‘They must be having a day off,’ Nancy said, peering through the window.
‘What, all of them?’
I took out my phone and rang Mike Rogers’s number. No reply.
I moved off and started circling the building, my mind almost numb. Things didn’t look good. In a bit of landscaped shrubbery I spotted a big board that, on inspection, turned out to be a for-sale-or-let hoarding. On automatic now, I pulled out my phone and punched in the number of the real estate office doing the advertising.
When my call was answered, I asked to be put through to whoever was handling Riverside House in Middlesbrough. A minute later I was speaking to a man who had drawn the short straw.
‘PortPlus?’ he said. ‘I’ve never heard of them, I’m afraid.’
‘Riverside House is their head office.’
‘I’m sorry. That’s not correct. Riverside House is a new-build property that we are trying to sell or lease. Can I ask what your interest is?’
‘Look, I was inside the place a few days ago, at a meeting with their CEO and their chairman. But today the place is locked up and empty. What’s going on?’
‘Ah!’ After a short pause, he continued. ‘Last week was a bit special. The building was briefly occupied, but not by the company you mentioned. Let me see. . . . It was . . . Enterprise Holdings. They leased it for a week for promotional purposes.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Oh, yes! I let them in myself, and I let them out again at the end of the week. There’s no mistake.’
Terrific! I thought grimly. They had certainly made a fool of me.
‘Do you have a phone number and address for them?’
He did, and gave them to me. I made a note, without much confidence.
‘What you got?’ Nancy asked when I met up with her back in the car park.
I gave a bitter little laugh. ‘Not much. They’re no longer here. The people I met had hired the building for a week – supposedly for promotional purposes. Perhaps PortPlus really don’t exist. Henry must be right.’
‘Well, they used to exist,’ Nancy said. ‘I had a look in some rubbish bins round the back, and I found PortPlus stationery.’
I looked at the sample she was offering. Letterhead, envelopes, and other bits and pieces. I breathed again.
‘So you weren’t all wrong,’ she said with a kindly smile. ‘What now?’
‘Hungry?’
She nodded.
‘Then let’s go and see Henry about that pie and pint.’
We found Henry exactly where I expected to find him – the same corner of the Blast Furnace he had been in yesterday, studying the racing form in some specialist rag.
‘Get you one, Henry?’
He looked up. ‘Frank! You’re back.’
‘You were right,’ I said grimly. ‘I don’t think PortPlus does exist.’
‘Ah!’ He looked intrigued for a moment. Then he glanced questioningly at Nancy.
‘She’s with me,’ I said quickly. ‘Nancy, meet Henry.’
‘With you?’ Henry said, sounding surprised.
‘We sleep together,’ Nancy said.
‘Really?’
Henry looked startled now, as well he might be – and as I was myself.
‘Just once, actually,’ Nancy added. ‘In my hut.’
‘In your hut?’
‘What can I get you, Henry?’ I asked desperately.
‘The same as yesterday,’ he said, sounding reluctant to be distracted from this new conversation.
‘Nancy?’
‘Whatever you’re having, darling,’ she said with a mischievous grin.
‘Take no notice of her, Henry,’ I said even more desperately.
‘Oh, I won’t!’ he assured me, his eyes fixed with wonder on my modest companion.
I shook my head. I didn’t know which of them was worse.
By the time I got back from the bar, they had already exchanged the basic information about PortPlus, and its non-existence.
‘So where do we go from here?’ Henry asked, eyes narrowing as he contemplated the difficulty of the road ahead. ‘That guy McCardle, can you tell me anything about him?’
‘Not much. In his fifties, I would say. Smooth operator. Strange accent – posh, but not home counties. Authoritative. Impressive.’ I paused, having run out of suggestions.
‘Try mining,’ Nancy added quietly. ‘And Africa.’
I looked at her with surprise. She gave me an apologetic shrug.
‘Mining and Africa?’ Henry said thoughtfully. ‘That’s interesting.’
Isn’t it? I was thinking. Nancy, eh? What else did she know?
