Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1)

by Richard Harrington

  ‘Well don’t think … I’ve told you before, you can’t do it properly.’

  ‘Yes ma’am, or was that, no ma’am.’

  ‘Oh for god’s sake, go and lay out my clothes, you can manage that can’t you.’

  ‘Yes ma’am. And which ones will it be?’

  ‘Well the posh outfit of course, and tell dumb-head to make sure the car has a full tank.’

  ‘Yes ma’am. So it won’t be the Morris Minor, then.’

  ‘…Well of course not, do you really think these rich pricks go parading off to their yachts in Morris Minors?’

  ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t know, ma’am.’

  ‘…Well there you are, and it’s a bloody good job they don’t send you off to kill someone, for you have absolutely no sense of decorum, and not only would you be dressed totally incorrect for the occasion, but knowing you, half the frigging neighbourhood would be exterminated in the process, now wouldn’t it.’

  ‘Yes ma’am.’

  ‘Quite right. So I rest my case.’

  Wandering back to the lodge, Frank knew the farmhouse cider had sure done its work, and when the keeper unlocked the gate, he smiled when he saw him swaying in the wind.

  ‘So what did you think of the pub, sir?’

  ‘Well the gut rot cider’s got me rat assed and the toilet could do with a bit of demolition, but apart from that, it was bloody awful.’

  ‘Yeah, well it is a bit basic.’

  ‘Basic? Christ, a farting donkey would improve the place.’

  Later, while sharing a jug of coffee in the lodge, Frank tried to put his plans together.

  ‘So where’s the nearest mainline train station?’

  ‘Well that’ll be Cheltenham, I reckon.’

  ‘Right. Well you’ll be taking me there, and probably this evening, so check the time of the next train to Penzance and let me know, but don’t go shouting about it, okay?’

  ‘I understand, sir, and don’t worry, I’ll keep it quiet.’

  ‘Good man. I owe you one.’

  Leaving Sir Henry to relax and unwind in the lounge, Angela did some thinking, and while arranging a vase of wild flowers, saw Frank come wandering into the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, so you’ve returned. And did you enjoy your drink?’

  He flopped down at the table, ‘It was okay.’

  Before she could question him further, the phone rang in the study and she glanced over.

  ‘Get that will you, my hands are all mucky.’

  Walking through, he picked up the flashing grey phone, ‘Hello.’

  ‘Ah, it’s you, sir. Well I’ve checked the trains, and one leaves Cheltenham at midnight, it makes a lot of stops and gets to Penzance at six in the morning. So if you want it, we’ll have to leave here about eleven.’

  Giving it some thought, arriving in Penzance at six, sounded just about right.

  ‘Okay, thanks, I’ll let you know.’

  On returning to the kitchen, she looked up from her flowers, ‘Who was it?’

  ‘One of the keepers, he found some money I dropped by the gate.’

  ‘That’s not like you … I hope you’re not losing the plot, this is too important.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but that’s half the trouble.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well now we’ve got the go-ahead for Glenndenning, I’d like to get started.’

  ‘Good idea, but are you ready to leave so soon?’

  ‘I reckon so. The Bergen’s still packed, so all I need is some hard cash and the most recent sighting of him.’

  ‘Well that’s easy, there’s five thousand in the safe, and Glenndenning was last seen on his yacht, Polyvotis, at Hamble Marina.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘So when do you want to leave?’

  ‘Well I’d like to get started this evening.’

  Angela thought of Sir Henry, ‘Alright. So how much cash will you need?’

  ‘Three thousand should do it, there might be some bribery involved.’

  ‘Very well, and what about transport?’

  ‘Well if the keeper could take me to a station, I’ll make my way to Hamble Marina and figure it out when I get there.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  In the study, Angela opened a secret section of the bookcase, and dialling the numbers, pulled open the heavy door of the safe, and counting out three thousand in used notes, laid the money down.

  ‘Here you are, three thousand in used notes, so I guess the rest is up to you.’

