Tell Me No Secrets

by Lynda Stacey

  ‘Tell Chef that we’ll be seated immediately.’ She smiled apologetically at the waiter and then turned back to the library.

  ‘Gentlemen and Elena, would you care to follow me to the dining room. It appears that the soup will wait for no man, not even for Roberto.’

  A grumbling went around the room. ‘We should wait,’ Martin said as he stepped forward, placing his glass on a silver tray. ‘I’m not happy about eating and doing business, not until he gets here.’ He paused and looked at his watch. ‘Something must be wrong. What if he’s been arrested, what if he’s talked, or called the police?’

  ‘We could all be sitting ducks,’ Colin added.

  ‘Hold your nerve. He wouldn’t rat us in,’ Giancarlo said confidently. ‘He’s my nephew, he knows how this family runs.’

  ‘Do you think he would?’ Luca asked nervously, moving to glance out of the window at the driveway. ‘You know, rat us in? He wouldn’t, would he?’

  Simon stood up. ‘Well I, for one, don’t like it. The rule is, we are all prompt. That way, we know we are all safe.’ He paused and looked apologetically at Isobel. ‘Forgive me, Isobel, but I’m not waiting for the police to turn up. It’s time I left.’ He pulled on the lapels of his tux and walked towards the door.

  Suddenly there was the sound of a gunshot. Plaster and wood chippings dropped down from the ceiling. Both women screamed and everyone, even the toughest of the men, ducked down to the floor. All except Giancarlo, who stood with a gun in his hand that pointed upwards. A large hole had now appeared in the ornate coving and dust fell like snowflakes.

  ‘Giancarlo, for God’s sake, my ceiling,’ Isobel screamed.

  ‘Shut up. I’ll repair it. Now, the lady said that we should take our places at the table,’ he growled. ‘Would anyone else like to object?’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kate wriggled on the small camp chair. She looked at the monitors, and even though it was daylight, Don’s six-foot frame filled every spare millimetre of space and the inside of the van still felt dark.

  He was squashed into an equally small camp chair.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked as he lifted his hand up to the dial, pressed a number of buttons and then gripped his stomach. ‘Thai curry last night. Could have been a bit on the spicy side.’

  Kate wished that the window could be opened. The fresh air would be welcomed by her head, which still pounded from the night before and she now wished that she’d stopped drinking after the first bottle of wine.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied, but continued to take in deep breaths in the hope that her oxygen-filled lungs would somehow help the feeling of nausea that took over her mind. Turning her attention back to the surveillance screen, she watched as the odd bird or two flew into the frame. It had been the same monotony ever since Patrick had driven them to their position, climbed out of the driver’s seat and walked off. Her legs and bottom had gone numb, not to mention her bladder that now screamed out to go to the toilet.

  ‘What do we do about toilet breaks?’ she asked, hopeful that Patrick would come and relieve her.

  Don pointed to the corner where a curtain hung from a rail. ‘Behind there. Ben had the curtain put up for you. Thought you’d want a bit of privacy.’ He chuckled. ‘Think I might need to use it myself in a bit.’

  Kate recoiled. She couldn’t bear the thought of going to the toilet in the corner of a van. Especially behind a limp curtain that hung from the roof on what looked like a less than secure rail. She wasn’t sure which was worse, going to the toilet herself or the thought that Don might go and she’d have to listen.

  They’d begun the stake out at Honeysuckle House at eight o’clock, yet it was still before noon and the lack of anything to watch on the monitors had given her far too many opportunities to drink juice and think about the night before. She and Ben had sat chatting effortlessly for hours, while sipping wine in the candlelight. They’d laughed, joked and shared far too much information that only a bottle of wine or three could help release. Her head pounded and her eyes grew heavy. Going out on a work night was definitely not the right thing to do and she made a mental note not to do it too often.

  Her mind then drifted back to Rob.