That was about it. We could get no further sitting in a pub. Henry needed to be back at his work console and on his computer. I just needed to be away, away from the noise and the people. My ribs were giving me gyp, and so was my head. I’d had enough for one day, even if it was still scarcely afternoon.
‘If you’ve got any spare cash,’ Henry said, waving his racing paper at me, ‘put it on Moondancer in the four-thirty at Wetherby.’
‘A dead cert?’ I asked ironically.
‘Just about!’
‘Who’s the trainer?’ Nancy asked, as if she knew what she was talking about.
‘Gordon Smith.’
‘He’s good,’ I heard her say as I headed for the door.
That was the last thing I needed: a discussion about bloody race horse trainers!
‘Where next, boss?’
‘Home,’ I said, without turning my head. ‘I’ll drop you off on the way.’
‘No,’ she said adamantly. ‘You can’t drive yet. I’ll drive.’
‘How are you going to get home?’
‘I’m not. I’ll stay with you.’
That stopped me in my tracks. I turned to look at her.
‘I like you,’ she said disarmingly. ‘And I like what you’re doing. You need help, and I want to help.’
I considered shouting at her, telling her to keep out of it. Then I realized I liked her too, and I really did need help. For a day or two even simple things like driving were going to be hard for me.
‘I can’t pay you,’ I said gruffly. ‘Bed and board only.’
‘Sounds good,’ she said cheerfully.
Perhaps it really did to someone in her position.
‘There’s plenty of hot water,’ I added to encourage her, warming to the idea of a companion. ‘And a bath, as well as a shower.’
‘Mmm!’
‘Know what?’ I said, grinning. ‘I’ll be glad to have you along.’
‘Now you’re being soppy,’ she said in admonishment.
But for a moment there, she held my hand in hers. I squeezed gently. Lordy, lordy! I thought. What are you doing, Frankie boy?
I knew what I was doing, all right. Thought I did, at least. I needed help for a day or two. Also, I wanted to pick Nancy’s brains. It was obvious that she knew stuff I didn’t.
‘This is it,’ I said as we left the road and pulled on to the rough track leading to Risky Point. ‘Mine is the first cottage.’
‘Whose is the other one?’
‘It’s Jimmy Mack’s. He’s an old fisherman, mostly retired now. You should get on well with him.’
She gave me a quick glance, to see if I was being sarcastic, taking her eyes off the road. Then she said, ‘Oops!’ as we hit a big pothole.
I clamped my teeth together and worked hard at ignoring the pain that had damn near convulsed me.
‘Sorry about that,’ Nancy said, throwing me another quick glance. ‘I’ll slow down.’
‘Thanks,’ I said through gritted teeth.
To her credit, she was very careful from then on, and we reached my parking spot without further incident.
‘What a wonderful view!’ Nancy exclaimed with delight. ‘I’m staggered. I didn’t know there was anywhere like this.’
‘Not bad, is it?’ I admitted.
‘Oh, I can see why you live here!’
>
‘Well, people either love it or hate it. If they shiver and go on about the cold wind and the isolation, I know which category they’re in.’
‘Huh! You want to send people like that to the South Gare. There’s nowhere colder than that. The other cottage is a bit close to the edge of the cliff, though, isn’t it?’
‘Perilously close. They both are, and every year the edge gets a bit nearer.’
‘Living dangerously, huh?’ she said with a grin. ‘Life on the edge.’
‘Exactly. Jimmy reckons I’ve got a bit more time, but it will be touch and go whether it’s him or his cottage that goes first.’
‘Make every day count,’ she said gravely.
‘That’s the philosophy I try to keep in mind.’
Some days, I didn’t tell her, I even felt good about it. But not when I felt like I did that day, and at that particular moment, as I opened the front door.
It wasn’t just my injuries and thoughts of the receding cliff that made me feel like that. Someone had been inside my house again. You can always tell when you live alone. I could smell him, and it was a man. He wasn’t a smoker either. No certain giveaway like that. But I still knew. It was . . . what? Someone else had been breathing the air in here. I could tell.
