Death at Beacon Cottage

by Betty Rowlands

  She drank her tea standing in front of the kitchen window, looking out at her little back garden. It was separated by a low hedge from the adjoining farmland that sloped gently away from the house and she found herself mentally assessing it from the security aspect. There was no public footpath across the field and the hedge was hawthorn, which was cattle-proof and would certainly provide a pretty formidable barrier to a prospective intruder – but not to someone really determined, added a warning voice in her ear.

  She caught her breath and spun round in alarm at an unexpected movement behind her, then gave a shaky laugh at the sight of Fergus standing in the doorway in his pyjamas, his hair rumpled and his eyes bleary with sleep.

  ‘Gus, you made me jump,’ she said reproachfully.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, yawning. ‘I was awake and I heard you moving about, so…’ He wandered over to the teapot, peered inside and reached for a mug.

  ‘You’ll need to top that up,’ she told him.

  ‘I only made enough for one.’

  He nodded, switched on the electric kettle and waited for it to come to the boil. In silence, he added more water to the pot, filled the mug, added milk and sugar and stirred it before joining her at the window. ‘Who was that on the phone last night?’ he asked.

  ‘Some nutter.’ She tried to sound casual.

  ‘He didn’t give a name.’

  ‘Nuisance call?’

  ‘Something like that. I got the number – I’ll report it when I get to work this morning.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Nothing much. He did say he’d call again, though.’

  ‘D’you reckon it’s anything to do with this case you’ve been working on?’

  She turned to look at him and was moved by the concern in his face. ‘What makes you say that?’ she asked.

  ‘You obviously didn’t sleep well and you nearly jumped out of your skin when I came in here just now.’ He stared down at his tea, avoiding her eye. ‘I’ve had a sort of feeling lately—’

  ‘Oh, not you as well!’ Sukey made a determined effort to lighten the direction the conversation was taking. ‘Jim’s been going on like that for days – I can’t think why – he’s had far more difficult cases in the past.’

  ‘Not that you’ve been involved in. Mum, look at me… something’s going on, isn’t it? Please tell me… are you in some sort of danger?’

  ‘What on earth makes you think that?’ she countered, but she knew her voice lacked conviction.

  He did not answer immediately. He drank his tea, went to the sink and spent several seconds rinsing out his mug with more than usual care. She noticed his colour rise and said curiously, ‘Gus, what are you trying to say?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he said, his voice slightly thick with embarrassment. ‘The fact is… well, you remember that night when Jim was here for dinner just after the robbery at Bussell Manor?’

  ‘Yes – what of it?’

  ‘I was going on about how I was sure there was an undercover agent involved and Jim practically admitted there was, and that it was a woman, but he wouldn’t say any more.’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘And then I went up to my room to do my homework.’

  ‘Go on,’ Sukey prompted as he hesitated, evidently searching for words.

  ‘I… got thirsty after a while and came down to get a cold drink. You and Jim were in the kitchen and I was just about to come in when I heard him saying something about someone called Pepita who looks like you. I knew he’d shut up and change the subject the minute I appeared so I waited—’

  ‘You mean, you were listening to our conversation?’

  ‘I suppose so. Anyway, I heard him say he wanted you to go into a safe house, and you said you wouldn’t… and then his phone went and there was the bit about the anonymous tip-off and Jim said he had to leave in a hurry, so I scarpered.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ Sukey said drily. ‘No one likes to be caught snooping.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to, it just happened,’ he pleaded. ‘I thought about it for a long time, wondering whether I should say anything… I did feel worried, but I was afraid you’d think I’d been spying on you and Jim… and anyway I figured that if it was anything serious he’d take care of it. And when I got home after the weekend everything seemed all right, but I’ve been thinking about it on and off. Mum, this phone call – d’you reckon it’s got anything to do with all these murders?’

  ‘I can’t be sure, Gus, but I have a nasty feeling it has.’

