A Thoughtful Woman

by K T Findlay

  Peregrin smiled. ‘Yet your rage is very real, and it was a whole seven years ago.’

  York looked at him, grim faced. ‘The case may have been seven years ago Inspector, but I’m living with the consequences of it every day of my life. I go to work early, work hard all day, make enough profit to feed myself and pay the rent on this place but not much more. What little extra I might have to make life bearable goes to that fat cow of a blood sucking leech I used to call my wife. It’ll take another seven years at this rate to get the business back on its feet as it used to be and even then she’ll get half of its profits. And her? All she needs to do is sit on her arse stuffing her face with chocolates.’

  ‘Am I bitter? Of course I’m bloody bitter! Who wouldn’t be?’ he snarled.

  ‘Well,’ said Peregrin, ‘given you still feel like that, it’s very important that you can account for your movements around the time of his death. What were you doing on Saturday night through to 9 AM Sunday morning?’

  York thought. ‘Saturday night I was working on a new business plan. I went to bed about 11 PM and I was in the office by 6 AM Sunday morning.’

  ‘Can anyone back you up on that?’

  York shook his head. ‘Saturday night, no. I was working here and I live alone. I don’t want to get caught by another blood sucker. Sunday morning yes. Jim, my number two is an early starter as well and he was already there when I arrived at work. Sunday’s a good day for us.’

  ‘And your car?’

  ‘An old Rover SD1.’

  ‘Excellent taste.’ said Peregrin. ‘I’ve got one too.’

  ‘Bet yours is the V8 though?’ said York morosely.

  Peregrin nodded. ‘I’m afraid it is, and not that old either. But I say again, excellent taste.’

  ‘When it isn’t breaking down.’ muttered York, determined to seek out the last possible drop of misery.

  13 A slippery customer

  ‘Oi oi.’ said Freddy. ‘There goes the client.’

  Henry, having left his Jemima persona upstairs in the studio, closed the door behind him and walked up the road to collect his car. Less than five minutes later, Selina followed him out and fought her way back to Helen’s house, her umbrella bucking and kicking in the wind.

  ‘What now?’ asked Freddy.

  James poured himself another coffee. ‘We wait here for a bit and then drive up to the castle. If she comes past in her Mini before we leave, we’ll see her and follow in the Transit. If she doesn’t, then she has to be going home by the Ipington road and we’ll spot her from the castle.’

  ‘Sounds good. When do we need to be at the house to do the paperwork and get the keys?’

  ‘Quarter past two.’ replied James. ‘Just as well the owner only wanted a three month lease until the summer season starts. We’d never have got it at all otherwise. As it was, offering the entire three months rent up front, plus Mrs Hinchcliffe’s reference about our conduct in the BnB made it a no brainer. Incidentally, it’s in your name so you’ll have to sign.’

  ‘Oh great. Thank you so very much…’ said Freddy sarcastically.

  Half an hour later they paid their bill and drove to Throcking Castle, arriving just in time to see the little Mini scoot out of The Narrows and across the road into Sally’s field.

  ‘There!’ cried James, stabbing his finger towards it.

  Freddy locked his binoculars onto it. ‘That’s it, definitely the same one that was parked outside the house in Little Throcking.’

  James snorted. ‘Got her!’

  ◆◆◆

  Edgar Thomlinson stood in his back garden and assessed the weather. The wind had died and the rain reduced to a drizzle. Good enough for a bike ride. Selina was just putting the Mini away in the garage when she spotted him heading for the zigzag track.

  Knowing he must be on one of his routine runs, she made an instant decision. Here she was, already dressed as Selina and the weather was just about perfect for an attack. It was too good a chance to miss. Despite the risk of being seen, she ran to the flagpole and raised the hunting flag to alert Emma. With no advance warning, there was a very good chance that Emma wouldn’t see the flag at all and the potential for things to go wrong was almost enough to make Selina abandon the hunt. She had no qualms about risking her own life, but it was altogether something else to risk Emma’s. In the end though, she metaphorically threw the dice, and tied off the halyard.

