Guilty as Sin

by Judith Cutler

  ‘What next?’ asked Pa, reasonably enough. ‘It seems to me to be imperative that you summon the police, Tripp, much as you’d wish to protect my daughter. To apprehend whoever affronted poor Mary, of course. Noblesse oblige, remember.’

  ‘It will put her at risk. You didn’t hear his threats,’ Mary said, slightly lacking in conviction.

  Pa peered at her from under his eyebrows. ‘We both know that whatever we advise, our girl will do as she pleases. But before you summon them, be a good fellow, Tripp, and ferry me home. It’s hardly a secret that there are members of Kent Constabulary whom I’d rather not meet socially. If you want to stay with Lina, you must have a local hostelry. I will adjourn there until one of you is free. Of course it will be open – and if it isn’t I am sure that the landlord will discover that he does indeed wish to sell me a bottle of shampoo, possibly his only bottle of shampoo, of course.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Pa,’ I said. ‘Mary and I can deal with the police. Woman power!’ I added, hoping she’d still be sober when they arrived. ‘Griff will be happy to take you back. Make sure you use the main drive, Griff – our poor Fiesta’s suspension isn’t as tough as the van’s,’ I reminded him.

  ‘So it’s someone who did his homework pretty well,’ I told the worried-looking Conrad Knowles, ‘assaulting Mary out of range of our cameras.’

  Sitting Conrad down in the living room, I passed him the coffee he’d preferred, and gave an extra-strong mug to Mary. He sipped appreciatively. ‘So he hoped to put more effective frighteners on you by bashing your friends. Nice. Are you quite sure you’re OK, Mrs Banner? I can organize a call from Victim Support.’

  ‘I shall be fine when my husband returns,’ she said firmly. She glanced at me as if to suggest that I’d be happy too with a nice young man like this beside me.

  My smile was non-committal. ‘The CCTV system got some shots of the car, so you might make out the model number on the back if not the entire number plate.’

  ‘I’ll take copies of the footage anyway. But the guy’ll be miles away by now. He may even be en route for France.’

  ‘We have close ties with European police forces now, though, don’t we, Conrad?’

  To my amazement – I’d only made a mild allusion to Carwyn, after all – he flushed. Perhaps he thought I was trying to tell him how to do his job, and resented it. Well, I’d tell him a bit more. ‘And even though we’ve only got a partial registration number, surely your clever computer will be able to work it out. If not, then I reckon Mercedes would be able to tell you who bought a vehicle like that. This year’s model, after all.’ When he gaped at my apparent knowledge of posh cars, I added dryly, ‘You can just see the year on the number plate.’

  What was the matter with the guy? He didn’t seem to be firing on all cylinders, as it were.

  ‘A man like that wouldn’t do his own dirty work, wouldn’t use his own car,’ he said at last.

  ‘Some men don’t like delegating. Some men are so full of themselves they never imagine anyone would disobey their orders – in this case our asking you and your mates for help.’

  ‘So what will you do? Will you make yourself scarce? Another break in France?’ he pursued.

  ‘France? Why France, for goodness’ sake, when I live and work here?’

  He looked strangely relieved. ‘You’re a sitting duck. And your grandfather. And Mrs Banner, of course,’ he added, giving her a worried glance, to which she responded with a gentle shrug.

  ‘If Mary prefers, we’d quite understand if she took a few days off. I could even ferry any items for overseas buyers to her and she could pack them at home – the parcel she’d packed was proof against even deliberate violence, which I doubt mine would be.’

  This time she smiled. ‘If Paul can bring me I’ll be here. Though I’d certainly wait for him to take me to the post office,’ she conceded as Conrad raised a warning finger.

  ‘As for Griff and me, we’re due a change of car,’ I said lightly. ‘And this place itself is pretty secure. The main thing, however, Conrad, is that I don’t know what I’m doing that this character objects to. Stopping folk stealing from churches? Fingering a fellow dealer called Habgood for handling stolen goods? If you and your colleagues can come up with what I believe you call intelligence, then maybe I can make an informed decision whether to stay or to scarper.’ I had an idea I was being too sarcastic, which wouldn’t help anyone, even if Conrad didn’t seem to have registered it.

