by Jane Adams
‘Lax? How?’
‘That I let the poorest work off what they might owe instead of demanding pay in money or in kind. Lord as my witness, Kitty, such demands should have been lost with the feudal lords. I cannot and will not demand payment from those who would starve if they should give it. They work enough hours for the Church without Randall seeking more.’
Kitty smiled. ‘It seems you like him as much as I.’
‘Oh, probably a good deal less, though it doesn’t do to say so.’
He halted and prepared to remount his horse. ‘I must be gone. Take heed, Kitty and put these fancies aside. They come merely from anxiety of mind and all things being unsettled.’
She nodded. ‘I am sure that you are right,’ she told him, but as he rode away she could not shake from her mind the image of the man in her room, bending to look into the glass. A mirror that she did not have, showing scars so like her own.
* * *
Sarah had got tickets for Tollethorpe Hall and the performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
‘You may not be into Shakespeare,’ she had told Ray, ‘but this is something not to be missed. They perform outside in the grounds of the manor house and it’s just beautiful.’
‘What if it rains?’
‘Then we’ll get wet.’
There seemed no argument against that and, Ray had to admit, the setting was beautiful and the evening magical as they watched the dream enacted against a backdrop of English woodland in the slow-gathering dusk.
A light mist was rising as the heat of the day was drawn out of the earth and neither seemed in any hurry to be home. As they drove beside Rutland Water on the Oakham Road, Ray pulled the car over onto the verge and they leaned against the drystone wall to look out over the water.
‘I remember this before the lake was here,’ Sarah told him. ‘It was all little villages and rolling farmland. I saw it when the lake was still half filled. The tops of walls poking out through the water. It seemed to take time to look right here.’
‘Did you live out here?’ He still knew so little about her.
Sarah shook her head. ‘No. My dad delivered drawing office equipment. Peterborough and Oakham were part of his Thursday run and in the holidays he’d let me go with him. I liked it best in winter. Early morning, going out in the frost and fog, watching the sun burn through just before we stopped for breakfast. He’d have bacon butties and a massive mug of tea and I’d eat cornflakes. I’d never touch them at home, but eight o’clock in the morning when we’d already been on the road a couple of hours, they tasted wonderful.’
Ray laughed. ‘Where was that?’ he asked.
‘I forget. There were transport cafes all over then, full of truck drivers and motorbikes.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s all these chain franchises now that cost the earth and serve lousy tea.’
The light mist was thickening over the water and the air growing chill but Ray was reluctant to move. Sarah wore black trousers and a cream silk blouse. She had a jacket draped around her shoulders and she pulled it close.
‘Are you cold?’ he asked her.
‘Yes, but I want to stay. It’s a nice cold. Autumnal. I love this time of year when everything’s on the change and the light is so wonderful.’ She paused and turned to smile at Ray. She was so beautiful, he thought. Not conventionally, but in a way that was purely Sarah. She wore contact lenses out of working hours, showing off her grey-green eyes. Ray wanted to reach out and pull her close, but he dared not move. He stood still watching her in profile as the light faded and the mist drifted by and he held his breath, not wanting to do anything that might break the spell.
It was a long time since Ray had thought about love.
Chapter Fifteen
Ray drove to Middleton on the Saturday morning to check on the house sale and arrange for some of his more personal things to be taken out of storage. He picked up his hi-fi, his collection of CDs and vinyl, and a few other items he felt he would like to have at the cottage, but he was surprised at how little attachment he felt for most of his possessions.
He had arranged to meet George Mahoney for a late lunch at the Weir Head by the canal basin. Two o’clock saw him facing Mahoney across steaming plates of chicken curry and seafood pasta.
‘You look well, Ray. What is it, country living?’
Ray laughed. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I do feel better.’
He reached for sugar to put in his tea and absently pocketed a couple of spare packets. ‘Actually, George, I’ve met someone. Her name’s Sarah and she works in the records office in Edgemere.’ He hesitated, stirred his tea. ‘She’s pretty special. I’ve never met anyone quite like her.’