  As Frank went upstairs to check the Bergen, Angela walked through to the lounge.

  ‘Sir Henry, there’s been a development which could solve all our problems, so if you’d like to verify the DVD, you could confirm to the Forty and we can get started.’

  Leaving him to watch the hideous recording, Angela went back through to the study, and picking up the red phone, called her office.

  ‘Louise. Who do we have in the government that could leak a report to the press, and preferably, a spin doctor.’

  Louise gave the name of a spin doctor who practically slept with the Prime Minister.

  ‘Okay, he’ll do, he more or less runs the country anyway, so compile a chain of events around a senior advisor, you know the sort of thing, a decent, respectable family man going off the rails and talking to journalists in secret, a worried man of principle under pressure and who has now disappeared. But the trick is, you must send the message to everyone down the golden thread, and I do mean everyone, from the tabloid editors to the top of the Secret Intelligence Service. It’s vital they sing the company song in harmony.’

  ‘Who? Oh, didn’t I say. Well it’s Sir Henry Talbot. So contact the Church Warden and tell her to come to the cottage at midnight, and there’ll be just one client.’

  Calling Thornley Manor, she instructed the senior technician to be ready to leave for the cottage at a moment’s notice, and may God bless the Devil.

  Footsteps on the stairs suddenly jolted her out of her innermost thoughts, and pulling the study door open, saw him standing there, washed, shaved and dressed in different clothes, and as she gazed at him, she felt the sudden realisation, that if something went wrong, she might never see him, ever again.

  ‘Take care, Frank. Take very good care.’

  He half-smiled, ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be as easy as falling off a log.’

  ‘Well you make sure you play on the small logs, or mother will smack.’

  Quite suddenly, she had the strangest feeling she might have missed something.

  But what on earth could it be, because DC was hunting Michaela in the Henley area while Frank was tracking down Glenndenning on his yacht.

  So what could go wrong with that - their agendas were miles apart.

  It was later when the phone rang at Sheverill’s Farm, and Lucinda was surprised that Lisa had called back so soon - but it seemed there’d been a burglary at Henley on Thames, and as it was her patch, she had taken the opportunity to use her police time to check out the summer retreat at River Cottage.

  She said it had been rather odd - because when she’d arrived, the front door was open, and when she knocked, a neighbour looked over the hedge, and wasn’t at all surprised that the Police were there.

  It seemed that the owner of the cottage, a huge, gargantuan woman, had arrived late yesterday in a squeal of brakes, and after crashing and bashing inside, had marched out with two enormous suitcases, and when the neighbour asked her if everything was alright, the woman, whom the neighbour had passionately described, as being, so bloody repulsive she could turn fresh milk sour, had replied, ‘No, everything wasn’t fucking alright, so she was going away on a long cruise.’

  Replacing the phone, Lucinda stood quietly as a mental picture of her new client began to emerge through the previous fog of uncertainty.

  So, she was a woman of immense proportions, indescribably ugly, obviously wealthy, running scared, going on a cruise, and was a close associate of Marcus Glenndennin
g who owned the yacht Polyvotis which had an urgent appointment at the Isles of Scilly.

  And now, Michaela Rattenegger, I have you.

  ‘Martha. What does one wear on the Isles of Scilly?’

  ‘I really wouldn’t know, ma’am.’

  ‘So why do you always refuse to know anything, you’re not going into politics, I hope.’

  ‘No ma’am, sorry ma’am.’

  ‘Well it’s no use being sorry, now is it, I’m the poor wretch who’s got to travel to these silly islands, and I don’t even know how to get there.’

  ‘I thought you were going by car, ma’am.’

  ‘I can’t believe you said that … I’m going to a frigging island, you stupid old bat, and although I’m perfectly aware that BMWs can do almost anything, I am not entirely convinced that they’ve taught the bloody things how to swim.’

  ‘Ah … Now that might be a problem, ma’am.’

  ‘You’re damned right it’s a frigging problem, and you have the intellectual capacity of a first class cretin.’

