Drawing the Line

by Judith Cutler

  ‘I’m afraid you might, you know,’ a vaguely familiar voice said. ‘We’ve met before. Robin Levitt.’

  I raised a lid with care. The clergyman. ‘Why are your knuckles bleeding?’

  ‘I had to hit someone.’

  ‘In the Cathedral? Natura Rerum!’ I was scrabbling to my feet before I noticed he was holding out his undamaged hand to lever me upright. There.

  ‘It’s fine. In the Cathedral safe, as you asked – er – Lina. Are you sure you’re all right? Here.’ He passed me a folded tissue.

  ‘It’s just so rare,’ I sobbed, ‘to meet someone who is what he says he is and does what he promises.’

  He patted my shoulder very cautiously. ‘Is there anywhere in this madhouse we could find a cup of tea?’

  ‘Not sure about tea,’ I admitted. ‘But if you get rid of the medics, I can tell you where there’s plenty of chilled champagne.’

  It was great to hear the wail of the ambulance taking Lord Elham away. They wouldn’t need the siren to cut through swathes of traffic, not out here, but maybe to warn other hapless drivers on the narrow lanes to find a gateway and pull into it. Fast. Maybe police drivers. There was no end of coming and going, with incident tape looped all over and people in white suits and photographers dotting purposefully round like ants. I felt quite sorry for Lord Elham – he’d already had his experience of real life Casualty, and I’m sure he’d have swapped a real life Bill for it, now the incriminating evidence had safely been removed, at least. Before I could fight my way into the living-room and that welcoming fridge, I was intercepted three times, each time by a different policeman who was inclined to bluster but gave way at the sight of Robin’s dog-collar.

  The fridge almost within reach, yet another hand grabbed my arm.

  ‘Scene of crime, Miss, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘She needs somewhere to sit down, officer. One of the victims,’ Robin said.

  What if he wasn’t a decent man? What if he’d stolen Natura Rerum and was about to dispose of me?

  ‘I ought to be making a statement,’ I said with as much authority as I could muster.

  ‘Better get her to Maidstone,’ someone muttered.

  ‘I’m staying here.’

  Robin lost his nerve. ‘You’ll only be in the way here – you can see there’s so much going on. If you like, I’ll accompany you – if that’s all right, sergeant?’

  ‘You a witness too? In that case, thanks but no thanks. Two separate cars.’

  ‘I’m staying here.’

  ‘The reverend’s right – you’re in the way.’

  ‘In the way? When there are a hundred rooms in the house? I think not.’ Think Mrs Hatch – and square those shoulders. ‘In my father’s absence, I’m responsible for the place. Find me a couple of bottles of champagne from the fridge in there and I’ll wait for the investigating officer in the Yellow Drawing Room.’

  Robin clearly didn’t know whether to be amused or embarrassed by my show of authority. Neither did I, to be honest. He was openly terrified when I produced my keys from my back pocket and proceeded to open a display cabinet.

  ‘We’ve got to drink the stuff out of something,’ I said. ‘And though I’d say this wasn’t top quality glass, at least eighteenth-century airtwist stemmed flutes are not to be sneezed at. I’m sorry you’re missing your concert, Robin – please sit down – but I’m very grateful for your company. Just who did you hit, by the way?’ Please don’t let his knuckles fit my bruises.

  ‘The man who’d slapped you. The first time I saw you you’d got bruises all over your face: had he done it before?’

  I reached for an unopened bottle, pillowing my cheek against it. There’s something quite stylish about soothing bruises with bottles of ice-cold vintage champagne. Oh, yes: Lord Elham might have given me fizz to drink, but it had always been ordinary stuff, if anything costing more than twenty quid a time could be called ordinary. The stuff the police had found for me was truly, frighteningly excellent: it killed pain as well as any aspirin, and perked me up no end after my humiliating failure.

  ‘I used to self-abuse,’ I said, sitting down hard on sofa, its satin upholstery worn to ribbons, ‘if I got stressed. And I’ve had quite a bit of stress recently.’

  ‘You might be in for a bit more,’ Robin warned, as the door opened to admit two more men, one in the very well-cut suit of a senior officer, the other less well dressed but vaguely familiar.

