False Impression

by Veronica Heley

  Dilys reappeared, wearing rubber gloves. ‘Is this the right thing to do, do you think?’ She picked up the bits and pieces which the burglar had left strewn around and popped them into his tool bag. Bea squinted at the ladder. ‘Inspector, that ladder has some sort of label on it. Does it say “Holland Holdings Maintenance”? It’s hard to see at this distance, but I think it does.’

  Amateur night again.

  Bea relaxed, muscle by muscle. Smiling, she waved off the last of the bystanders. The elderly man with the dog was the most reluctant to leave as the animal nosed at something on the pavement. Bea picked it up. Another piece of black plastic. An awkward shape, with wires attached. She told herself she oughtn’t to have touched it without gloves on, and didn’t care.

  She returned to the house, slammed the front door shut and set her back to the door, breathing deeply. Was that going to be ‘it’ for the night? No more distractions? She set the house alarm, then remembered that the inspector was summoning police reinforcements who would need to be let in. She hesitated. Then decided to leave the alarm on. There was no point in taking chances.

  She put her spoils of war down on the hall chest to negotiate her way round the bike – when would Hari be taking it away, and where did he keep it normally? Well, never mind that for now.

  Keith was hovering. He picked up the piece she’d removed from the pavement and looked worried. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘It’s something that man dropped when he fell off the ladder.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘This is a timing device. It’s like a clock. See, here’s a tiny dial. It’s set for … midnight. Where’s the rest of it?’

  ‘Dilys picked all the other bits up and put them in the man’s tool bag.’

  Did Keith go pale? In a strangled voice he said, ‘The sooner these things are out of the house, the better.’ He barged into the sitting room. ‘Sorry to interrupt, but I think that man was trying to plant a bomb on Bea’s window sill. Ought we to get the flying squad or something?’

  ‘What!’

  Keith held the odd-looking bit of plastic out for them to see. ‘You see this, looks like watch dial? This is meant to set something off at midnight tonight. Where’s the rest of it?’

  ‘I never,’ said the ‘burglar’, who had been sat on an upright chair. Hari was feeding his arms through the slats at the back of the chair and tying his thumbs together.

  ‘It’s all in here.’ Dilys held up the ‘burglar’s’ tool bag.

  ‘Give it me. Carefully,’ said Keith. ‘Don’t drop it, whatever you do.’

  The inspector got out his mobile phone again. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know anything about bombs.’

  ‘’Snot a bomb,’ said the ‘burglar’. ‘I wouldn’t. Honest. And you’ve no right to tie me up and keep me here. I’m going to complain to my member of parliament about you, I am.’

  ‘Then what is it?’ Keith stood over him.

  ‘Dunno. A firecracker. To give her a fright.’ He nodded in Bea’s direction. ‘She’s giving us gyp, so we thought we’d do likewise, right? Something left over from the fireworks, that’s all.’

  Hari said, ‘I’ll check there’s nothing left on the window sill, shall I?’ And slid out of the room.

  Leon sighed audibly. ‘Have you seen my brother recently, Allister?’

  Allister tried to swivel round in his chair, but couldn’t quite make it. ‘What? Your brother? Briscoe? Chance would be a fine thing. You’ve got a nerve, upsetting him the way you have. It’s no wonder he’s taken to his bed.’

  Leon insisted, ‘Then you haven’t seen him recently?’

  ‘No. Nor likely to. I’m maintenance, see.’

  The inspector clicked off his phone. ‘Someone’s on their way to deal with the firecracker, or whatever it is.’

  The buzzer sounded.

  Bea said, ‘That’ll be Hari trying to get back in. I told him about the alarm system.’ She went out, preparing some sharp words, to see that the front door was firmly closed … and smelled petrol.

  Petrol. You pour it through the letterbox and ‘post’ a flaming rag after it, which starts a …!

  She screamed, ‘Fire!’

  She ran for the fire extinguisher which, thank God, was up to date and in the kitchen, just where it ought to be … and Leon was at her side … taking it off her as someone thrust a burning rag through the letterbox. Whoosh! Flames started up the inside of the door, but Leon was there, taking charge, dowsing the flames. If they’d reached Hari’s motorbike, the whole lot would have exploded and … best not to think of it.