  As Lucinda turned away, Martha suddenly frowned and cautiously took a step forward.

  ‘But ma’am, if you’re travelling there, couldn’t a travel agent help?’

  Staring out into space, Lucinda swung round and gave a huge smile.

  ‘That’s it. There you are, you see, I knew I’d think of it sooner or later.’

  ‘Yes ma’am.’

  Marching away to the lounge, Lucinda took the phone book and turned the pages, and having made the call, returned to the kitchen, happy and bright eyed again.

  ‘Well that’s all organised. I’m booked on a helicopter flight at mid-day tomorrow, it’s going from Penzance to St Mary’s and I’ll be staying near the quay at a swanky little hotel. So that wasn’t too difficult, was it?’

  ‘No ma’am, you did very well.’

  ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I, but enough of that, there’s a lot to do before bedtime, and as I have to be on my way first thing in the morning, you’ll have to take good care of those two in the annex. They’ve got a lot of explaining to do when I get back.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, ma’am, I’ll look after them, proper. So we’d better get you packed, and if you’ll be wearing your posh outfit, what else will you be taking?’

  ‘I don’t know, but there must be shops there, so I’ll travel light and buy something appropriate when I get there.’

  ‘That would be nice, ma’am. So you’ll be shopping on the Isles of Scilly tomorrow.’

  Mr Tobius was a quiet man of fifty three, and although he did speak of other things, his overriding passion was for computers, and having devoted all his painstaking years to Cardinal’s ever expanding computer, he now regarded the Minotaur as his own child, but not once in all those long years had he ever been invited to the Bunker, and now, as Angela looked him in the eye, she could clearly see his apprehension.

  ‘Mr Tobius, how very nice to meet you.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

  ‘And this is a friend of mine who’d like to tell you all about the Forty’s enigma machine, so I’ll leave you two alone to discuss this clever little toy. Oh, and I very nearly forgot. When you’re finished, you, Mr Tobius, will take the laptop back to Thornley for a full and complete evaluation.’

  Sir Henry was unsure when Mr Tobius took his laptop away, but Angela assured him it would be returned in plenty of time for his departure, and as those two despicable people would soon be dealt with, he could now relax and enjoy his short stay at the cottage.

  Angela took great care in preparing his Mickey Finn, and when she was satisfied, poured and mixed the fine white powdery drug into a large glass of brandy, and placing it on the silver platter, poured the coffee and looked at the clock.

  ‘Sir Henry, won’t you come through, I’ve coffee and brandy for you.’

  It was approaching midnight, as Angela, looking at him slumped in the chair, heard the door open, and looking up, saw the Church Warden standing there like an angel of death.

  Angela involuntarily swallowed hard, ‘He is ready. But do it gently, understood?’

  She nodded, and without a word, lifted him up over her shoulder.

  ‘So how long will it take?’

  ‘Not long. I’ve got one dug already.’

  Taking her cigarettes and wine, Angela went down to sit on the old stone bridge, and as time slipped away into oblivion, thought Sir Henry had been quite a nice man really.

  Sitting there, she suddenly jumped and broke out in a hot prickly sweat when an eerie black clad figure silently appeared at her side.

  ‘Jesus Christ … Don’t you ever do that again …’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I should bloody well think so. Dear god …, are you trying to drive me crazy …?’

  Shakily lighting a cigarette, her hand trembled as she sucked hard on the smoke.

  ‘So is it done?’

  ‘Yes. He’s at rest now.’

  ‘Good, and I hope you were gentle, when you finished him off.’

  The Church Warden looked puzzled, ‘But I thought you’d already done that.’

  ‘Me? Don’t be stupid … I only drugged him … I don’t kill people!’

  The Warden frowned, ‘Oh dear. Neither did I.’

  Angela stared at her, ‘My god, he’s buried alive then, so what are we going to do?’

  ‘Well we can’t dig him up, ‘cos I dropped a great lump of marble on his grave.’

  ‘But what will he do when he wakes up?’

  ‘Well likely as not, I reckon he’ll go mad.’

