by M C Beaton
“Nothing but a lot of boring railway reminiscences.”
“You sure?” Sharply.
“Look,” said Fell, putting his arm around Maggie, “we’ve both had a bad shock. We need to get someone to board up the windows until we find a glazier. Can’t this wait until the morning?”
“Just a few more questions.”
Dunwiddy plodded on, taking them back through everything again. At last he said, “It seems as if someone thinks you pair are a lot brighter than you really are. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Fell said suddenly, “Do we have to be here?”
“What do you mean? You can’t leave the country.”
“I meant, as long as we give you our address, can we go off to a hotel nearby, not too far away?”
“Don’t see anything wrong with that. Come round to the station in the morning and we’ll take your statements.”
“Right,” said Fell. “I’ll see you out.”
As he opened the door, he was met by the glare of television lights and camera flashes. He quickly retreated and shut the door. Maggie was going through the business phone directory. “What are you doing?” asked Fell.
“There’s emergency repair services in here, glaziers, things like that. I’ll get the windows fixed right away. And I’ll phone the security in the morning to make sure the burglar alarm is still working.”
“That’s the press,” said Fell, listening to the hammering at the door.
Maggie picked up the phone. “Were you serious about going away?”
“Yes, just for a few days, until the fuss dies down.”
Maggie spoke into the phone urgently. Then she replaced the receiver and said with a shaky smile, “One very sleepy glazier on his road round. He has a mobile phone. I told him to call us from outside the house, so we can let him in and not the press.”
♦
It was a sleepless night. The glazier and two assistants put new glass in the windows, and then Fell told him to repair Mrs. Moule’s windows next door and that he would pay for it. “Poor old thing probably doesn’t have insurance,” he said. Fell and Maggie both worked busily, cleaning up glass from the floors. Then they both got washed and dressed and packed suitcases.
“Where are we going?” asked Maggie.
“We’ll find a hotel in Moreton,” said Fell. “We’ll try the White Hart Royal and then we’ll find out more about Johnny Tremp. I’m sure he’s the villain. We check up on him and the next thing you know, someone tries to kill us.”
♦
After the alarm system had been checked in the morning, Fell called a taxi to take them to the police station. They fought their way to the taxi through a barrage of reporters’ questions. “Was it the IRA?” called some. “Come on, Maggie,” yelled Peter. “Give me a break.”
But they finally got into the cab and were driven off.
At the police station, Dunwiddy took them through everything again. “Do you know why the car blew up?” asked Fell.
“They’re still working on it, but they think it might be Sem-tex.”
“But that’s a terrorists’ weapon!”
“Exactly. And I have been answering questions from Scotland Yard as to whether you pair have any connection with Northern Ireland.”
“That’s ridiculous,” exclaimed Fell. “I’ve only been out of Buss once and that was recently when we went to London for the day.”
“So where will you be staying?”
“Only as far as Moreton-in-Marsh. I was hoping the White Hart Royal might have a couple of rooms.”
Dunwiddy pushed a phone forward. “Phone now.”
Fell phoned. He was told he was lucky that they had just received two cancellations.
Separate rooms, thought Dunwiddy. What an old-fashioned couple.
“Now,” said Fell, “is there any way we can get out of here and avoid the press?”
“I’ll get you a driver to take you to Moreton. Hide down in the back seat and he’ll drive you straight out.”
♦
At the Moreton hotel, Maggie left her suitcase on the bed and went to Fell’s room which was next to her own. She sat down on the bed and suddenly burst into tears. “We’re safe here,” said Fell, putting his arms around her. “Poor Maggie. Look, I’ll drop the whole thing. Forget about the damn robbery.”
Maggie dried her eyes. “It’s not that,” she said shakily. “I’m being silly. It’s my little car. When I was living with Mother, it was the only place I felt free and safe. It was my own little tin world.”
“We’ll rent one.”
“It costs so much to rent one, Fell. There’s a garage just outside of town. I saw it when we drove past. They’ve got second-hand cars for sale. I phoned the insurance company before I left. My car wasn’t worth anything, but they are sending an assessor to look at the wreck and they’ll pay up quite quickly.”
“Okay, we’ll go and get a car and then have some sleep.”
They bought an old Rover at a garage which had a range of second-hand cars. “I would have taken something smaller and cheaper,” said Maggie, as she drove off.
“It’s a nice red,” said Fell naively, for he knew nothing about cars. “I like the colour of this one.”
“I hope it lasts. It’s got more than one hundred thousand miles on the clock.”
“We’re mobile, anyway. Let’s go back and get some sleep.”
♦
Fell woke Maggie at seven in the evening. She bathed and changed and then they both went down for dinner.
“Let’s leave our spying on Tremp for tonight,” said Fell.
“All right,” said Maggie, relieved. “But don’t you think we should tell Dunwiddy about Tremp? I mean, why not?”
“We’ve left it a bit late. He’ll say, why didn’t we tell him before?”
“I suppose so,” said Maggie reluctantly. “And we should have told him about the attempt on your life when you were pushed in the river. Aren’t you frightened, Fell?”
“Not yet. It’s odd, but I seem to be moving in a strange world where the unacceptable has become acceptable.”
