Drink With The Devil

by David Woods

  “A pleasure. I’ve come to look at the farm.”

  “Oh yes. I’d almost forgotten. I’m Jane Osborne.”

  “Very pleased to meet you. My name’s Jim Grainger.”

  “Mr. Grainger. Good heavens. Oh dear.” She stepped towards the door.

  Jim saw her shocked look. “I’m very sorry to have taken you by surprise. I didn’t mean to upset you. Perhaps it would be better if I came back another day?”

  His voice and manner reassured Jane and she stepped forward again. “No, please don’t go. It’s my fault for being silly. Come into the kitchen.” She put William down and he led the way. The smell of coffee prompted her to say, “Please sit down and have a cup of coffee.”

  “That would be nice. Thank you.” He looked around the large room with its modern appliances all looking as though they had never been used, and then he looked at the tall blond woman, still looking apprehensive but beautiful. She sat down opposite him and they studied each other’s faces whilst sipping coffee. Jane broke the silence, “Are you the same Mr. Grainger who owns Grainger Construction?”

  “Yes. And my name’s Jim. They should have warned you who was coming, so you could be out.”

  “I’m glad they didn’t because I might not have come, and I’ve wanted to meet you for some time.”

  “To ask me some questions, no doubt?”

  “Yes. Why does my husband hate you so much?”

  “That’s a question I’ve asked myself many times. He said it’s because he blames me for his parents’ death.”

  “But the real killers are locked up, and you saved Angela’s life.”

  Jim shook his head. “It must be something else, but I can’t think what.”

  “Have you crossed him in business?”

  “No. In fact he’s been trying to starve me of building land.”

  Jane cringed. “I know. And to our cost.”

  “The only thing I did recently was to convince him I was going after that factory job in Sussex.”

  “Yes, but his obsession goes back long before that.”

  “I’m sorry, I just don’t know.”

  The sound of his voice and his relaxed easy-going friendly manner made Jane want to talk. She told him all about the farm, going into detail about the cows’ production figures and the plans they had for the future. At this point she looked very sad and whispered, “Of course it’ll be for others to decide the future strategy, but I’ll miss the place very much.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Osborne, I am sorry. You’re making me feel guilty about wanting to buy it, but you can visit any time you want to.”

  “That’s very kind of you. And do call me Jane.”

  They spent a long time looking around the house and then drove around the farm in Peter’s Land Rover, Peter keeping out of sight and not wishing to meet the man who might give him the sack. Jim was delighted with everything he saw and William sat on his lap as Jane drove, obviously enjoying the occasion and smiling at his mother every time she glanced in his direction. She could not believe how good he was, sitting with a strange man, and she understood why Angela had fallen for him.

  They drove back to the farmhouse and jumped out of the Land Rover, Jim looking at his watch. “I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”

  “It’s been a pleasure.”

  “May I come back tomorrow?”

  “Yes, of course. What would you like to see?”

  “I’d like to go for a long walk in the wood.”

  Jane smiled as she replied. “You take as long as you like.” As she and William watched him drive off, she looked forward to seeing him again, and hoped he would decide to buy the farm.

  Jim enjoyed his few hours on the farm and drove home feeling on top of the world. He was still in high spirits when he returned the next morning and knocked on the back door of the big house to be greeted by a smiling Jane.

  “Hello Jane, you won’t mind if I walk down the track?”

  “No, of course not. Drop in on the way back for a cuppa.” She watched him stride away and ran to the telephone.

  * * * *

  It was a beautiful late summer day with little clouds moving slowly across the sky, the ground hard-baked by days of dry weather, and Jim remembered how different it had been on that terrible night years ago when his shoes filled with water and mud. He found the gap in the hedge he had used before and forced his way through, stepping several yards inside the wood and stopping to find a different world, his own idyllic peaceful paradise. He breathed in and smelt the perfume of the forest, tasting the sweet air, and the ground under his feet felt springy and welcoming.