George Mahoney raised an eyebrow. ‘Romance in the air? Well, I’m glad for you. You’ve been alone altogether too long.’
‘It’s not that serious,’ Ray began to protest. ‘I’ve known her only a few days yet. But,’ he said smiling, ‘I’m hoping. You’ll like her.’
‘I’m sure I will.’
‘Come over to the cottage one weekend. There’s a spare room.’
‘I’ll let you know when I can get free.’ George Mahoney glanced around the dining room. ‘Do you come here often?’ he asked.
Ray laughed at the cliché. ‘Time to time,’ he said. ‘The food’s good and I like the location.’
Mahoney nodded. ‘I’d like this place a lot better without the phoney beams.’
‘My cottage has genuine ones. Bloody great black things that collect cobwebs the size of a small marquee. I told you the house sale looks set to go through.’
Mahoney nodded. ‘Are you sure you want to do this? I have the capital we need to set things in motion and I would understand if you didn’t feel ready to commit yourself.’
‘I’m ready,’ Ray told him. ‘And it’s better to have a reserve. I don’t want us going to the bank cap in hand a couple of years down the line. I’ve never been one for owing, you know that.’
George Mahoney nodded again. ‘I’ve been putting out feelers,’ he said. ‘Corporate security is where the money is right now.’
‘And it’s as boring as hell.’ Ray gave his old friend a shrewd look. ‘OK, I can buy that as bread and butter, but what else, George? You’re not going to be happy spending the rest of your life installing fancy alarm systems.’
Mahoney took a sip of his drink. ‘It makes money,’ he said. ‘And making money is what we need to do if we want the freedom to do other things.’
‘What other things? Come on, George, if you want me as a partner I’d like to know what I’m getting into.’
George Mahoney nodded slowly. ‘I just need to talk to people first, finalize things. Trust me, Ray, if I pull this off, you’ll be more than interested. There was talk, a couple of years back, of setting up an official Cold Case unit but funding wasn’t available. As ever. They’ve got one going in the USA, jointly run by the FBI and the police. I did some work with them a couple of years ago. I was impressed.’
Ray looked dubious. ‘Official, you said?’
‘Well, semi-official. As I said, funding didn’t happen. But there’s been enough interest for us to think about doing it on a semi-official basis.’
‘So we work our butts off on this corporate security lark and then take on extra work picking up dead files on the side?’
‘That’s about the size of it.’
‘Just the two of us?’
‘Well, I’ll concede that we may have to bring others on board. But there’d be some official funding. Expenses, that sort of thing.’
‘You’re crazy, George.’
‘Probably. But, Ray, you know you like the notion. I can see your eyes light up. And you’ve got to admit, it would make life interesting.’
Ray thought this over. George moved in different circles to the ones he was used to. Ex-army and soon to be ex-DPG, George Mahoney was a man with connections. He’d been a coordinator in the Diplomatic Protection Group for the last eight years and a field
officer for five more before that. Ray was eager to know what more he had in mind but knew George of old. He would say nothing until all his facts were in order. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t sound altogether practical, but I’ll admit it might be interesting.’
‘Oh it will be.’ George pushed his empty plate aside and leaned back in his chair. ‘Now, what’s on your mind? You said on the phone that you had something to show me.’
Ray reached in his pocket for the clipping. ‘This came through the post. No message, just the date scribbled on the bottom.’
Mahoney read in silence. ‘The date you were hurt,’ he said.
Ray nodded.
‘And you think someone is tying up loose ends?’
‘It seems a fair bet.’
‘I would agree. Have you spoken to anyone about this?’
‘No. I called in to see my superintendent when I was in town today but he wasn’t in. I’m reluctant to come out in the open about this.’
‘It was sent to your new address?’
‘Redirected from the old one. Only a handful of people know where I’ve moved to.’
‘And your thoughts?’