  ‘If you take Jim’s advice and go into a safe house, will they let me go with you?’

  ‘You don’t imagine I’d agree to your being left here on your own, do you?’ she said, touched by the almost desolate look on his young face. ‘If it came to that, you could go and stay with Dad… not that I’ve agreed to anything yet,’ she added. While they had been speaking, half of her mind had been racing ahead in a totally different direction. ‘I’d rather stay with you, Mum.’ He took her hand and squeezed it.

  She returned the pressure. ‘Try not to worry – Jim’ll take care of things.’ She rinsed out her mug and put it on the draining-board. ‘We’ll just have to see what he says when I tell him about the phone call. Anyway, we may be worrying about nothing,’ she went on, more with the object of reassuring Fergus than with any belief that it was true. ‘It’s almost seven,’ she added briskly. ‘We’d better get on with the day.’

  Over his breakfast bowl of cornflakes, Gus remarked, ‘If this was a thriller on the telly, the police would probably use you as a bait to lure the killer into a trap.’

  ‘Funny you should say that,’ Sukey replied without thinking as she transferred bacon and tomatoes from the grill to hot plates, added an egg to each from the frying pan and put them on the table.

  Her son looked at her in horror. ‘Mum, you wouldn’t…?’

  ‘It’s crossed my mind,’ she admitted. In fact, she had thought of little else since the idea first came to her. ‘Jim believes there are some powerful and ruthless people organising the robberies and the killings and if they’re behind these calls it means that for some reason they think I’m a serious threat to their operations. If that’s the case, they’re going to come after me wherever I go.’

  Fergus put the empty cereal bowl to one side and reached mechanically for his bacon and egg, but made no attempt to eat. ‘Are you saying you’d rather stay here under police protection and wait for this chap to…’ He swallowed hard and pushed the plate away again as if suddenly nauseated.

  ‘I agree it’s terrifying, but what’s the alternative? Spending weeks, months perhaps in hiding, unable to go out, do my job or see any of my friends? The police haven’t got any positive leads – without some sort of break they might never manage to lay their hands on this gang.’

  ‘Don’t do it, Mum, please!’ The lad’s eyes were full of tears and Sukey reached across the table and put a hand on his arm.

  ‘Let’s not talk about it any more for the moment,’ she said gently. ‘It was just an idea, but try not to worry. If the worst comes to the worst, Jim will see that we’re given protection. Come on, eat your breakfast.’

  They were just clearing the table when the phone rang, making them both jump and exchange apprehensive glances. Sukey felt her voice tremble as she picked up the receiver and said a cautious, ‘Hullo.’

  ‘I hope you slept well, Susan,’ said the caller. The voice and accent were unmistakable and she shivered, despite the warmth of the kitchen. ‘Or do you prefer Sukey?’ he went on, taunting her. ‘Or how about—’

  ‘I prefer neither from you,’ she interrupted defiantly. ‘Please stop bothering me with these stupid calls.’ She slammed down the handset and looked across at Fergus. ‘It was him again,’ she said shakily.

  ‘Quick – get the number!’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Once again she tapped out the code and noted the information. ‘It’s different from last night’s… he’s obviously moving aro
und,’ she said, frowning.

  Seconds later, the phone rang again. In an effort to steady herself she took several deep breaths before answering. ‘Now look here—’ she began. It was his turn to interrupt.

  ‘You hung up on me, Sukey,’ he said. ‘That wasn’t nice.’

  ‘It’s not nice to be pestered with anonymous phone calls. It happens to be a criminal offence and if it happens again I’ll—’

  ‘Inform the police?’ he broke in mockingly. ‘That’s rich, coming from you… Pepita!’

  Sukey felt her knees buckle and she grabbed the edge of the table. ‘What did you call me?’ she said in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Don’t you like me using Roddy’s pet name for you?’ A hint of sympathy, heavily laced with irony, crept into his voice. ‘Don’t tell me you miss him.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, trying desperately not to betray her agitation. ‘My name isn’t Pepita and I don’t know anyone called Roddy.’