  Back inside she rushed to the medicine cabinet and brought out Graham’s old Rohypnol tablets. She’d done her research and was glad she’d kept them after he died. The blue colouration in Roche’s new formulation wouldn’t have made them anywhere near as easy to use for what she had in mind. She danced around the kettle, swearing about the wickedness of watched pots, and then had to force herself to wait until the tea was strong enough to mask the taste of the Rohypnol. Finally she bunged in half a dozen sugar cubes and stirred it by vigorously jerking the thermos up and down on the way to the garage. She threw the thermos and a packet of biscuits onto the passenger seat of the Mini, grabbed a small bottle of engine oil from Graham’s tool shelf and set off down the field.

  ◆◆◆

  ‘Here she comes again.’ said Freddy quietly. ‘I wonder what the down arrow on that flag means?’

  James picked up the car in his binoculars and tracked it through the lanes. ‘I dare say we’ll find out.’ he said. ‘What interests me more is why is she still wearing that disguise in her own back yard?’

  ◆◆◆

  Selina drove past the walking track at the back of Ornamental Estate and on towards the Sky river. There was a long, steep slope leading down to a tight right hand corner that would do just perfectly. She stopped the Mini on the corner and walked a little way back up the slope, assessing the road surface carefully. With the greatest delicacy, she poured a line of oil across the downhill traffic side of the road, exactly where she thought Thomlinson would be hitting his brakes. She couldn’t avoid the usual multi-coloured sheen of oil on water, but the angle of the road and the splashing of the rain drops made it incredibly hard to see.

  Back in the car, she drove on for about half a mile, then did a U-turn and stopped to give herself a clear view across the fields to the top of the slope. When Thomlinson swept into view, standing on the pedals to maximise his speed, she started the engine and drove slowly back towards the oil.

  She timed it perfectly and was rewarded by seeing his front wheel slide out from under him as he turned into the corner. He hit hard on his right shoulder and the side of his head struck the tarmac a glancing blow. Fortunately for him, he and the bike parted company and tumbled separately into the hedge.

  As Thomlinson lay dirty and dazed in the ditch, Selina pulled to a halt beside him and got out.

  'Oh my goodness, you poor fellow!' she gasped, trying desperately not to laugh. 'Are you badly hurt?'

  Carefully he sat up and methodically checked himself over.

  'I don’t think so.' he said. 'My shoulder really hurts, but it's not broken. And my head hurts, but it's not even bleeding.' He smiled at her. 'I feel a bit of a fraud!'

  He picked up his bike and groaned. ‘Damn! The front wheel is warped. Not the best of afternoons.'

  Selina clasped her hands together and smiled back. 'I've got just the thing to make it better. How would you like a cup of hot sweet tea?'

  He smiled. 'That would be great.'

  'Come and sit in the car, out of the rain. I've got a thermos, freshly made.' She opened the door and retrieved the thermos and biscuits before gesturing him into the passenger seat

  'That crash might have been a lot worse. I saw you through the hedges, standing on the pedals as you came down the slope. You must have lost a lot of speed before you hit that corner.' she said, pouring him a large mug.

  He accepted it gratefully. 'I was just coming off the brakes when the front wheel let go. Maybe there's a shiny patch, or maybe a little oil down there.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'It's a hell of a way to get a go
od cup of tea. And thanks for the biscuits. Do you often go hunting for accident victims?'

  She smiled at his joke. 'I was just going for a walk and I like to have something to warm me up when I get back to the car. I’m Selina by the way.'

  'Edgar. Pleased to meet you.'

  She kept him entertained for a good twenty minutes before the drug started to take effect. Selina pretended not to notice the initial signs, waiting for Thomlinson to raise the subject himself.

  'I'm not feeling right.' he said finally, and gently put his hand to his head.

  'Lean over here towards me so I can have a look. There may not be any blood, but you definitely hit your head.' She fussed around, parting his hair as if looking for injuries.

  'Why do you wear the gloves?' he asked, his speech beginning to slur.