  He walked for an hour along familiar paths, all the time savouring the tranquillity of his surroundings. It was all so beautiful and peaceful as he sat for a while by the pool, listening to the trickle of water over rocks, and the rustle of leaves in the bushes on the side of the hill. He remembered his animal friends with deep affection, wondering if any of them were still in the forest. Shafts of light danced across the water as the branches above moved in the breeze, and he knelt down to taste the crystal clear liquid.

  As he approached the rhododendron bushes guarding the lodge, Angela appeared ahead of Gemma, the pair of them having waited behind one of the bushes. Jim stopped for a second, unable to believe his eyes, as it was as if their last encounter had only been yesterday. She looked just the same, smiling as she walked towards him, and he nearly fell over in his haste to embrace her. They clung to each other, Jim burying his face in her hair and breathing in her perfume. Then he realised she was sobbing, and eased away seeing the tears trickling down her cheeks. “Don’t cry my love, we’re together again.”

  He kissed her eyelids, tasting her salty tears and then kissed her lips, holding her body gently. The kiss lasted a long time, during which they both imagined it was only yesterday that they had held each other. Eventually they relaxed and walked arm in arm through the trees, the sunlight dancing on the forest floor mesmerising the happy couple. No words were necessary as they sat down on the green and brown carpet of dried leaves, small twigs and vegetation. Slowly and gently they undressed each other and made love passionately, with no other thoughts entering their minds other than their love for each other. Then they relaxed, studying and touching each other’s bodies between hugging, holding and kissing. The day was hot and humid and Angela whispered, “Let’s go into the pool.”

  “Yes, that’d be nice.”

  They walked hand in hand and naked along the path, stopping to cuddle when they felt the need and playing like innocent children in the pool, splashing each other and laughing until the cold water chilled them. They hugged in a shaft of warm sunlight until they were dry and warm, remaining in a kind of trance which blocked out all other thoughts. Both had convinced themselves it was only yesterday when they last met, so everything they did together was natural and beautiful; Angela giggling and squealing with delight and Jim chuckling and grinning as they played in the forest.

  It was well past midday when Angela remarked. “I’m hungry. How about some lunch?”

  “Why not? In the usual place?”

  “Yes. It’s all ready.”

  They lay together in the clearing, eating and talking just as they had before, the sun warming their bodies. They made love again after lunch, even more passionately than before, and then lay together in the sun, just touching and kissing from time to time until late afternoon when a dark cloud covered the sun. Angela shivered and whispered, “Let’s get dressed now.”

  “A good idea, my love.”

  They dressed and walked towards the lodge where Gemma was waiting, patiently nibbling leaves from the bushes. She whinnied with delight as they made a fuss of her, but suddenly a clap of thunder shook the ground, bringing the couple back to reality. Angela’s face was set firm as she said, “We must go now, and never tell anyone what happened today.”

  Jim nodded gravely. “Of course not, but it’ll stay in my memory for ever.”

>   “Yes, and mine.” They kissed briefly, turned and went in their different directions.

  * * *

  The rain started to fall as Jim left the forest and walked along the farm track. The spell had been broken and the bond between them severed, leaving beautiful memories and affectionate feelings. They felt no guilt for what had transpired, just a feeling that it had to be in order that their lives could proceed without deep feelings of regret. Angela felt she could love Mark in the way she wanted and he deserved. Jim was certain he could find a girl to love and marry without comparing her to Angela, and approached the farmhouse with a smile on his face.

  Jane saw him coming and called out from the kitchen. “Hello Jim. Had a good day?”

  “Yes. Wonderful.”

  “Come in and have some tea.” Tea and cake were laid out on the table, and they sat down and talked about the weather.

  Jim looked at Jane and said, “I’m definitely going to buy the farm.”

  “Oh, good. I’m so pleased.”

  He could see her feelings were genuine. “You must come and see me often.”

  “I’d like that. What’ll happen to Peter French?”

