Gifthorse: The next instalment of the riveting Marnie Walker series

by Leo McNeir

  “You know where he is?”

  “Somewhere on the canal north of here, direction Blisworth.”

  “What about the name of his boat?” asked Cathy Lamb.

  Marnie pondered for some seconds. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it.”

  “Can you describe the boat?”

  More pondering. “I’m afraid I can’t. Can you, Anne?”

  Anne shook her head. “I remember he moored on the other side from our boats on his first visit, but lots of boats tie up over there and I didn’t notice which one was his.”

  Marriner’s tone was becoming impatient. “You have a mobile number for him, at least.”

  Marnie reached into the rear for her bag, dug Dekker’s card from the wallet and passed it to Marriner, who at once gave it to Cathy Lamb. After writing the number in her notebook, Lamb returned the card to Marnie.

  “Will that be all?” Marnie asked, pointedly heaving her bag onto the rear seat.

  “You seem keen to distance yourself from Maurice Dekker, Mrs Walker, denying that he’s a friend. Why is that?”

  “I only know him slightly. He’s just an acquaintance. There is a difference.”

  “Yet you act as his go-between. You’re the only one he trusts with his phone number. You handle all his mail.”

  “Purely practical arrangements,” Marnie interjected, “helping out a fellow boater. He’s stuck in the ice.”

  “You invite him to join you for drinks and meals. You receive bouquets of flowers from him.”

  “That was on one occasion, a thank-you for hospitality.”

  “And you invited him for the special Christmas event. How much better do you need to know someone before you call them a friend, Mrs Walker?”

  *

  Ralph returned from meetings in Oxford late that afternoon and announced that he would take charge of the evening meal. He refused to say what it would comprise; it would remain a mystery. Anne’s money was on a pizza from the freezer; Marnie’s was on pasta. Both were wrong.

  Just before seven, Marnie locked the office barn and trudged by torchlight along the snow-packed path through the spinney. Halfway through, she met Anne who had looked in at the stable barn to check on Poppy. Linking arms, they walked together and were cheered to see the welcoming lights of Sally Ann through the trees. Food and warmth awaited them.

  On board they were met by soft background music, a Corelli tape, and Dolly rubbing her flank against their calves. Breathing in, they realised that their guesses at the evening menu were well off-target. The smells emanating from the galley reminded them both of Sunday dinners.

  Marnie sniffed the air and murmured to Anne, “Yorkshire pudding?”

  Ralph spoke from the galley as they walked through the cabin.

  “Good guess. Take your seats, ladies. I’m ready to serve.”

  Marnie dropped her jacket onto the bed. “Christmas in mid-January, Sunday lunch on Thursday evening. The world’s upside down.”

  Ralph grinned at them. “Not quite Sunday lunch, I’m afraid. I couldn’t get the whole ox on the spit down the steps, but it’s the next best thing.”

  With a flourish, he opened the oven and set down a steaming baking dish on a thick cork mat in the middle of the table. In the place of honour stood … dadah! … toad-in-the-hole. Turning back to the oven, he reached in and pulled out a second smaller dish, laying it beside the other on the mat. It was a veggie version for Anne. Ralph bowed modestly to acknowledge the round of applause from his guests when he produced onion gravy.

  “Good choice,” said Marnie.

  “And I’m glad you had to send back the ox on the spit,” Anne added. “Fortnum’s are very reasonable about that kind of thing.”

  “Aren’t they?” Ralph agreed.

  He brought out two further dishes, one of glazed carrots and steamed leaks, the other of roast potatoes. The sound of orgasmic groans greeted their arrival. His last grand gesture before sitting down was to fill their glasses with red Rioja.

  “Will you marry me?” said Marnie.

  “We’ve already done that bit,” Ralph reminded her. “I succumbed to your pleading ages ago.”

  “Of course. I was forgetting. How gallant of you to remind me.”

  They served themselves and began eating, with more appreciative noises from Marnie and Anne.