Ray frowned. ‘First off, that someone had done him in on my behalf. Last I heard they had no one in the frame for it. I was alone when the attack happened and witness reports of a man hurrying away were hazy at best, I don’t know, maybe something broke but there was insufficient evidence to go through channels. Maybe I should have kept a closer eye on things recently but to be brutally honest the nightmares have been bad enough without poking at the wound.’
There were few people Ray would have admitted that to but George Mahoney merely nodded. ‘And your second thought?’ he asked.
‘That someone else wanted me to know. Someone who’d organized the attack in the first place. The department worked on the assumption that it was mistaken identity. I was standing by Guy Halshaw’s car. In a place I was not expected to be, and Guy Halshaw is similar in build to me.’
‘And he was due to be chief prosecution witness in the Pierce case.’ Mahoney nodded. Pierce had been the biggest drugs bust the local force had ever had. ‘I always wondered,’ Mahoney commented, ‘if they wanted Halshaw not to testify, why they didn’t just have him shot.’
Ray smiled, feeling the tightness pulling at his face. That had occurred to him as well.
‘And now you wonder if you were the real target.’
‘It’s crossed my mind.’
Mahoney read the report again, thinking deeply. ‘Do nothing,’ he said. ‘If someone is playing vigilante and they want a pat on the back they’ll be in touch again. If it’s a threat of some kind, then the same advice follows. Wait for them to make the next move. As you say, few people know where you are, best keep it that way.’
Ray looked doubtful. ‘I thought I’d try to find out a bit more about the dead man,’ he said, but Mahoney had his notebook out and was scribbling brief details taken from the clipping.
‘Leave it to me,’ he said. ‘I can still access records without arousing interest. You’d have to bring someone else on board and, frankly, I don’t like the feel of that.’
Reluctantly, Ray nodded. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you a few days on it. But I don’t think I should let this go.’
They finished their meal, talking of more general things, then wandered out to walk along the towpath.
‘The body was found close by here,’ Ray said. ‘Just before the lock gates. There’s a backwater used for permanent mooring and a footbridge leading from the main road.’
Mahoney looked to where he pointed. ‘Lucky it didn’t get caught up in the lock,’ he said. ‘The sluices would’ve made a right mess.’ He changed subjects abruptly. ‘You’re going to settle in this cottage of yours then?’
‘I think so, yes. It’s keeping me busy. I’m learning to garden.’
Mahoney laughed. ‘That, I don’t believe.’
‘It’s true. I’ve the scars to prove it. Roses have thorns, you know.’
‘I had heard. Seriously though, what are you doing to fill your time? I know you, Ray. You’ve never been one to sit around.’
‘I’m getting restless,’ Ray admitted. ‘I see Sarah every day. You could say she’s helping me investigate something. What you might call a real cold case.’
His tone, the laughter in his voice, made Mahoney look sharply at him.
‘My aunt,’ Ray said.
‘The one you inherited from?’
‘Yes. She was convinced the cottage was haunted by a woman who lived there in the 1640s. She was accused of being a witch. I got interested and I’ve been looking at the history. That’s how I met Sarah, rooting around in the records office.’
‘Ah, I did wonder. It didn’t seem like your kind of place. And have you seen this ghost yourself?’
‘No. I don’t think I’d know how. But it’s keeping me busy.’
‘Digging up the past.’ Mahoney sounded disapproving. ‘I’d have thought we had enough unsolved cases without having to go back that far.’
‘Sarah said the same thing,’ Ray agreed, but he knew the comment carried far more weight than Sarah’s had done. ‘Like Janine,’ Ray added, recalling the case that had first brought them together.
Mahoney nodded. ‘Like my Jan,’ he said.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Mistress Hallam? We thought we would come to say hello. I am Hope Randall and this is my brother, Samuel. I am eight and he is almost twelve. I’ve seen you often about the village but Samuel was afraid to come till now.’