  It was to the second I turned, rising. ‘I think you owe me an explanation,’ I said, ‘Mr Dan Freeman.’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Dan Freeman. Attached to Scotland Yard’s Fine Art and Antiques Squad. How do you do, Ms Townend?’ He held out his hand, which I shook. He was taller than I remembered, and with that disgusting long lank hair close cropped all over he looked much younger. Even his skin looked different, as if he’d found some decent moisturiser. ‘Or is it Lady Elham?’

  As I shook my head with irritation – and wished I hadn’t – the uniformed officer chipped in, ‘According to His Lordship you’re his daughter. I presume you only get the title when he dies –’

  ‘He’s as ill as that! I must –’

  ‘No, no. Not well, but stable.’

  ‘What’s this about a title? Because I’m not –’

  ‘When that clergyman turned up he was convinced he was dying.’ He turned to Robin for confirmation. ‘He yelled out, “I’m not proud of much I’ve done, but I’m damned proud of that daughter of mine. Pity she didn’t get much education – she’d have made a good heir.”’

  ‘Talk about damning with faint praise,’ I said, sitting down again.

  ‘Or,’ Robin put in, ‘praising with faint damns.’

  The other men worked that out, Freeman more quickly than the other, and grinned as if they’d thought of it themselves.

  ‘So are you here to arrest me, Sergeant Freeman? Or will your colleague be doing the honours?’ I played Griff with a dash of Mrs Hatch. That seemed about right for a nearly ladyship.

  ‘Neither of us will be. This is Detective Superintendent Close, by the way.’ We exchanged gracious nods. ‘Nor any of our colleagues. We just thought you’d like to make a statement about this afternoon’s events. And any others, of course. And we’ll update you as far as we can.’

  There was a tap at the door. What I presume was another detective, a young woman in a denim trouser-suit I coveted, murmured to the superintendent, who smiled at Robin. ‘Seems your car’s parked a bit awkwardly, sir. And we can’t start it. Do you have the knack?’

  Robin and I exchanged a grin.

  ‘I suppose you forgot to check your petrol gauge.’

  ‘Or to fill it up again,’ he grimaced. ‘I’d better come and have a look. Though I must say Lina seems to know more about these things than I do.’

  ‘Looking after Griff’s van,’ I said briskly, not wanting to discuss hot-wiring. ‘When you do get it started, I couldn’t bum a lift, could I? To the Cathedral? Or, if it won’t, and they’ll let me use that Ka, I could drive you.’

  Close looked at his watch. ‘You may have to leave it till tomorrow, your – miss. It’ll be all locked up now.’

  ‘With your evidence, officer, in the safe. It’s my busy day tomorrow, I’m afraid, Lina, starting with early Communion, so I’ll push off home now. It’s not all that far to walk.’

  ‘Someone’ll give you a lift if you ask,’ Close said, offhand.

  I hauled myself up. I ought to say something, but I wasn’t sure what. Too much booze, maybe – I was coming over tearful again. And here we were, shaking hands, as if I really were a ladyship. If only he – anyone – could give me a good, solid hug and tell me everything would be all right.

  Robin squeezed my hand gently, and bent to kiss my cheek. ‘I promise you the book’ll be safe until you care to collect it. Will someone make sure Lina gets home safely?’

  ‘Of course, padre.’ Close almost saluted. Hmm: I suppose that meant he had a military background.

/>   A tiny voice in my head insisted that I was home. Home at Bossingham Hall. I opened my mouth to say it. Then I thought of our cottage and Tim Bear, and shut it again. Robin flapped a hand and left, closing the door.

  ‘Let’s begin at the beginning,’ Freeman said, sitting in the chair Robin had vacated.

  ‘Under Milk Wood,’ I cut in, surprising myself as much as him. ‘Griff read it to me,’ I explained. ‘Griffith Tripp. Actor and Antique Dealer. The one I’d like to be my father but isn’t.’

  ‘Unlike the man who is your father, but isn’t likeable,’ Close said; if I was surprised before, I was amazed now. ‘How do you feel about not being Elham’s heir?’

  So was this to be me making a statement or them making accusations? I braced myself, wishing Robin had stayed.

