Out Comes the Evil Page 18

  ‘Evening, Jay,’ Alex said, making her awkward way to the man’s table and sitting down. ‘What’s up?’

  He looked sideways at her with bloodshot eyes. His thin straight hair hung over his brow and his scalp shone through the strands. ‘None of your business,’ he said. ‘You don’t know me.’ With the grubby handkerchief, he wiped his face and eyes. She realized he was close to tears.

  ‘You’re going through hard times,’ she said quietly, hoping she was hitting the right note with him. ‘Are you tired? You look very tired. Do you want a ride home?’

  He gave her something between a smirk and a leer. ‘Got a home of my own now. Right on his turf. Bet he’s fucking browned off about that.’

  ‘You don’t have to listen to this, Alex,’ the major said, slurring his words together. ‘Bloody disgrace is what he is. Coming in here shouting about who knows what. Calling out my son who doesn’t even know him. Why should Harry want anything to do with this piece of rubbish?’

  ‘A right rollicking is what he needs,’ Frank said. ‘Throwing his weight about. Calling us all names like he’s somethin’ special.’

  Jay staggered to his feet, pulled back an arm and made to punch Frank Lymer. The fist swung wide even before Tony grabbed and stuffed Jay back in his chair. Kev Winslet was already winding up to deliver a blow of his own and stumbled sideways under his own momentum.

  ‘Don’t give a monkey’s arse,’ Kev said expansively, waving his arms for balance. ‘I’m gonna lamp ’im. Greasy little bugger. Never laid eyes on him till he thought he had somethin’ comin’ to him.’

  ‘I think it’s time for that phone call,’ Tony said. ‘I’d like you out of here, Alex.’

  ‘I know you would,’ she said very quietly. ‘Don’t worry, I’m OK.’

  Jay fluttered his nasty handkerchief. ‘Get me that Harry Stroud. Too much ‘splaining needed. How did he do it, that’s what I want to know. I’m not letting him get away with it. I’ll ch-challenge, I tell you.’ He poured the rest of the beer straight down his throat and waved the glass around for more.

  ‘What’s the man talking about?’ Stroud asked.

  She was on her own with this. Only she knew Jay was reacting to reading his copy of the will. And he wasn’t taking what had been bequeathed to Harry well at all.

  ‘Coffee, Hugh, please,’ Alex said. Fortunately Jay either didn’t register what she’d said or thought she wanted it for herself. He concentrated on returning his glass to the table, squinting from side to side as if things weren’t staying still for him.

  ‘I’ll take you home, Jay,’ Tony said. ‘Cedric Chase isn’t far but you’re tired out. Let me give you a lift.’

  ‘Not bloody going home till I tell Harry Stroud I’m on to him.’ He slammed the table. His glass slid and hit the floor, smashed into half a dozen pieces. ‘Now look what – what you’ve done. All of you. Watching me like I’m a bug under a fucking glass. Bugger off, all of you. Get me Harry Stroud or I’ll go get him myself. S’got a lot to answer for. Time he was asked questions.’

  ‘Jay, you’re not making much sense,’ Alex told him. ‘Whatever’s on your mind won’t seem so raw in the morning.’

  Using a broom, Juste swept broken glass away from the table and into a dustpan.

  ‘That’s what you think. He’s done something, I tell you. If you were all upstanding like you reckon you are, you’d want to get to the bottom of it, too. What’s gone on here’s not right, I tell you and he’s not getting away with it.’

  ‘Time to call the police, Alex,’ Harriet Burke announced in ringing tones. ‘We want him out of here and off the streets before we all try to go home. He’s a menace.’

  Ignoring her, Jay let out a huge belch and tried to straighten in his chair. ‘Let’s ask him why?’ he said. ‘Why him? How did he make her do it? Sodding tosser.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Hugh said, coming from behind the bar. ‘I’m taking you home.’

  ‘You fucking won’t,’ Jay said. ‘Got myself here. Get myself back. I live in Folly too now. S’my village so get used to it. And when I get to the bottom of what’s gone on here, it’ll be even more my village.’ He pointed an unsteady finger at the major. ‘I’ll be calling the shots.’