  He turned back to Mary. ‘Now, Mrs Banner, I know you said you couldn’t recollect anything about your assailant apart from his sunglasses, but I’ll bet you can, you know.’ He gave an everyone’s-favourite-nephew smile. ‘Let’s both stand a moment. Taller than me? Shorter than me? The same? OK, about five-nine or ten. Hair?’

  ‘I’ve just remembered! He was wearing a Panama – the sort my husband wears to the cricket. With a little ribbon round it, red and yellow stripes. A hatband.’

  ‘Well done. He must have looked like an old-fashioned film star.’

  ‘I don’t know: those linen suits always look a bit crumpled. And I’d have thought it was a bit too summery for this time of year, wouldn’t you? I know I took Paul’s to the cleaners a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘Under that glamorous hat, did you notice his hair? His complexion?’

  ‘The hat was pulled down over his face – just like the baddies in old movies used to wear their fedoras. I just saw myself reflected in those sunglasses.’ She demonstrated how they wrapped round his face.

  ‘His hands: they snatched that package. Did you notice anything? Did he bite his fingernails or were they manicured?’ He showed his own well-shaped and well-tended hands.

  She stared at them fascinated, but shook her head. ‘I really can’t recall. Really. Ah, that’s Paul. I’d like to go home now, please.’

  SEVENTEEN

  ‘If that ducky young policeman says we need a new car, a new car we shall have,’ Griff said emphatically. ‘In fact, we’ll go and look for one first thing tomorrow morning, as soon as we’ve checked Dodie’s overnight CCTV footage.’

  ‘You’re not going to make me wait till tomorrow to find out how this afternoon’s tea party went, are you?’ I demanded, arms akimbo. ‘Come on, Pa must have spilt a few beans! I didn’t have time to ask him when I collected him.’

  ‘Wait till tomorrow? I value your blood pressure too much, my dear one. But I do feel I need, after all the alarums and excursions, a restorative G&T.’ He sank into his favourite chair while I did the honours, with white wine for myself.

  ‘Talk,’ I said, putting a bowl of olives between us.

  He infuriated me further by taking a long, slow appreciative sip. ‘I do so miss this. I know the doctors insisted that red wine was best for the heart, but this does soothe the spirit.’

  ‘Griff—’

  He gave an impish grin. ‘Elham is hardly the most reliable witness, my love, especially outside what I’m sure was the best part of the bottle of champagne he took over. Anyway, he tells me that though he was shocked by the way Dodie had aged—’

  ‘And she him, when she can see properly again!’

  ‘Indeed. Although your ministrations have indeed improved him. Though Dodie had aged, he could still see her former beauty. And after a slow and hesitant beginning, the champagne loosened their tongues and they beguiled each other with reminiscences he suspects brought a blush to Moira’s cheeks. Then, because he could see that Dodie was tiring – amazing that the old reprobate could be so perceptive! – he had the bright idea of insisting that Moira join them and giving her a drink too.’

  ‘Which would account for the gales of laughter I heard when I went to collect him,’ I observed. ‘So a good time was had by all. Excellent. But I let you down, Griff: when I saw that Merc parked near the shop I assumed it must be Harvey’s. That’s why, though I heard raised voices, I didn’t come and see what was going on.’

  ‘All’s well that ends well. Not that it has ended, of cou
rse. But a different car you shall have, and we’ll get a new van for the business, a strictly anonymous one.’ As I opened my mouth, he raised a finger. ‘Yes, I deliberately made the distinction. Paul and I have been having numerous quite tedious conversations about tax. I can’t just hand over all my assets to you because someone would notice. However, I can give you generous presents. It’s your birthday very soon—’

  ‘No, it isn’t.’

  ‘Well, you need an early Christmas gift. Whatever. And the first instalment will be a new set of wheels, as Paul puts it. I suspect he’s a closet boy-racer. It would be lovely if it could be something really flash, but that would violate our anonymity principle. And Paul is insistent that we buy used vehicles, so that we don’t donate twenty per cent of the cost to the government.’

  Knowing Paul’s views on VAT, I grinned.

  ‘Now, while I prepare supper, my love, I suggest that you go online and start reading car reviews. We don’t want to be conned by some oily sales person.’