“So we go on?”
“Yes, we go on.”
∨ The Skeleton in the Closet ∧
Eight
IN the morning, before they could set out, they were visited by two men from the Special Branch. The questions began again. Had either of them ever been in Northern Ireland? Had they any Irish relatives? Neither had, which was unusual; a great proportion of the populace of the British Isles having Irish ancestry somewhere in their family tree.
“I really don’t think the IRA would bother with a little market town like Buss,” said Fell.
“They hide out all over the place on the mainland,” said one of the men. “Ten years ago, a lodging house over on the other side of Buss was raided, and bomb-making equipment, guns, and a quantity of Semtex were seized. That’s all for now. But if you plan on changing your address, let the police know.”
Then Dunwiddy phoned. He said that they should let him know when they planned to return and a police guard would be put on Fell’s house. “In that case,” Fell said, “we might go back tomorrow.”
He and Maggie drove off to Bramley-on-the-Hedges. “Instead of parking outside the house,” said Fell, “we’ll park right outside the village stores and see if we can spot him in the village.”
“And what good will that do?” asked Maggie nervously.
“I want him worried,” said Fell. “I’m getting very angry at the attempt on our lives.”
After an hour, a little group of villagers began to gather outside the shop, staring angrily at Fell and Maggie, who were parked on the opposite side of the road.
“I don’t get it,” said Fell. “Why are they so hostile?”
“I don’t know.” Maggie looked nervously at them. “You know, Fell, I wish we had told Dunwiddy about someone trying to push you in the river. I wish we had confided in him more.”
“I know,” said Fell. “B
ut I was so worried about that Andy Briggs business. I still am. They’ll have been questioning and questioning the neighbours, and I’m scared that one of them might remember seeing someone like Andy. Oh, God, what if old Mrs. Moule chatters on about us doing the garden in the middle of the night and they start searching the garden and find the cash box? Think of the questions. Then old Mrs. Wakeham will need to tell them about the money, and everyone will know I’m a bastard and the tax people will be after me. You know, there’s been quite a few stories in the newspapers about some householder or another surprising a burglar and hitting him over the head and ending up in court themselves, charged with assault.”
“One of them’s coming over,” hissed Maggie.
A powerful-looking woman with a chiffon scarf tied over a head full of rollers was bearing down on them.
“People like you are a disgrace,” she hissed. “Why can’t you leave poor Mr. Tremp alone? You lot are like jackals. If you want money, then go out and work for it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Maggie.
“Just because he’s won the lottery doesn’t mean he should pay out to every layabout.”
“The lottery!” exclaimed Fell.
“Don’t act the innocents with me. The poor man was hounded by people looking for a handout. He thought he was free of them. We don’t want your sort in this village.”
“Actually,” lied Fell, “we don’t know what you are talking about. We’re looking for a place to stay and we thought this village would be a nice place. We’ve changed our minds. Drive on, Maggie.”
With relief, Maggie shot off. They drove in silence and then Maggie stopped at the side of the road. “The lottery!” she said. “Do you believe it?”
“They believe it, anyway,” said Fell. “Wait a bit. If he was so plagued by people wanting money from him, his win must have been in the papers. What about phoning Peter?”
“Oh, he’ll want a story from us.”
“So we’ll give him a story, Maggie. We’ve been interviewed by the police so many times that one more interview won’t matter.”
♦
Peter, in answer to Maggie’s phone call, arrived at the hotel accompanied by a photographer.
♦
Maggie talked to the manager, who said they could use the little residents’ lounge on the ground floor. Peter cast a longing glance in the direction of the bar across the hall, but got down to the interview. Fell and Maggie were sitting together on the sofa. At one point during the questioning, Fell took Maggie’s hand in his. Maggie held his hand tightly. Peter looked at their joined hands and scowled, but the story was too important to let personal feelings interfere with it and so he pressed on.
When he had finished and photographs had been taken, Maggie asked him if he had found out anything about Johnny Tremp’s lottery win.
“Yes, it was in the Courier two years ago,” said Peter. “Eight people won, each getting a little over a million pounds. Johnny was one of them. Why ask? Did you think he had decided to blossom out all those years after the robbery and spend some of his ill-gotten gains?”
“Something like that,” said Fell ruefully. “But don’t put it in your story.”
“It’s all right. I’ve got enough without using it. Anyway, Johnny has the reputation of being a nasty character. He’d probably sue you for defamation of character. Maggie, can I have a word?”
Maggie and Peter walked outside the hotel. “I didn’t realize you pair were so close,” said Peter huffily.
Maggie could still feel the warm clasp of Fell’s hand. “We were going through a bad patch, but we’re all right now,” she said.
“So no hope for me?”
“I’m afraid not, Peter.”
“Oh, well, that’s life.” He put his arms around her and kissed her full on the mouth. “Remember me if it comes unstuck.”
Fell saw the embrace and felt a pain deep inside him. It struck him just how much he had come to rely on Maggie’s company, on her warmth and strength and sympathy. It was only fair to urge Maggie to tell Peter that their engagement was a sham.