  “How did your day go, Ralph?” Marnie asked.

  “I’ve got a new postgrad student who thinks he’s the next Maynard Keynes, but once he settles down I’m sure we’ll get on fine. What about you? How was your day?”

  “Okay.”

  Something about her tone made Ralph and Anne pick up.

  “Only okay?” said Ralph. “I thought you were meeting new clients. Didn’t they turn out as well as expected?”

  “Oh, they were fine. Two nice projects. You’ll like the Haversthorpe job, Anne, lovely country house in a small parkland setting.”

  “Great,” said Anne. “So what wasn’t so good about today?”

  Marnie set down her knife and fork, a troubled look on her face.

  “Maurice Dekker. I’m getting increasingly concerned about him, or rather the way people keep trying to connect me with him.”

  “People?” said Ralph.

  “Molly Appleton for a start. She calls him my Mr Dekker. I hardly know the man, and she’s the one who introduced us. Then there’s the police. Marriner came out with a whole list of my contacts this morning.”

  “Does it matter?” Ralph asked. “It’s not as if he’s done anything wrong.”

  “Ralph, we don’t know what he’s done. I don’t like being linked with someone who may have a dodgy past. I especially don’t like being connected by the police with someone I hardly know.”

  “He’s certainly very secretive,” Ralph agreed.

  “You can say that again. It feels like I’m being drawn along as a kind of accomplice.”

  “To be an accomplice, surely that implies a crime,” Ralph said.

  Marnie shrugged. “How do we know what he’s done? Your friend Graeme McKinnon couldn’t find out anything about him, for all his contacts and influence. People don’t go into hiding for no reason. Why’s he so secretive?”

  Ralph nodded. “I take your point. Perhaps I’ll have another word with Graeme. Come on, don’t let it spoil your meal.”

  He topped up their glasses.

  Chapter 31

  In Hiding

  On Friday Marnie had the uneasy feeling that everything had gone ominously quiet. She was able to settle down to work without interruption. Even the snow had held off, and the air temperature seemed to have lost its bitter edge.

  Anne insisted she would walk up to the high street to catch the bus to college, and Ralph immersed himself in research in his study. Could it be, Marnie wondered, that life was settling into a routine approaching normal?

  When the phone rang mid-morning, Marnie was pleased to hear her sister’s voice on the line.

  “What’s new?” said Beth. “Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  “Nothing much to report up here.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Nope. I’ve had no contact from DS Marriner down at the 97th Precinct, no new mail for Maurice Dekker, no news from the school, nothing from our friendly neighbourhood vicar.”

  “Enjoy it while you can, Marnie.” Beth laughed. “This is probably the lull before the storm.”

  “Thanks, Beth.”

  “What about your gypsy neighbours?”

  “Who?”

  “You know, the frozen ones on the boat with the horse.”

  “They have names: Willow and Ben. And they’re not gypsies. They’re continuous cruisers, when they can actually move. They’re okay, as far as I know, still here.”

  “The forecast says it’s going to get warmer. Will they be moving on?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Marnie found herself listening to silence.

  “Beth?”

  “I’m not sure how
to put this, Marnie.” Another pause. “Are they running away from something?”

  “It’s their way of life. They’ve lived like this for years. Ben’s never known any other way.”

  “Right. I suppose that makes it different.”

  “How d’you mean?”

  “Well, you’d have to be pretty desperate to give up the comforts of modern-day life, with central heating, proper bathrooms, the council emptying your dustbin and so on. Boats are nice but it’s all rather primitive, isn’t it?”

  “Quite a few people enjoy the waterways life, Beth.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right, when they’ve not known anything better.”

  After disconnecting, Marnie sat thinking over the conversation. Something about it bothered her, and she tried to work out what it was. Willow and Ben had made a life for themselves that may have been simple, but they seemed to enjoy it. They had a sense of freedom from the humdrum world and the rat race, the pursuit of money and possessions, the endless succession of bills and commercial pressures. Marnie shook her head and thought again.