  Bea collapsed on to the hall chest. She was not going to cry. Or have hysterics. Or scream. Definitely not!

  Leon dropped the extinguisher and took her in his arms. ‘It’s all over. You are a brave girl.’

  She turned into his shoulder and screamed. Softly. And bit hard on his jacket. She pulled back. ‘I am not going to cry. I’m not. Honest.’ She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. ‘But I am just the tiniest bit worried about Hari. He went out to see if our burglar had left anything on our window sill, and he hasn’t returned.’

  ‘I’ll look, shall I?’ said Keith, wrestling the door open and setting off the alarm. ‘Ouch! It’s still hot!’ He got it open. ‘The ladder’s gone!’

  With the last of her strength, Bea killed the house alarm.

  A fire engine powered its way down the road towards them, followed by a police car. The inspector had come out to see the fire. He got tangled up in Hari’s motorbike. The others followed, anxious to see what was happening. Cars in the street hooted, because the fire engine and the police car were blocking the traffic.

  Bea stayed where she was in the hall. She started to laugh. She put both hands over her mouth and tried to contain hysterics. She despised people who had hysterics.

  ‘Where’s the fire, sir?’ A fireman appeared in the doorway, in full fig, setting off the buzzer under the mat. Large, eager and willing.

  ‘Up the non-existent ladder,’ said Keith, who was outside on the pavement, staring up at the front of the house. ‘There’s a man perched up there. Can you see? How about getting him down before he loses his grip?’

  Hari, who was indeed perched on the window sill, called down, ‘I considered jumping, but thought it might be hard on the legs.’

  The police car screeched to a halt and disgorged more men who also wanted to know what the problem was.

  The inspector flashed his shield and pointed to Hari, who was clinging to the facade of the building like Spiderman.

  ‘Ah. A burglar? We’ll have him down in two shakes.’

  ‘No,’ said the inspector, ‘we’ve got one of those inside, but that man up there is one of ours. Get him down, will you?’

  The firemen ran a ladder up the front of the house, and Hari came down it, one-handed, holding something in his free hand. Once on the ground he said, ‘I’d just picked this little beauty from the sill when the ladder vanished from beneath me.’ He handed it over to the fireman. ‘Gelignite, do you think? We’ve got the timer inside.’

  The fireman nearly dropped what he was holding. ‘What’s going on here, World War Three?’

  The inspector peered at what the fireman was holding. ‘Looks fairly lethal. By the way, someone has also tried to start a fire by pushing a burning rag through the letterbox. You might like to inspect the damage, though I think it’s safe now. Best come inside. Yes, the police, too. We’ve got the man who tried to blow the house up, but I’m afraid his accomplice must have got away with the ladder. You didn’t see a van careering off with a ladder on top of it, did you?’

  No, they hadn’t. They trooped inside. Two, three? More and more. Large men, content in their skins. Knowing exactly how to deal with burglars and arsonists.

  Bea tried to explain, found herself crying. Flapped her hands and retreated to the kitchen, letting Leon put the newcomers into the picture … which he was perfectly capable of doing. She set about making cups of tea and coffee and locating th
e biscuit tin, which was almost empty. She must order some more food in tomorrow.

  As she took the refreshments into the sitting room, Dilys, quivering, indicated where the bag of lethal bits and pieces was lying on the table.

  ‘We’ll take charge of that,’ said the chief fireman, removing it with care.

  ‘And we’ll take charge of him,’ said the police, laughing as Allister, with his thumbs tied together through the slats at the back of his chair, tried to walk himself out of the room. He didn’t even get as far as the hall before he was cautioned, charged, and led away.

  The firemen confirmed that the damage to the door was minimal – ‘It’s OK missus. Just needs a good clean and a nice coat of paint.’ Forms were filled in. Cups of tea and coffee were drunk. The biscuit tin was emptied. The experts departed with a flourish, allowing the stalled traffic to pass along the street once more.

  The inspector said he’d be off in a minute but just wanted to check through something on his notebook.