When she came back into the hotel, he really meant to tell her, but she said, “What will we do now?”
He replied, “I think we should phone Dunwiddy and tell him we’re going home.” And instead of saying she should now tell Peter that the engagement was off, he found himself saying, “We need some relaxation. And you haven’t worn your new dress. After I’ve phoned Dunwiddy, I’ll phone the French restaurant and make a reservation for this evening.”
♦
When they got back home, a policeman was already on duty outside the house. Maggie made him coffee and took it out to him. Fell could see her chatting and laughing with the policeman. It seemed incredible that such a short time ago he would have been delighted to be rid of Maggie.
He would not admit to himself when she came back indoors that his next suggestion was prompted by a desire to keep her with him as long as possible. “I think we should take a break from all our worries and get a builder in to see if we can make a new kitchen,” he said.
“Good idea,” said Maggie. “Will you need permission from the council for the alteration?”
“I shouldn’t think so. Instead of knocking down a wall, we could keep the old kitchen and just use it as a scullery. That way we could avoid planning permission.”
“You’ve got letters there? Aren’t you going to read them?”
Fell picked up the letters and sat down and flipped through them. They were from his relatives. One, from his Aunt Agnes, blamed Maggie for the whole thing, saying she had thought that Maggie looked like “one of them terrorists.”
The others, from Tom and Barbara and Fred, said pretty much all the same thing, and that his sainted parents would be turning in their graves.
“Not one word of sympathy!” said Fell, throwing them down in disgust. “You would think nearly getting blown up was my fault.” He looked bleakly at the letters scattered on the floor.
“Better phone them up and tell them you’re all right,” said Maggie.
“Why? I bet all I’d get is a load of recriminations.”
“I’m weary. I think I’ll have a bath and an hour’s sleep.” Maggie got to her feet. “I just want to switch off. We’ve got the evening to look forward to.”
“The box!” exclaimed Fell. “I’d better have a look in the garden and make sure the police haven’t dug it up.”
He headed for the garden. “If they had,” Maggie called after him, “they would have told us right away.”
Fell looked uneasily at the patch where the box was buried. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed.
“Coo-ee! Mr. Dolphin!”
Fell jumped nervously.
“I’m up here.”
Fell turned round and located the source of the voice. He could see a little of old Mrs. Moule’s face peering through the branches of a tree. So that was how she had seen him the night when they thought they had been digging a grave for Andy Briggs.
“I just want to thank you for my windows,” she called.
“Least I could do.”
“Thanks anyway. Bring your young lady in for tea sometime.”
“Will do.”
The face retreated. Fell looked thoughtfully at where the cash box was buried. At least, with his inheritance safely in the bank, he would not need to use the cash box. Still, he wished he could dig it up and put it somewhere he could get at it without being observed.
He went back into the house He could hear Maggie running a bath upstairs. He thought he would follow her example by catching some sleep.
He went up to his room and looked around. Before he decided on a new kitchen, he should really redecorate this room. It reminded him of Mr. and Mrs. Dolphin and of his unhappy childhood. Perhaps he and Maggie could forget about this wretched train robbery and concentrate on getting the whole house liveable. Maggie would know what to do. But Maggie might not be around for much
longer, judging by the way Peter had kissed her.
♦
Fell was waiting in the sitting room that evening when Maggie came in. She was wearing the new black dress. The low-cut neckline showed off the tops of a pair of full and firm white breasts. Maggie was wearing her contact lenses and her hair shone in the lamplight.
“What do you think?” she asked, pirouetting in front of him.
“Fine, but the neckline’s a bit low.”
“Oh.” Maggie’s face fell with disappointment. “Should I wear something else?”
“No, no, you look great. I don’t know why I said that. It’s just…funny…I don’t know. I haven’t been in the way of thinking of you as a woman. I mean…”
“I know what you mean,” said Maggie stiffly. “Shall we go?”
♦
Maggie’s hand hovered over the ignition in the car and then dropped. “I’m frightened to switch it on.”
The policeman on guard came over. “Anything wrong, miss?” he asked, leaning in the open window. He was looking right down Maggie’s cleavage, thought Fell crossly.
“Silly,” said Maggie. “I’m frightened of another bomb.”
“No one’s touched that car while you’ve been inside, miss, but release the hood and I’ll check inside. Then you’ll feel all right.”
He inspected the engine, then he crawled underneath the car, emerging finally to give Maggie a beaming smile. “All clear.”
“Oh, thank you. You are kind,” said Maggie. She and the policeman smiled warmly at each other.
“Can we go?” demanded Fell testily. As Maggie let in the clutch and moved off, Fell added, “There’s no need to go overboard, Maggie. He’s only doing his job.”
“He’s nice.”
“If you say so,” said Fell grumpily. Maggie should stay plain Maggie and not go around flaunting her bosoms in a slinky black dress.
Maggie parked in the car park and they walked around to the front of the restaurant, which faced the river.
“Look,” said Maggie, clutching Fell’s arm and pointing to the sky.
“What?”
“A cloud. Quite a big one. Do you think the heat is going to be over at last?”
“It’s bound to end soon and then we’ll all be terribly British and complain about the rain.”