Cotswold Mystery, A Page 19

  Ick immediately turned off the ignition, and yanked up the handbrake, making the car rock slightly on the steep incline. ‘Friend Nick wants to speak a word,’ he said, leaning back to give a clear line of sight between the two.

  Nick Jolly, however, seemed to prefer a more direct encounter. He unclasped his seatbelt and got out of the car, walking round the front of it to stand facing Thea on the pavement. He was about five feet ten, which made him eight or nine inches taller than her. Hepzie gave him a sociable greeting, jumping up at his legs and scrabbling at his jeans with sharp front claws. He set her down absently but firmly.

  ‘You know each other?’ Thea said foolishly, but unable to contain her surprise. She could think of no possible link between the celebrity from Essex and the gangling archaeologist from Dorset. Even the Blockley connection seemed very tenuous.

  Nick smiled wanly. ‘Not exactly. We met yesterday, as it happens. Ick was looking at a property in Paxford at the same time as me. It was a cock-up on the part of the agent, basically.’

  Thea let her thoughts run riot. It felt as if there was a whole raft of information in those few words. Icarus Binns and Nicholas Jolly were both planning to buy a house in the area. Ick and Nick, her agile mind repeated, with some relish. Icarus and Nicholas. How funny names could be, especially in conjunction with other names.

  ‘And Cleo. Cleo is not to be forgot,’ prompted Ick from the car.

  ‘So you’re thinking of moving here – both of you?’ Thea said, looking from one to the other and thinking the speed with which Nick Jolly had moved was extraordinary.

  Nick patted himself on the chest consideringly. ‘You’re thinking it’s rather soon to be house-hunting,’ he observed. ‘I can see it must look that way. But the thing is, I have to do something while I wait for the funeral and all that. And I always wanted to live here. Because of Upton, you see,’ he added, as if that made everything clear.

  ‘Upton? The lost village?’

  ‘Right. Except we call them deserted, not lost. You know it was excavated in the late sixties and early seventies, I suppose?’

  Thea shook her head. ‘Um – no, I don’t think I knew that, did I?’ She stared at him in confusion. Should she have known?

  ‘Well, it was, and they found some very intriguing earlier remains. Pre-medieval. But they never managed to get a proper look. They didn’t have the necessary skills or equipment to get beneath the medieval stuff, you see. Plus, there were severe time constraints. Putting in a new drain, or something, which meant they only had a few days.’

  ‘Right,’ she said slowly. ‘Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?’

  He gave the same strained smile as before. ‘Oh, no. Sorry. No, no. I wanted to see if you were OK, that’s all. Are the police bothering you much?’

  She couldn’t resist it. ‘There’s a Detective Superintendent talking to Jessica at this very moment,’ she said, watching for his reaction.

  He did not go pale or start to shake. He didn’t bite his lip or hurry back to the car. But he did frown in puzzlement. ‘Is there? Why’s that, then?’

  Thea relented. ‘It isn’t actually anything to do with your grandfather. As it happens, I’m surrounded by police officers. Two Detective Superintendents, would you believe? My brother-in-law, and my – um, boyfriend.’ She looked away from his face, wary of saying too much after Jessica’s warning the day before.

  ‘I still can’t really believe it,’ Nick sighed. ‘But you were right about my interview with the police. They obviously wanted to check my whereabouts before they would tell me anything about what happened. Can’t blame them, I guess.’ He repeated his familiar cheek-stroking mannerism. ‘It feels so strange,’ he burst out. ‘Worrying about who might have killed him – it gets in the way of…you know.’

  ‘Grief,’ Thea supplied succinctly. ‘Yes, I know. It’s another reason why murder is so horrifying.’

  ‘Right. And now they won’t let me into his house because they’re still combing it for clues.’

  ‘Clues!’ came Icarus’s rich tones from the car, where he was leaning out of the window following the whole conversation. ‘Like a game, sounds to me. Follow the clues and get yo’ killer – is that the thing?’

  Thea felt herself turn into the same stiff humourless matron that she always became with Icarus. ‘I don’t think it’s a game at all,’ she said. ‘And I doubt if that’s how Nick sees it – losing his grandfather in such a terrible way.’