  Bea sank on to the settee, thinking she needed a brandy. Large. Neat. She hadn’t any in the house. What a pity.

  Dilys hovered, anxious and pale. ‘Can I do anything?’

  ‘No, my dear. Thank you.’ And that was the first time Bea had used an endearment to Dilys.

  Dilys, pale but still mistress of herself, smiled at Bea. Who smiled back.

  Keith put his arm around Dilys. ‘Surely we’re done for the night?’

  Bea looked around. Leon was checking something over with the inspector. Orlando and Anna would be in bed by now.

  Somebody was missing.

  ‘Where’s Jennifer?’ said Bea.

  SEVENTEEN

  Indeed, where was Jennifer?

  Recap. Jennifer had arrived just before the ‘burglar’ who’d tried to plant an explosive on Bea’s window sill. Bea had shown her into the sitting room. Jennifer had sat down. The inspector had started to interview her. Bea had been called out of the room by Hari, saying someone on a ladder was working on her bedroom window. Leon had followed, and so had Keith and Dilys. The inspector, too.

  They’d shaken the man off the ladder, and Hari had brought him inside. Hari had tied the man’s thumbs together through the slats of the chair and then …

  ‘Hold on!’ said Bea. ‘Can anyone remember whether Jennifer was still in the room when Hari brought Allister in?’

  Heads were shaken all round.

  ‘She can’t have got out by the front door,’ said Leon. ‘Not with all of us in the hall.’

  ‘Has she gone upstairs?’

  Hari was on his way. ‘Anna!’

  There was a scrabbling sound from the kitchen followed by an enraged squall. A bundle of black fur streaked into the sitting room and dived for safety under the settee.

  Bea started up. ‘That’s Winston! Something’s upset him. Jennifer must have tried to escape through the kitchen door and got down into the garden. But the walls are so high, she can’t get out!’

  Leon and Keith started for the kitchen. ‘Yes, the door’s unlocked and … Yes!’ Leon began to laugh. ‘It looks as if she tried to climb the wall and fell off it on to a flower bed.’

  Bea screamed, ‘She’s smashed my beautiful planter! The bulbs were just coming into flower, and now look at them. All over the place!’

  ‘I’ll bring her in.’ Hari pushed past them to run down the stairs. More squalling and squealing. Jennifer had a good squeal on her, but Hari knew what he was doing. He brought her up through the kitchen and pushed her before him into the sitting room. Jennifer’s foray into the garden had not improved her appearance. She was a sorry-looking sight, streaked with mud. She’d lost a shoe and was weeping copiously. ‘You’ll be sorry, you’ll be ever so sorry. I came to warn you, and look what you’ve done to me!’

  ‘What you’ve done to yourself,’ said the inspector. ‘Now, where were we when we were so rudely interrupted? Your name is Jennifer—’

  The woman spat … directly at Leon. ‘He’s going to get you! You can be sure of that! I came to warn you but you wouldn’t listen and now …’ She drew herself up. ‘You can’t charge me with anything because I haven’t done anything, and you’ve got to let me go. You can call a taxi for me, now!’

  ‘Not so fast,’ said the inspector. ‘I can have you for wilful damage to Mrs Abbot’s garden, as well as conspiracy to place a bomb in this house.’

  Jennifer tossed her head. ‘I know my rights. I’m not saying a word more until my solicitor gets here.’

  Silence.

  Jennifer looked triumphant. ‘That’s what’s called a stalemate, isn’t it? You can’t prove I’m involved in anything.’

  ‘Then why did you try to escape through the garden?’

  ‘I came here with the very best of intentions, to warn you.’

  Bea said, ‘Warn us about what?’

  ‘That he’s on to you. All of you. You’ll be sorry you were ever born. And that’s all I’m going to say.’

  The inspector said, ‘In that case, the sooner we can get you down to the station and your solicitor is contacted, the better.’

  Leon brought across his laptop. ‘I know who’s behind this now. When Bea explained so clearly what had been going on, when she gave us a profile of the killer, I began to suspect who he might be. Dilys, do you remember that when the old head of Briscoe’s security unit retired, Mrs Evans persuaded my brother to appoint Denver because he was a member of her family? Yes? Now, what you may not know is that the man who was second in command at the time had expected to be made up to head and, when he wasn’t, he made such a stink that Briscoe set him up as manager of a garage business nearby.’

