The Power of One

by Jane A. Adams

  Rina returned her focus to the girl. ‘What were you supposed to give these people?’ she said.

  Lyndsey shook her head. ‘That’s just it,’ she said. ‘I don’t really know. It was something on Paul’s laptop, like I said, a new level for Eventide. He just gave me clues so I could find the key to get into it. That’s all know.’

  ‘So, nothing physical. It’s all in your head?’

  She nodded.

  Rina sat back. ‘Abe, you know our fall-back position?’ The two newcomers at the table were now on their starter course and their body language suggested they were totally oblivious to anything other than their food and one another. The couple sitting on the wall, however, though sitting close were obviously not together. She watched them carefully, noting the way the woman’s gaze flicked back and forth across the terrace, focussing momentarily on Rina and then shifting elsewhere. Under the pretext of fishing her bag out from under the table, Rina shifted position so she could see what was drawing the woman’s attention. Two men stood chatting close by the path that led back into Frantham Old Town. She glanced at their shoes; definitely not sailors. She took her mobile phone from her bag, fiddled with it and then laid it on the table with an exasperated sigh.

  ‘Abe?’

  ‘I see them. Lyndsey, are you ready?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Keep close. Get ready to run.’

  She looked fearfully at Rina.

  ‘It will be all right,’ Rina told her hopefully. ‘Matthew. I think it’s time we called home, don’t you?’

  ‘Right you are, Rina.’ Matthew scraped back his chair and scooped up the mobile phone that had been sitting on the table. He peered at it, and wandered over towards the wall as though unable to get a signal.

  A waiter approached their table, asking if they wanted anything more and Rina asked for menus. ‘The food here is really rather good,’ she told Abe.

  He smiled at her. ‘I’ll remember that for later reference.’ He looked up sharply, momentarily confused as Matthew’s voice, raised in anger, cut across the terraced space.

  ‘I think that might be your cue,’ Rina said.

  Matthew had thrown himself into the role. His search for a phone signal had taken him close to the harbour wall. He’d been so relaxed, pausing to exchange a word or two with acquaintances, to grumble about the lack of signal, a common complaint this close to the lee of the headland. Finally he settled on a position close to the harbour wall, but at a reasonable distance from the couple. They glanced his way but then, as he began the process of fumbling through his phone book, turned their attention elsewhere.

  No one had been prepared for Matthew’s next move. He swung around to face the couple, his body rigid with shock and his expression a picture of outrage. ‘Just what did you say?’

  The couple exchanged a glance, looked around as though to check that Matthew’s ire really was directed at them.

  ‘I asked you, what did you say? If you think that language like that is appropriate in a place where families are having lunch …’ Matthew gestured dramatically at the spectacularly family-free terrace. ‘That kind of language may be appropriate wherever it is you come from, but it isn’t here.’

  The man moved off the wall, puzzled and confused now, not sure if this was a set-up or the man confronting him was simply mad. He held out his hands in a gesture of placation.

  Matthew howled and backed away. ‘He tried to strike me. Look at him!’

  Matthew did not need to make such a request. No one was looking anywhere else.

  Abe took Lyndsey’s arm and led her quietly to the terrace steps. Rina hurried to Matthew’s side.

  ‘What did he do? You should be ashamed of yourself. Can’t you see he’s an old man? We’re not used to the likes of you round here.’

  The man stepped forward. ‘Now look here …’

  Rina took an answering step back. From the corner of her eyes she could see the two men at the other end of the terrace begin to move. She shifted position, partially blocking their view of Abe and Lyndsey.

  Matthew was now in full spate, claiming that the young man threatened to strike him and that he wasn’t so old he couldn’t give as good as he got. Others came over to remonstrate. Waiters hurried to the scene and, much to Rina’s satisfaction, inadvertently slowed the progress of the two others.

  The sound of a boat engine fired up and revving hard drew the attention of the woman still standing by the harbour wall. She shouted something at her companion who swung around and, to Rina’s horror, produced a gun.

  She saw it only for a moment and then the man was running, the woman with him. Rina could hear from the shouts and screams that she was not the only one who had glimpsed the weapon.

