by Rachel Green
Jim Hunt was sexually repressed.
Chapter Twenty
Chase stowed the picnic things into the back of his Jeep and opened the passenger door for Pennie. She had been curiously silent on the way back from the hill and although Chase was grateful for the peace, her continued pursed lips gave him pause. He tucked the trailing edge of her jumper into the car and slammed the door. He climbed in on his own side and looked at her.
“What’s up?” he said. “I’ve never seen you so quiet. I know what we did was a bit…” He struggled to find a sense of tact. “Sudden, but there’s no need to send me to Billericay over it.”
It prompted a response, at least. “Coventry,” she said. “The phrase is sent to Coventry.”
Chase smiled and started the car. At least he’d managed to break the ice. “I’ve been to both Coventry and Billericay and believe me, Billericay is by far the worse of the two. You don’t generally see white stilettos in Coventry.”
Pennie laughed. “I’ll have you know I’ve got a pair of white stilettos,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with them.”
“They’re not as bad as leopard print ones, I’ll give you that.” Chase put the car into reverse and backed round to face the road. “Please don’t tell me you have a pair of those as well.”
“I wouldn’t be seen dead in them,” said Pennie. “I’d look like a right idiot in a pair of those.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Chase accelerated towards town. “Are you upset about what happened between us?”
“Not that, no.” Pennie toyed with the crucifix she wore on a chain around her neck. “I think we all need a bit of fornication now and again.”
“What then?” Chase risked a glance but she stared silently ahead.
“I found a note in your pocket when I picked up your jacket,” she said. “I won’t lie to you, it gave me a bit of a shock.”
“What note?” Chase tried to keep his voice even. He knew exactly what note she was referring to and tried to stall for time.
“The one that said to take out life assurance on me,” said Pennie. “I can’t think who the beneficiary might be. How long have you known Steven?”
“Who?” Chase frowned as he glanced across. Her face might have been carved in stone for all the emotion she was showing. He passed the Manor and slowed, ready to take the left into town. “Steven who?”
“Steven Lowry, my ex-husband. What has he said? Kill me off and he’ll split the proceeds with you?”
“What proceeds?” Chase pulled over into the lay-by next to the chip shop, almost running over an Indian woman. She glared at him from beneath a blood red headscarf and he shivered as he turned to Pennie. “Look, I’ve never met your husband, ex or otherwise; I don’t know anything about any life assurance and I certainly don’t want to kill you. The note you found…” He fumbled to take it out of his pocket, “…is to remind me to enquire about life assurance for you, in case I need to do something impulsive.”
“Like killing me?”
“Like marrying you.”
Pennie’s mouth opened and shut a few times as this sank in. “You want to marry me?” she said at last. Her brain seemed to be working in slow motion. She rubbed at the condensation on the passenger side window. Was it still the same world outside?
“Yes,” said Chase. It had been a spur of the moment thing to say but the warmth in his groin convinced him it was the right choice. “Why not?”
“I hardly know you.” Pennie frowned and bit her knuckles, trying to think logically around the flush of heat that was bouncing from her fingers to her toes. “How could I possibly consider marriage? I’ve only been divorced a few weeks.”
“We’re so good together, though.” Chase unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned across. He grasped her chin and moved her head to face him. “Admit it. That was great today, wasn’t it?”
“Yes but…”Pennie turned away, hot tears pricking at her eyelids. “Sex isn’t something to base a whole relationship on, let alone marriage. I need to get to know you better, a lot better before I can even think about marrying you.”
“I have two brothers and a degree in social anthropology. My father lives on Jersey and my mother died skiing when I was nine. I had an Irish Setter called Zeke until I was seventeen when he died of old age. I took biology and social science at university and got a doctorate in social anthropology. I’m allergic to bee stings and I love sushi.” Chase paused and looked at Pennie. Her stern confusion had given way to a look of wry amusement and he pressed his advantage.
“My favorite film is Brief Encounter and I’ve read Wuthering Heights fourteen times. There. What else do you need to know?”
Pennie laughed. “Not much, I don’t think. You’ve covered just about everything. I’d need to see your personal financial accounts and attend to one or two bits of paperwork but on the whole I might accept.”
“You would?” Chase clasped her hand. “That’s marvellous.”
Pennie pulled her hand away. “I said ‘might’. Would you mind putting on the de-mister? It’s getting rather claustrophobic in here.”
“Sorry.” Chase flipped a switch and turned the heater to warm. They were both still in wet clothes and he was surprised they weren’t shivering. The last thing he needed was to go down with a fever.
“I need some time to think about this,” said Pennie. “Half of me is squealing with delight, but the other half wants to run a mile screaming: ‘it’s too soon.’” She didn’t mention there was a third voice inside her saying, yes, but sex with Winston is better.
“I understand.” Chase flicked on the windscreen wipers and prepared to pull out into the traffic. “I’m sorry I brought it up. Honestly. Whatever you decide will be fine. I promise I won’t let it affect our professional relationship.”