  But Nick’s eyes were shining with suppressed mirth, and his full lips were quivering ominously. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but it’s the way he speaks.’ He turned to the celebrity rapper. ‘I love the way you speak,’ he said with no hint of self-consciousness. ‘You make everything sound like a poem.’ He looked at Thea. ‘He’s taken me under his wing, so to speak, and I must say he’s a tonic. Honestly, he’s incredible with language, don’t you think?’

  Thea could find nothing to say to that which would not involve mendacity. ‘Jessica says the same,’ she managed, with a polite smile at Ick.

  ‘Life’s a poem,’ said the celebrity easily, and then rapped his steering wheel with a knuckle. ‘You coming now, or what is it?’

  Nick took a few steps and then looked back at Thea. ‘I meant to ask you about Gladys,’ he remembered. ‘How is she today?’

  ‘Much the same, I think,’ said Thea. ‘It’s rather hard to say – not knowing how she usually is. She finds it impossible to remember that your grandfather’s dead, which makes it difficult.’

  ‘Poor old girl.’ He shook his head, his thick black hair sculpted to his skull. ‘Must have scattered her last remaining wits, I should think. She must be devastated, seeing they were such good friends. Well – a bit more than friends, at one time, by all accounts.’

  Thea resisted the urge to question him further on this point, merely smiling as he got back into the car. Only after they had disappeared did she realise she had no idea what the two were doing together, or where they were going.

  It was after five when she got back to the house, half hoping that James would have gone. But not only was he still there, but there was a distinct atmosphere of impatience, suggesting they had been waiting for her to come back.

  ‘At last!’ Jessica exploded. ‘We thought you’d only gone for some cake. What on earth have you been doing?’

  ‘Cake!’ Thea clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I forgot the cake. Hepzie and I went down to look at the silk mills. Then we got chatting with Nick and Ick.’ She savoured the names again, a small secret pleasure.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said James tightly. ‘We had a very nice chat.’

  ‘Good. I hoped you would. Have you managed to persuade her she won’t get the sack?’

  James smiled and sent a conspiratorial glance at Jessica. ‘There was never any question of that,’ he said.

  ‘You saw Nick,’ Jessica prompted. ‘What did he say?’ Thea registered surprise that Nick had taken precedence over the famous Ick.

  ‘He’s looking for a house to buy and he hopes we weren’t too upset. Something about Upton village as well. He and Ick met yesterday and now they seem to be bosom buddies.’

  ‘What about Cleodie Mason?’

  ‘No sign of her. Maybe she’s gone back to work.’

  ‘You know people here, do you?’ James queried, trying to follow the thread.

  ‘We met Icarus on Sunday evening, and Nick yesterday,’ Jessica told him. ‘Icarus Binns – you know. The rap singer. He’s beautiful. Mum met him first on Saturday, actually, when Granny Gardner fell over.’

  ‘Never heard of him,’ James admitted proudly.

  ‘Nor me,’ said Thea. ‘Thank goodness for that.’

  Jessica scowled at them both. ‘You’re like that judge who didn’t know who the Beatles were,’ she accused. ‘You, Uncle James – I’d have thought it was part of your job to keep abreast of popular culture.’

  He grinned. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ he demanded.

>   Jessica ignored him, gathering up the cups from the tea they’d finished some time ago. James turned to Thea. ‘Nick Jolly, do you mean? Grandson to the murder victim? He’s already spending his inheritance, you reckon?’

  Thea silently applauded his mental agility. ‘The very man,’ she confirmed. ‘And if he’s looking at the same properties as a famous rap star, he must think his expectations are substantial.’

  ‘We’re checking the old man’s will today. Sounds as if it’s something to take seriously.’

  Thea gave him a sceptical look. ‘If he’d killed his grandpa for the money, he wouldn’t be likely to splurge the news that he was house-hunting already, would he? Isn’t that a bit of a giveaway?’

  James shrugged. ‘His alibi seems sound. He was at a dig near Dorchester all day Sunday, with several colleagues. They’ll all vouch for him, I assume.’

  ‘Working on a Sunday?’ Thea queried.

