by A. B. King
He went from room to room; methodically checking locks and bolts, and ensuring that the French windows were properly latched. Everything was in order and as he strolled into the kitchen area at the end of his circuit he suddenly stopped short with all his senses suddenly taut. The room was in darkness, and from where he stood he could make out the outline of the door leading to the rear patio. It had a frosted glass pane in the upper half through which the light of a full moon was visible. What had stopped his progress dead was what he saw through the panel. Silhouetted on this, he could just make out the shadow of a figure!
He stood perfectly still, his eyes firmly fixed on the dark shape. Was it really a figure, or was it the shadow of something else standing just beyond the door? Martin was not a nervous man, and his immediate reaction to the thought that some sort of criminal might be in the act of trying to break into the house was a feeling of anger. He had done a bit of boxing in his single days, and he had also been a very useful rugby player. The thought of having to physically tackle a burglar did not fill him with the degree of apprehension that it might another. Whatever it was he could see through the glass appeared to be moving, and ever the man of action he moved swiftly across the room to the door. As he moved, the moon went behind a cloud, and the shape vanished from sight in the sudden gloom that enshrouded everything. He reached the door, swiftly undone the bolts and lock in a matter of seconds, and flung the door open ready to deal with whatever situation faced him.
There was nobody there. The moon left the shadow of the cloud, and he could see well enough in all directions, and everything was as it should have been. There were no sounds of running footsteps, no waving shrubbery to indicate that anyone could have dived in for concealment. A quick glance either side failed to reveal anything that might have thrown the shadow on the door glass to mimic the outline of an intruder. He was about to give up and accept that it was simply a trick of the light when he just happened to glance down. There on the patio flags, a matter of only a pace away, was a glowing cigarette end!
It was proof conclusive as far as he was concerned. He was a non-smoker, and there had been no evidence that June Brent smoked either, and even if she did, a cigarette-end discarded by her would have been extinguished long since. Somebody had definitely been there on the back patio within the last few minutes. No doubt the would-be intruder had seen or heard him crossing the kitchen, and made good his escape. Was it an opportunist thief, or was it the man he had been warned about? He was tempted to start a search even though common sense told him that whoever it was had already fled the area.
Suddenly he thought of the housekeeper living alone in the flat above the garage; had the criminal already tried to break in there? Surely she would have telephoned him if she had been aware of an intruder trying to force his way in? Perhaps she would have done, yet if she was asleep, and unaware of any such happening she could possibly be in danger. For a moment he debated phoning her and then decided against in view of the late hour; he disliked the thought of rousing her from sleep and alarming her unnecessarily. He returned into the kitchen, locking and bolting the door behind him. He then selected a flash-light that he had seen earlier standing in one of the kitchen cupboards, and with this in his hand, made his way to the front of the building.
He exited the front door, locking it securely behind him as he went, and then walked the short distance in the moonlight to the garage complex. He held the flash-light ready in his hand, but kept it switched off; there was no sense in betraying his presence unnecessarily. He glanced up at the windows of the flat and saw that everything was in darkness. Moving quietly, he walked all round the building, and paid particular attention to any point where access might conceivably be forced. He paused for several seconds looking up the flight of stairs that led to the front door of the flat. Illuminated quite well in the moonlight, there was nothing to suggest that an intruder might have been up trying to force an entry. Satisfied that everything appeared to be in order, he finally returned to the house.
Once inside, he switched off all the lights and kept a watch through the windows. To his mind the possibility that the criminal might try again, although remote, could not be ignored, and he wanted very much to lay hands on whoever it was. He moved quietly from room to room, peering unseen through the windows. Reluctantly he had to accept that if the would-be burglar was still out there, he remained obstinately invisible. After about half an hour he saw a fox trot across one of the lawns, yet beyond that there was nothing. He kept the vigil up for a further couple of hours before finally accepting that nothing further was going to happen. Whoever it had been, it seemed obvious that they hadn’t expected to find anyone up and about in the house, and no doubt had abandoned any thoughts of breaking in at once. He debated contacting the police in the morning, and then dismissed the idea as being a waste of time. There was no evidence of entry, no damage done, the police would merely ask endless questions, make lots of notes, promise full attention, and that would be the last he would hear of it. He eventually tumbled into bed, and having mentally cursed because he had not taken his pill, fell almost at once into a deep sleep.
The sun was shining brightly when he suddenly woke. Almost at once the events of the night came tumbling back, and wasting little time he rose, and following a quick shower, he dressed and went down stairs. It was later than he had planned, but considering the lateness of the hour when he had retired that wasn’t to be wondered at. He went directly to the kitchen, and saw at once that June was already there, busying herself with breakfast preparations.
