The Ten Commandments (15 page)

Gillian said desperately, 'It
could
still be a coincidence. Perhaps he was just mugged, a random attack that could have happened to anyone.'

'But he wasn't robbed,' her mother reminded her. 'Not during the attack, nor even, apparently, the break-in.'

'Since the police are here,' Hugh said gently, 'we might as well take the opportunity of reporting it. Shall I ask them to come in?'

Edwina hesitated, and Gillian saw with pity how close she was to breaking point. But she merely nodded, and Hugh went out to fetch them.

Harry Good phoned Webb with the news just after eleven-thirty, as he was preparing for bed.

'I was worried all along how Chummie would react when he heard about Mace. Silly old buffer just couldn't keep his mouth shut.'

'How is the old boy?'

'Hasn't come round yet. Must have a skull like concrete to have survived at all.'

'What are his chances?'

There's a slight improvement. I'm told. But once word gets out that he's not dead – provided, that is, he does pull through – he'll need protection till this lot's cleared up. We've got a couple of blokes at the hospital, and one of them has just phoned to say the Mace house was broken into this evening.'

'Ye gods. What happened?'

'The old boy's study was ransacked, drawers pulled out, files emptied, etcetera, but as far as his wife could see, nothing's missing and none of the other rooms was touched.'

'You think it was Baring?'

'It has to be, hasn't it? God, if only he hadn't slipped through our fingers this morning!'

'At least it means he's still in the area.'

'Small consolation, but I suppose you're right.'

'Thanks for letting me know, Harry. I'll be over in the morning.'

'See you,' said Good, and hung up.

Webb replaced the phone and hesitated, wondering whether to ring Hannah. She'd be upset to hear of the attack. Better to let her get a good night's sleep and tell her in the morning. Sighing, he climbed into bed and switched off the light.

It was dawn before Frederick finally stirred and opened his eyes to find Edwina beside him.

She bent forward quickly. 'Darling, it's all right. You've had a nasty bang and you're in hospital.'

His face was as white as the bandages round his head, but she saw memory flicker in his eyes and he said urgently, 'The dog –?'

'He's fine. He didn't desert you; Hugh and Gilly found him licking your face and whining.'

'More to the point if he'd taken a mouthful out of the bastard that did
this.
'

Edwina's eyes filled with tears of relief. 'Now I
know
you're going to be all right!' she said.

By eight o'clock that morning, the police had sealed off Brighton Villa while SOCO subjected it to a detailed examination.

The point of entry was immediately established as the kitchen, where the sash window, left open a few inches, had been pushed up sufficiently to enable someone to climb through. That someone had worn rubber-soled shoes, though not, it appeared, the ubiquitous trainers – in what at first glance looked to be a size nine; and, of course, gloves. Still, shoe-prints could be as damning as finger marks these days.

Fortunately there was a flowerbed beneath the window, which had been assiduously watered by Edwina as soon as the sun was off it, and small clods of damp earth charted the intruder's progress down the hall, past the room where the couple had presumably been sitting, to the study at the front of the house.

'Probably glanced through the open door on his way upstairs, and thought there might be a safe in there,' one of the SOCOs remarked.

'He was taking a risk,' another commented. Anyone passing the house could have looked up and seen him.'

'We don't know what time he broke in,' pointed out the DI in charge. If it was before about eight-thirty, the evening sun would have been shining on the windows, which would have screened him. And after that, the light would have been too indistinct. Anyway, judging by the fibres the tape's picking up, he knelt down while he searched the desk.'

He looked about him at the sheaves of papers, open books, and upturned drawers which littered the room. It's not surprising the old girl couldn't tell if anything's missing, and it'll be some time before her husband can check. Still' – he indicated the desk – 'Chummie didn't get it all his own way; the bottom drawer's still locked. From all those chips lying around, he had a good go at it, but he wouldn't have dared make too much noise, with both of them in the house.'