  ‘Yep, they’re at it seven days a week. One of those sites with a new road going over it at any moment. They were staying in a hall, on camp beds, all in together. He could never have driven up here, done the deed and got back without being seen.’

  ‘Stranger things have happened,’ said Thea.

  James sidestepped that remark. ‘We should get the full forensic report tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘If there are traces of Dorset mud in Mr Jolly’s house, we’ll go over young Nick’s story again. Meanwhile, my interest is a lot more local.’

  ‘He thinks Granny did it,’ said Jessica softly. ‘He doesn’t want to, but he does.’

  ‘Oh?’ Thea found her heart thumping alarmingly. ‘But—’

  ‘That knife you found is definitely the murder weapon,’ James told her. ‘It fits the wound exactly, and the blood is Mr Jolly’s. So now we have to work out how it got into that drawer.’

  ‘And when,’ said Thea, her heart thundering so loudly it deafened her to her own thoughts.

  ‘Mum,’ Jessica said gently. ‘It must have been while you were out on Sunday. Did you leave the back door unlocked?’

  ‘Yes, it was unlocked all the time. Ron said…he said it didn’t matter. Nobody would get in.’ She frowned. ‘He seemed to want it left like that.’

  James gave a small groan, and both women looked at him. ‘Don’t tell me that,’ he pleaded. ‘Do you realise what a sweat it would be to have to find them and bring them back for questioning?’

  This was not a new idea for Thea. ‘You’d be surprised,’ she said, ‘at how well I realise.’

  ‘So we do what we can without them. Jess and I have gone over it in detail. Back door unlocked. Connecting door likewise. Key still on its hook. Key to back door in Julian’s pocket.’

  ‘Wait!’ Thea held up a hand. ‘I did lock the back on Saturday night. And I left the key in the lock. Doesn’t that mean it would be impossible for anyone to open it from outside?’

  ‘Not entirely. If they were determined, they could probably push it out.’

  ‘But it would clatter onto the floor and wake me up.’

  ‘You can’t be sure of that.’

  ‘You said you heard some odd thumps and bumps early on Sunday, anyway,’ Jessica reminded her.

  ‘Yes,’ Thea agreed, thinking hard. ‘But it would work better if it had been opened from the inside, wouldn’t it.’ She fixed James with a penetrating stare. ‘You’re thinking Granny came through into this house, out of the back, over into Julian’s, killed him, came home the same way, locking up after herself as she went. Then she washed the knife, came back and slipped it into that drawer. Then, for some reason she went out of the front, setting off the buzzer. But that doesn’t work.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I know the connecting door was locked when I went to bed on Saturday.’

  ‘So? She must have a key to it.’

  ‘So why leave it unlocked afterwards?’

  ‘Plain forgetfulness.’

  ‘Possible,’ said Thea reluctantly. ‘Perhaps she thought I’d heard her and panicked.’

  ‘It’s all guesswork at this stage, but it does fit the evidence,’ James summarised, with no sign of satisfaction.

  Thea’s heart thundered even more powerfully. ‘But surely she isn’t clever enough. Besides…’ But the thought had flown. In her imagination, she could see it all too clearly – the old woman flitting silently through the hall and into the back garden, knife in hand. It paralysed her tongue and made her dizzy.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Tuesday ended much as Monday had done, with the time change stretching the afternoon confusingly. ‘I still can’t get used to the new time,’ Thea grumbled. ‘I suppose it’s because it came as such a surprise.’

  ‘Are we eating out tonight?’ Jessica looked hopeful, but Thea could summon no enthusiasm.

  ‘We had lunch out,’ she objected. ‘We can’t keep doing it.’

  ‘Why not? This is my holiday, remember. What about that Churchill place in Paxford? We’ll never get there at this rate. I’ve only got one more full day here.’

  ‘Phil said he’d take us.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘When he can get some time. I suppose that business with the bombs is still taking all his attention.’ They had watched the television news, to find nothing whatever about bomb factories.

  ‘They must have managed to keep it blacked out for the time being,’ said Jessica. ‘Maybe there’s a raid going on at this very moment.’

  ‘Isn’t it always four in the morning when they do that?’ Thea said.