Nothing had been obviously moved but as I glanced around I could see one or two little signs. The keyboard for my desktop, for example. I keep it at a slight angle. That’s what suits me. Now it was parallel to the desk edge. Someone had been at it again.
Doing what? There wasn’t a lot on the computer for them to find. Perhaps they didn’t need a lot? Just something in particular.
All I could think was that they had wanted to check my emails, to see who or what I was sending out or receiving. Or to delete stuff, new stuff? That might explain the second visit.
To hell with it! I made for the kettle. ‘Coffee?’
‘That would be lovely, Frank. Thank you. But you sit down! I’ll make it.’
I shook my head as gently as I could. ‘I’m better on my feet for the moment. I was too long in the Land Rover.’
‘Do you want to lie down?’ she asked, sounding anxious.
‘No. I’ll be all right. I just need to straighten out some creases.’
While I waited for the kettle, I opened the computer up to check my emails. No important new ones. But one thing struck me instantly. The email I had received from Mike Rogers was gone, deleted.
I nodded with satisfaction. That was one thing my mystery intruder must have come for. Now there was no visible connection to PortPlus. So even if there had been some doubt in my mind, I was quite certain now they were dirty. It felt like progress.
Nancy was exploring, examining the view out of the kitchen window, picking up ornamental bits and pieces, studying my bookshelves.
I smiled, glad to have her company. ‘I’ve got a bit more room for junk than you have in your place.’
She laughed. ‘In my place,’ she said, ‘I have room for nothing at all. I can’t even get all the useful stuff I need inside, never mind junk.’
That made me wonder where she kept her things. People who have emigrated usually have more than I’d seen in her hut. On the other hand, of course, people who have to leave a country in a hurry often have nothing at all with them.
‘Did you have to get out fast?’
She turned and stared at me, knowing what I meant. Then she nodded. ‘Very fast.’
It was an awkward moment. I felt I was in danger of trespassing where she didn’t want me to go.
‘Tell you what,’ I said, changing the subject. ‘Look upstairs, and sort out some bedding for the spare room. You’ll find what you need in the cupboard on the landing. I’ll give you a shout when the coffee’s ready.’
‘I’ll do it afterwards,’ she said. ‘Let’s have the coffee first.’
So we did. I made the coffee and we sat down with it at the kitchen table. Then I told her a little about life at Risky Point, until we were interrupted. A knock on the door and a shout warned of Jimmy Mack’s arrival.
‘Come on in, Jimmy!’
The door opened and the man himself entered. He stared at Nancy, surprised. ‘I didn’t know you had a visitor,’ he said awkwardly.
‘Jimmy Mack!’ Nancy said, jumping to her feet. ‘Fancy seeing you here!’
She rushed over to give him a hug. His face lit up with astonished smiles and wrinkles. ‘Young Nancy?’ he whispered back to her, shocked beyond belief.
I shook my head, astonished, though I knew I shouldn’t have been by anything involving Jimmy Mack.
‘Sit down, Jim,’ I said. ‘You’re just in time for coffee.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘I knew her grandpa,’ Jimmy told me when things had settled down again, ‘but I haven’t seen her for many a year.’
‘We still recognized each other, though,’ Nancy contributed.
Jimmy grinned and shook his head, as if it was a mystery to him how these things worked. I knew exactly how he felt.
‘You might have said,’ I complained to Nancy.
She just shrugged and focussed all her attention on Jimmy. In turn, he was delighted to be the centre of attention. I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t often he found himself in that position. For a time my aches and pains disappeared, overwhelmed by the joyous reunion being enacted before my very eyes.
All the same, I was puzzled, and even a little disconcerted, by the way Nancy had kept quiet about knowing Jimmy. It was on a par with how she had suddenly blurted out ‘Mining’ and ‘Africa’ to Henry. Hidden depths, or evasion? Anyway, I was glad she was here, and I looked forward to finding out what else she knew – and I didn’t!