  She took her friend’s arm. ‘You’ve not lost your touch, Matthew,’ she said happily as they watched the boat power away. ‘Now, we’ve just got to stick to our little story.’

  Matthew nodded. ‘I enjoyed that,’ he said. ‘In fact, I don’t think I’ve had so much fun in years.’ He frowned and glanced at his watch. ‘I think we’ve got a bit of a problem though.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Well, it’s more than half an hour since we checked in with home. Stephen will have phoned DI Kendal.’

  Stephen’s call had been patched through to DI Kendal, who had just left the press conference. He groaned inwardly, summoned back-up and headed for the marina. He arrived just as the chaos was subsiding, too late to make arrests. Rina and Matthew were on the terrace, sympathising with the manager while around them staff and members of the public were straightening furniture and buzzing with excitement. Uniformed officers, summoned by the staff when trouble had started, were already on the scene. Kendal made himself known to them.

  ‘What the hell went on here?’

  ‘Someone stole a boat, there are rumours that someone shot at them. One man fell in to the bay and a woman had a fit of hysterics.’

  ‘Someone had a gun?’

  ‘So we’re being told. Whoever it was, they’d scarpered by the time we got here. We’re getting statements, but people had already gone when we arrived and there’s only been the two of us.’

  Kendal indicated the officers who’d followed him there, told them to get up to speed and help out. Then he crossed to the woman who seemed to be the hub of it all. ‘Mrs Martin,’ Kendal said. ‘Just what was going on here?’

  The manager turned to him, and Kendal found himself the focus for renewed outrage. He endured several minutes of the tirade, gathered that the manager could not believe the behaviour he had just witnessed and seemed to think that at least two of those responsible were police officers of some sort. ‘Something official, anyway,’ he finished. ‘And, one of them was armed. I saw it. I saw. The Gun.’

  Kendal began to remind him that armed officers were not the norm in Frantham Old Town. Then, noticing that Rina and Matthew were slowly moving away, he handed the job of placation over to the uniformed officers who had come with him.

  ‘Witness statements,’ he said. ‘Names, addresses. Mrs Martin and your friend. With me. Now.’

  Rina sighed. ‘I think we’re in a bit of trouble, Matthew. Inspector Kendal, can we at least phone home. Everyone will be worried.’

  ‘We’re entitled to a phone call,’ Matthew insisted. ‘We know our rights.’

  Kendal sighed. ‘In the car,’ he said. ‘Now. You call home and I am going to be calling Mac.’

  THIRTY-SIX

  Bridie Duggan had welcomed Mac and Tim with her usual effusiveness, embarrassed both Tim and Joy by making it obvious she knew Tim’s motivation for the visit and then, after making sure they all knew that lunch was nearly ready, left Mac to talk to Lydia and Edward.

  ‘You’re comfortable enough here?’ Mac asked.

  ‘Oh yes. Being killed by kindness, but we’re fine,’ Edward told him. ‘We saw the news this morning. Bridie says we should be prepared, in case someone finds out we’re here. She says the media have ways of discovering the
se things.’

  ‘She could be right,’ Mac said. ‘But I imagine that will be less of a problem here than it would have been back in Frantham. Edward, did Paul say anything out of the ordinary in the weeks before he died? Did he do anything odd, something you didn’t think about at the time but which seems memorable now?’

  Edward shook his head. ‘He seemed his usual self, not happy, not unhappy. Just Paul.’

  Mac thought for a moment. ‘Did he mention having a girlfriend? Was he seeing anyone?’

  Lydia laughed. ‘God, no. Paul rarely dated. I think … I think I was his last serious attempt. Why?’

  ‘We found a half-empty pack of contraceptive pills in his bathroom cabinet.’

  Lydia looked away and Mac recalled her reaction when he had asked if they were hers.

  ‘What? No, that can’t be right. If he’d met someone, he would have said.’ Edward was clearly bemused. ‘Lydia, did he …’

  ‘No, he never mentioned anyone. Anyway, he was never there, was he? He lived aboard the boat more than he lived in the flat. Dammit, he stayed with us more than he lived at the flat. I can’t see how he’d have found the time to see anyone, let alone get involved enough for them to be having sex on a regular basis.’ She sounded as put-out as she had the day Mac told them Paul was not alone on his boat. Maybe, Mac thought, it still hurt that she and Paul had been unable to form the kind of relationship she had once wanted.

