‘No, but I can always take your place if you’re not back in time.’
‘I wouldn’t miss this date for anything,’ Libby said with a grin, ‘especially if I can put his mind at rest over this other business.’
‘Off you go then, and remember, I’ll dock the time from your wages.’
‘You wouldn’t!’
‘Make it up then.’
‘I will.’
13
Barclay was a big man in business circles. He was also a well-respected magistrate and refereed the youth football team. He was a clever entrepreneur; there was little he had not dabbled in. His pet love was buying tired houses, modernising them and selling them on at a profit. His latest acquisition was an old disused water mill near Stoke Hammond. Attached to a rundown cottage and surrounded by two acres of land, he had picked it up for a song only twelve months ago. His plan was to renovate and make a profit as usual, but something else had taken precedence, on both his capital and his time.
‘I’ve decided to move abroad,’ he explained as he and Dave strolled the area. ‘I invested in a property development outside Marbella and it’s exceeded my wildest dreams.’ Pleased with himself, he puffed out his chest. ‘I’ve always been fairly well off but now it seems I’m a very rich man. I can afford to take things easier. At my time of life – I’m sixty-four next year, you know – I ought to slow down. My wife is always urging me to spend more time with her and the grandkids. Well, now I think it’s time to put a smile on her face and do as she asks.’
‘I don’t blame you.’ Dave looked forward to the time when he might be in the same position.
‘Now then, Walters,’ Barclay paused in his stride, ‘I have a proposition to put to you.’ Leaning back on the gate, he looked for all the world like a barrow boy, with his mop of curly grey hair and weather-beaten face. ‘I reckon I’m worth a couple of million, in property alone.’
Dave gave a soft whistle. ‘I’m impressed.’ What he really felt was frustrated and impatient. He needed to get away. He had to see Ida Fellowes. The questions he meant to ask her whirled round his brain until he could think of little else.
‘Impressed, eh?’ To Barclay’s mind, Dave had said the right thing. With him, flattery went a long way. ‘And so you should be,’ he said, smirking. ‘And so you should be. I’d like you to handle the sale of all my UK property.’
‘All of it?’ Dave’s impatience vanished. Barclay now had his full attention.
‘That’s right, all of it.’
Dave was thrilled, mentally calculating that if he was to achieve such substantial sales, he could settle all his debts, expand his business and still have a healthy bank balance. It was the chance of a lifetime. ‘You can rest assured the agency will get the best prices for your property. On top of that, we’ll charge a lower commission, but not so low it doesn’t make it worthwhile for me. I have to earn a living too, as I’m sure you appreciate.’
Barclay nodded. ‘We’re both men of the world,’ he said. ‘I’m not out to fleece you, as I’m sure you’re not out to fleece me.’
Dave held out his hand. ‘I’ll shake on that.’
Compared to Barclay, Dave was slim and lithe, weighing some twelve pounds less. Even so, it was Barclay who found his hand being so strongly shaken that he flexed his fingers afterwards. ‘I reckon we understand each other,’ he said.
‘Right.’ Dave began leading the way back. ‘We’ve a great deal to work out, so we’ll need to meet up again.’ They were standing on top of a hill, with the heightening wind lifting the collars of their coats and a spattering of rain pecking at their faces. Though the sun was shining, it had no warmth and, having come out without his overcoat, Dave felt chilled to the bone. ‘We need to meet somewhere more comfortable, where we can get down to business and talk through the details.’
The older man’s face crinkled into a leathery grin. ‘Over a drink, you mean?’
‘Why not?’
‘I know just the place.’ Taking Dave by the elbow, Barclay propelled him over the stony ground and on towards the cars. ‘There’s a lovely old inn not far from here,’ he said. ‘I spotted it on the way.’ His smile widened. ‘I bet they’ve even got a log fire.’ Dave was persuaded to go along with the idea. This was the biggest deal of his life, the one he and Libby had hoped for.
Libby knocked on the door, and waited.
No answer.
She knocked again.
The silence was eerie.
