Ring of Guilt

by Judith Cutler

  He didn’t budge. ‘Why does he need to see the fragments?’

  ‘A little detective work I’ve been doing,’ I said. I added, ‘If you don’t mind, that is, Mr Sanditon?’

  I’d put the shards in a box on the shelves. ‘Here,’ I said, fishing one out, and showing one end to both men, ‘you can see that this surface is dirty. The one it matched on the vase was the same colour.’ I picked out another. ‘This also has one dirty end, which also matched a dirty patch on the vase. So what you had was two major cracks running almost all the way through – but not quite. It was an accident waiting to happen.’ Sanditon pulled a face – he didn’t like the expression any more than Griff did. ‘I’ve made a note of it in my statement of original damage.’ Although I spoke to Sanditon, I flicked an eye to make sure Will was registering it too. ‘Maybe it ex . . . exon . . . lets you off the hook.’

  ‘Let’s not worry about that now,’ he said quickly. ‘You’ve done the job as well as I could have hoped for. Better. Congratulations.’

  I slipped our credit card terminal discreetly on to the table; even though there were only three of us in the room he covered the pad and tapped with great secrecy. It was all the same to the terminal, which chuntered a bit and produced a slip.

  I didn’t know Will well enough – hell, I didn’t know Will at all! – to hint him away tactfully, and in a sense Sanditon was still paying for my time. He was certainly paying for me to wrap his property. So I said bluntly, ‘OK, Will – show’s over. See you tomorrow, then? Here?’

  He frowned. For an awful moment I thought he was going to tell me to present myself at Maidstone nick for DNA and fingerprinting. Instead he just nodded once and went back downstairs.

  ‘You wouldn’t like to stand where he was standing, would you?’ I asked.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’re between me and the wrapping paper and bubble wrap.’

  For some reason or other, now Sanditon had his vase back, all the kissing hands and gifts tailed off. That was fine by me, so long as the choccies were as good as the meal we were eating.

  Because Griff was such a good cook, and we ate so many meals on the road, we tended not to go to local restaurants, even when they were getting a reputation for fine dining. So although it was only five minutes from the cottage, I’d never eaten at the Two Bays at Bredeham before – trees, not seaside, incidentally. Maybe I’d have preferred a jolly brasserie, but I was a sucker for widely spaced tables, lots of white linen I didn’t have to wash and iron and waiters who knew their way around the menu. I was a little bit worried when Sanditon charged the pre-dinner champagne to his room number. He wasn’t the sort of guy who expected payment in kind for a nice meal, was he? But there was no sign that this was anything but a business meeting. In fact, if he hadn’t been so much a man of the world I’d have had him down as shyer than Will.

  For conversation, he went into so many details of my restoration work I felt tempted to offer him an apprenticeship. But the food – although it was introduced on the menu by such terms as To Commence, To Follow and Starches and Greens – was too good to cut short with a silly quip, so I answered politely and occasionally ventured questions of my own about his stock and how he found it. The object that had brought us together, the vase, sat in its box where a third place setting would have been put. It was only when he excused himself between courses that he picked it up and presumably locked it in his room. I’d had enough champagne to speculate privately on the sort of sexual antics that might break it all over again.

  So what was this all about? It sure as hell wasn’t the usual way of celebrating a good repair. Otherwise I’d be on a constant diet. As it was, maybe I should give the To Finish course a miss.

  It was only over coffee that he made the proposition I’d feared. No, not the bedroom one. The one I’d already dismissed without a thought. That I might leave Tripp and Townend and become a junior partner in Sanditon Moyles, Moyles being no more than a ghost on the letter heading. Even if he’d wanted me as senior partner my response would have been the same.

  ‘I’m more than happy to do any restoration work for you, Harvey. And, if necessary, prioritize it like I did your vase. But my home’s here, with Griff, and there’s nothing that could drag me away from him.’

  He gave a rueful smile. ‘I suppose I should have expected that. But you must think of your own future, Lina. A woman like you shouldn’t be tucked away in a sleepy village in an unfashionable part of Kent. Any part of Kent, actually,’ he added bitterly.

  ‘Ah, the M25 trapped you, did it? It does that to everyone. And you should see the M20 during Operation Stack, when they park all the lorries on it,’ I added helpfully.

  ‘I didn’t mean just that – though yes, being cut off from the civilized world is a problem. But you must think in the longer term. Mr Tripp is hardly in the first flush of youth.’

  It was a good job I’d declined the To Finish offerings, or he might have had a plateful of something sweet and sticky in his face. ‘So you want me to abandon my dearest friend just as he’s likely to need me most? I don’t think so, Harvey.’

  ‘He could move too,’ he said, but there was something about his voice I couldn’t work out.

  ‘Abandon his old cronies?’ Not to mention his lover, but that was none of anyone else’s business. I delivered – what was the term? Griff had taught it to me only the other day – I delivered the coup de grace in a slightly sickly tone: ‘In any case, I couldn’t leave my father.’

  He pulled a face. ‘I thought that that was Arthur Habgood—’

  ‘Mr Habgood thinks he might be my grandfather, and has been pressing me very publicly to take a DNA test,’ I said, deciding rather late that he didn’t need to know all about Lord Elham. ‘But who’d want a grandfather who sells restored goods as perfect?’

  ‘Does he?’ For the first time he really sat up and took notice. ‘Really? Are you sure? I bought a pretty majolica plate from him the other day – a commission,’ he added, as if he didn’t normally soil his hands with items that far down the food chain. ‘What have I said?’