  ‘Why did he want you to have that book. The A.A. Milne?’

  Lydia smiled. A real, gentle smile, soft with memory. Edward reached out and took her hand. ‘Oh, silly reasons. You know, we all knew one another when we were kids.’

  ‘I hadn’t realised that.’

  ‘Yeah. Our parents were friends. We moved away and lost touch for a while, met up again in our teens. But the book belonged to Edward and Paul’s father. He had nicknames for us all. Paul was Tigger, Edward was Eeyore and I was the wise owl. I wore round glasses and always had my head in a book. I always loved the book. I’m not so sure I’d want it now.’

  Mac sighed, wondering where to go with this next.

  ‘He was a generous man in his own way,’ Edward said quietly. ‘Not ostentatious, but surprising. He’d remember things. You know, you’d mention that you liked something and he’d store that away, suddenly produce a picture or a book or a CD. Just small things, but he’d remember. Like that music box.’

  ‘Music box?’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing relevant,’ Lydia said. ‘I saw this music box in a charity shop. It was like one I’d had when I was a little girl. We laughed about it, I’d thought it was so grown-up, so special, with the little dancer inside and the velvet lining and all that. I almost went in and bought it, then thought I was just being silly and didn’t. When I got home, I sort of regretted being too grown-up and mature to have indulged. Anyway, a couple of weeks later, there’s a fancy parcel sitting on my dressing table and inside was the music box. He’d put this card inside with an owl on it. He told me it was to keep my treasures in.’ She smiled sadly, tears shining in her eyes. Edward clasped her hand tighter and pulled her down to sit beside him on the sofa.

  ‘When was this?’ Mac asked quietly.

  ‘Oh, a couple of weeks before … before he died.’

  ‘And it’s still back at the house?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. Why? You don’t think …’

  ‘Truly, I don’t know. Lydia, where would I find this music box?’

  ‘On the windowsill in our bedroom. Why?’

  Mac pursed his lips. ‘It may well be absolutely irrelevant,’ he admitted, ‘but I’d like to see it.’

  Abe was worried. He felt too exposed up here, too out on a limb. He hurried Lyndsey along the cliff path, hoping that this Hill House place Rina had mentioned was close by.

  He was angry with himself as much as anything. He should never have agreed to meeting in a place that took him so far away from his car. True, Rina had made it possible for them to escape, but it had been such a close-run thing and Abe was in no way certain they had not been pursued. In one detail only, he had deviated from Rina’s plan. Once they had found the little cove she had talked about, he had got Lyndsey close in to shore then turned the boat back out to sea, with the engine running. He had then waded ashore. In the heat of the August day his clothes were already drying, the denim of his jeans tightening on his legs.

  ‘Did they follow us?’

  ‘I’ve seen nothing. Keep moving. It can’t be far.’

  She stumbled along beside him and he knew that her nerve was fast failing her. The worry was that she would panic now. Do something completely stupid just to put an end to the stress and fear. He needed to get her somewhere she might at least be able to maintain the illusion of safety. Hope she could sleep through the worst of the anxiety. He’d seen this level of collapse before. He had no doubt that, given the opportunity, she would escape into unconsciousness.

  The path turned and he breathed a sigh of relief. ‘That must be the place.’

  Checking for other walkers, any users of the coastal route who might spot them leaving the path, he led her through a small gap in the hedge and half dragged her across the wide lawn. Rina had mentioned a conservatory that ran the full length of the rear of the building. She was right about the doors, small panes of glass that gave easy access to a simple bolt. He hustled Lyndsey inside, glanced back to make certain they were alone and unobserved, then sat her down in one of the random collection of easy chairs while he examined the inner doors. Moments later, he was taking her inside and settling her down on one of the old but comfortable sofas in the sitting room.