  Dodie seemed no worse for her afternoon tea party the previous day – in fact she was rather bright, holding my hand as she told us how much she was looking forward to the delivery of the anti-dwindling wheelchair that Moira had organized. The Carrs’ grandson had been delegated to push her round the village as part of his rugby training. Perhaps if Spencer took it into his head to join us Pilates women again, I could suborn him into doing the same thing just to please me. No. Not a good idea.

  ‘I’m so grateful for all you and your friends have done,’ she said. ‘So very grateful.’ With her other hand she patted the netsuke, then transferred the bear to her lap. ‘To have comfortable feet and be able to wear shoes with a modicum of shape – so refreshing. And that lovely lady doing my hair. So very kind …’

  ‘I’ve done nothing,’ I said truthfully, ‘except to shake things up a bit.’

  She squeezed my hand. ‘Do you suppose that Elizabeth I ever led her troops into battle? No, she just inspired them! Shakers are worth a very great deal, Lina, and not just for making cocktails.’

  Paul insisted on staying with Mary all day, largely because she’d refused to take time off, though Griff pressed her pretty hard to do so. Thanking her, but telling her simply to close the shop when she’d had enough, I was about to leave but popped back to ask, seemingly off-hand, if she’d recalled anything else about Mercedes Man.

  At first she shook her head vigorously, but at last, as I held her eye, she whispered, ‘His hands were so like that policeman’s. Lovely hands. Wasted on a man. But I didn’t want to say anything and offend him. Does it matter?’

  I hugged her. ‘Only if there’s an ID parade – and these days,’ I added hastily, ‘you don’t even have to see the suspect face to face. It’s all done by video so it’s completely safe for the witness.’

  Unless you want to ID the police officer beside you, of course.

  Dismissing with a sniff all the vehicles he considered aimed at the foolish, spendthrift young – I wasn’t entirely flattered that he excluded me so readily from their ranks – Griff pointed at a gorgeous sporty red car swishing past us in the direction of the Audi dealership. Love at first sight for both of us, of course, but failing on two counts: it wasn’t exactly unobtrusive and, when we came to test drive it – I know, I know, but blame Griff, not me – we discovered a downside to a two-door sports model, especially when it was low slung with the sort of front seats that hold you in place. I could leap in and out at will, but if Griff had difficulty heaving himself in and out of the front seats, once he was in the back they nearly had to summon a hoist to extract him.

  In the end, much as I’d have loved a standard four-door A3 also in vivid red, we settled for a silver one, the same as all the other silver A3s, and none the worse for that. Lots of power, good road-holding (though I didn’t observe to Griff that this might be useful if anyone ever gave chase) and much lower road tax and insurance than the original sports model. It was like choosing a sensible marriage over a wild affair. But there were enough bells and whistles even on this to keep Griff amused – or confused – for months.

  Now the (cash!) deal was done, it was time to shop for the prosaic van, Griff turning in both the old van and the Fiesta – after an extended bout of haggling from which he emerged the undoubted winner – towards the price of another silver vehicle. Even that was pretty nippy, and again came with more instruments – or distractions – than we’d ever use.

  A couple of days later, it was even harder than usual for me to join in the post-Pilates banter at the pub. After all, I’d probably had a more exciting week than most, but there was nothing I particularly wanted to share with the others. The incident outside the shop I could write off, should either of them ask, as a bit of road rage; the new transport wouldn’t be on the road till the following morning; and Dodie’s business was Dodie’s business.

  Laura rather shyly invited us back to her flat to eat our Chinese take-out: I had a sense she wanted us to admire her decorating skills. If so, I was happy to oblige, genuinely, as it happens, when I saw what she and her boyfriend had made of an unpromising ground floor flat at the edge of the small social housing estate that stood cheek by jowl with one of the posher parts of the village. Presumably it was in one of the large and elegant houses – many coyly referring to themselves as cottages – that Honey lived.

