Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1)

by Richard Harrington

  Following him through the lanes, Evelyn turned off the road and pulled in behind him when he stopped at a five-barred gate, and got out.

  ‘Is this it?’

  ‘Yeah. Well it’s worth a try.’

  She looked around at the overgrown, jumbled yard, ‘It looks a bit run down.’

  ‘That’s just what I want, a busy farmer wouldn’t bother with me.’

  Climbing over the padlocked gate, Frank hadn’t gone far before two collie dogs came running and barking round the corner of an old barn jammed full with muddy tractors and old rusty machinery.

  As he came to a halt, the dogs danced and yelped around him, and then an old man of about seventy came plodding round the corner.

  His face was parchment with a ruddy complexion, he was dressed in soiled clothes, had a cap perched on his head and in his gnarled hands was a shotgun.

  Evelyn watched uneasily as the two men stood talking in the yard, and when Lewis pointed back to the Range Rover the old man rubbed his jaw and slung the shotgun over his shoulder.

  Taking out a roll of money, Frank counted fifty into the old man’s cap, then hands were shaken and the two men walked up to Evelyn at the locked gate.

  ‘It’s all done, and my car will be safe enough till I need her.’

  The old farmer opened the gate, and pointed, ‘Park it where I said, up in the big barn behind the cowshed, it’ll be safe there and no-one will see it.’

  Saying goodbye to the farmer, Frank slid into the Pontiac and gave Evelyn directions through the lanes, and when they went past Angela’s security gates, he told her to stop.

  ‘Okay, I’ll bale out here, so just stick to our story and it should be fine.’

  As Lucinda drove the immaculate old Morris Minor towards Stratford-upon-Avon, she remembered being surprised when the Minotaur’s instructions were to commit the travel directions to memory, and as it turned out, Thornley Manor was Station X-1, and not to be found on any map.

  Letting the Morris speed on, Lucinda mused over the haste of this operation, and unusually for Mrs A, the immediate action directive had not mentioned the return of goods for internment, or even of any specified deliverance.

  So if the body wasn’t required, and the method of deliverance had been left up to her, it made things a lot easier and she might even get some job satisfaction after all.

  She hated killing targets from a distance, it seemed so impersonal, and quite probably from an etiquette point of view, very bad manners.

  But if she could take her home, she could cleanse her there, and if Chrissy was found, they could all have a party.

  Seeing the long avenue of tall trees, she swung left and drove down until the barrier, armed policeman and security gatehouse loomed ahead of her.

  The policeman smiled when he saw the old Morris, and waved her into the lay-by.

  This wasn’t the first time some little old lady had managed to get herself lost.

  ‘Can I help you, ma’am?’

  Winding the window down, Lucinda gazed up to him through horn-rimmed glasses.

  ‘Yes, young man. I would like to speak to the senior officer on site.’

  The guard smiled, ‘Well if it’s raffle tickets or the church bazaar, we can’t help you.’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing as exciting as that. You see, I’m investigating the disappearance of Miss Tara Goodwin, and as you may know, she’s the head of Station Security.’

  The officer stiffened, ‘I see. So may I see your ID.?’

  Fumbling in her bag, Lucinda drew out her Cardinal ID and held it up to him.

  The guard’s eyes widened, ‘Thank you ma’am, and your name, please.’

  ‘My name is Clemson. Dorothy Clemson.’

  Frank walked up to Angela’s security lodge, and having checked in, was given a lift in the Land Rover to the cottage, and glancing back, saw a gamekeeper pick up the phone.

  Taking the call, Angela listened, but frowned as she put the phone down.

  ‘Samantha, it appears that Mr Lewis has returned, but on foot, and it’s all very odd. But never mind that now, I have to leave quite soon, so let’s re-cap before he gets here.’

  ‘Okay, I wouldn’t mind going through it once more.’

  ‘Right then. Well as Montague has read that file, our top priority must be to find him, and as most of my ladies are out searching for him, I’ve no choice but to return to Oxford and run the hunt from there.’