  I tried shaking my head emphatically, but settled for gently. ‘I can’t be his heir. He can’t adopt me. I’m too old. Plus there are another thirty of us with equal claims. In any case, Griff’s the person anyone with any sense would want for a parent. I owe everything to him. He tried to put me off this hunt of mine. He always swore it would end in tears. That’s the beginning, you see: my hunt for my father. It led me to do all sorts of silly things. Hang on. It led all sorts of other people to do silly things. Nasty things, come to think of it.’ My head was beginning to hurt inside as well as out – was it the champagne or all those blows? ‘I suppose I couldn’t have an aspirin or two? And one of Lord Elham’s TV dinners to help them down?’

  Freeman said, ‘I think all this can wait till the morning, sir, don’t you? Which is your bedroom, miss? We’ll get a WPC to bring you an sandwich or something.’

  ‘I want to go home,’ I said, wishing I didn’t sound so damned plaintive.

  ‘But Lord Elham said you were in charge here –’

  My head swum. ‘Will your people be here all night? Well then, I can’t see you needing me to stand guard.’ Yes, forget what I’d said earlier. No one needed me here. ‘My home’s back in Bredeham, as I’m sure you know. Just opposite Tony Baker’s house. Do I take it he won’t be there to keep an eye on me as he always promised Griff when he was going to be away?’

  ‘You take it right, miss,’ Close said grimly. ‘I fancy there’ll be a For Sale sign going up there soon.’

  Dan Freeman drove the Ka for me, Close following in a police car.

  ‘You’d better talk to keep me awake,’ I said. ‘About Oxford, first and foremost. Why did you go to all that trouble for me at the Bodleian? Lie for me? Forge a letter? And then go and talk to the librarian afterwards? No, you didn’t know I’d seen you, did you? I thought you were a criminal.’

  Laughing, he shook his head. ‘Yours wasn’t the only copy of the Natura Rerum frontispiece in circulation, of course. We’d been approached by two separate dealers who were afraid someone had damaged a priceless book. It’s not unknown. Libraries both here and in Scandinavia have been robbed – violated – by a man who cuts pages from volumes of maps. I’d been sent to discuss additional security for the Bodleian’s Natura Rerum. I’d been working undercover before that, and hadn’t had time to change my appearance.’

  ‘I was a suspect, was I?’

  ‘Yes. By coincidence you turn up and start asking to see it. It’s a good job you didn’t try to smuggle in a razor or we’d have had you under arrest before you could say metal detector.’

  ‘Quite right too. Even –’ I shut up. I’d only been going to say that even old reprobates like Titus drew the line at such wanton destruction. The less said about Titus the better, especially considering what his van had carried recently. What would he do with all the stuff? No, I didn’t want to know. ‘Where did Tony Baker fit in? And Dave Trent? And all that stuff they talked about the Kitty Gang?’

  ‘Actually, they were only lying a bit. The Kent police did have an Operation Kitty to deal with outbreaks of crime against vulnerable pensioners. Whether Kitty refers to felines or small amounts of cash, you’ll have to ask them, not me. Baker seems to have targeted you and Mr Tripp from the start. Police officers are trained to pick up clues from people’s behaviour, remember, and he knew you were excited about something. When your shop was robbed, he thought other people were on to whatever it was too.’

  ‘Was that enough – pure supposition?’

  ‘He knew various unsavoury people, Lina. Including an old lady with a penchant for teaspoons who was actually doing two things – casing the joint, as it were, and hoping that when you told Tony about her you’d say something along the lines of, “at least she didn’t get X”.’

  ‘X being whatever it was I’d got hold of.’

  ‘Quite. But that didn’t work, so under the pretext of advising some of your colleagues about security, he learned you’d got hold of what everyone wanted to be a valuable piece of paper but most suspected was a forgery. So Baker brought in a few reinforcements.’

  ‘The security guard at Harrogate? Marcus?’

  ‘Marcus is what is technically known as a prat. He really did come down to seek solace when he had a bust-up with that cousin of his. At least, that’s what he said in his statement. No, he wasn’t one of those walloping you, Lina. But he didn’t do Lord Elham a lot of good.’

  ‘Where did Dave Trent fit in?’

  ‘First of all as an entirely legitimate police officer. He suspected Tony was up to something, however, and taxed him with it. Tony offered to cut him in on the deal. He accepted. We are talking millions here, Lina.’

  ‘I just hope that curate guy’s straight,’ I said.

  ‘He stowed something in the Cathedral safe,’ he said. ‘We checked. And he did phone us. And he was concerned enough about you to come haring back. He even hit someone – yes, the guy who hurt your face. A good right hook for a clergyman.’