  Once again he hadn’t come home until after midnight, giving her mother ample ammunition to throw at her over breakfast. Not to mention the snide, cutting comments about her own night out and the single mouse dropping that her mother had found, which instantly meant that her home was a health hazard.

  ‘It’s a wonder the cottage isn’t totally infested,’ she’d said as she’d chewed on her toast. ‘You really need to clean once in a while, Katie dear, there’s no excuse. If you don’t have time, make time. But then again if you go to the pub every night after work drinking wine, there’s really no wonder that you don’t have time to clean, dear, is there?’

  ‘Mother, give it a rest. I’ve been to the bar once for God’s sake. I’ve only worked there for three bloody days. It’s hardly a habit.’

  ‘Well, I’ve never been spoken to so badly in my life,’ her mother had thrown back at her as she’d stamped up the stairs, making Kate feel guilty for snapping. She normally tried not to retaliate where her mother was concerned, but the constant jibes made it difficult to stay quiet. She knew that her house was perfectly clean. She also knew that no one else other than her mother would turn up and pull the kick boards off the cupboards to check behind them. And what’s more, she seriously doubted that there were any mouse droppings at all. It was probably just her mother trying to be significant. It was something she’d done on a regular basis since James had died. Besides, Kate knew that she was completely over the top when it came to cleaning and she sure as hell wasn’t going to chastise herself for not pulling the kick boards off more often.

  Her attention shifted back to Isobel’s home, Honeysuckle House, and she longed to go for a walk, look around and see for herself what kind of house Isobel Reed really lived in. She still hadn’t emerged, which wasn’t surprising as it had begun pouring down with rain and by the looks of the dark, grey clouds in the sky, it wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

  ‘Don, I’m going to go and have a look around,’ Kate said as she stood up and turned towards the back doors of the van.

  ‘But what if you’re seen?’

  ‘Don, I’ve done this before. I do know what I’m doing. I’m going to walk around, try and see if anything is happening. Give Patrick a call and get him to come back. There’s a lane round the back of the house. Meet me there in twenty minutes with the van.’

  Don once again looked as though he was grabbing at his growling stomach.

  Ben had said she could leave the van so long as she was dressed appropriately, and she grabbed a hi-vis vest and rucksack, before jumping out of the back doors. She stretched her aching legs and was pleased to get the opportunity to do something other than sit in a small chair.

  She looked around the street and took notice of the houses that stood along the road. They looked different from the sepia picture she’d been used to watching on the surveillance screen.

  All the houses were exclusive, all stood on the edge of the National Park, and all were totally individual. Each house was worth at least a million and had long tree-lined drives. Each property had between six and eight bedrooms and would have hallways bigger than most people’s front room. It was hard to believe that these houses were less than a couple of miles from Caldwick, where her own cottage stood.

  ‘Why would anyone want to sell drugs if they lived here?’ Kate mumbled to herself as she admired the property. ‘Or, here’s a thought, are the drugs the reason they get to live in a house like this?’

  The rain had slowed down to an annoying drizzle. Kate pulled the hood up on her jacket and began to walk casually along the street, clipboard in hand.

  Honeysuckle House was not the biggest in Ugathwaite, but it was by no means the smallest either. It stood back impressively in its own grounds. Huge oak and cherry trees stood clos
e to the building giving the upstairs dormer windows a degree of privacy. Albeit very nice for the occupants to have the privacy they wanted, it didn’t help a private investigator who wanted to spy on their every movement. An extension branched out from the rear of the house with glass doors all along its length. It looked like the pool house but without getting closer, Kate couldn’t be sure.

  Kate edged her way around the property. She needed to get a better look at the house. There were so many bushes and trees she could easily keep herself from being seen. Ben had told her that the village name of Ugathwaite was the Viking word for Owl Meadow. Kate looked up into the vast copse of trees and could easily imagine why the area would have been given this name.