  ‘So does that mean you’ll be staying there until it’s all done and dusted?’

  ‘Possibly, that’s why you’re here, and I’m beginning to wonder if Mr Lewis is playing a double game with me, and although I would love to grill him myself, I can’t afford the time right now, that’s why I’m relying on you, after all, you are the professional, in, how shall we say, using your charms to persuade others to give up their dark secrets.’

  When Samantha stayed silent, Angela thought she seemed unsure of something.

  ‘Do you have a problem, Samantha?’

  ‘No, not really. But when you say, persuade, do you mean by diplomatic means?’

  The hard reality of her question, suddenly pulled Angela’s emotions in all directions.

  ‘No, it does not mean you can use diplomatic.’

  ‘Oh … But I thought …’

  ‘Well never mind what you thought. No diplomatic. You’ll have to find another way.’

  Getting out of the Land Rover, Frank wandered over to the old bridge, and lighting a cigarette, stared across the meadows to the distant copse of trees, his thoughts full of that beautiful old church with its dark secrets. Turning, he saw Angela striding down.

  ‘Frank, are you deliberately avoiding me?’

  ‘No, of course not. I was just getting some air, my head’s in a mess.’

  She didn’t smile, ‘Oh really. But isn’t that to be expected from a guilty conscience.’

  ‘And what do you mean by that?’

  ‘What do I mean? Well let me see.’

  Staring him hard in the eye, she ticked off her fingers.

  ‘First that cunning little tart, Tara Goodwin, was allowed to leave site and has vanished, then Mrs Carthwaite kindly swiped Montague into Leonardo to read that god-damned file, and then the CIC appeared from nowhere to put the fear of god into Sergeant Jenkins while Montague disappeared in a private ambulance. And while all this was going on, you, and rather conveniently, didn’t see or hear a fucking thing. That’s what I mean.’

  Watching from the kitchen window, Samantha gasped out loud when Angela’s hand suddenly flew out of the air and smacked his face over his shoulder.

  Shuddering, he knew there’d be a price to pay, so now his only chance was to attack.

  ‘Angela, you can believe whatever you like, but there’s nothing new in that, is there, you didn’t believe me the last time, or maybe you just get a kick out of knocking my frigging head off.’

  Stepping round her, he headed off towards the cottage.

  ‘Wait. Don’t you dare walk away from me! Come back here this instant.’

  Walking on a few more yards, he swung round, angry and defiant.

  ‘So what is it this time? Another kick in the head without bothering to ask questions?’

  Backing away from the window, Samantha saw Angela begin to crumple.

  ‘But what was I supposed to think? Everything’s going wrong.’

  ‘Well that isn’t my fault. I am doing my best, in case you haven’t noticed.’

  ‘But you haven’t told me anything!’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose that’s true. But it has been busy, and quite difficult just lately.’

  Angela felt her heart thumping, and wanted to kiss and hit him all at the same time.

  ‘So what the hell happened?’

  ‘Okay. Well after the deaths, the Goodwin girl was so strung up I was getting nowhere, but Evelyn was really good and offered to help. She thought if they had a girl’s night out she might relax and talk. But she didn’t. She took off in the
night and vanished.’

  ‘Oh, I see. But why did you allow Montague to read that file?’

  ‘I didn’t know he had. He said he just wanted to check the room again.’

  ‘So you didn’t go in with him?’

  ‘There was no point, so when Evelyn asked me, I stayed with her in the cubicles.’

  Angela frowned, ‘She asked you to stay with her, in the cubicles?’

  ‘Yeah, she was already wound up about Dudley, and when the Goodwin girl vanished she thought she’d get the blame, so she just needed some loving. That’s all.’

  Making her way through the woods, Christiana half expected to hear the pounding of hoof beats coming after her, but stopping to listen, there was just the eerie stillness of silence, and later as the canopy of trees began to thin out, ahead she saw the glare of bright sunshine, and bursting through, found herself standing at the ragged edge of the woods.