  THIRTY-ONE

  This was according to plan. The beginning of the end and it couldn’t come soon enough.

  Another blast of wind blew through heavy trees lining the long driveway to Cedric Chase. Heavy branches bent under the onslaught and more rain fell in big, cool drops.

  So much the better. The more noise, the better.

  With the car pulled well to the side and the headlights off, even with the engine running – the powerful, quiet engine running – if the stupid lout was as wasted as he was supposed to be, he wouldn’t hear the Mercedes. Thank God it was black, like the night.

  The rain got heavier and the trees didn’t keep anything dry. Pressed back between the trunks, waiting, the passenger side door cracked open to make things easier, the plan seemed perfect as long as not one tiny thing went wrong – or unless the man managed to pass out before he got here.

  With a pelting sound, heavy skies broke open to pour their burden down. Off to the right, water squelched, the sound only vaguely heard through the beat of the rain and the lashing of the wind. A man’s irregular footfalls into an inch or so of mud mixed with gravel, and his muffled curses.

  He cried out and the sound of him falling came clearly. Now he was getting closer.

  There he was and he’d seen the car. His head swiveled from side to side, adjusting his vision to the glimmer off the car’s immaculate paint in the darkness and a brain thickened by drink.

  No more swearing. Stumbling, sliding, he approached the car and, amazing but true, the passenger door swung open wide for him.

  He was too slow to react and a shove to the back sent him headfirst across the seats.

  Shut him in and get behind the wheel.

  Bugger, bugger, bugger. The fool was bleeding all over. He’d smashed his face into the gear stick and lay, moaning, and rubbing at his eyes.

  It wasn’t far. Hold him off. Stay out of the range of his grappling hands. Slip the car into gear and ease forward. Forward for no more than a hundred yards and into the garage. The little luminous ball hanging from the rafters on a string tapped the windshield. That was the warning to stop.

  The vodka had been opened in readiness. Press the bottle into his slippery hand and upend it to his mouth. He didn’t fight it, just parted his lips and sucked at the stuff.

  With a thud, the vodka hit the floor.

  He’d passed out.

  He gave his blood – use it. Fitting his hands over the wheel wasn’t easy. Sliding them around and smearing the center console and seats with the blood so generously supplied took an age.

  Get a move on. The fool’s unconscious already.

  Slam both doors.

  Where … the hose was there, right where it had been placed. Put one end into the exhaust, the other end through the slightly open back window of the car.

  Breathing got more difficult.

  It would get impossible for the sot left behind.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Sneaking around irritated Alex, and perhaps also vaguely amused her. She drove with pained attention, just fast enough not to draw any attention and alternately grumbled and smiled to herself. When she borrowed Lily’s silver Fiesta, there had been dire threats about what would probably happen to her if she insisted on driving, ‘in your condition.’ Lily’s fussing was a small price to pay for not having to struggle up to sit in her own vehicle, or risk being noticed leaving the village in the Land Rover.

  The roads were still damp but the day showed signs of being showy bright. Steam rose from winding dry stone walls where the sun warmed them. Horses ambled to poke hopeful noses over the top at the few passers-by on foot.

  Tony had done his best, and failed, to be sanguine about Alex spending the night at the cottage. Thinking about the question in
his eyes, before trying to shut out visions of Jay Gibbon’s performance, turned her stomach. At least staying at the cottage made leaving the village unseen even easier.

  She had slipped her arm out of the sling to rest her hand on the automatic gear shift. Never again would she sneer at those who didn’t drive manual transmissions.

  The foot was more of a problem than her shoulder. The main thing was to avoid pressing hard or suddenly on the accelerator, that and using her left foot for the brake. Her greatest fear was an unexpected brake when she might forget and slam the wrong foot down.

  Her mum was a gem, best mum in the world. She wouldn’t let on that Alex had left the village, even to Tony who would be trying to catch up at the clinic and needed to visit three farms later, fortunately. O’Reilly wanted to see her. He phoned Corner Cottage shortly before she left but she’d listened to his message without picking up.