  ‘So, just for once, someone has been telling the truth. That’s something, I suppose.’ I said it coolly. But as before, I rather felt like doing a handspring, as if I’d found a particularly rare pearl. ‘So who was the guy he socked?’

  ‘His name’s Malcolm Hamilton. He was a security guard. He claims you hit him very hard last night.’

  ‘I thought your people were going to keep him in custody.’

  ‘We couldn’t tie him in with any crime. No reason to.’

  ‘You will tonight, won’t you?’

  He must have heard the panic in my voice. ‘Would you like me to arrange a police guard? Or fix a hotel room?’

  ‘I’d rather go home.’ And I could phone Griff, whatever time of night it was, and if I knew him he’d be back for lunch tomorrow. And if I didn’t hope for it too hard, he might even be home to cook my breakfast. ‘Yes, please. Take me home.’

  Epilogue

  ‘All these young men fluttering round the place.’ Griff smiled happily, helping himself to a last sautéed potato. ‘I might have died and gone to heaven. That golden haired cherub’s just the sort I’d like to meet me at the Pearly Gate. And that crop-haired detective’s polished up quite nicely.’

  ‘On the limited evidence I have so far,’ I said, my face still sore enough for me to be cautious how I smiled, ‘they’re straight. In both senses. As are most of the other young flutterers.’

  ‘But fluttering they indubitably are. Around you, dear heart.’

  ‘And don’t put on that face, because Dan’s too old, and Robin’s as poor as a church mouse.’

  ‘What about the auctioneer? You don’t feel he might be just a smidgen –?’

  ‘Married. Two kids. In any case, once the book’s safely sold, you won’t see him again.’

  ‘It’s a good deal of responsibility that Lord Elham’s placed on your young shoulders.’

  ‘Whose shoulders would you place it on? All that rough treatment seems to have shaken up the few grey cells he’d got left.’

  I topped up Griff’s glass. We’d agreed that he’d stay on the wagon every day till suppertime (he was working on a wonderful non-alcoholic tomato juice cocktail which even I liked) and then drink only the
best – which was good, since Lord Elham had told me to help myself from his cellar. We were drinking a red Rioja a lot older than I was with one of Griff’s wonderful meals.

  ‘Whose idea was it to give his old college time to raise the money?’

  ‘His. Yes, honestly. He really seemed to regret not having made the best of his chances. Getting thrown out of Cambridge – that’s quite an achievement, isn’t it? But it was me who said –’

  ‘“It was I”, darling.’

  ‘–who said it should stay in this country if Cambridge can’t raise the dosh. Because I should like to see it again, and I won’t be able to if it goes abroad.’

  ‘You’ve no regrets about not accepting it, as he wanted? You’re sure?’

  I speared a mushroom. ‘It wasn’t his to give, any more than it was mine to accept. There’d only have been a huge lawsuit if his trustees had thought I was doing anything for my own pe — peculiarly?’

  ‘Pecuniary advantage. I suppose so. And they’d have been totally churlish if they’d tried to stop him selling one of the nation’s treasures. Especially as he’s putting it into yet another trust for all you children. But it was terribly puritan of you to ask for that clause about no one touching it till they’d reached thirty years of age, my love. Quixotic, even.’

  I pulled a face. ‘It’ll allow the lawyers time to trace a few more of us. And I don’t want a load of money, not yet. But it’ll be nice to think that if I do ever get any paper qualifications and want to go to Uni, that I won’t have a bloody great student loan, won’t it? And any of my half-brothers and sisters who’ve already got one will be able to pay it off. I mean, imagine having a job like Robin’s that pays chicken feed and having that – that albatross hanging round your neck.’

  He nodded, saying, so terribly casually I knew he was fishing, ‘It was nice of him to go with you to the Cathedral with you.’

  ‘Who else could have gone? The authorities there knew him. And I wanted to see where they’d stashed it.’ That was one disappointment: it had been in an ordinary office-type safe, not some great vault filled with gilt church plate. And I wasn’t just being coy about Robin. It seemed to me anyone having a relationship with a man whose main relationship was with Someone Else might be taking on rather more than she could chew. And until all my teeth were fixed, and the wire had come out of my wretched sore jaws, I wasn’t reckoning on biting anything tough.