  “I hope he’ll agree to stay.”

  She heaved a sigh of relief. “Can I tell him?”

  “Yes. As soon as both parties agree to proceed.”

  “Marvellous. That’s really good news.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Well, it means I can visit and keep in touch with events.”

  “I’ll look forward to your visits,” he said with genuine feeling.

  Jane frowned for a moment. “The question is, will Garry agree to sell to you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After waving goodbye to Jim, Jane rushed back to Hampstead to join Garry for Sunday dinner. Garry wandered into the dining room. “Hello. How did you get on with that prospective buyer?”

  “Very well. He’s agreed to buy.”

  “Good heavens. Just like that?”

  “Yes. He looked at it on Saturday and returned today.”

  “How much did he offer?”

  “I didn’t go into that. He said he would ring the agents tomorrow.”

  “Good. Who is he?”

  “A local businessman.”

  “That’s even better. So he won’t have a farm to sell before he buys?”

  “I’m sure he hasn’t got a farm.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I can’t remember. If you want any more information, you’ll have to ring the agent.”

  “I’ll do that in the morning.”

  They did not talk about it or anything else during dinner. Jane watched her husband and wondered why he was holding his knife and fork at unusual angles. He seemed clumsy and was having difficulty cutting his meat. For a split second she saw the palm of his hand and fingers, and noticed how red and raw they were, but stopped herself mentioning it in case he got up and left his food. She tried to imagine what he could have done to get in such a state — it seemed unlikely he had been gardening because he hated it. They finished eating and he disappeared into his study for the rest of the evening.

  The next morning Jane watched Garry leave for work and then walked around the garden. There was no sign of any work done, but she decided not to mention it, bearing in mind what was going to happen later that day; his mood would be bad enough without her stirring him up.

  Garry waited until coffee was served and then rang the estate agent, who was very enthusiastic about the sale. “The buyer’s agreed to the asking price, and it’s a cash offer,” he said.

  “That’s good. What about the live and dead stock?”

  “He’s agreed to buy the lot after an independent valuation.”

  “Well, what more can we ask for?”

  “Exactly, Mr. Osborne. And he wants to complete as fast as possible.”

  “The sooner, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Right. I’ll pass the matter over to your solicitors, and then get that valuation.”

  “Good. Oh, by the way, what’s this businessman’s name?”

  “Grainger. Mr. Jim Grainger.”

  There was a second’s pause and then Garry exploded. “Grainger! That evil bastard’s not going to buy my farm!”

  “But Mr. Osborne, he’s agreed to your terms. And it’s a cash offer.”

  “I don’t care if he offers double the price, I will not under any circumstances sell to Grainger.”

  “All I can say is you had better have a good reason.”

  “He’ll never get the chance to complete. Put the farm back up for sale.” He slammed the telephone down and sat fuming, and was still in a state when Jane brought in another cup of coffee. She put it down on his desk and then stood back waiting for him to speak. She did not have to wait very long.

  “What the hell are you playing at? You knew damn well I wouldn’t sell to Grainger.”

  “His money is as good as anyone’s. And we need it right now.”

  “You back-stabbing cow. You let him walk all over my house and farm.” The thought of Grainger in his house made him go berserk, throwing the coffee and the cup at Jane and then tipping the desk over, scattering papers all over the office.

  Jane screamed and fled. Cold water stopped the burns turning into scalds and blisters, and she went home wet and angry to change her stained clothes.

  Garry paced around his office like an angry lion trying to escape, too angry to work or even tidy his office. The desk remained upturned until he had drained several glasses of brandy, when he felt calm enough to put things straight.

  At lunchtime he listened to the news but was disappointed and, during the afternoon, he rang the agents to find out if they had any more buyers, but there were none. That evening he did not go home but preferred a light meal in a local restaurant, and then went to his flat to get down to serious drinking with all the usual accompanying visions. He was too drunk to remember the late night news, but listened in the morning, although his throbbing head and queasy stomach made it difficult to concentrate. No mention was made of a murder. He went to work late and just sat with his head buried in his hands, feeling depressed and bitter. The lunchtime news brought him no comfort, and he began to worry about his well-laid plans.