  4 6

  Angela had endured the most hideous night of her life, because thanks to Sir Henry, all her demons had risen up and come to play, and even now as she cuddled up in her deep bed and looked out to the bright early light of dawn, the stark images refused to go away.

  Images of him screaming in terror as he gradually suffocated, his fingers running with blood as he scratched frantically at the lid of the coffin - and even with the keeper sat reluctantly outside her door, it made little difference to the horror within.

  Giving a long sigh, she finally had to accept that murdering by proxy was still murder, and although she’d hidden the responsibility of it all behind the sinister Church Warden, those tragic lost lives in Thornley’s graveyard were souls who could never rest in peace, and now Sir Henry had released them, and brought them to play in her mind.

  It was a changing of the days, she could feel it, she could feel it all around her, those moving wisps of ghostly awareness, those risen souls who had now come to stay.

  And she knew now, that never again could she stay alone in the bunker, not for one hour, one day, and most certainly, not for one night.

  Retribution had come to live with her, and now her cottage belonged to someone else, someone who would never let her be.

  So she would purge the cottage by cleaning, painting, and polishing all the furniture, and hang gentle paintings to soothe the mind, and maybe paintings of guardian fairies, but no, Samantha had been a fairy.

  But angels, angels would be kind, angels wouldn’t bring nightmares to anyone, and she would fill the cottage with laughter, love, music and happy people, and never again would she be alone and afraid.

  As the overnight train rumbled to a halt, Frank came awake and heard the name, Penzance, and clambering to his feet, took the Bergen and stepped out onto the platform.

  The early morning air held a chill, but the clear blue sky foretold the coming of another late summers day, and walking through to the taxi line, climbed in beside the driver.

  ‘Where to, mate?’

  ‘A decent café, and somewhere near the quay.’

  ‘I know just the place, we’ll be there in a couple of minutes.’

  Driving off along the sea road, he pulled over at a café with steamed up windows.

  ‘The boys from the dock use that one, it’s good food and isn’t expensive.’

  Nodding, Frank paid him off, and taking th
e Bergen, walked over.

  The café was already half full with workmen, and ordering a full English breakfast, went through to the men’s room, and stripping to the waist, washed and shaved, and when he sat down, his breakfast was unceremoniously placed in front of him.

  With a full stomach, he hoisted the Bergen over his shoulder and took a long walk along the seafront, and by the time he walked back to the Steamship ticket office there was already a long queue of waiting passengers.

  Collecting his booking confirmation, he slipped it into his pocket and crossed over the narrow road, and stepping onto the cobbled approach to the quay, thought it was like entering a different world.

  Dumping the Bergen at the rope barrier, he joined the queue to the check-in cabin, and as the luggage was craned aboard, the metal gangway was wrestled into position, and walking along the quay, stepped on board the Scillonian, and in no time at all she was edging out into deep water.

  So in less than three hours he would step ashore at the familiar quay of Hugh Town, and although Mrs P would give him the latest information of the yacht, he knew the disposal of Polyvotis would be down to him, and no-one else.

  The shrill alarm had woken Martha at five o’clock, and remembering that ma’am wanted to be on her way by six, slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs, and having made a pot of tea, carried the tray back up.

  ‘Ma’am. It’s time to wake up.’

  ‘Oh, leave me alone. I’m tired.’

  ‘But ma’am, you must wake up, ‘cos you’re going to the islands today.’

  Lucinda murmured into the pillow, ‘Don’t be silly, I haven’t got any islands.’

  ‘But that’s where you’re going, to the Isles of Scilly.’

  Lucinda blinked, and struggling up in bed, yawned and stretched her arms.

  ‘Oh god, that’s right, and I do wish they’d leave me alone.’

  ‘I know, and it’s a terrible thing to be sure, but have a cup of tea and you’ll wake up.’

  ‘Alright, you can stop nagging. But am I packed? Is everything ready?’

  ‘Yes, it’s all done, so have a shower and get dressed, and you can get on your way.’