  'Eczema.' she said. 'Don't worry, it's not contagious. And in any case, I'm wearing them as a preventive. It's caused by an allergic reaction to different things and I still don't know all the stuff that does it, so I just don't take chances.' She continued to prattle away until he stopped responding altogether. After pinching his arm to make sure, she reached across and buckled up his seatbelt. 'I think we’d better get you to a hospital,' she said, ‘but first of all, let’s keep your bike nice and safe.’

  She carried Thomlinson’s bike through a hole in the hedge and hid it in the field. Then she dragged her feet in random lines through the wet grass on the verge to obscure her tracks before starting to drive home. As she drew level with the line of oil, she suddenly realised it could catch other people too. She was just hitting the brakes so she could fix it when another car appeared at the top of the hill and she had to carry on. Her dismay turned to horror when she recognised the driver as Tony Peterson. Anxiously she watched her mirror as Tony's car approached the bottom of the hill. The brake lights lit up and the car slid straight on, off the road and into the ditch. Feeling far more guilty about Tony than what she was doing to Thomlinson, Selina carried on towards home.

  ◆◆◆

  Up at the castle, Freddy and James looked at each other in astonishment.

  ‘Okay, I owe you an apology.’ said Freddy. ‘That was impressive.’

  ‘Who the hell is she?’ asked James rhetorically. ‘I mean, who’s she working for? Who trained her?’

  Freddy shrugged. ‘Good question. She certainly knows what she’s doing.’

  ◆◆◆

  'Are you okay Susan?’ asked a shaken Peterson.

  'I think so. What the hell happened there? You weren't going that quick.' said Constable Linklater.

  'No idea. She turned in and then just slid straight on! The brakes didn't work, the steering didn't work, I was just a passenger!'

  The two struggled out of the car and back onto the road. 'Well, either something broke on the car, or the road’s extra slippery for some reason.'

  Tony put out his hand to catch the rain on his palm. 'I thought I was accounting for that.'

  ‘No, no, that's not what I meant.’ she said, and started to walk carefully back up the road. When she got to the beginning of the corner she stopped and bent down to examine the road surface. ‘There’s definitely oil here, I can see the sheen.’ She stroked a fingertip across the road surface. ‘yep, definitely oil of some kind, mineral by the smell of it.’

  'Then why didn't that Mini crash?' asked Peterson.

  Susan worked her way carefully across the road surface. 'Because it's only on this side of the road. Right at the turn in point. Very suspicious.' She stood up and looked intently around her, seeking any sign of a hidden prankster.

  'It was probably some blasted teenager playing a joke, but it can’t have been personal. Even I didn't even know I was coming down this road when we left the station.' said Tony.

  Susan took a packet of tissues from her jacket pocket, extracted one and placed it carefully on the slippery surface. While it was soaking up the oil and water, she took the rest of the tissues out of their plastic bag and stuffed them into another pocket. Then she picked up the now sodden tissue and put it back into the plastic bag. She handed it to Peterson. 'Just in case the insurance company gets twitchy. Come on, you call for a tow truck on the radio and I’ll kick some earth over it in case anyone else arrives. You don’t want another car up your boot.'

  ◆◆◆

  By the time Selina had parked the Mini in the garage, she was calm again. She used Graham's mobile engine hoist to haul Thomlinson out of the car, drop his feet and legs onto an old sheet to stop him scuffing the floor, and dragged his unresisting frame to the chair. The hoist wasn't exactly designed to precisely position a body in an armchair, so it took Selina over ten minutes and a lot of hard work to get him secured to her satisfaction.

  She looked at the wall clock. 2:15. Perfect!

  Although she expected Thomlinson to be seriously out of it for the next two hours, there was no need to take chances. She took a coach bolt with a nut on one end and placed it between his teeth, tying it in place with a length of hairy string behind his head. Even if he did wake up, he wasn't going to be calling for help.

  Lastly, she pulled down the front of his shorts and attached the bicycle tube catheter as she’d done to Holmes.

  'No sense in an unnecessary mess.' she told herself.