  A silver Mercedes with blacked out windows drove past her. It pulled up on the drive of Honeysuckle House and Kate quickly took off her hi-vis vest and hid it in her rucksack. She didn’t want to be seen. She crouched behind a bush to get a better look as the driver climbed out and walked toward the door. Taking out her mini binoculars, she watched as a huge bald-headed man dressed in a tight leather jacket and jeans stood banging at the door. His jacket almost burst at the seams as his muscles made a desperate attempt to escape from the restrictive leather. He pulled a mobile from his pocket and she could see that his hands and fingers were covered in tattoos. He made a call, but received no answer and walked around the back of the house pushing the mobile into a pocket as he went. Putting the binoculars down, Kate took out her mobile and clicked a couple of pictures, hoping that one of them would catch his face and give them an identity.

  Looking down at the phone she flicked through the pictures ‘Stupid,’ she said out loud; both pictures had caught a perfect image of the back of his head. She needed to get closer, and she began sneaking along the edge of the bushes that lined the drive. She peered toward the house in an attempt to get a better view. She thought back to the surveillance cameras on the van, maybe they would have caught a picture of the man.

  ‘What the—’ A hand went over her mouth, dragging her rapidly to the floor. She attempted to scream as she grabbed at her attacker and struggled to breathe. His muddy hand was clasped tight over her mouth and a frenzied panic immediately took over her body.

  ‘Shush,’ the man’s voice whispered. ‘You’re going to get us both killed.’

  Kate managed to spin around as the attacker’s hand slowly let go of her. He looked down at her, and his black plastic-rimmed glasses amplified his terrified wide eyes. A finger was held up to his lips, demanding her silence. They heard the sound of a car door slamming and the sound of the engine as the car drove off.

  ‘Sherlock, what the hell?’ Kate growled as she remembered that Ben had said he’d send Eric to help. What he hadn’t said was that he could be lurking in the bushes ready to pounce. Breathing in huge gasps of air, Kate took a moment to get over her shock, before looking down at the mud that was now smeared all over her jeans. She brushed furiously at the mess. ‘Eric, look at my jeans, they’re ruined.’ Anxiety rose inside, her hands were making the dirt worse and the more she rubbed, the more she panicked.

  She looked over to where Eric was still crouching down behind the huge laurel bush, his face as white as a ghost, with mud all over his clothes.

  ‘Th-there was a m-man,’ he stuttered, pointing towards the house. ‘He had a gun.’

  Kate ducked back down, the mud and dirt suddenly becoming secondary to the thought of being shot. ‘What man? Are you sure?’ she asked as she peeped over the bush.

  ‘He was this big.’ Eric held his arms out to prove a point. ‘He wore a brown leather jacket, nearly burst out of it, he had knuckles the size of … oh, Kate, I swear, if he’d seen us, he’d have shot us.’

  Kate looked up at the sky. ‘It’s okay, Eric. He’s gone. His car just drove away. I presume he was in it.’ Eric was physically shaking and she had no idea how to tell him that all she’d seen was in fact a mobile phone and not a gun.

  ‘Thank God,’ Eric said as he almost curled up in a ball and hugged his own legs.

  ‘Eric, are you okay?’

  He nodded. ‘Her husband got shot here you know, well there actually.’ He pointed to the door.

  Kate decided to keep him talking. She had no idea what else to do. His face had gone beyond the initial pale colour and had turned to ashen grey and she wondered how long it would take her to go and get help. But if she did so, it would blow their cover and she decided it would be better to just sit it out, until Eric’s colour returned. They were a long way from the van, which had now moved and was being driven to the pick-up point on the back lane.

  ‘What did you actually see?’

  ‘The man, the gun, oh … I don’t know. I was so afraid. I hid behind here,’ he said, pointing to the large thick laurel bush that would have been equal to the size of a mini. ‘Then I heard footsteps.’ Eric took a deep breath. ‘I … I … I thought he was coming after me.’