  On the run. That’s how she felt. Avoiding O’Reilly and putting off what she’d avoided last night: telling Tony about the will. She had promised Radhika that she wouldn’t mention it to anyone – but increasingly doubted Tony had been included in that, Radhika had said as much.

  Be honest with yourself. You’re afraid he’ll try to stop you from digging any deeper into ‘police business.’

  Alex drove along a single lane, pass-at-your-own-peril, road between broad sweeping fields that would turn pinkish purple with lavender in July. Even thinking about lavender harvest time brought the ghost of the heady scent that would slither through open car windows for miles around.

  Half a pint of a Donnington Ale and a ploughman’s lunch while she looked out over the hills and valleys sounded perfect. From the Mount Inn she’d have a panoramic view of the surrounding villages with sheep on hills, legs skinny beneath ballooning coats, and crops starting to look serious about getting ready for eventual harvest.

  The only vehicle ahead of her was a mud-caked green tractor, bouncing along with its driver riding the high seat as if he were on a horse at an easy walk. He rocked onto the verge to let her pass.

  She needed to get away, to have time to think. Being under what felt like constant surveillance frazzled her. ‘Ouch.’ Her ankle complained bitterly when her mind wandered and she did forget to use the opposite foot instead.

  Some said the village of Stanton was the most distinguished, the most picturesque in the Cotswolds. If asked she would have to put in a few words for her beautiful Folly-on-Weir. But once on the outskirts of Stanton the world seemed to slip away, or perhaps she’d driven straight through Alice’s looking glass.

  Stanton’s cottages, built of honey-colored stone, most of them thatched, bulged, sometimes seeming to hang over the road, along the winding streets. She had to give a long look at one particular cottage she passed. It had a window with its sill almost touching the pavement and a short door that rested at the same level, only with the threshold beneath the surface of the street.

  Vines grew thick over doors, their popping leaves shiny.

  Her mirror still showed no sign of following and familiar vehicles. Alex relaxed a little. Her fear had been that O’Reilly, who was an habitual early riser, or Tony, would see her leave and follow.

  The Church of St Michael and All Angels, a late Norman building, had to be in the perfect spot and with the perfect soil for roses. Along an aged wall, emerald green buds with peeping hints of petals, would soon bloom coral and yellow, and pink. Alex knew how seasons changed the gardens, could see the colors in her mind.

  This wasn’t a day to stop. Her destination was the pub, the Mount Inn. From its elevated position, the name must have been an easy choice. Alex reached the place where luncheon trade spilled onto a side porch and hovered in clumps at the main door. The soft day must be drawing customers outside, that and the urge to smoke.

  Alex drove past the building and turned left up a steep drive and into the parking lot at the back of the building. Some workmen were busy with paint while another worked on the gardens. She knew all too well how much effort it took to keep up a pub, especially with long open hours being the norm.

  With the sling back in place and her crutch beneath her arm, although she expected to prefer hobbling without the crutch shortly, she went through the back door of the pub and into the main bar. The place was crowded but a man sitting alone at a corner table glanced at her wounded body and nodded before taking his plate and glass outside.

  Even on a dry day, horse was the predominant aroma in these parts, with a strong whiff of beer and hot pub grub mixed in. Alex slid into a chair facing the windows. This was the place to come if you wanted to study tweeds, breeches, and riding boots that showed wear and wore it well. Most patrons kept their laughter and conversation to a refined hum but the guffaws tended to break out from time to time.

  She ordered a half of Double Donn and settled for a ham and cheese sandwich. Her hunger had faded and the ploughman’s would be too much. This was where she’d chosen to come to try and work her way through what they did and didn’t know about Pamela Gibbon’s death and what was obviously an unfolding case that wouldn’t be over while the key player remained on the loose and determined to get what he wanted.