‘Hello?’ She lifted the letterbox and called through, ‘Mrs Fellowes? It’s Daisy’s mother. I need to talk to you. I won’t take up much of your time.’ She thought she heard a noise. ‘Hello?’
Nothing.
Dropping the letter flap, she wondered what to do next. ‘The old bat is either deaf as a doorpost or deliberately ignoring me.’ This looked like being a wasted trip but she couldn’t just leave, not after coming all this way, and especially when she suspected Ida Fellowes was inside, probably spying through a window at her right now.
Lifting the flap once more, she called out, ‘I know you’re in there! I have no intention of leaving until you’ve seen me. I’m not here to cause trouble, even if you did frighten my daughter so much she had nightmares for a week. But I’m not here to talk about that, and I’m not here to be a nuisance. I just want to talk about…’ Should she tell? No. ‘Something else,’ she finished. ‘Like I say, it’ll only take a minute or two of your time, then I’ll be away.’
Cocking her head to one side she was able to peer through one eye into the hallway. ‘Please, Mrs Fellowes!’
Again, the most uneasy silence.
‘Right.’ Squaring her shoulders, she muttered indignantly, ‘Round the back, my girl. She’ll see me or my name isn’t Libby Walters.’
She made her way through the neglected garden and reached the back door. She hammered on it until, to her astonishment, the door sprang open.
Gingerly, she stepped inside. The rank smell of damp and dust assailed her nostrils, and some other aroma she couldn’t quite recognise. ‘Mrs Fellowes?’
The silence seemed to thicken and she had half a mind to turn tail and run. But she didn’t want Dave coming here again. If only she could clear things up and show him there was nothing in what he was thinking, everything would be all right.
‘It’s Daisy’s mother,’ she called again. ‘Please, I just need to talk.’
She went through the house. Satisfied there was no one downstairs, she went up the stairs, wondering if this was the same way Daisy had come when she followed the kitten. At the top of the stairs she saw an open doorway. Having come this far, she decided she might as well go on, though her limbs were trembling and her heart was thudding uncomfortably. She approached the doorway.
She saw him then, an odd, bulky shape lying in the bed. She couldn’t see his face. Curious, she went closer. ‘Mr Fellowes?’ Her voice was soft. ‘Are you asleep?’ The clothes were drawn so high over him, she wondered how he could breathe.
She was halfway across the room when she thought she heard a sound behind her. She turned. No, it was only her imagination, but what was that smell? Sweet, thick. Where had she smelled it before?
As she neared the bed, something moved, but it wasn’t the shape on the bed. Not him. Her gaze fell to the floor. There! Oh my God!
Her eyes grew big and round, her mouth opened to scream and suddenly she was falling… falling. The hands round her neck were like iron. No! Please, no!
Something rough and strangely pleasant smothered her cry.
And all was dark.
The whiskered old sergeant who kept the files was growing angrier by the minute. Just five minutes, that’s how long he’d been gone, and now, he’d returned to find Inspector Lowe rummaging about in his files.
All these years he had kept his records meticulous, neatly labelled, carefully put away and entered into the ledger. Next to his family, they were his pride and joy. He knew every file, every corner and drawer in his room, hi
s room, his work. ‘If you tell me what it is you’re looking for, I might be able to help!’
He felt the urge to grab the inspector by the hair and throw him out, but rank had privilege and he had to make do with standing aside, while his precious papers were frantically shifted from one pile to another.
Head down, the inspector was too intent on his goal to be disturbed now. Silent and sullen he ploughed into the paperwork, scanning, shifting… scanning, shifting. He knew it was here. He felt it in his bones.
But ‘feeling it in his bones’ would not get him listened to. He needed proof. He needed records.
Suddenly he snatched up the file and his face lit up like a beacon. ‘GOT IT!’ With trembling fingers he opened the file and peered inside, taking a few moments to reassure himself that his suspicions were right.
In the next moment he was heading for the door, the precious file clutched tightly in his fist.
‘Look at the mess you’ve left!’ The old sergeant was furious. ‘It’ll take me forever to clear this up.’
With a chuckle, the inspector called over his shoulder, ‘Then you’ll be a rich man from the overtime, won’t you?’