  After a brief lunch he drove south to the Grainger site and stopped outside. Very few people were around, so he drove slowly into the entrance and on to the house where he had buried Simpson. He stopped suddenly when, to his horror, he saw that the area where he had concealed the body was being turfed over. The garage was on the other side of the house, and difficult to see in the dark. He cursed his bad luck and drove away wondering what to do next, bearing in mind no one would miss Simpson and his body could remain undiscovered for ever. In the meantime Grainger would want to know why his offer had been refused, and on the way back to his office he stopped at a call box to ring the police.

  The officer on duty said, “What can I do for you, Sir?”

  “I want to report a murder.”

  “Oh, yes? Your name and address, please.”

  There was a long pause before Garry replied. “Err... Harry Brown, 6 Lynton Drive, High Barnet.”

  “I see. Where’s the body, then?”

  “On Grainger Construction’s site. Under a newly turfed lawn.”

  “And I suppose you know who did it?”

  “Jim Grainger.” Garry slammed the ’phone down and ran to his car.

  The officer sighed and growled, “Bloody nutcase. Ought to be locked up.” He made a note of the conversation and then discussed it with his senior colleague.

  Garry went back to his flat again that evening, and drank heavily as usual.

  The next day there was still no news so he rang the police again, this time giving the victim’s identity. The message was passed to Chief Inspector Green on this occasion, whose enquiries revealed Simpson had been missing from his digs since the previous Friday. His few possessions were still w
here he had left them in the bedroom, and he had not turned up for job interviews.

  * * *

  Jim Grainger stood at his office window watching a large pile of sand being loaded into a lorry with a new bulk-loading vehicle, which had a large bucket on the front. He marvelled at the rate the lorry was being filled up, continuing to watch as it drove out of the entrance and down the road, when he noticed a car parking outside. The person getting out looked familiar, and his heart sank when he realised it was Inspector Green with two plain-clothes officers.

  The policemen reached his office quickly, shook hands and the inspector looked at him with a grim expression. “We’ve reason to believe your old friend, Simpson, may be in some trouble.”

  “He was never my friend. And I haven’t seen him for a long time.”

  “I see. Well he’s gone missing and a little bird tells me he’s been murdered.”

  “Oh, my God. Poor old Simpson. And I suppose you suspect me?”

  “We’ve been informed that you killed him on one of your sites.”

  “That’s bloody silly. I’ve no reason to hurt him.”

  “Not even to find out who was trying to kill you?”

  “He didn’t know. Have you found a body?”

  “Not yet, but with your help we may do so very soon.”

  “On which site is this supposed to have happened?”

  “The one just outside of town.”

  “Right. Let’s go and have a look.”

  “Good idea. You lead the way.” They travelled in the police car in silence, Jim feeling very nervous and distraught at the prospect of being locked up again, and parked outside the site office. Jim got out feeling weak and ill and spoke sharply.

  “Where’s this body then?”

  “Under new turf somewhere.”

  They found two new houses with recently laid turf, and Jim ordered the site foreman to have the turf rolled up and stacked, and then turned to the inspector, “Right, you can start digging in two hours’ time.”

  “Very well. I’ll organise a digging party.”

  Jim stayed to watch as a team of policemen began to dig, and it was late afternoon when a car drew up and newspaper men jumped out, photographing the officers digging before being ushered away. Jim groaned and buried his head in his hands as he hid in the office, fearing his name would be in the papers again and he would be accused of another murder. A sheet was erected over the site and floodlights were brought in so the dig could continue into the night. It was mid-morning the next day when the body was discovered, buried about three feet down in the sandy soil, and Jim watched as it was carried away. Chief Inspector Green said, “I’ll have to ask you to come back to the station for questioning.”