“That’s good to hear.” Pennie watched the buildings pass by as Chase took her home. “Pull in here,” she said. “This is where I live.”
“I know.” Chase executed a perfect three point turn to back into the number thirteen spot. He flinched at the sudden stare Pennie gave him. “What?” he said. “I’m not stalking you. It’s on your employee record.”
“Oh. Of course it is.” Pennie blushed. “I didn’t think of that.” She looked at her door. “Are you coming in? I could at least give you a towel to dry yourself off.”
“That’s okay.” Chase nodded toward the air vents, “I’m pretty dry already. I’ll nip across to the supermarket while you’re getting changed.”
“All right. I’ll only be a few minutes.” Pennie opened the car door and slid out. Chase did the same, heading across the road to the supermarket until her front door had closed, then he switched direction and headed into the betting shop. He couldn’t help smiling as he presented his slip.
Behind the counter, the cashier scowled. “Was it an insider tip?” he asked. “That horse was a complete outsider.”
“Insider, outsider.” Chase grinned. “I had a good tip for a change. This win doesn’t even balance the scales between what I’ve spent in here and what I’ve won.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He began counting out money, more twenties and fifties than Chase had had in his wallet in a very long time. “There,” he said. “Three thousand, one hundred and twenty five pounds.”
“Super.” Chase began filling his pockets. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“I know how much it means to Mister Benton.”
Chase turned toward the voice. Speaker was sitting at one of the tables with a plastic cup of machine coffee. He folded his newspaper and smiled up at Chase. His associate looked up from the complicated task of cleaning his fingernails with the tip of a hunting knife.
“Quite.” Chase sauntered over. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. It saves me the job of carrying the money round to him. Twenty-fi
ve hundred, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right.” Speaker rose and placed the newspaper on the table, aligning it exactly with the edge. “I’ll take it now, if you please.”
“Sure.” Chase emptied his pockets again, stacking the money in front of him.
“Thank you,” said Speaker when the count had reached twenty-five. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you. Mister Benton will be very pleased indeed that you paid it all back on time.”
“I’m glad I was able to,” said Chase. “I didn’t want to have to examine the non-repayment fine print.”
“Probably just as well, Mister Spenser.” Speaker tucked the money away in several inside pockets. “I’m glad you didn’t ask for an extension as a broken kneecap often offends.” He took out a small pad of paper, wrote on it and ripped out a page. “Your receipt,” he said.
“Thank you.” Chase slipped it into his wallet. “Now if something happens to you I can prove I had paid my dues.”
“Indeed,” said Speaker, “though Charlie Dog here tends to get upset when people try to make things happen to me. You’ll notice I didn’t increase the sum due to take into account my own trouble, I hope.”
“I did.” Chase offered his hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“We will.” The hand remained un-shaken and Chase let himself out of the betting office hearing, as the door closed behind him, Speaker talking once more. “Mister Hapshott,” he said, “I believe your payment is overdue.”
Chase shook his head, relieved to be out of Mister Benton’s debt and half-walked, half-jogged back to Pennie’s door, to be confronted by her with tears streaming down her face. “Where were you?” she said. “You said you were going to the supermarket so when I looked for you there you weren’t there and they hadn’t seen you, so I looked up and down the street and you weren’t there either.” She sobbed and took a breath. Chase was relieved, he’d been unconsciously holding his breath while she spoke.
“What’s happened?” he asked. “I saw an old friend up the street. I was talking to him while I waited for you.”
“I’ve been burgled,” said Pennie through a series of sobs. “They broke in and trashed my house.”
“Oh, my God.” Chase looked from her to the open door. “Was anything taken?”
“I don’t know.” Pennie wiped her nose on her arm. “It’s all a bit of a mess. They’ve broken anything they didn’t take. There’s glass everywhere and…” her voice lowered, “they’ve urinated on things.”
Chase’s disgust showed on his face. Pennie touched his arm. “It’s not the mess or the wee or the thieving I mind so much, it’s the violation. It feels like I’ve been messed about with and everything. Almost like I was raped.”
“Well the house was, in a way.” Chase looked at the front door again, willing it to be clean again inside. “Do you want me to phone the police?”
“Please.” Pennie wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “I don’t think I could face Curly, Larry and Moe.”
“Who?” Chase took out his phone. “Look, if you know the local coppers personally you’d be better off talking to them yourself.”
“I don’t know them, per-se.” Pennie visibly gathered her strength. “I had to deal with them during the divorce. Steven got a bit…let’s say I had to take out a restraining order on him. The local bobbies weren’t terribly helpful, when he used to park up outside here and shout obscenities at my bedroom window.”
“I’m sure that was a one-off.” Chase began to dial. “I bet they’re far more efficient about a breaking and entering.”
Pennie raised her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t like to bet on it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Julie jumped when the phone rang. Early afternoons in the shop were, to employ a euphemism, dead. Mrs. Prendergast had a habit of wandering in and browsing the metaphysics but took little of Julie’s attention. Ghosts rarely bought first editions and she’d never known one try to shoplift. Mister. Tanner, who was found hanging in the remains of his burned-out bookshop after refusing to sell out to a national chain, was upstairs working his way through Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment and Harold’s Uncle Frederick was catching up with the Laverstone Times in the reading room. They didn’t encourage people to read at Alexandrian Gold but Frederick was more of a fixture than the books. Once he’d discovered how to leave Laverstone Manor there had been no stopping him.