  Looking over the meadows, she breathed deeply on the late summer breeze, and choosing a tree of lofty branches, began to climb until she could see far away across meadows to the distant farmhouses and church spires, and there was no movement anywhere.

  She waited, and when she felt sure no-one else was playing a waiting game she edged out into the meadows, and guessing the direction of Malmesbury, set off and saw the small river she and Lucinda had once followed halfway to the village of Easton Grey, and knew by getting there, she would almost be home and it wouldn’t be much further to Malmesbury and the safety of Ted Willis.

  Swishing through the tall meadow grass, she came to the river and followed its direction, and as it meandered its curving way, waded across through the shallows to the meadows on the other side, the late summer sun beating down relentlessly.

  Old Zed Bates grinned as he sat cross legged on the roof of his battered Land Rover, and rubbing his hands together, thought of the fifty pounds he would earn today, but the real prize was the chance of winning the bonus, and he meant to have it.

  Zed had been a poacher all his life and his natural sense of field craft was second to none, and now, sitting up high and shielding his eyes with the palm of his hand, talked to himself as he scanned the meadows.

  ‘Now then Zed, old lad, if you were runnin’ from Sheverill’s Farm with nothing but hope and the shirt on your back, would you head for Sherston or Malmesbury?’

  Filling his small briar pipe, he left it unlit, and half smiling, gazed around and lazily answered his own question in his broad country drawl.

  ‘Well Zed, me old lad, I don’t think I’d fancy Sherston, it’s far too close to the farm and every bugger knows every other bugger’s business. Why even the flies have names. No, I don’t think so. But I might fancy Malmesbury ‘cos it’s got a bus service and taxis. Yep, I reckon I fancy Malmesbury.’

  Looking up to the position of the sun, he grunted and checked his old pocket watch.

  ‘Now then, Zed, how far do you think a townie would have got in just an hour or so?’

  He grinned to his thoughts, ‘Well, me old lad, I reckon just about here.’

  Sitting dreamily in the sunshine, he pulled the flat cap low against the bright light, but a slight movement way over in the tall grass suddenly caught his crafty eye.

  ‘Well, well. So what would long blonde hair and a red T shirt be doin’ way out here?’

  He chuckled, ‘And if that darlin’ little lady carries on in that direction, me-thinks it might be just perfect to snare her lovely self in the quiet of the lane.’

  Pushing on through the tall grass, Christiana came to a curve in the river, and shielding her eyes could just make out the shimmering outline of a distant village, and stripping off, rolled up her clothes and waded through the cool water.

  Lucinda drove back up to the main road, and throwing her head back, laughed out loud.

  Someone unknown, and obviously for their own reasons, had already put the fear of god into the duty sergeant, and long before she’d even got started on him.

  Turning the Morris into the traffic, she headed home, and still couldn’t believe how easy it had been. And then that incredible stroke of luck when that name had been mentioned, a name not only that she’d instantly recognised, but a person who seemed to be involved with her very own target, Tara Goodwin.

  Oh god, it had been so easy she might have written the script herself.

  It seems that Tara Goodwin and Mrs Evelyn Carthwaite had been allowed to leave Thornley Manor yesterday by a Cardinal man, and although Mrs Carthwaite had returned this morning, her target had not.

  But the most amazing part of all, was that the Cardinal man who’d allowed them to leave was none other than Frank Lewis, the so-called Section man. Robin’s honourable friend.

  Pushing the Morris on through the gears, she couldn’t help wondering how this man Lewis had metamorphosed himself from the Section into Cardinal, and that could be a worry as this unexpected development could just possibly bring danger to her door.

  So could Angela be using him for some devious reason, and if she was, what reason could it be, and she was beginning to wonder if Lewis really had turned up on her doorstep just to offer his sympathy, because when Mrs A had arranged her release from the asylum, the agreement clearly stated that there would be no more girlie games.

  And thinking back, Angela had not asked for the return of Tara Goodwin’s body …

  So if she was guessing she would take her back to the priest hole, was she using Frank Lewis to check up on her and catch her out?

  Knowing Angela, it was quite possible, so it might be wise to cleanse him as well.