  Still in a hurry, she ran outside to change the flags. There was no response on Emma’s pole, so she still didn’t know what was happening. If Emma didn’t see the new flags warning her to get the hell out and arrange an alibi, they could end up in real trouble. Selina began to consider new ways to dispose of the body, that might buy them a little more time before it was discovered. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, then set off for the bathroom to turn herself back into Sally. After checking there were absolutely no remaining traces of Selina, she calmly drove the Range Rover to the McEwan’s place for afternoon tea.

  ◆◆◆

  ‘Well at least he’s not dead.’ observed James. ‘Probably drugged though.’

  ‘She must want something from him then.’ said Freddy. ‘She’s gone to a lot of trouble over this.’

  ‘Information probably. If she’s the one who killed Holmes and now she’s after Thomlinson, she must have put a few things together already.’

  ‘Do we rescue him?’ asked Freddy.

  James thought for a moment. ‘No.’ he said simply. ‘Perhaps she can get something out of him that we haven’t. Then we can get it out of her. Hell! Look at the time! You’d better run.’

  ‘You be okay on your own?’ asked Freddy, as James clambered out of the van.

  ‘Cold and wet, so don’t bugger about any more than you have to before coming back for me.’ said James with feeling.

  ◆◆◆

  'I thought you were going to be painting all day?' said a surprised Hilary when she opened the door.

  ‘I just finished the 2 o'clock one, I thought if I was real quick I could come and see you.’ smiled Sally. 'I can't stay long. I've got another one to do yet.'

  'Then I'd better get the kettle on!'

  The two chatted and laughed until 3:40 in the afternoon, when Sally made her excuses and returned to her painting.

  Thomlinson was still comatose when she got there, so she set up her easel and painted the 4 o'clock scene live. At the end of it, he was beginning to come around, so Sally spent the next hour and a half completing the remaining paintings by watching the camera tape on the TV.

  Finding his new zombie state disturbing, she went into the kitchen and had some sandwiches, another cup of tea, and dived into Terry Pratchett’s latest offering.

  Thomlinson was left to his own devices as he tried to get his senses working properly again. Nothing seemed to work properly, his body seemed mostly paralysed, and his mind was very blurry, but he was pretty clear that he was in deep trouble.

  ◆◆◆

  Emma didn’t see the flags until almost 4 PM. She didn’t need to look up the code book to know what they meant. A down arrow, four arrows pointing outw
ards and an exclamation mark, indicating a successful hunt and an order to get the hell out.

  She was swearing fit to burst as she hung out her reply and James caught every word loud and clear through the open kitchen window. The fully furnished rental had been shut up for a few months and he’d opened all the windows to air it before rescuing James from his chilly perch.

  James however, was just going to have to wait. Freddy could see Emma dialling the phone, her body language urgent, almost frenetic. He popped in his “hearing aid”.

  ‘Alan? ‘We need to get away from here right now. Don't ask any questions, just answer mine! Are you able to leave work right now?'

  There was a pause while the unfortunate Alan attempted to speak.

  'I told you not to ask any questions!’ Emma snapped. ‘I want you to go home right now, pack an overnight bag including something to wear to the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and phone me when you're ready.’

  There was another pause before Emma continued.

  'It finishes after midnight.' she said simply. 'And it's in Ipington. Be ready in under half an hour. Don't be late!'

  She hung up the phone and cursed. ‘Bloody hell Sally! I need more warning than that!’ Then she stomped off towards the bedroom to get ready herself.

  To while away the time before Alan arrived, Freddy took out his binoculars and gazed across the valley to Sally’s house. He could see her painting, with Thomlinson seemingly motionless, still tied to the chair behind her. Perhaps he was dead after all?

  Then to his surprise, she switched the TV on and began to paint what was on the screen. The binoculars weren’t quite good enough to show what she was painting, but she seemed just as focussed as before.

  His musings were interrupted by Alan arriving at high speed, tyres chirping as he spun it round at the end of the street. Emma was on her way out even before he came to a halt, bag in hand and locking the door behind her. ‘Let’s go.’ she commanded, and they were gone in less than a minute.