He could afford to laugh. If his hunches were right, and he had every reason to believe they were… he would end his career in a blaze of glory!
Dave couldn’t believe it had taken so long.
At the end of the meeting, where he and Barclay had thrashed out a mutually beneficial deal, he waved the other man off and got into his car. Here he switched on the mobile and dialled the office number. ‘Jack? Look, I’ve just done one hell of a deal with Barclay… I’ll tell you all about it when I get back to the office.’
He didn’t stop to listen to what Jack was trying to tell him. He didn’t let Jack get a word in edgewise. ‘I’ve got another appointment, and I’m already late,’ he went on. He consulted the dashboard clock. ‘I should be back at the office before two thirty. Talk to me then.’
Cutting Jack off, he dialled again. ‘Hello, May. I’m running a bit late, is Libby still there?’
‘You’d better get back here now, Dave,’ May told him. ‘I’m worried sick about Libby. She went out ages ago and hasn’t got back yet. I should have stopped her. She said you’d be furious, but she was so worried about you. She said if she could find out the truth, it would put your mind at rest.’
‘Calm down, May. What are you saying… that Libby went to the Fellowes’ place, is that what you’re trying to tell me?’
‘I’m sorry, I really am. I know I should have stopped her, but I thought it would be all right. I thought you’d told her all that stuff to hide the fact that you were having an affair. Oh, Dave, I’m so sorry.’
Anxiety covered the anger. ‘Shut up, May, and listen!’ He suddenly realised it was May who had been putting the ideas of an ‘affair’ into Libby’s head. ‘What time did she leave?’
‘Early… some time before ten, I can’t be sure.’
‘Stay by the phone, and, if we’re not back before the kids finish school, will you collect them… keep them with you?’
‘Of course. You don’t have to ask, you know that.’
‘Thanks for that, anyway.’ He’d have a few strong words to say to her when he saw her again. ‘I’m going after her,’ he said. ‘Ring me if she turns up. Jack’s got my mobile number.’
Turning the car round, he headed east. As he drove, he wondered why Libby had gone out there. ‘Doesn’t she understand the risk she’s taking?’ he mumbled. ‘After I told her my suspicions?’ He was terrified she might be in danger. He wanted her safe. He wanted her home.
He told himself to calm down. After all, the ghost of Bluebell Hill had never bothered Libby before, so why should she bother her now? But it wasn’t that lost soul who worried him so much as Ida Fellowes. The woman gave him the creeps, and there were things going on in that house; weird things. First the restaurant was fired, then Larry Fellowes met a violent end, and soon after that Ida Fellowes herself was viciously attacked. None of it made any sense, but there was a definite link between the old man and the young woman who haunted the lane.
He feared for Libby. ‘Be safe, sweetheart,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t do or say anything to antagonise her.’
14
It was dark. Waking from a deep, unsettled sleep, Libby struggled to sit up. The air was bitingly cold. The sticky, pungent dampness clogged her throat. For a minute she didn’t know what was happening. Slowly, agonisingly, it dawned on her. ‘The bedroom.’ In her mind’s eye she saw herself going into the old man’s bedroom, but after that, everything was hazy. She shivered. The knot of fear in the pit of her stomach tightened.
She began to realise why she couldn’t sit up. Her hands and feet were tightly bound; her arms drawn behind her back and her legs bent up beneath her. Every bone in her body was stretched to breaking point. The pain was too intense for her to think clearly.
‘The old man… in the bed.’ She dug deep into her memory. Was he really there? She had seen a long shape like that of a body, but she hadn’t seen his face, it was covered by the bedclothes. ‘It could have been anyone. Or it could have been no one.’ The sound of her own voice, soft and unsteady, was oddly comforting.
Another voice intervened, whispering, cold and harsh. ‘Talking to yourself? They say you’re mad if you talk to yourself.’
Shocked, Libby instinctively scuttled back, nearer to the wall; it was sheer agony even to move that little way.
‘What do you want here? Who sent you?’ the voice rasped.