“Morning June,” he said cheerfully as he crossed the kitchen.
“Good morning Mr Isherwood,” she answered politely, but pressed on with her work.
He checked in his stride, aware that the words were uttered in the same cold frigid tone she had used the very first time he had met her.
“I thought we’d agreed to drop all this ‘Mr & Mrs’ nonsense?” he remarked in a casual voice.
“Your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” she said, ignoring the implied question.
He turned to look at her. Something had definitely caused her to withdraw once again into her shell, and the immediate thought in his head was that it had something to do with the nocturnal prowler he had disturbed.
“What’s wrong, June?” he asked quietly.
“Nothing is wrong,” she replied woodenly, putting a plate in to warm ready for the bacon and eggs she was cooking.
“Oh please,” he said in a slightly weary voice. “I’m not completely stupid. Last night you and I were talking in a quite friendly manner; you even agreed to help me out with the girls, remember? What’s happened?”
“Nothing has happened!”
“I’m sorry, I don’t accept that. I can tell from you tone that something has upset you. The least you can do is have the courtesy to tell me what it is?”
She suddenly stopped what she was doing, and turned to look at him with her usual expressionless face.
“Mr Isherwood; I have agreed to do your housekeeping; I have agreed to assist with searching through the effects in the upper rooms, I have agreed to assist with the care of the girls you say are coming today, and I want it clearly understood that this is all that I have agreed to!”
“Absolutely, and I couldn’t be more grateful. So why the cold-shoulder treatment?”
He thought for a moment that she wasn’t going to speak.
“Then why did you come creeping round my flat last night?” she snapped out at him suddenly.
“What?”
“You needn’t try to deny it; I saw you through the window. You came out of the house, and you went all round the garage. Why? Did you really imagine that I had left the door open for you? Did you think that because we had exchanged a few words it was an open invitation for other things? If that was what was in your mind, allow me to tell you here and now that if you so much as try anything like that, I will make you truly regret it!” Her eyes were blazing, and she
said it with such vehemence he almost recoiled from her.
“So that’s it!” he exclaimed.
“You do not deny it?”
“Of course I don’t deny it!” he snapped back. “I came across to the garage block last night just to make sure that everything was secure.”
“Now why would you want to do that?” she asked sarcastically.
“Because somebody tried to break in here last night,” he said slowly, and with meaning in his voice. “I wanted to satisfy myself that the same prowler hadn’t tried to enter either the garage or your flat.”
She still looked extremely suspicious. If his story of a possible intruder alarmed her, it did nothing to diminish her reaction to what she saw as the greater threat; his presence near to her home late at night!
“How do I know you are telling the truth?” she demanded.
“I ought to be pretty offended that you suspect I’m a liar,” he observed quietly. “Does it not cross your mind that if I had been the sort of man you obviously suspect me to be, I would have made a grab for you while you were still here, rather than wait until you had gone back home?”
“Maybe you needed a few more whiskeys to get your courage up,” she snapped back. “Oh yes, I saw the glass you used last night, and I know how much has been used!”
He spread his hands in a gesture of despair, sat himself in the chair at the end of the table, and looked at her. He could read suspicion, anger, and even fear in her expression, and in a way it made him feel sad that she should react in such a violent manner to what after all had only been an innocent act on his part.
“Well, I’m truly sorry that you think like that,” he sighed. “If you cannot take my word for it, as it happens, there is perhaps only one thing that may convince you that I’m not making this up. If you look outside the back door onto the patio you will doubtless observe, as I did last night, that there is a cigarette end lying there. I certainly do not smoke myself, nor have I any smoking materials in my possession. As far as I know, you don’t smoke either, and nobody else has been round that side of the house recently that I’m aware of.”
He saw the smallest flicker of doubt on her features. She suddenly turned, walked down the kitchen, opened the rear door and stepped out on the patio. He saw her searching with her eyes over the stone flags, and then she crouched down at the point he knew he had seen the cigarette end lying the previous night. She looked at it closely for a few moments, and then she straightened up and returned into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” she said shortly, and in a calmer voice. “Perhaps I may have jumped to the wrong conclusion. I swept that area late yesterday afternoon therefore I have no choice other than to accept that somebody has been there.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s out of the way,” Martin said, trying to convey the impression that he hadn’t taken offence at her unpleasant insinuation. “You had me quite worried.”
“If you would like to go into the breakfast room,” she said, but there was still no hint of even mild friendliness in her eyes or showing in her voice, “I will bring your meal in to you.”
“I’ll have it here,” he said firmly, “and for goodness sake pour yourself a coffee, and sit down and join me!”
He thought that she was about to refuse, but finally she said; “Very well.”