The mess that the intruder had left was as nothing to that made by the fingerprint men with their pervasive powder, which they sprinkled liberally on surfaces and papers alike. Smudged prints were in abundance, left by leather gloves – unbearably hot, surely, on such an evening. The index finger of the right hand appeared to have a little nick out of the leather – which would be useful, were they ever able to track it down.

The men gave up speculating and settled down to their thorough and painstaking task.

Hugh said, I think the dinner party should go ahead.'

Gillian looked at him in dismay. 'Sonia! I haven't rung to tell her what's happened.'

'So much the better; you've done most of the preparations, haven't you?'

'Yes, but what about Alex? She'll be as tired as we are; we didn't leave the hospital till gone two, and Roy would have waited up for her.'

Once Frederick had been taken off the critical list, Edwina had insisted that her daughters went home.

'Really, darling,' Hugh persisted, 'it's best to carry on as planned. You're going in to see your father this morning; there's no more you can do, and it will be therapeutic for you and Alex to have something else to think about. Ring her and see what she says.'

Quite apart from her tiredness, Alex would have been only too glad to cancel the evening, now she knew about Sonia's suspicions. On the other hand, Gilly had gone to a lot of trouble, and it
would
take their minds off their father. And after all, the baby-sitter was booked.

All right,' she said finally. 'If you can face up to having us, the least we can do is come. We'll be there at eight, as arranged.'

A tent had been erected over the scene of the attack and a uniformed constable left on guard overnight. Now, a group of SOCOs was engaged in the laborious business of photographing the area and taking samples from the pavement.

The to-ing and fro-ing the previous evening – by the family and the ambulance staff, not to mention the dog – had done much to obliterate any clues there might have been. The dried blood was almost certainly Mace's, which later tests verified, and the only other find was a few minute particles of soil matching the samples from inside the Mace house and originating from their garden.

The soles of Mace's own shoes had been clean, but the particles could as easily have been carried on the paws of the dog or the shoes of the family – still to be examined – as those of the attacker.

All in all, it was a disappointing result.

Hugh and Gillian had not allowed for the extent of Frederick's new-found celebrity. Reports of his attack were given on the news bulletins, and Sonia phoned just as Gillian was leaving for the hospital.

'Gilly, is it true? I couldn't believe it! How is he? How perfectly awful!'

Gillian gave her a concise account of what had happened, adding, 'We're still expecting you this evening.'

'Oh, but we couldn't put you to that trouble – not now!'

'Son, it's for Alex's and my sake as much as yours. Please come.'

'But I'd feel dreadful – you arranged it for me in the first place, and now that this has happened, I –'

'Please, Sonia. Look, I must go – I said I'd be at the hospital by eleven.'

'Well, as long as you're quite sure. And do give your father my love. As soon as he's fit for non-family visitors, I'll be in to see him.'

There were some non-family visitors, however, who had already called on Frederick. DCI Good and his sergeant had arrived at the hospital soon after ten.

'Mr Mace, I've been limited to five minutes and I'll try not to tire you, but there are some questions I must ask.'

'Fire away,' Frederick said resignedly. He had one hell of a headache, his eyes were bloodshot, the skin surrounding them a luscious purple, and all he wanted to do was sleep. But it was only reasonable that he should grant the police their interview.

'Most importantly, did you get a look at your attacker?'

‘Not a glimpse. It was dark under the trees, the dog suddenly stopped and growled, and as I bent to soothe him I was aware of a moving shadow. That's all.'

'Have you any idea what might have occasioned the attack?'

He shrugged. 'Unfortunately I've a fairly high profile at the moment. It's easy to make a remark which antagonizes someone, though luckily not many carry their objections this far.'

'You've not received any threats?'

'No.'

Good shifted on the less than comfortable chair. 'I don't know if your wife told you there was a break-in at your home last night?'

'Yes, she mentioned it. I gather nothing was taken.'

'As far as we know. Could you tell me, sir, what you keep in the bottom drawer of your desk?'

'Why?' The question shot out with all Frederick's usual vigour. 'Did he get into it?'

'No; he tried, but without success.'

'Thank God for that. It contains the work on my latest book. As my family will tell you, I'm paranoid about whatever I'm working on, and always keep it under lock and key.'