Looking about, Libby could see only blackness. The voice was strange, disguised in a frightening, hissing whisper that seemed to come from the walls. She couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman.
‘No one sent me,’ she answered tremulously.
‘You’re lying.’
‘No, I’m not lying. Let me go. I mean you no harm.’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t do that.’
‘Please! I came here to talk about something my husband said. I need to set his mind at rest. I didn’t mean to come into the house. Please believe me.’
‘Too late!’ The laughter was like nothing Libby had ever heard before. Like someone whose mind had snapped.
Libby screamed out, ‘Let me go! What harm can I do you?’
The laughter cut through the darkness. It was followed by a series of little sounds, as though a door or hatch was being shifted into place. Then all was quiet.
Leaning back against the damp, cold wall in the awful silence, Libby closed her eyes and prayed.
Suddenly she had the feeling there was someone close. ‘Who’s there?’ Her skin crawled. ‘Someone’s there. Who is it?’
There was no reply. Libby gritted her teeth. ‘Get a grip, Libby,’ she told herself sternly, ‘or you’ll end up as mad as whoever put you here.’
She set about trying to break free but after a while she realised it was a hopeless task. Her arms felt as though they’d been stretched on the rack, and her spine was in such pain that she hardly dared move. Exhausted, she fell back to the wall, tears rolling down her face. ‘Find me, Dave,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t let me die here.’
Outside, the police took up strategic positions. ‘No lights, no sound, and for God’s sake don’t make a move until I say so.’
Inspector Lowe knew the dangers. ‘This is a devious, clever killer who has managed to elude us for years. One wrong move and it’s all for nothing.’ Keeping low, he crept through the perimeter of the trees, where the chief was despatching men to the house. ‘We’re ready, sir,’ Lowe said. ‘The men have their orders.’
The chief was tall and carried an air of authority, in direct contrast to Lowe’s portly, rather shabby figure. He didn’t waste words. ‘Right. Get on with it,’ he ordered.
In the cellar, Libby had no idea what was going on outside. When she heard scratching sounds, she thought it must be rats. Horrified, she shuffled away.
‘It’s me!’ The voice was a mere whisper, b
ut not like before. This time it was familiar, and Libby thought she really must be going mad.
‘Daisy?’
‘Ssh, Mummy. Don’t make a noise.’
Disorientated and losing the battle against hysteria, Libby shouted, ‘Go away! You’re not Daisy!’
Suddenly a small, warm body fell against her. ‘Ssh! They’ll hear you. I saw them just now, creeping about in the woods.’
With that wonderful little face pressed close, Libby wept with relief. ‘I thought I was being tricked,’ she sobbed. ‘Oh, Daisy! What’s happening? How did you get here?’ A terrible thought occurred to her. ‘Are you all right? Did they hurt you?’ Instinctively, she kept her voice low.
‘I’m all right.’ Tugging at the ropes that held Libby right, she explained, ‘I heard you and Daddy arguing. I knew you’d come here, so I didn’t go to school. I sneaked out of the gates and followed you to work. I hid in your car.’
Libby was amazed. ‘I ought to scold you for that,’ she murmured, ‘but I’m so glad you did.’ In the darkness she smiled. ‘It will teach me to leave my doors unlocked, won’t it?’ Dave was always telling her off about that. ‘But what made you think I would come here? Even Daddy didn’t know. Did you hear me telling May?’
‘No.’ Daisy had got one rope loose and now Libby was able to help. ‘I was in the car, squashed down right under the back seat. It wasn’t very comfortable.’
Libby asked again, ‘If you didn’t hear me tell May about coming here, how did you know?’
‘She told me.’ Both hands were free now.
‘Who?’
Daisy chose not to answer.
At last Libby was free. ‘You have to climb up these steps, over the coal and everything.’ Daisy led the way. ‘Careful, Mummy. Don’t tumble back down.’
‘I’m right behind you, sweetheart.’ She had hold of Daisy, surprised that there could be so much strength in such a tiny hand.
Daisy drew herself against the wall and Libby went with her. ‘Someone’s there,’ Daisy whispered. ‘See the shadow?’
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