  36

  Settling in to Ted’s cottage, Tara smiled as she looked at the snug little bathroom, so spotlessly clean and so very old, in fact everything in the cottage was simply ancient.

  The decor, the furniture, carpets, china, glass ornaments and the paintings, why even the telephone in hall was the old dial type.

  It was like visiting a time from the past, a time when a sense of security and permanence had been normal. As she gazed at it all, a long forgotten memory suddenly came back as she remembered the large old teapot her nanny used all those years ago.

  Holding back the tears she walked through to her bedroom, and taking a breath, began to unpack her case, but she left the large colourful bags till last, the bags that held all the shopping she’d bought with Monty.

  She looked at the smart blue jeans with the Levi label, but dare she wear them, although Monty said it was fine and his daughter practically lived in them.

  Shaking them out, she stared in wonder, she’d never worn anything like this before.

  It had always been the boring business suit, the skirts, the dresses, and the …

  Hugging the jeans, she pushed the bedroom door shut, stripped off the boring clothes and eased first one leg and then the other into the silky crackle of the jeans, a wild sensation coming to her as she pulled them up around her bottom and slid up the zip.

  Looking into the mirror, she puzzled. Was that really little Tara Goodwin?

  Tipping out the next package she saw the cream surfer top, just so casually chic and soft, and slipping it on, felt the tingle as it caressed her skin, and smiling, put on the bright red socks and the colourful new trainers, and taking one last long, lingering look in the mirror, walked out and cautiously went downstairs to find Ted.

  Stopping at the kitchen door, she saw him preparing a tea tray, with cups and saucers, a teapot and a plate with huge cream cakes and chocolate eclairs, and watching, smiled with a curious pleasure, because although he looked huge and dangerous, underneath he seemed as gentle as a kitten, and as if by a sixth sense, he swung round and his jaw dropped.

  ‘Mr Willis, these are my brand new clothes, but they aren’t presents or anything nasty, Monty helped me choose them. So do I look alright?’

  Ted took a deep breath, ‘My dear young lady, you look absolutely wonderful.’

  Tara smiled, but looked down to the floor, her face now red with the blush of pl
easure.

  ‘Thank you, and my proper name is Tara Goodwin, but would you call me, Tara?’

  Ted carried the tray down to the table by the pond, and as they sat together in the sun, he couldn’t help wishing Maggie could be with them. He would give anything for that.

  As the late afternoon passed by, their gentle question and answer conversation had rung all the alarm bells for Ted, his earlier suspicions having been proved right, and by the time the sun allowed the shadows to join them, everything was beginning to make sense.

  Although it hardly seemed possible, this young lady appeared to be trapped in a world few people could ever understand, but Frank had obviously recognised it from years ago, and now it was all too clear why he’d wanted this young lady safe, and it wouldn’t surprise him if Frank was already making plans for Tara to go to Mrs P at Moon Shadow.

  As they relaxed with laughing and talking, he found himself wondering if she liked cars, and maybe even trucks, although the Scammel might be too big for her, but there again, it wouldn’t take long to teach her how to drive it, and if she enjoyed the garage, maybe she wouldn’t want to go to Moon Shadow.

  Christiana pushed on through the heat of the sun, her skin sticky with dusty sweat and her throat so dry it reminded her when she’d lost her way in the Nevada desert and her faithful old jeep had finally run out of gas.

  Shielding her eyes, she looked back to the sun and guessed it must be getting quite late, and yet Malmesbury was still nowhere in sight.

  But later she gave a huge sigh of relief when ahead she saw a hedgerow straggling out into the distance, and drawing closer, saw what she’d been praying for.

  The hedge was old and tangled, but on the other side was an overgrown lane that seemed to meander away towards Malmesbury, but just as she looked for a way to push through, she heard the harsh rattle of a diesel engine coming up along the lane.

  Dropping down, she flattened herself in the long grass, and looking up, saw the shape of a battered Land Rover lurching past the gaps in the hedgerow, but it slowed down and came to a halt, right on the other side of the hedge.