She bit her lip, knowing the way he meant it. It wasn’t his style, either. They teased one another, but they never went over the top. If something had to be said, it was said, and there were no hidden agendas.
‘So what’s really up?’ he said, more gently. ‘I know you’re on a case. Are there problems?’
‘None that I can’t handle. Honestly. And I don’t have any real problems. I was a bit uneasy earlier this evening, but hearing your nice solid voice makes me feel better.’
‘Thanks — I think. Whatever happened to sexy?’
For a minute she thought he was referring to Gary, until she realized he didn’t know about him.
‘Sexy?’
‘Me,’ he replied. ‘Good God, Alex, if my only male credentials are for having a nice solid voice, it doesn’t exactly put me in the front line for sexy, does it?’
‘You’re fishing. Nick,’ she said, a smile in her voice. ‘And of course you’re sexy.’
She felt an odd stirring as she said it. But he was sexy. She never denied it. She just didn’t want the complications that a relationship with him might provoke. He could be the marrying kind, and she wasn’t.
She didn’t totally rule it out, of course, but she wasn’t ready for any long-term commitment. Not yet, anyway.
‘Good. Then unless you’ve got anything else to say, I’m afraid I have to go,’ he said, suddenly more official. ‘And we’ll continue this line of questioning another time.’
Alex was still smiling as she switched off her mobile. He always had the power to calm her, she reflected. He was good for her. A good friend. And always there when she needed one. She turned over in bed and fell asleep instantly.
***
She awoke with a start. It was barely light and there was a hideous noise somewhere outside. It took a few seconds to identify it, and to remember where she was. Then she groaned. She was in the country, and while she could cheerfully sleep through any amount of London traffic noise, she hadn’t been woken by the arrogant screech of crowing cockerels since her childhood.
She buried her head beneath her pillow and tried to resume her dream. She had been somewhere in the Mediterranean, sipping cocktails on a luxury cruise ship, and being attended by the dishiest of deck stewards...
She was completely awake now. Remembering where she was and why she was here. And the cruise would never become a reality unless she did what she was being paid to do. Find Caroline Price and return her to the bosom of her family, how-ever cold and inhospitable a place that seemed to Alex.
But one thing was for sure. The demons of last night had left her, and she could put everything the old village locals had intimated into its rightful place. They had just been baiting her, as the landlady had said.
She used her shower, gasping at the lack of really hot water and dressed quickly. The smell of bacon and eggs was already wafting upstairs, and if there was no other choice for breakfast, so be it. Her mouth was watering so much, she knew she was going to throw caution to the winds, and indulge herself for once, anyway. To hell with thighs.
***
Far more replete than she knew she should be, and still in her tourist guise, Alex eventually made her way back to Greenwell Cottage. It was another glorious day, and summer was truly lingering, for once. It had to break soon, of course. This was England, not the Mediterranean.
She noted again how surprisingly easy it was to reach the cottage without being detected, either from the rest of the village or the main road. It was completely secluded, a place where anyone could truly get away from it all.
She also conceded that Caroline must be a pretty strong-nerved woman. Alex’s background meant that she had been well used to the various country sounds that were so unnerving to city dwellers. The quiet of the country was all a myth — and hadn’t she proved that herself by reacting so violently to the squawking of the cockerel dawn chorus!
Country living was a long way back for her now, and she didn’t regret the move to London for one single minute, she thought fervently. She pushed open the gate of the cottage and searched for the front door key.
Her mild curse when she couldn’t find it immediately seemed to hang in the air.
Despite the brilliance of the sunlight in the clear blue sky, there was an oppressiveness about the air that morning, and as if to mock her renewed sense of equilibrium she realized the birds had stopped their singing.
All was silent. All was serene ...
The small creak of the front door on its hinges made her heart leap. She saw at once that it was already slightly ajar. Her thoughts hurled ahead. She didn’t need a key, therefore someone else was here. Or had been here. Or was here now.
She made herself calm down. This was no way for an investigator to behave. Think logically. Step by step. So someone was already here in the cottage. Maybe it was Caroline and the search would be over. There was no ostentatious car, so it wasn’t the father. It had to be Caroline.
Tentatively, she knocked on the door, and then realized how futile that was. Caroline was deaf. If she were here, she wouldn’t hear a feeble knock, nor a belting one.
Very cautiously, Alex pushed open the door. She wouldn’t want to startle the woman, nor let her think that she was an intruder. She had more than a brief sympathy with how Caroline might feel, once she learned that her father had instigated this search for her. Caroline might have been off on an exotic holiday with her lover, for all any of them knew.
And how would she feel when she discovered that her diary was missing, and of the intrusion into her private life, and that someone else was aware of all her intimate secrets?
Whenever Alex analysed some of the things she was obliged to do, that was the part of her job that she found pretty distasteful, easily imagining how she would feel if it happened to her... but it had to be done, since there was always the chance that nothing was as clear-cut and innocent as it seemed.
For a moment Alex blinked in the dimness of the room, adjusting her eyes to it, compared with the brightness outside. And then she gasped.