The boy bowed awkwardly. ‘My sister lacks manners. I am sorry for that.’
Kitty smiled at him, standing so awkwardly in her doorway when his sister seemed already so much at ease.
‘Come in, both of you,’ Kitty said.
‘You used to live in our house, did you not?’ Hope demanded. ‘Do you like it here? It’s rather small.’
‘Hope!’ Samuel gave Kitty an apologetic look and grabbed his sister by the arm. ‘Hope, I mean, we both, thought we should make your acquaintance. It seemed only polite.’
He tugged at his sister’s sleeve, trying to call her to heel but Kitty could see that this was a lost cause. Hope freed herself without even thinking about it and danced through to the kitchen, peering out through the back door.
‘Oh, I like your garden.’
‘Thank you,’ Kitty said. ‘It will look better in another year when the plants have had time to grow.’
‘Do you grow these things for your medicines? Mim says that you make simples and ointments for when people get sick. How did you learn to do all that? Can I learn?’
Kitty laughed aloud. ‘One question at a time! First of all, my father taught me the virtues of plants and how to make use of them and yes I grow these things for making medicines and yes, if you wish to learn then I will show you how.’
‘We should ask our father first,’ Samuel said.
‘Of course you must, but if he agrees, then it will be a pleasure to teach you. Both of you, if you wish.’
Samuel looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘Our father may not approve—’
‘You mean our mother won’t,’ Hope retorted, ‘Our mother does not approve of anything.’
‘Hope! You shouldn’t talk like that.’
‘Your brother is right, my dear. You should not disrespect your parents.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Hope pulled a face at Samuel. ‘But our father says we should always speak the truth and it is the truth, our mother disapproves of everything.’
She pranced around the room, admiring and examining Kitty’s home, while Samuel cringed at his sister’s bad behaviour and Kitty did her best to look stern for his benefit.
‘Mim says you were in a fire?’ Hope said. ‘That’s why your face looks like that.’
Samuel shrank visibly.
‘Mim is right,’ Kitty said.
‘Does it hurt you still? I should not want to lo
ok like that. Did everyone point at you?’
‘Some people were rude and uncivil enough,’ Kitty told her.
Hope stopped in her tracks. ‘And I am being as rude and uncivil as they?’ she said, her small face creasing with remorse. ‘Oh, I am sorry, Mistress Hallam. My father tells me often I should know when to hold my tongue.’
Kitty just smiled at her. ‘I am sure that you will learn in time,’ she said. How on earth, she wondered, had the Randalls managed to produce a child as exuberant as this?
Chapter Seventeen
Church had been bearable, Ray thought. Mostly hymns and a mercifully short sermon. One of the congregation had read the lesson, something about a letter to the Ephesians, but Ray’s mind had been wandering by then and he hoped that no one would ask him any questions. Sarah sat beside him, looking wonderful. She wore a blue silk dress that fell softly to mid-calf and her thick red hair hung loosely around her shoulders, kept off her face by two ornate combs. He felt a sudden surge of pride that she was with him, that and what seemed, given the location, like an inappropriate surge of very physical desire.
Service over, they waited for John to finish talking to his flock. He stood with his wife Maggie by the church door, chatting about the harvest festival and parish business.
‘She’s very pretty,’ Sarah commented, looking at Maggie.
‘Yes, she is,’ Ray agreed. Maggie had soft blonde hair brushed back from her face and cut into a neat bob, very blue eyes and a smile as ready and open as her husband’s. ‘And you’re very beautiful, Sarah.’ The words were out before he could stop them. He tensed instinctively as though anticipating the worst.
‘Not used to giving compliments to the ladies, are you?’ Sarah squeezed his arm and smiled at him.
‘No, no, I’m not, but I mean it.’
* * *
They walked together back to the vicarage. Maggie had explained that this was their home parish and that John did the service here one Sunday in three, his workload spread around three parishes all too small to warrant a full-time man. He was also on a rota, providing backup to cover illness and holidays.