  The meal was as boozy and loud as that at our cottage. Honey gushed over the darling little kitchen – with unnecessary emphasis on little – the plain white crockery and the simple wine glasses, almost forcing Laura into confessing she’d bought the lot at Asda. Only then did Honey offer to get Laura’s household stuff with her Fenwick’s staff discount – though I think both Laura and I suspected that even then she’d still have had to pay a lot more. Just as I’d been on the receiving end of Honey’s fire when they were in our kitchen, now it was Laura’s turn. What was driving Honey? I didn’t know. Perhaps I could help Laura a little by asking Honey why we’d not seen Spencer at the dance classes recently. I braced myself for a barbed reply, but got a reasonable one: he was the only one without a partner, which wasn’t much fun. Then came a jibe about me enjoying mixing with a load of geriatrics.

  ‘Dancing’s good exercise,’ I retorted truthfully. ‘As I’m sure Spencer will tell you. Something about kicking people in the teeth, he said.’

  At least this time there was no need for me to wait for the others to call it a day: I could leave when I wanted to, which was well before eleven. I had a lot of work to do, after all, not to mention two new (to us) vehicles to get used to.

  The only drawback was the walk home afterwards. Laura had probably hoped Honey would leave at the same time, but she declared her intention of helping Laura empty the bottle, which was still three-quarters full. Since I’d already slipped my fleece on I was afraid it would look weak or weird, take your pick, if I sat down again.

  Our ways would have diverged after a couple of hundred yards anyway, I reflected, striding out as confidently as anyone who’d incurred a stranger’s wrath could – a stranger with a dark car, moreover, on narrow streets only intermittently lit. Stride? I was soon running, and not in a good way.

  I got as far as the shops on the village square when I saw the outline of someone tall and broad-shouldered watching me from the front step of the wonderful Indian take-away, in my view streets ahead of the new Chinese the other women insisted on using. Help – even if I didn’t actually need it – was at hand in the form of Afzal. He was just turning the sign on the door to CLOSED. He unscrewed the bottle of water he’d been holding and passed it to me. ‘Where’s the fire, Lina?’

  ‘If I knew, I’d know where to run,’ I said.

  ‘You know what they say: if you can’t run any more, talk to a mate with a van. It’s the last delivery. I’ll take it and leave Saeed to clean up. Idle bugger; thinks he’s Lewis Hamilton when he’s behind the wheel, and far too grand to wield a mop.’ He popped back inside, emerging with a cardboard box from which such
wonderful smells emanated I wondered why on earth I’d bothered to spend an evening cramming MSG down my throat. The change of plan obviously wasn’t to Saaed’s liking, but Afzal had long since perfected an almost Gallic shrug. Shaking the van keys in derision might have been less than dignified, but Afzal was a mate and I wasn’t about to nit-pick, even when he cruelly observed, as he dropped the box on my lap, that I might be out of condition.

  ‘You try running up from the Glebe Field estate after an hour of Pilates, half a bottle of wine and a really bad Chinese meal,’ I said.

  ‘Point taken. But you ought to do aerobic stuff, not just Pilates.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  ‘I always am.’

  ‘And so modest, too. The trouble is, Afzal, that like you I seem to work all hours God made – and a few He intended for rest. I do Pilates because it’s good for me, just like root canal work, but it never gives me an adrenalin rush or a surge of those hormones that are supposed to make you feel happy—’

  ‘Endorphins,’ he supplied helpfully, though it had been on the tip of my tongue. ‘Running?’

  ‘It’s one thing running just for pleasure, but another running to get home, with someone in a big car known to be after me. Not to mention the guys who gave me a bruise on my head the size of a hen’s egg simply for rescuing someone’s floral tribute.’

  ‘Heard about that. You’re over it now?’

  ‘The bang on the bonce or the fear of a bigger, better bang?’

  ‘OK. So no running, solo at least. Hang on, this must be the place. Parson’s Pride. Hell’s bells – a bloody entry-phone.’ Leaving the driver’s door ajar, he stomped off to ask for admission.

  I suppose the security was no tighter than ours, but the property was altogether grander, at least judging by the high walls and gates, which, while ornamental, were topped and tailed by serious spikes. The impressive gate posts were home to cameras less discreet than ours – an obvious deterrent. I wasn’t keen on the way they were swivelling in my direction, and, pulling my hoodie top over as much of my face as it would cover, I tipped the seat back, so all they’d catch was an anonymous tummy supporting a cardboard box full of their supper.