  ‘And I’m the Duke of Edinburgh,’ he jeered.

  At the sound of the name ‘Pepita’ she saw her son’s eyes widen with alarm. Seeing him about to speak, she put a warning finger to her lips.

  ‘It’s true,’ she insisted into the phone. ‘You’re making a mistake… you’ve got the wrong person.’

  His dismissive laugh had an unpleasant, chilling undertone. ‘No, it was you who got the wrong person, when you betrayed Roddy. There’s a price to pay for treachery, Pepita.’

  ‘For the last time—’

  ‘No, this isn’t the last time… but it will be soon. Goodbye for now.’ A sharp click was followed by the whirr of dial tone. With a hand that shook, she replaced the receiver.

  ‘Him again?’ Fergus whispered and she nodded.

  ‘Gus, I’m scared,’ she said shakily. ‘You must tell Jim right away.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Give me a moment to calm down.’

  ‘Shall I make some coffee?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  When the phone rang for the third time, Fergus made a grab at it. ‘Let me take it,’ he said eagerly.

  Sukey snatched it out of his reach. ‘No!’ she said sharply. ‘He may not realise you’re here… he may not even know about you.’ A new, hideous fear swept over her as she picked up the receiver and almost screamed into it, ‘Look here, I told you—’

  ‘Sukey? Is something wrong?’

  ‘Oh Jim, thank God it’s you!’ She could have wept with relief.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve been getting these phone calls, three of them, one last night and two more just now. I thought it was him again.’

  ‘Stay where you are. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.’

  ‘She’s a plucky lass, your Mrs Reynolds,’ said Superintendent Sladden. ‘If she’s really willing to go ahead, we stand a good chance of nicking one of the key figures in this mob.’

  DI Castle stared at his senior officer in consternation. ‘You mean you’re prepared to go along with it, sir?’

  ‘Can you think of a better idea?’

  ‘I suggested getting the real “Pepita” to stand in for her, but she turned it down flat, said the hitman would smell a rat straight away if a different voice answered the phone.’

  ‘Smart as well as plucky,’ commented Sladden with a nod of approval.

  ‘I was hoping you’d help me talk her out of it.’

  ‘Why ever would I do that?’ Sladden fixed Castle with a penetrating stare. ‘If it was one of the other SOCOs – anyone else, in fact – you wouldn’t be objecting, would you? Come on, be honest,’ he went on as Castle remained silent.

  ‘No, sir, but—’

  ‘But nothing. We’ll plan the operation very carefully. From what this character said to Mrs Reynolds, he doesn’t seem to be in any great hurry to move in.’

  ‘I had that impression as well,’ Castle agreed. ‘It sounds as if he enjoys playing cat and mouse.’

  ‘Perhaps she can play the cat and mouse game as well. Let’s get her to string him along if she can while we get everything in place. Some external security lights – that should discourage him from striking at night – and a phone with an instant tracer button. I’ll get on to Special Branch and ask for an armed officer to be on duty round the clock. We’d better ask for a woman – we don’t want to give the neighbours anything to gossip about, do we?’ Sladden made notes while he was speaking. ‘Now, what about the lad? Didn’t you mention something about packing him off to his father until this is sorted?’

  ‘He says he won’t go… insists on staying with his mother.’

  ‘Can’t have that. Make sure he’s out of the way as soon as possible. After that…’ The Superintendent put down his pen and leaned forward on his elbows. ‘I know you aren’t going to like this, Castle, but from then on you’re to keep right out of this operation.’

  ‘But, sir—’

  ‘No buts, Castle. I know you’re emotionally involved with Mrs Reynolds and this has got to be one hundred per cent professionally handled, no risk of personal feelings interfering with anyone’s judgement at a crucial moment.’

  ‘I assure you, sir, you can trust me not to—’ Castle began, but Sladden made an impatient gesture.

