had to call an ambulance
because I’d tried to boil a customer in fish stock.’ He
grinned sheepishly. ‘It was a blasted nightmare. So
I hit the nearest copper and legged it through the
restaurant. It was the only thing I could think of.’ He
looked at her. ‘In any case the idea that someone was
trying to get hold of the Poacher was the first thing
I thought of. I checked out both the adjoining properties five weeks ago and there’s no common
factor between them. One was bought privately by a
small retail chain and the other was sold at auction to
an investment company.’
‘They could be fronts. Did you go to Companies’
House?’
‘What do you think I’ve been doing for the last
three days?’ He gritted his teeth angrily. ‘I’ve checked
every damn register I can think of and I’ve got sweet
FA to show for it. I don’t know what the hell’s going
on except that the court case will be the last nail in
the Poacher’s coffin and presumably, at that point,
someone will make me an offer to buy the place.
Rather like you kept doing the other day.’
She let his anger slide past her. She understood it
now. ‘By which time it will be too late.’
‘Precisely.’
They sat in silence for several minutes.
‘Why were you beaten up the first time I saw you?’
Roz asked at last. ‘That must have followed on the
Inspector’s visit.’
He nodded. ‘It was three or four days after I re-opened.
They grabbed me off the doorstep when I
unlocked the door. Same MO as you witnessed – men
in ski-masks with baseball bats – but that time they
shoved me in the back of a fish lorry, drove me ten
miles into the New Forest, slapped me about a bit,
then dumped me by the side of the road with no
money and no cards. It took me all afternoon to walk home, because nobody fancied giving me a lift, and
at the end of it’ – he flicked her a sideways glance –
‘I found Botticelli’s
Venus
loitering palely among my
tables. I really thought my luck had changed until
Venus opened her mouth and turned into a Fury.’ He
ducked to avoid her hand. ‘God, woman’ – he grinned
– ‘I was out on my feet and you tore more strips off
me than the bastards in the fish lorry. Rape, for
Christ’s sake! I could hardly put one foot in front of
the other.’
‘It’s your own fault for having bars on your windows.
Why do you, as a matter of interest?’
‘They were there when I bought it. The chap
before me had a wife who sleepwalked. I’ve been glad
of them these last few weeks.’
She reverted to her former question. ‘But it doesn’t
explain why, you know. I mean if the idea of the
Inspector’s visit was to get you to jack it in quickly,
then they should have clobbered you the day you reopened,
not four days later. And if they were happy
to wait until the court case, then why clobber you at
all?’
‘I know,’ he admitted. ‘It made me very suspicious
of you. I kept thinking you must be connected with
it somehow but I had you checked and you seemed
genuine enough.’
‘Thanks,’ she said drily.
‘You’d have done the same.’ A frown carved a
deep furrow between his brows. ‘You must admit it’s damned odd the way everything blew up around the
time you appeared.’
In all fairness, Roz could see it was. ‘But you got
stitched up,’ she pointed out, ‘before you or I had
ever heard of each other. It must be coincidence.’ She
topped up his glass. ‘And, anyway, the only common
factor between you and me five weeks ago was Olive
and you’re not suggesting she’s behind it. She’s hardly
confident enough to run a bath on her own, let alone
mastermind a conspiracy to defraud you of the
Poacher.’
He shrugged impatiently. ‘I know. I’ve been over
it a thousand times. None of it makes sense. The only
thing I’m sure of is that it’s about the neatest operation
I’ve ever come across. I’ve had the ground cut
from under me. I’m the fall guy and I can’t even
begin to get a fix on who’s done it.’ He scratched his
stubble with weary resignation. ‘So, Miss Leigh, how
do you feel now about a failed restaurateur with convictions
for health violation, GBH, arson, and resisting
arrest? Because, barring miracles, that’s what I’ll be
in three weeks.’
Her eyes gleamed above her wine glass. ‘Horny.’
He gave an involuntary chuckle. It was the same
gleam in the pictured eyes of Alice. ‘You look just like
your daughter.’ He stirred the photographs again.
‘You should have them all around the room to remind
yourself of how beautiful she was. I would if she’d been mine.’ He heard Roz’s indrawn breath and
glanced at her. ‘Sorry. That was insensitive.’
‘Don’t be an oaf,’ she said. ‘I’ve just remembered
where I’ve seen that man before. I knew I knew him.