  A conviction she didn’t much like was that Venetia Stroud would be worth another visit. Her behavior toward Alex, and the way she’d followed Jay to Leaves of Comfort, raised too many questions to ignore. Going alone for a second time was a lousy idea, but if she mentioned it to Tony he was likely to want to involve the police. They didn’t have a good excuse to tell them about Venetia, not one with a solid foundation.

  Through the windows, Alex looked downhill to the roofs and towers of Stanton. In the distance, fields of acid yellow rapeseed rolled out between other crops. People either loved or hated the stuff and its smell, so like its cabbage cousin, but she couldn’t help getting a charge from the unabashedly carnival brilliance.

  ‘How are you managing to drive like that, Alex?’

  She gritted her teeth and swiveled to look up into Harry Stroud’s grey eyes. With the bottom of his hacking jacket pushed back and his hands sunk in the pockets of tan twill trousers, he fitted into the Mount perfectly. A finely checked shirt and solid green tie completed the outfit. Sometimes there was comfort in seeing these familiar solid types but not this one and not now.

  She shook her head, amazed to see him there. ‘I’m driving just fine, thanks.’

  ‘May I join you?’ He was already lowering himself into a chair opposite hers. ‘I’m not going to lie. I saw you leave the village in Lily’s car and I followed you. Took me a while since I stayed a long way back. Then I had to get up the nerve to follow you in here.’

  Alex bristled. ‘You still think that was a good idea?’

  ‘Be gentle with me,’ he said and gave a lopsided smile that didn’t charm her. ‘I was a fool that night at my place. My only excuse is that I’d been through a lot already and you were a surprise. I feel as if the whole village is against me.’

  ‘Really? Why? I hadn’t noticed you being treated any differently from normal.’ Had the major told his son about Jay’s ramblings?

  ‘Oh, God.’ Elbows on the table and fingers driven into short dark curls, he bowed his head. ‘This gets more bloody awful by the moment. I don’t know what’s going on. Do you?’

  Ah, he had no idea she was aware copies of the will had been circulated to beneficiaries. ‘How is your mother?’ She could also play frustrating games when she had to. ‘Did she enjoy the ballet that night?’ Did she ever get there after nailing Jay Gibbon at Leaves of Comfort? Did she intend to go at all?

  ‘You won’t forget that in a hurry.’

  ‘No, I won’t. Before you start interrogating me, why not give me a sensible explanation for your mother’s, and then your own behavior? Shouldn’t you be in the City at your office?’ He didn’t seem to have any particular schedule and never had.

  ‘I do most of my work directly with my clients. At their homes. They prefer it that way and so do I.’


  Alex shrugged. She thought he looked a little wild, disoriented even. But she tensed at an impression of excitement barely tamped down. And then, why wouldn’t he be excited? He was to be a very wealthy man.

  A waitress brought her beer and sandwich and looked at Harry who said, ‘I’ll have the same,’ in an expressionless voice.

  ‘If I tell you what I think will you keep it to yourself?’ he asked.

  Before she could agree or disagree, he went on.

  ‘My mother isn’t the most stable woman in the world but I love her. She has always cared about me which is more than I can say about some people. I don’t know who planted the doubt, but I do think she’s worried that I might have had something to do with Pamela’s death. It wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge that we saw each other sometimes, but with village life … well, I don’t have to finish that explanation, do I? When you came to the house, Mother probably wanted to convince you there wasn’t any truth in the rumors.’

  The beer was perfect and crusty wheat bread had been cut into thick slices for the sandwich. ‘And locking me into your rooms was the way to do that?’

  ‘She said that was an accident. She told me what you said, about supporting me. It was pretty much what you said to me. That you didn’t think the attention I’m getting is fair and you wanted to reassure me of that. If what happened was deliberate it was wrong, but couldn’t she have been afraid you’d leave without seeing me? Or change your mind before you could back me up?’

  His eyes became earnest, the expression vaguely sad and very worried as they gazed into hers.

  ‘She could have been, but she went about everything the wrong way. And you didn’t help, Harry. You behaved badly. You scared me to death and I’m not sure that wasn’t what you wanted.’