  ‘I’m going to try and find a blanket. You’re shocked and wet and cold. Take off your jeans and I’ll hang them somewhere to dry and then I want you to get some sleep, OK?’

  She nodded, her hands moving ineffectually to unfasten her belt. Abe left her to it and went to check the rest of the house. He discovered a blanket on one of the beds and coffee, left by the builders, in the kitchen. Power was still connected and he found the fuse box, and switched it back on. By the time he had returned to the sitting room, she was lying down and almost asleep. She still hadn’t managed to remove her sodden shoes and wet jeans.

  Abe sighed. He helped her out of the wettest clothes, and covered her with the blanket, tucking it firmly around her. Got a cushion to slip beneath her head.

  ‘Get some rest,’ he told her. ‘I’ll dry these out.’

  He stood in the doorway, watching her, hoping she’d be all right, worried that this was all too much for a young woman who spent her life with the technical and the virtual and for whom reality had now impinged so unpleasantly. He took the wet clothes and found a sunny spot in the conservatory and hung the jeans over the back of a chair. His own clothes were still damp on his body, but he’d endured worse and he ignored the discomfort, and went through to the kitchen to make use of the builders’ coffee.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Because of the number of people in her house and the sense that this was a bit of an occasion, Bridie Duggan had laid out lunch in the dining room. Mac had never had a great liking for glass tables and this was a monster of one, supported on elaborately curving chrome legs. An equally monstrous sideboard took up the space along one wall and Mac examined it with interest, realising that, in direct contrast to the very modern table, this was a genuine antique. Heavily carved and almost touching the ceiling, he could not help but wonder how on earth she had got it into the room.

  Bridie saw him looking. She came over, stroking the polished surface affectionately. ‘Flame mahogany veneer,’ she said. ‘But it’s old, so it’s gone this lovely gold and just look at the detail on that carving. The auctioneer said it was made around 1820 and we got it for a song because no one has room for this sort of thing any more. That vandal at the auction house talked about breaking it up and selling the top separate. We couldn’t have that, not with something so lovely, so we left a bid and we got lucky.’

&nbs
p; ‘It’s certainly impressive,’ Mac said. He figured that was probably the safest word to use. ‘How did you get it in here?’

  ‘Oh, the top comes off, but it still had to come in through the patio doors.’ She smiled happily. ‘Jimmy loved auctions,’ she said. ‘We’ve a house full of stuff we bought together.’

  It was certainly an eclectic collection, Mac thought, but he was saved from further comment by the arrival of Tim and Joy, closely followed by Fitch and the de Freitas’s. It was very clear to Mac that Fitch had become far more than an employee since Jimmy Duggan’s death and he wondered just how much. He found himself seated between Fitch and Lydia.

  ‘Help yourselves,’ Bridie said indicating the dishes of new potatoes, salad, glazed ham and chicken. Mac was absurdly reminded of the Famous Five books he’d read as a child. All that was needed now was hard-boiled eggs and lashings of ginger beer.

  ‘That pair are getting on like a house on fire,’ Fitch said, nodding towards Tim and Joy. ‘It’s getting serious.’

  ‘Rina worries that she’s a bit too young. I know that Tim worries about that too.’

  Fitch shrugged. ‘Joy’s a grown woman, he’s a good man. He’ll not rush anything.’ He paused. ‘She might though,’ he added, grinning at the thought. ‘Like her mother in that respect, is Joy. Sees what she wants and goes for it.’

  Mac passed potatoes to Lydia.

  ‘I’ll be going back with you,’ Fitch told him. ‘Bridie thinks you need me more than she does. Joy’s tagging along.’

  Mac shook his head. ‘I don’t think she should. We still don’t know what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘You try telling her that. Or her mother. It’s all arranged and I don’t really think you or I get a say in the matter.’

  ‘How does this Hale keep finding you?’ Bridie wanted to know. ‘Is he psychic or what?’

  ‘I hope not,’ Mac said with feeling. ‘That, I can definitely do without. I think our meeting on my way to work has a simple explanation. Anyone in the least bit familiar with my habits would be aware of where I’d be that time of the morning. As to the motorway, I think that has a simple explanation too but more complex ramifications.’