Now the initial adrenaline rush was over, Jimmy started peering at me closely and looking worried.
‘You don’t look well, son,’ he said eventually. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I ran into a bit of trouble, Jim.’ I shrugged. ‘Rather, it ran into me.’
‘That’s why I’m here,’ Nancy said briskly. ‘I came to look after him, and drive for him.’
Jimmy looked from one to the other of us. Amusement was irritatingly all over his face. So I told him briefly what had happened. Then I asked him if anything unusual had happened lately, or if he’d seen any strangers hanging around.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said, thinking about it. ‘I’ve thought once or twice someone was around, up to no good. Just little things, you know. But I’ve not actually seen anyone.’
‘What sort of things, Jim?’
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand thoughtfully. ‘A flash of light, like someone was using field glasses. The feeling that someone was watching me. Then yesterday something startled a flock of finches out of that hawthorn over there. Not much, but. . . .’
‘Don’t worry, Jim. They’ll be watching me, not you, if anyone is around.’
I didn’t want to worry him, not around his own home. I didn’t want him sitting on his front doorstep with a loaded shotgun either. So I didn’t tell him someone had been through my house at least a couple of times. I just told him to let me know if he did see anyone.
He shook his head when I had finished. ‘It all comes back to that MP, doesn’t it?’ he said wonderingly. ‘If you’d never gone to the Gare that afternoon. . . .’
‘Don’t go there, Jim!’ I said with a groan. ‘I’ve done enough wishful thinking for myself.’
He grinned and looked at Nancy.
‘We’ve been looking into this company that’s threatening the fishermen’s huts at the South Gare,’ she said. ‘And the seals and fishermen, and everything else. And guess what?’
Jimmy waited expectantly.
‘It doesn’t appear to exist,’ Nancy said triumphantly. ‘So we really do have a mystery to solve. We started off trying to find James Campbell’s killers. Now we don’t know where it’s going to lead.’
Nancy taking over! I thought ruefully. I guessed I might have to get used to that if I retained
her services as a driver.
Jimmy looked at me, eyebrows raised in enquiry.
I shrugged. ‘Someone has to find out what happened.’
‘And it has to be you? Not Bill Peart?’
‘Well. . . . Tell you what, Jim. If someone pokes you in the eye, are you just going to let them get away with it?’
He began to laugh then. It wasn’t long before all three of us were laughing. It was a mad situation.
After Jimmy had gone, I moved on to the sofa and let Nancy have a bath and sort out the bedding for the spare room. I was glad to be left alone for a while. I needed a bit of thinking space.
Dead as he was, James Campbell was still at the top of my agenda. The key to everything that had been happening to me was James Campbell himself. Something he had been doing, or that he represented, had triggered all this mayhem and duplicity. Could it really just be his opposition to PortPlus’s plans? When the company didn’t appear to exist!
I couldn’t unlock the puzzle myself. Not yet. Maybe Henry would, as he looked up Donovan McCardle. Mining and Africa. That’s what Nancy had suggested he focus on. Interesting. I wondered why she had said that. Obviously, she knew more than she had told me so far.
Nancy returned and announced herself satisfied with her room. ‘Such a wonderful view!’
I smiled and nodded. ‘Glad you like it.’
‘And the bath was good, too. It’s just a pity I didn’t have any clean clothes to put on afterwards,’ she added ruefully.
‘You don’t need to worry about that around here,’ I told her. ‘Jimmy Mack hasn’t put clean clothes on since last year.’
She laughed. ‘He’s a grand old chap, isn’t he?’
I nodded. ‘A good friend and neighbour. Have a root around, by the way. If there’s anything of mine that fits, you’re welcome to try it on.’
‘I was thinking underwear.’
‘Ah! That might be a problem.’
Smiling, she looked at me and said, ‘So what now? What are you thinking?’
‘I was just thinking about James Campbell. I know next to nothing about him, but you seem to have known him quite well?’
A Death at South Gare Page 9