  ‘Usually,’ Jessica conceded.

  ‘So why doesn’t he call and tell me what he’s doing?’ Thea embarrassed herself by wanting regular contact from the man. It was so adolescent, she chided herself. But they never ran out of things to say and she had to admit she looked forward to his calls. Even a text message – which she never thought she would manage – lifted her spirits. It felt like invading a territory that strictly belonged to the under-35s, and discovering all sorts of delights across the invisible border.

  ‘I want to go somewhere tonight,’ Jessica insisted. ‘It’s boring just staying here.’

  ‘You sound about twelve,’ Thea said, thinking that if her daughter was twelve, then she might easily be under thirty-five herself. Perhaps there’d been a time slip and they’d lost ten years, instead of one British Summer Time hour.

  ‘Well, call Phil and see what he’s doing. Then we’ll decide.’

  Unable to think of a good reason to refuse, Thea did as she was told. Phil answered his mobile on the first ring and sounded pleased that she’d called him. When she asked about his mysterious operation, he evaded the question with a careless, ‘Oh, we think it’s gone off the boil for the time being. Although…’ He paused, and then began muttering to someone in the room with him. ‘Ah, Thea, I can’t talk for long.’ He then asked earnestly after their welfare and whether they were obeying his orders and staying clear of the murder investigations.

  ‘It’s not difficult,’ Thea assured him. ‘As far as we can see, there aren’t really any investigations going on. Nothing to affect us, anyway. James was here this afternoon. He’s the SIO or whatever it’s called. He thinks he knows who did it.’

  ‘Good,’ said Phil inattentively. She could hear a man’s voice, apparently requiring Phil’s response. ‘Seems I’ve gotta go,’ he said. ‘Something else has just come up.’

  ‘Poor you,’ sighed Thea, thinking it all sounded quite good fun. Phil’s voice was animated, even excited. ‘Well make sure your men don’t go shooting any innocent South Americans, OK.’

  She knew it was the wrong thing to say, even as the words formed themselves. Obviously it was. It should have been such a self-evident taboo that it would never even cross her mind. But Thea maintained her principles and opinions, regardless of who she was speaking to, and there were aspects of the police that she didn’t think she would ever quite accept.

  ‘Don’t worry about that.’ His voice was abruptly clipped and dista
nt, which was hardly surprising. ‘Although I could point out that if you were in a bus with a suicide bomber, you might be quite glad if—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she cut him off hurriedly. ‘I know all that. Sorry I spoke. So when are we going to see you?’

  ‘I can’t say. Honestly, darling, it wouldn’t be fair to raise your hopes. You’ll have to assume it won’t be before the weekend. If it does settle down a bit, you know I’ll be there like a shot. That’s the best I can do.’

  It was the first time he’d been so uncompromising about his availability – or the lack of it, even though they had been interrupted before by inconvenient crimes. On those occasions, Phil had been rueful, apologetic, sharing her sense of victimhood at the way things had worked out. Now he seemed to have gone over to a different side. Perhaps this was closer to the reality of how he felt about his work/life balance. Perhaps it was simply the romance fading, after eight short months. And if that was the case, then Thea might have to confront some uncomfortable implications. Phil Hollis was forty-six; he probably had another ten years in the job. That was too long to tread water or live in a half-relationship where promises could never convincingly be made. She would be forced to create her own identity apart from him, maintain her own activities and interests for the times when he was emotionally and physically separate from her. And how did a person manage that balance? Switching from independent self-sufficiency to welcoming partnership at a moment’s notice? Was it actually possible, and even if it was, did she want to live like that?

  ‘We’re going to have to talk about this,’ she said, as if Phil had been able to hear her thoughts.

  ‘What? Talk about what?’ She could hear another man’s voice in the background, his tone urgent. ‘Sorry, love. I’ll have to go. Be careful, won’t you?’

  And he was gone. Thea felt as if he had left her with her face pressed up against a brick wall, her words thwarted, her feelings ignored.

  Jessica had tactfully withdrawn to the kitchen during the phonecall. Now she ventured back, eyebrows raised. ‘So?’ she said. ‘You look a bit stressy.’