It’s one of Mr Hayes’s sons. You know, the old man
who lived next door to the Martins. He had photographs
of the family on his sideboard.’ She clapped
her hands. ‘Is that a miracle, Hawksley, or is it a
miracle? Sister Bridget’s prayers must be working.’
She sat at her kitchen table and watched Hal work his
magic on the meagre contents of her fridge. He had
sloughed off his frustration like a used-up skin and
was humming contentedly to himself as he interleaved
bacon between thin slices of chicken breast and
sprinkled them with parsley. ‘You’re not planning to
stick my hatpin into Mr Hayes, are you?’ she asked
him. ‘I’m sure he hasn’t a clue what his beastly son’s
been up to. He’s a dear old thing.’
Hal was amused. ‘I shouldn’t think so.’ He covered
the dish with silver foil and put it in the oven. ‘But
I’m damned if I can see at the moment how the jigsaw
fits together. Why did Hayes Junior suddenly up the
pressure on me if all he had to do was sit tight and
wait for my prosecution?’
‘Have him arrested and find out,’ said Roz reasonably.
‘If it was me, I’d have driven straight down, demanded an address off his father, and sent in the
fuzz.’
‘And you’d have got precisely nowhere.’ He
thought for a moment. ‘You said you made a tape of
your conversation with the old man. I’d like to listen
to it. I can’t believe it’s coincidence. There has to be
a stronger link. Why did they all get so twitched
suddenly and start wielding baseball bats? It doesn’t
make sense.’
‘You can listen to it now.’ She brought her briefcase
in from the hallway, located the tape, and set the
recorder running on the table. ‘We were talking about
Amber’s illegitimate son,’ she explained as the old
man’s voice quavered out. ‘He knew all about him,
even down to the child’s adopted name and what
country he’s in. Robert Martin’s entire estate is his if
they can find him.’
Hal listened with rapt attention. ‘Brown?’ he queried
at the end. ‘And living in Australia? How do you
know he’s right?’
‘Because Olive’s shitty solicitor threatened me with
injunctions when I let on I knew.’ She frowned. ‘Mind
you, I’ve no idea how Mr Hayes found out. Crew
won’t even give Olive the child’s name. He’s paranoid
about keeping it secret.’
Hal removed a saucepan of rice from the cooker
and drained it. ‘How much did Robert Martin leave?’
‘Half a million.’
‘Christ!’ He gave a low whistle. ‘Christ!’ he said again. ‘And it’s all on deposit waiting for the child’s
appearance?’
‘Presumably.’
‘Who’s the executor?’
‘The solicitor, Peter Crew.’
Hal spooned the rice into a bowl. ‘So what did he
say when you tackled him about it? Did he admit they
were on the child’s track?’
‘No. He just kept threatening me with injunctions.’
She shrugged. ‘But he wrote to Olive and told her
the chances were minimal. There’s a time limit, apparently,
and if the child doesn’t turn up the money goes
to charity.’ She frowned. ‘He wrote that letter himself
in long hand. I thought he was saving money but,
you know, it’s far more likely that he didn’t want his
secretary reading it. She would know if he was telling
lies.’
‘And meanwhile,’ Hal said slowly, ‘he is administering
the estate and has access to the sort of capital that
would be needed to buy up bankrupt businesses.’ He
stared past her head, his eyes narrowed. ‘Plus, he’s a
solicitor, so probably has inside information on development
plans and proposals.’ He looked at Roz. ‘It
would amount to indefinite free credit, as long as no
one turned up to claim Robert’s money. When did
you first go and see Crew?’
She was ahead of him. ‘The day before you were
beaten up.’ Her eyes gleamed excitedly. ‘And he was
very suspicious of me, kept accusing me of jumping to unfavourable conclusions about his handling of
Olive’s case. I’ve got it all on tape.’ She scrabbled
through her cassettes. ‘He said Olive couldn’t inherit
because she would not be allowed to benefit from
Gwen and Amber’s death. But, you know, if Olive
were innocent’ – she pounced triumphantly on the
tape – ‘it would be a whole new ball game. She could
get leave to appeal against the will. And I remember
saying to him at the end of the interview that one
explanation for the discrepancies between the abnormality
of the crime and the normality of Olive’s psychiatric
tests was that she didn’t do it. God, it fits,
doesn’t it? First he learns that Amber’s son is likely to
surface and then I turn up, aggressively taking Olive’s
side. The Poacher must be awfully important to him.’