“Winston,” she said as she answered. “That was quick.”
“You’re not the only one interested in Steven Lowry,” said Winston. “Jim’s been looking for him all over.”
“Why?” Julie chewed the end of her pen. “I thought he worked there.”
“He does, but no-one’s seen hide nor hair of him for days. He signed in to work last Thursday and never signed out again.”
“He’s been there since Thursday?” Julie frowned. “What’s he eating? Crisps and chocolate out of the vending machines?”
“I don’t think he’s actually here.” Winston sucked air through his teeth. “Jim―Mister Hunt, asked me to do a trace on his ID badge. Have a guess where it’s turned up.”
“How should I know?” Julie frowned. “You’re going to say the Manor, aren’t you?”
“Not the manor.” Winston’s voice dropped. “According to the computer, his badge is in Pennie’s house.”
“He’s at his ex-wife’s? Why?”
“Who knows? I think it’s something to do with industrial espionage.” Winston shifted in his chair and Julie could imagine him putting his feet on the desk. “But she didn’t mention it when she was out with me last night.”
“Isn’t that odd?”
“A bit. She was with me all night and kept talking about this Spenser Chase bloke. Not a dicky bird about her ex hubby, staying with her all weekend and warming her bed.”
Julie smiled. “Do I detect a twinge of jealousy?”
“I doubt it.” Winston’s voice got louder as he pulled the phone closer. “You know I’m not in for the long haul. Love ‘em and leave ‘em, that’s me. Besides, I don’t want to be part of some love triangle.”
Julie laughed. “It looks like you are already. Wouldn’t it be a square, though, since there’re two other men involved?”
“Nah. I reckon the ex is out of the picture. Why else would she be out all night? Maybe he’s lying low at her place while the heat’s on over these missing documents.”
“What missing documents?” Julie sat up, suddenly interested.
“The industrial espionage I told you about.” Winston scratched at his beard. “Jim’s been looking for some pages that went missing from a book. I don’t know what the book was. Some scientific journal I expect.”
“When was this, do you know?” With a burst of inspiration, Julie pulled up the shop database. She scanned through the files. “It wasn’t the Treatise on Animated Figures was it? We had a copy go missing from the stack about three weeks ago.”
“I told you. I don’t know what the book is.” Winston sounded exasperated. “The timing seems right though. What was the book about?”
“Making homunculi, it says here. It’s a bit of a lost art.” Julie scanned through the synopsis. “According to Harold’s notes there’s an appendix that wasn’t in the original copy, but Harold included it to make the volume more complete. I wonder why they weren’t together originally.”
“Sounds like a safety issue to me, like having the bomb and the arming mechanism in separate briefcases.” Winston sighed. “Look, if there’s nothing else...”
“I suppose not.” Julie skimmed through the file one more time. “You’ve no idea why someone would pay five hundred quid to mess up your girlfriend, then?”
“I can’t think why anyone would want to,” said Winston. “Unless they were after her ex.”
“She
could probably do with a bit of protection, though, eh?” Julie smiled. “How well off is she?”
“Not very, I don’t think. She certainly can’t afford to have her car cleaned very often.” His bark of laughter caused Julie to wince and pull the phone away from her ear.
“It was covered in pig shit last night.”
“Lovely.” Julie grimaced. “Okay, I really don’t want to know why. I’ll see you later then, shall I?”
“Will you?” Winston’s smile was palpable even through the phone. “Why? Are you missing something at home?”
It was Julie’s turn to laugh. “Get a grip,” she said. “It’s an expression, I’ve been very…fulfilled…in that department thanks.”
“I had to ask.”
Julie put the phone down, lost in thought, smiling as Jasfoup came out of the kitchen carrying a tray of coffee cups. She accepted the coffee with a grin at her lover. “Thanks,” she said. “It isn’t often a demon brings you a coffee without the promise of something in return.”
Jasfoup swept up her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Who says I have no promises from you?” he asked. “I recall you making plenty to me last night.”
“In the throes of org…of passion?” Julie said. “They’re not admissible in court.”
“Not a mortal one, certainly.” He winked. “Who were you talking to?”
“Winston. I think Magelight has the book that went missing from the stacks.”
“Oh dear. Which one?”
“Samuel Roberts’ Treatise on Animated Figures.”
“Oh dear,” Jasfoup said again. “Copy or original?”
“Copy, I think.”
“Oh dear.”
“Isn’t that better than the original?”
“Not really.” Jasfoup perched on the corner of her desk, almost spilling her coffee. “The original is in two parts. Volume one: How to make the Homunculus and Volume two: How to animate it. In his limited wisdom, Harold transcribed them both into one volume to preserve the set. If the copy’s been stolen we could have a big problem.”