  Jennifer went rigid.

  Aha! Was Leon on the right track?

  Dilys shook her head. ‘It must have been some time ago.’

  ‘Yes, it was. Now, the garage was one of the companies I took over from Briscoe. I made a point of visiting each one, often unannounced. I spent time getting to know the managers. I looked at their books and talked through their plans for the future. I watched to see how they related to their staff. The name of the manager at the garage is Valentine. Denis Valentine.’

  Jennifer closed her eyes and clenched her fists. ‘You might offer me a seat. It’s the least you can do, after pushing me down the stairs into the garden and making me lose my shoe.’

  Hari took a newspaper from the side table and placed it on a chair, before handing Jennifer into it.

  Leon continued, ‘I didn’t care for Valentine on our first meeting. He seemed too cocksure for my liking and, when I walked around the workshop with him, I noticed that his staff didn’t look at him, or at me. He was too jolly, and they were too quiet. In my book, that meant they feared him. I wondered why. I let him talk. He gave me his life history. He’d been a sergeant in the SAS, and when he left the army he went to work for Briscoe in the security team. He’d expected to get moved up to head of security when his boss left and was annoyed that he hadn’t got the promotion. But, he said he liked the garage business and found it a “doddle” to run. He said that in the old days cars needed an engineer to understand them – which he did – and nowadays it was a case of knowing what software was needed. All of which was true.

  ‘His books seemed in order, but I had an uneasy feeling I wasn’t getting the whole picture. I asked my chauffeur about Valentine, because he had far more contact with the man than I. He shrugged, said he supposed he was all right. Which made me more and not less anxious about him. So a couple of weeks ago I walked down to the garage by myself, to find Valentine beating six bells out of one of his workmen for losing a tyre lever. The rest of the staff were standing around, watching but not daring to interfere. Fortunately, I had my mobile with me and took a couple of pictures before Valentine realized I was there. He tried to bluster it out. I took him into the office and asked what his plans were for early retirement. He said he hadn’t any. I suggested that he consider it seriously as, if he weren’t gone within the month, I’d have to sack
him and he’d lose his company pension.

  ‘The following day my chauffeur didn’t turn up for work, and the rest you know … except …’ Here he turned his computer around. ‘Facebook. Our Jennifer delights in Facebook. There’s pictures here of her with her partner. Like to see?’

  Bea gasped. ‘Why, her partner’s name is Denis. Do you mean …?’

  They all turned to look at Jennifer. Who looked up at the ceiling.

  ‘Here’s Jennifer again, on holiday with her partner. At work in the garden of their brand new house. He’s working on the barbecue in the background, see? Here she is, at home with her little dog. On holiday again … and again … always with her partner. And here she is with her partner – or maybe he’s her husband? – at the garage. Point taken?’

  ‘Let me see,’ said the inspector, and took the laptop into his own hands.

  Keith looked at Dilys. ‘Did you know about this?’

  ‘No, I hardly ever went into maintenance. If something about the house needed attention, light bulbs blown or a window broken, say, I used to ring them and report it. Or Mrs Evans did. Then a man would come round and fix it. That’s how I knew John Allister. Let me see …’ She peered into the computer. ‘Oh. Yes, I remember this man. I tried to make a pet of a stray cat that used to hang around the college, until he killed it. I was ever so upset.’

  Bea said, ‘Leon, this is all circumstantial. I can see that you’d like the killer to be Denis Valentine. He’s got the background and the training to commit the murders, and I can see he’d have it in for you if you were forcing him into retirement, but what proof have you?’

  ‘None.’ He clicked the laptop shut.

  ‘None,’ echoed the inspector. ‘But I already have Allister in custody, and I’m about to take Jennifer in as well. There will be consternation in the enemy’s camp when their fellow conspirator returns with the ladder but without them.’

  Leon said, ‘And tomorrow you’ll be able to get a warrant to move against the security team at the big house on account of the gas leak, right?’