  Kate closed her eyes. Last night she’d been so pleased to call herself a private investigator. She’d enjoyed her time with Ben and had begun to feel as though being part of a team would be a huge benefit to her confidence and to her lifestyle. But today couldn’t be more different. It couldn’t get any worse, unless of course Eric was right and she could have been shot. Other than that, she was sitting on the ground, in the rain, covered in mud, with Eric quivering like a jelly.

  Eric peered out from behind the bush. ‘Are you sure he’s gone?’

  ‘Eric, I don’t think he had a gun. I mean, I saw him with a phone but not a gun, and his car went a while ago. Come on, I think we should get back to the van.’ Kate nodded sympathetically. Eric might look like Clark Kent, but he certainly wasn’t planning on being a superhero any time soon. He sat up quickly, suddenly very embarrassed.

  ‘Oh my g-goodness, I am s-so s-sorry,’ he began to stutter as he hurriedly jumped up, then remembered the attacker and looked all around to assure himself that he really had gone. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and began to wipe his brow. Without realising it he smeared more and more mud across his face. ‘I was so scared. What if he’d seen me hiding? He could have easily walked over and if he had got a gun, he could have shot me.’ He shook his head looking around him. ‘I’m too young to die, Kate. I’m much too young. Besides, I only just met Eve. She’s lovely, by the way.’

  Kate liked the way he mentioned Eve and tried her best to reassure him. ‘Eric, he’s gone. He drove away, don’t worry.’ She was desperate not to smile. He needed support, not her pity, and even though she was initially amused by the mud that he’d continued to smear across his face, she did her best not to burst into laughter. She then remembered the mud that still covered her own hands and clothes and the amusement fell from her face. Standing up she pulled a wad of tissues from her rucksack and wiped her own hands, before attacking her jeans. The word ‘ruined’ crossed her mind for a second time, as the mud seemed to rub in rather than rub off. She tried to keep calm even though every part of her mind screamed to be clean.

  Kate and Eric separated and walked carefully toward where the van would now be parked. Kate knew it was important not to attract too much attention and made sure that no one was watching, before knocking lightly on the back doors.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘I swear that if there wasn’t a couple hundred grand up for grabs, I’d say we were wasting our time,’ Kate said as they jumped out of the van, took in a deep breath of fresh air and entered Parker & Son by the back door. ‘Everything is so closed down around there, the trees don’t help, nothing can be seen from the road and most of the property’s windows are at the back.’

  Eric still looked embarrassed and he sheepishly followed Kate into their office.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Kate questioned as she gratefully took a steaming mug of hot coffee from the tray that Gloria brought in and passed one to Eric. He stood leaning against Ben’s desk, with his back to her, studying the dry wipe board on the wall before him.

  ‘D
id Don go home?’ Eric asked as his eyes quickly processed the information before him.

  Kate pulled a face. ‘Well, if he didn’t, I don’t think it’ll be long before he does. The Thai curry he’d had last night hadn’t agreed with him. He didn’t look too well in the van and I saw him make a mad dash for the bathroom the minute we got back.’ She sat down in the pink chair that was behind her desk, pulled a pad and a pen from her drawer and looked up at the evidence board.

  ‘So, how do we get inside the house? Maybe I could knock on the door, pretend my car has broken down and see if she’d let me use her phone?’ Kate questioned as she tried not to look down at her jeans; the whole muddy appearance made her feel hot and nauseous and she made a mental note to carry a spare set of clean clothes in the boot of her Beetle at all times, or to leave some in a cupboard at the office. She really needed a bath and more than anything she needed to repair her mud-smeared face with fresh make-up. ‘Have a think while I clean myself up,’ she said and quickly made an escape for the ladies’ to sort herself out.

  She looked at her reflection in the mirror. If she had a choice, she’d go home, shower and change, but William Parker had insisted they come straight back to the office and process all the information while it was all still fresh in their minds, and if Kate had learnt anything in the past few days, it was that no one disobeyed William. Kate looked at her reflection. Her make-up wasn’t as damaged as she’d thought and a quick repair saw her smiling back at herself, before quickly heading back to her desk.