The entire room had been vandalized and ransacked. The desk, that Alex had so carefully avoided wrenching open, was now torn apart, with papers everywhere. Caroline’s crossword grids, so neatly stacked before, were flung about the room, together with books and documents.
‘Oh, Caroline.’ Alex whispered aloud. ‘Who could have done this? Who would have done it?’
Her heart hammered madly, knowing that whoever had done it might still be here. Might be upstairs, crouching on the tiny landing, watching, and waiting to pounce on her. Her mouth was as dry as dust, but as she forced her thoughts to clarify, one thing was certain: it sure as hell hadn’t been Caroline herself who had done this. No one who was so proud and protective of their work would have scattered their precious research books and private papers about for someone else to find.
And it wasn’t your usual brand of street vandals either. The computer, printer and photocopier, and all Caroline’s other equipment, were untouched. Whoever had been here hadn’t come on a thieving spree intending to sell the expensive stuff on at some market stall.
Whoever had been here had been looking for something specific. Something he — or she — hoped to find in Caroline’s locked desk, or among her papers or books. But who? And what did they expect to find? What was there here that could be incriminating about a woman who minded her own business to the extent of paranoia?
Unless, of course, any incriminating documents wouldn’t concern Caroline herself, but someone else. Her father? The mysterious M, with whom she had been having such a torrid affair? Or was all that simply in the woman’s vivid imagination?
Solitude did strange things to people. Right now, Alex’s own nerves were jumping, and she had to get out of there before she got completely claustrophobic and the walls started closing in.
‘Hello!’ she heard a voice call sharply from outside. ‘Is there anyone there?’
‘Christ, what now!’ she croaked, im
mediately realizing she was in a very compromising position here, and could be accused of doing the business herself.
Nobody knew who she really was. She was simply a nosy parker tourist, and she had automatically picked up several chairs and straightened them. Her natural instincts hadn’t prevented her looking through the chaos that the thief had so conveniently provided.
And a couple of bank statements proved that Caroline was no pauper. But in pocketing them, she knew she had done the unforgivable, and amateur had to be her middle name.
It was the first rule of detection, she thought, remembering the manual far too late in the day. Don’t touch anything. Fingerprint evidence can be useful and damning.
She had successfully forgotten it all. Some detective she was turning out to be... but all that guff was applicable when the police were to be involved — and they weren’t.
Someone called again, and heart in her mouth now, she peered through the window and saw the vicar standing by the cottage gate. For one wild, disorientated moment, she thought about falling to her knees and beseeching him to come inside and exorcize the demons inhabiting this cottage.
Then she saw the frown on his face as he began to move forward, and she collected her senses. She went outside quickly, and closed the door behind her.
‘Oh, it’s you, miss,’ he said in surprise.
‘Good morning, Vicar,’ she said, as calmly as possible. ‘I’ve just been enquiring about the cottage on behalf of my friend, but it’s not for sale. I was given false information, and the occupant wasn’t at all happy at being disturbed.’
She crossed her fingers at the blatant lies she was obliged to make — and to a man of the cloth and all — did that put a black mark against her with St Peter? She dismissed the thought, and prayed that the vicar didn’t intend making a tardy visit to the occupant of the cottage.
‘Ah,’ he said slowly. ‘Then allow me to escort you back to the village. It’s easy to get lost in the lanes.’
‘Thank you, but I can find my own way back. I’d like a little more country air before I go back to London.’
She looked at him pointedly. She didn’t want his company, and besides she had something urgent still to do, and she certainly didn’t want him around while she did it.
He stalked off in a huff, and she wondered briefly how such an insensitive and pompous man could ever be considered such a man of God. He was of the old Fear and Damnation brigade, and compassion wouldn’t seem to be in his make-up.
But once he was well out of earshot, she immediately forgot him and called Norman Price on her mobile phone. His reply was less than cordial when he recognized her voice, which made her more curt than she intended.
‘There’s been a break-in at the cottage. I think you should get down here and assess the damage before we get on to the police—’ Reluctantly, she knew it really was time.
‘I told you. I want no police involvement, woman!’ He yelled so loudly she had to hold the phone away from her ear.
‘Mr Price, I’m afraid I do feel that this should be reported officially. It’s beginning to look more serious than your daughter simply going off for a few days’ holiday.’
And she wasn’t prepared to handle it alone any more.
‘Stay put until I get there, and meanwhile do nothing, understand? You’re answerable to me, not the bloody police.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Alex snapped, resisting the urge to snap her heels and give a Heil Hitler salute as the line went dead.
Chapter 5
Alex decided that the idea of Caroline’s disappearance being a conspiracy was something too ridiculous to consider. Even so, she couldn’t quite get it out of her mind as she waited for Father Price to arrive. It was part of the job to consider everything, no matter how bizarre.
Killing time, she let her thoughts revolve around the scenario, just for the heck of it.
Maybe the village folk had got together and kidnapped Caroline, knowing of her inheritance. Maybe the vicar himself was involved. Stranger things had happened. Maybe these old locals were not so innocent as they seemed. Maybe the landlady was in on it as well. Maybe Alex’s cocoa had been drugged and they had whisked Caroline away in the night while she had supposedly been in a stupor.