  … you’d have to be pretty desperate …

  … all rather primitive …

  … when they’ve not known anything better …

  None of those things really applied to Willow and Ben. She was sure they were content with their life.

  Are they running away from something?

  Marnie knew Willow had chosen her way of life out of expediency, but not in desperation. And then it struck her. The question that had been bothering her had nothing to do with Willow and Ben. Every point Beth had made was valid in respect of Maurice Dekker.

  You really would have to be pretty desperate to give up his standard of living, the trappings of the wealthy financier, the opulent home, the luxury car, the expense account, fine clothes and a want for nothing.

  Are they running away from something?

  No, but Marnie was more convinced than ever that she knew a man who was. And she was equally certain that this was not only, or even mainly, connected with some shady financial dealings in the City of London. There had to be more to it.

  *

  Ralph had opted to travel by express coach that Friday to avoid having to drive and, anxious to avoid the rush hour hold-ups on the Oxford ring road, he decided to leave All Saints’ College earlier than usual. He bought two bunches of daffodils and one of freesias and headed for the bus station on Gloucester Green soon after lunch.

  Marnie met him at the bus stop on the outskirts of Buckingham, and as they drove homeward Ralph sensed that something was troubling her. He asked if she had a problem. Marnie described her conversation with Beth and her subsequent conclusion that something very serious had happened to make Dekker give up everything to hide away on a narrowboat. It was Ralph’s turn to be pensive.

  Arriving back at Glebe Farm, he made a call to Graeme McKinnon at Highgate Business School and asked if he knew whether Dekker had a country cottage or some other residence out of town. Graeme offered to make further enquiries and phone again after the weekend. An hour later Ralph was closing down his computer when Graeme rang back.

  “I phoned a few colleagues, none of whom knew if Dekker owned any other properties, but then I got a positive reply. He does have a second residence, but not in Britain. I spoke to a friend of his who’d actually stayed with Dekker and his wife at their converted farmhouse in France.”

  Ralph interrupted. “Did you say –”

  “Yes, France.”

  “Hang on,” said Ralph. “Did you say wife? I’ve not heard any mention of a wife before now.”

  “That’s what the man said.”

  “And this farmhouse is where exactly?”

  “The friend couldn’t recall the name of the village. Somewhere south of Toulouse. He remembered they visited the street market in Castelnaudary every few days.”

  “Brilliant,” said Ralph.

  “I’m not sure where it gets us,” said Graeme, his tone dubious.

  “Another piece of the jigsaw.”

  Graeme hesitated before replying. “Ralph, I don’t suppose anything really serious could be at stake here, could it?”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “I mean in terms of consequences of people knowing where Dekker is now.”

  “Hard to tell, though he is taking exceptional care to cover his tracks. Why? Have you mentioned his whereabouts to anyone?”

  “I vaguely referred to his being on a boat up in your neck of the woods to this particular friend of his. We were chatting and it kind of slipped out.”

  “Did you get a reaction?”

  “Not really.”

  “I shouldn’t worry about it. I doubt if anyone would be able to find him, even if they tried.”

  After hanging up, Ralph sat for a while going over the conversation in his mind. Dekker would certainly not want anyone knowing his whereabouts. But Ralph wondered if his consoling words to Graeme McKinnon were correct. Could anyone track down Maurice Dekker? More to the point, why would they want to?

  *

  Marnie had found a couple of pizzas in the freezer and decided it was time to bring them out for supper that evening. While they were heating in the oven, she prepared a tomato and basil salad while Ralph opened a bottle of Bardolino he had found in the wine cellar – the cupboard under the sink in the galley – and Anne laid the table.

  The pizzas were surprisingly good, and they ate contentedly as Ralph outlined his talk with Graeme. The silence that followed his narration was not simply due to the agreeable medley of flavours from the meal. It was Marnie who expressed what they were all thinking.