He settled down at the kitchen table, watching her as she went through the motions of transferring the hot food onto the plate she had been warming. She was dressed as severely as always, but in appraising her, he was left with the impression that she was naturally graceful of movement, and with only a modicum of attention to attire, and with her hair done a little more fashionably, she would be an attractive woman. If only she would allow herself to relax a little, and learn how to smile, it would make all the difference. To his mind there was little doubt that something in her life had really scarred her in the psychological sense, and although it was strictly none of his business he still wondered what it may have been.
She finished her preparations and then brought the plate over to the table. She swiftly produced cutlery and condiments, placing these to hand in front of him before returning to pour out coffee, and all without saying a word. Her tasks completed, she sat opposite him, a cup of coffee placed directly in front of her.
“Will you not eat something yourself?” he enquired, as he prepared to attack the excellent breakfast she had prepared.
“I had my meal earlier,” she replied shortly, “I usually eat at about six.”
He looked at her in mild astonishment. “You must rise very early to do that?” he observed.
“I always rise at five o’clock,” she explained. “I’m not one for lying around. I like to clean the flat and do all my domestic work before I come across and start my duties here.” She paused, and then held his eye as she added; “I apologise for my earlier remarks. I had no right to suggest that your motives were anything other than what you claimed.”
“It’s quite all right; I expect that if the situation had been reversed I might have made the same mistake.”
“May I ask if you have contacted the police?”
“No, I really don’t think it is worth all the hassle, do you?”
He was watching her as he spoke, and he thought he saw a slight flicker of relief as she heard his words. Was she a bit wary of the police, he wondered?
“Probably not,” she agreed. “After all, whoever it was didn’t get in, and the only proof that anyone has been here is that cigarette-end lying outside.”
“I’m glad you agree. Never-the-less, when George Dawkins comes in I think maybe we should ask him to check all the boundary walls, gates and other access points for security.” He paused, and then added; “I might even give our friend Peter Buxted a ring on that subject.”
She passed no comment on that, merely asking; “Do you think whoever was out there may try again?”
“I honestly couldn’t say; probably not, although I need to bear in mind that there was this chap asking an awful lot of questions about Springwater House in the pub. If it was him that was trying to gain entry last night then I suppose we ought to be prepared for anything?”
“There is no alarm system fitted in the house,” she observed. “Perhaps contacting Mr Buxted or some other security company might not be such a bad idea at that?”
He watched her for a few moments as he chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of his breakfast.
“Tell me,” he said as he swallowed, pausing before taking a further mouthful, “does the possibility that we may have some sort of criminal targeting us worry you? I mean; you are alone and isolated in that flat of yours?”
“I am quite secure, thank you,” she answered at once. “I have excellent locks and a strong door, and the same applies to the windows. I think it would need force well beyond the average criminal to break in, and I would certainly never answer my door at night to anyone.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” he commented. “However, if you should ever suspect that there is a prowler about, please don’t hesitate to phone me at once.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll do that.”
“Have you prepared that list of suppliers I mentioned on the phone last night?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Yes, I’ve written it out, together with telephone numbers, and taken the liberty of placing it on the desk in the study.”
“Good, I’ll contact all of them and organize charge accounts for you to make use of. I shall be pretty busy this morning, and I hope to be on my way by approximately ten-thirty. I shall treat the girls to a lunch out somewhere, and with luck I will be back somewhere in the region of four to half past.”
“I shall have everything ready for you.”
“The downside of all this, of course,” he remarked, “is that we shall have to postpone checking through the stuff in the upper rooms until tomorrow, if that is ok with you?”
“I don’t see any problem with that.”
“Good
; maybe we can then get the girls to give us a hand?”
For the first time that morning she permitted herself a slight smile. “I think,” she replied, “that maybe you do not know young girls as well as you imagine. Would you like more coffee?”
Chapter Nine. Tuesday Morning and Afternoon.
There were a number of things that Martin needed to attend to before setting off to collect Beverley, and once he was able to, he withdrew into the study and settled down to attend to them. He spent some time on the telephone to his secretary, where he was able to deal with a number of purely business matters that had arisen in his absence. Following this, he also rang the various businesses on the list that June Brent had provided, and arranged charge accounts. In the midst of these calls he received one from the school that Beverley had warned him about, and following apologies and explanations from the Head, whom he knew quite well, he confirmed that he would be collecting both youngsters from the school later in the morning, and that arrangements were well in hand for dealing with Beverley's friend. With these calls out of the way, he then called Buxted Security Systems. A very professional sounding receptionist advised him that Mr Buxted would not be available until late afternoon. He left a message requesting a return phone call during the evening.