Well, that idea was out, since she hadn’t even drunk the cocoa, and she had been sleepless for so long she would certainly have heard movements. It had been her reassuring call to Nick Frobisher at three in the morning that had finally allowed her to sleep, but after that, she had been dead to the world until cock-crow.
She shivered. Since calling Norman Price that morning she hadn’t loitered around the cottage waiting for him or anyone else who might appear, but she hadn’t realized she had already reached the village green again until she heard the concerned voice at her side.
‘Are you all right, my dear? You look a mite off-colour, and I’d say you’ve been out in the sun too long.’
The landlady of the Little Harp Inn took her arm and steered her towards the hostelry. Alex felt briefly like a leaf in the wind, going nowhere, except where she was blown.
‘I’m really quite well, thank you,’ she said.
‘Well, you don’t look it. Come on inside or you’ll be in no fit state to drive back to London later on. Unless you’re thinking of staying another day or so?’
‘Would that bother you?’ Alex said, without thinking.
The woman laughed. ‘Glory be, no. I’m in business to cater for guests, so you’d be quite welcome.’
‘Thanks, but it won’t be necessary. I have to get back to town for my work.’
‘And what work would that be?’
Alex knew she had two choices. Either bluff her way out of it with some fictitious job, or come clean and see the reaction. She chickened out.
‘I’m doing some research,’ she said. Which was true enough. Researching into Caroline Price’s secret life.
‘My word. But I thought you’d be doing something clever. An educated girl like you, with beauty as well as brains.’
‘Right. Yes. Thank you.’
There didn’t seem anything more to say. Inside the inn it was cool, and a glass of medicinal brandy was pushed in front of Alex. She didn’t want it, but she drank it dutifully and as soon as she could she said she felt better and needed some fresh air again.
Even to herself it sounded as if she had a butterfly mind and couldn’t settle to anything. But who cared what the landlady thought? She had to be at the cottage to wait for Norman Price and to face his wrath at her suggestion of calling the police.
The thought of it sobered her. Just why was he so damned resistant to calling the police? What did he have to hide? It was an interesting thought, and no matter what the outcome of this day, she intended asking Nick to run a check on him. Just in case. She felt better for having thought of it.
First of all though, she went to the village shop that sold everything and bought some apples. The woman behind the counter was ready to chat.
‘Staying long, are you, miss? I seen you coming out of the inn this morning, and I said to myself there’s a city girl needing a bit of a change if I ever saw one.’
‘Full marks,’ Alex said with a smile. ‘Unfortunately I have to leave this afternoon.’
She looked around admiringly. ‘You certainly sell everything here. I suppose you supply the whole village — even the out-of-the-way cottages? Do you deliver?’
She groaned at her own corny question. It was so obvious, but only if you were looking for the obvious.
‘Bless you, no, we don’t deliver. Folk come in for a chat mostly, ‘cept for them who think themselves too superior to pass the time of day.’ Her sniff was eloquent.
Alex smiled sympathetically. ‘I don’t suppose you have many of them. Most people here seem friendly.’
‘Not all of ‘em. Strangers passing through are all right, like yourself, but them that move in and live among us, they can be the worst.’
Alex laughed. It was all too eas
y. She bought a bag of doughnuts — in the cause of research — just to keep the woman sweet and talkative.
‘Are there many like that?’
‘There’s one,’ the woman said darkly. ‘I don’t know if she’s simple or what, but she don’t say much. I reckon she’s one of those arty folk from the look of her clothes and her plain face. Just comes and picks up some groceries now and then and goes off again as if she don’t have time to scratch her nose. She don’t buy much, and from the looks of her, she don’t eat enough to feed a sparrow, but it takes all sorts, I dare say.’
‘I dare say it does,’ Alex said cheerfully, deciding not to press her any further. The description was clearly that of Caroline, and it fitted her image perfectly.
She said goodbye to the woman and went back to her room at the inn to make some notes and to study Caroline’s bank statements more closely. There was no clue as to where any money from her crosswords came in, but there was a substantial and regular payment from an unknown source.
And she might as well ask for the moon as ask a bank to tell her anything. Rightly so, of course. Alex wouldn’t want anyone probing into her own financial affairs, whatever they were like.
***
‘Somebody certainly meant business,’ Norman Price snapped, once he had assessed the damage at the cottage.
‘Yes, but what kind of business?’ Alex asked. ‘They didn’t take anything of any value. The computer and all the other equipment is still here. We could be dealing with a lunatic, Mr Price, and your daughter could be in real danger.’
‘Why? Because some idiots broke in and had a field day with a few papers? It was probably kids who were interrupted and made off after playing about. I think you’re overreacting, Miss Best.’
God, he was unbelievable. What kind of father was he, to be so dismissive of the thought of any harm coming to Caroline? Unless he was quite certain she wasn’t in any danger, because he knew very well where she was. She took a chance and stared at him unblinkingly.
‘Do you know the penalty for kidnapping, Mr Price? I assure you it’s a very serious offence, and anyone knowing anything — and I mean anything — about it at all, is classed as an accessory, and the penalty is just as severe.’
Thicker Than Water (Alexandra Best Investigations Book 1) Page 8