'Who's likely to know that, sir?'

'Well, the family, of course, and possibly my research assistant, but I can't think of anyone else.'

'Might the intruder have been looking specifically for notes on your book?'

'It depends who he was, doesn't it, Chief Inspector?'

There was a brief pause, then Frederick said, 'Well, if that's all, may I ask you a question?'

'Of course, sir.'

'I presume the Feathers investigation is still open?'

The question took Good by surprise. 'Yes, it is, but as you'll appreciate –'

'Then I have an urgent message for the officer in charge. Will you make sure he gets it?' He caught Good's instinctive movement, betraying the impatience of the professional towards the meddling amateur, and went on drily, 'Oh, I'm sure you think I'm a blundering old fool who talks more than is good for him' – Good shot him a startled glance – 'but this could be of vital importance, so please humour me.'

'Of course, sir,' the chief inspector said hastily. 'What's the message?'

'That it seems Trevor Philpott was consistently unfaithful to his wife. I believe that likelihood has not emerged before.'

'Well, no. Quite the contrary, in fact. May I ask –?'

'I went to see his widow. She didn't intentionally keep it from you – she herself found out only last summer, when she met some former friends. I did ask her to contact you, but I wanted to make doubly sure it got through, because if I'm not mistaken, it could provide the motive you've been searching for. There's another thing, too, though this mightn't have any significance: it seems he was homophobic. There was an unpleasant scene one evening, when he insulted a couple of homosexuals.'

Good nodded. 'I'll make sure the message is passed on, sir.'

'Thank you.' Frederick lay back against his pillows, drained of what little energy he had. A nurse appeared at the foot of the bed, gave the policemen a severe look, and imperiously beckoned them out of the room. Meekly, they rose and followed her.

'Do you think that was on the level. Guv?' Sergeant Deakin inquired as they went down the broad, linoleumed stairs. 'About Philpott carrying on? First we've ever heard of it.'

'Search me, Stan, but the old boy seems to think it's important. I'll give DCI Ferris a bell when we get back to the station.'

However, within minutes of their return to Albion Street, all thought of Frederick Mace had been pushed from their minds. Lee Baring had been sighted and had taken cover in a wood to the east of the town. The area was surrounded and it seemed the net had closed at last.

'Why the hell didn't you get me on my mobile?' Good exploded.

'It's only this minute come through. Guv. I was about to call you when I heard you'd arrived downstairs.'

'Get on to DCI Webb – pronto. He's the Investigating Officer.'

The message reached Webb as he and Jackson were on their way to Ashmartin, and Jackson diverted the car to make directly for the targeted area.

'Is he armed?' Webb asked Good.

'I'd say it's unlikely, since he wasn't planning to leg it. He simply scarpered when we flagged his car down.'

'Right. See you at the rendezvous in ten minutes.'

The senior detectives arrived on the scene simultaneously, in time to see Baring being led, handcuffed, out of the wood by two uniformed constables. The small crowd that had gathered gave an ironic cheer, and someone called, 'What's he done, then?'

He did not receive a reply.

Baring was a pathetic figure, white-faced and in need of a shave. So much for the ruthless, scheming double-murderer they'd been searching. As so often at this stage of an inquiry, Webb felt a sense of anticlimax. He watched while the man was bundled unceremoniously into a police car. Good, who had been speaking to one of the constables, came back to join him.

'He didn't say a dicky-bird when he was cautioned. We'll see what happens back at the station.'

Webb grunted and Good glanced at him reprovingly. 'You don't seem exactly elated, Dave. What's up?'

'I was looking at his feet,' Webb said.

'His feet?'

If those shoes are size nine, I'm a Dutchman.'

Baring denied all knowledge of Simon Judd, which, Webb supposed glumly, was only to be expected. Seated next to the duty solicitor, he also refused to give any explanation of his flight from the police officers, other than expressing a conviction that they were 'out to get' him.

When asked for what, Baring retorted darkly,' Don't need a reason, do they? They collar you first, then think up something.' Which didn't exactly conform with PACE.