  “Where does Maurice’s wife fit into all this?”

  “Graeme didn’t seem to know anything about her,” Ralph said.

  “Odd that Maurice has never mentioned her.”

  “Is it so odd? He’s secretive about everything in his life.”

  For a while they sat thinking.

  “Why didn’t he just go to his place in France?” Marnie asked eventually. “He’d have creature comforts, a pleasant climate, more spacious surroundings, everything he could possibly want.”

  “Maybe even his wife,” Anne added.

  “Possibly.”

  “There’s one logical reason,” said Ralph.

  “He was trying to get away from a situation,” said Anne.

  Marnie nodded slowly. “We’ve assumed until now that Maurice just wanted to get away from his past life because he was ashamed of his mistakes. But in fact, perhaps he was in hiding from someone.”

  “Someone who knew about his house in France,” Anne added.

  “Possibly,” said Ralph. “The question is, why?”

  “I can think of another question,” said Marnie. “What’s the significance of that date, the ninth of April? We never really got to the bottom of that, did we?”

  They all pondered the question. Suddenly, Anne had an idea, the germ of a plan. She was about to mention it when Ralph spoke.

  “I think I should’ve got the name of Dekker’s friend from Graeme. I’ll ring him on Monday. It’s our only real lead so far. Unless anyone has any better ideas?”

  Anne decided to keep her thoughts to herself.

  Chapter 32

  Provisions

  Marnie had a well-tried and tested remedy to combat feeling jaded: she immersed herself in work. Thus it was that on Saturday morning she devoted all her energies to designing the makeover of Haversthorpe Manor. It was jobs like these that reminded her how happy she was to be an interior designer. And she knew she was on top of her game, confident in her judgment and sense of style. She only noticed that Anne was no longer in the office when the phone kept ringing. She cleared her throat and picked up the handset.

  “Walker and Co, good morning.”

  “Is that Marnie?” A male voice with a trace of country accent.

  “It is. Who is this, please?”

  “Leonard Fletcher, from Rooks Farm.”

  “O
f course. What can I do for you, Leonard?”

  “Sorry to bother you, Marnie, but I’m putting up hay for the horses here in the livery this morning and I was wondering if Willow needed some more for Poppy. I figured she’d be wanting some about now.”

  “Would you like her mobile number?”

  “I’ve got it, but it’s not working, or it’s switched off.”

  “Leave it with me, Leonard. I’ll pop over and ask her to ring you. Let me take a note of your number.”

  She jotted it on her pad.

  “That’s very good of you, Marnie. Sorry to put you to this trouble. At least I don’t feel so bad about asking you to help, now the weather’s improving.”

  “It is?” Marnie tried not to sound surprised.

  “Haven’t you noticed? It’s been getting warmer these past few days.”

  “Perhaps I’m just surprised to hear a farmer saying something good about the weather.”

  Leonard was still chuckling when they disconnected. Marnie was on her way out of the door when Anne arrived looking concerned.

  “What’s up?” Marnie asked.

  “Poppy’s not in her stable.”

  “So? I expect Ben’s taken her for a walk now the weather’s improving.”

  Anne looked incredulous. “The weather’s what?”

  “Haven’t you noticed? Leonard Fletcher was just talking about it on the phone.”

  “He rang you to talk about the weather?”

  Marnie pulled the door shut behind them. “Come on. I’ve got to deliver a message to Willow, and we can look for Poppy on the way.”

  A short diversion took them via the stable barn. Marnie walked in and checked the hay in the wheelbarrow. It was well down, and there was only one bale left in the corner. As she turned to leave, something bright and shiny caught her eye.

  “Anne?” she called. “Have you seen these?”

  On top of a bale of straw were two leather bands to each of which were attached four brasses. They gleamed in the semi-gloom of the barn.

  “Freshly polished,” said Anne. “You can smell it.”

  “The question is, why?” said Marnie.