  ‘Stay out of it – that’s an order,’ he said, adding more gently, ‘Don’t worry, Jim, we’ll take care of her.’

  Twenty-Four

  As Sukey pulled on to her own drive, the car that had been discreetly following her on the last part of her journey home slid past, circled the rest of the little cul-de-sac and parked a short distance from the junction with the main road. A woman passenger got out, a slim, bespectacled figure with collar-length blond hair wearing a dark blue coat and skirt. A handbag dangled from her left shoulder and she held a clipboard in her right hand.

  Sukey got out of her car to open the garage door just as her neighbour from the adjoining house appeared. He gave her a friendly wave as he put a couple of milk bottles on his doorstep and then gestured at the newly installed security light on her front wall. The police hadn’t wasted any time. ‘Expecting burglars, are you?’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Not especially, but there have been a few break-ins not far away,’ she explained, repeating the story she had been given. ‘My boyfriend thought it mightn’t be a bad idea… he says it’s quite an effective deterrent.’

  He nodded agreement. ‘I’ve often thought of it. Cost a lot, did it?’

  ‘Enough.’ She nodded and smiled as she got back into the car, drove into the garage and switched off the engine. In the act of closing the up-and-over door she saw the woman on the opposite side of the road. She appeared to be scanning the house numbers and consulting information on her clipboard, eventually stopping outside the fourth house along. Sukey watched her open the gate, walk briskly up to the front door and ring the bell.

  A personal door at the side of Sukey’s garage gave on to a narrow passage that ran between her drive and her back garden and was enclosed at the front end by a solid wooden gate secured by metal bolts which she checked before unlocking the back door and entering the house. As she opened it, a high-pitched bleep sounded; she had been expecting it, but just the same it gave her a start. Dumping her handbag on the kitchen table, she hurried to the front room, on her way dropping in the hall the suitcase she had been given on leaving the police station. Peering through the curtains, she was just in time to see the woman with the clipboard disappearing through the open front door of Number Eight.

  ‘So far, so good,’ she said aloud. It was a little after half-past six and she calculated that it would be at least an hour before her own doorbell rang – plenty of time for a shower and a change of clothes. An afternoon spent closeted at the station being briefed by a Special Branch officer, coupled with the fact that the weather was exceptionally mild for April, had left her feeling uncomfortably warm and sticky. She was apprehensive too, asking herself for the hundredth time whether she was doing the right thing. There was a sick feeli
ng in her stomach that refused to go away despite the repeated assurances she had been given about the measures that had been and would continue to be taken to ensure her safety.

  After her shower she went into Fergus’s room, stripped the bed, remade it with clean sheets and tidied up some of the litter that he had left lying around. Her throat contracted as she put some jeans and an old pair of trainers in the wardrobe and saw it denuded of most of his everyday clothes. All the arrangements for his removal had been made by the police; she had been allowed a brief word with him once he was safely ensconced in Paul’s flat and it had been an effort to control her tears as she did her best to reassure him that they were both in good hands, that it would be all right, that once the danger was over everything would be back to normal in no time. Thank goodness Paul had risen to the occasion splendidly; they had had their differences in the past, but she could not fault him now.

  The sky had become overcast and the light was already fading by the time she went downstairs and into the kitchen to unpack the provisions that she had picked up at a corner shop – the supermarket had been declared a potential danger zone – on the way home. She had just put the last items away when the bleeper sounded again from a tiny illuminated panel beside the back door that she had not noticed until now; seconds later the front doorbell rang. Acting on instructions, she took a quick peek through the front room window. As she expected, the woman with the clipboard was standing on the step wearing the half-doubtful, half-expectant expression of someone making a cold call, uncertain of finding the householder at home.

  ‘Good evening,’ she said briskly when Sukey opened the door. ‘I’m from Premier Market Research; we’re conducting a survey on the extent of public interest in organic food and environmentally friendly products. I wonder if you can spare me a little of your time to answer a few questions?’