  I managed to choke back my laughter to polite levels. ‘I hope you checked it very carefully. Because one of my apprentice pieces was a majolica plate. I sold it as restored. And Arthur Habgood, the man who wants to claim me as his own flesh and blood, put it on his stall as perfect. Have you still got it? Then maybe you want to take another look at it.’

  TEN

  Griff and I have a pact that neither pesters the other for details of their dates. But I knew that he’d have given anything to be a fly on the wall at the Two Bays, because he must have been as intrigued by the flowers and chocolates as I was.

  So as I popped our breakfast eggs into their pretty Worcester basket weave egg cups the colour of the anonymous policeman’s blush, I said truthfully, ‘I wish you’d been there last night. I had this endless stream of questions about my work, followed by a spiel about how I’d do better working for him.’ I tried to slip that in so casually he wouldn’t notice. ‘And then he told me he’d bought a plate from Arthur Habgood.’

  Griff’s eyes twinkled as I’d hoped they would. ‘Not the plate!’

  ‘Who knows? But it scared him rigid. He could scarcely bundle me into a taxi quickly enough. And I couldn’t stop giggling – the driver must have thought I was pissed.’ Griff – and to do him justice, Harvey – had insisted on a cab even though the restaurant was only fifteen minutes’ walk away. OK, twenty minutes, in those boots.

  He frowned – he hadn’t missed the bit about leaving him after all. ‘I think you’ll find, sweet one, that at this time of the day the word is drunk.’

  I shook my head. ‘That makes it sound as if I was rolling round completely legless. There must be another word, Griff, surely. Merry? Yes, very merry . . .’ While he cracked his egg, I continued, ‘And since I can’t ever imagine a discussion with Harvey Sanditon about English words, I have to say I told him I’d never consider leaving you.’ Or
my father, I added under my breath. Those were words Griff wouldn’t want to hear any time of the day or night. They rather surprised me, actually. ‘In any circumstances.’

  ‘Unless young Will sweeps you off your feet. Or that rather strangely coloured young man he brought with him. Was it a liver problem? Or an excess of badly faded fake suntan?’

  So Griff was happy again. He always got waspish when he was afraid, and was his usual gossipy self when his mind was at rest.

  ‘I could ask him? Or Will, of course? What time are they coming round, by the way? No? Is there a problem?’

  ‘I suspect they wished to discuss something in more official surroundings. But I persuaded young Will you’d be more forthcoming in a room you were familiar with – I fear I had to hint at traumatic experiences in your younger days, my love, when the police were inclined to intimidate and bully you. So here it will be, round about eleven – but don’t expect the friendly flirtation to continue, especially if the liverish lad is present.’

  I reached the bottom of the egg before I asked, ‘Do they really suspect I’ve done something wrong? I don’t want to dob in poor Dilly—’

  ‘Another deeply unpleasant word, sweetheart! But I suppose it’s no worse than grass up or snitch on. In any case, how can it be in any sense a betrayal? You’ve handed over the receipt so they know exactly where it came from.’

  I fished out the empty shell and turned it upside down so that it looked new. ‘I was actually going to say, poor Dilly’s husband. Titus says he beats her. And I’m just wondering if he beat her because she sold the ring so cheaply.’

  Griff slopped coffee. ‘Wherever did that idea come from? I’m used to your being a divvy when it comes to objets d’art, my love – but not your coming out with strange theories about people. Without any evidence, I have to say.’

  ‘Sorry. But it figures, Griff.’

  He shook his head. ‘It may well. But you can hardly quote Titus Oates’ opinion.’

  ‘Not if I want to stay on speaking terms with him,’ I agreed. ‘So I’ll say nothing but do a bit of sniffing around at the next auction or fair.’

  ‘You will be careful, dear one? For while I might pooh-pooh your theory, it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. And you’re more precious to me than any number of rings.’ He watched as I speared my spoon through the empty shell, and then leant over to smooth my hair. He didn’t need to say what he was afraid of, did he?

  The demure and quietly coloured top under my everyday suit told the two policemen that I meant business, not possible flirtation. I also wore my less threatening boots, the sort that I can wear all day at a fair and never notice. Apart from that, I was as neat as Griff could make me: after vetoing lip gloss, he’d fluffed my hair a bit, and wiped off almost all my blusher. ‘Pale and interesting, that’s the look. Someone they could rely on in the witness box.’

  I clasped his hand. ‘I don’t want to go through that again, Griff.’

  ‘Last time you spoke with as much authority as Counsel could have asked. Just think of it as stage fright, though in truth that’s bad enough. But with luck, it may not come to that – in either enquiry. Now, your eye shadow’s just a little heavy.’ He tissued the spare away, and kissed my forehead. ‘There – let battle commence.’ He peered out of the window. ‘At least they’ve had the sense to turn off those fairground lights they polluted the village with last night.’

  Touching his finger to his nose, he set the surveillance system. The policemen might not know it, but even though he disappeared smartly as soon as he’d let them in, shutting the living room door with a sharp click, he’d be able to see if I got upset, and stage a miraculous invasion with a tray of tea things.

  I managed to get the men sitting facing the window, so they were better lit than I was. As before they sat shoulder to shoulder. I looked from one to the other – which of them wanted to speak first?

  Will.

  Did this mean I had a good-cop-bad-cop routine? Because I definitely had Will down as a good cop. But he only spoke to introduce his mate – at last! – as DC Winters. ‘Known to his friends as Bernie or Bleak,’ Will said, nicely unofficial again.

  ‘And what about to people like me? I asked.

  ‘Dave would be fine,’ DC Winters said, with another huge, deep blush, which didn’t go at all well with the bruise-like smudges under his eyes.

  ‘OK. Right: whose questions do I answer first?’ All this sounded very competent, as if I dealt with the police every day. But it was the result of an hour’s coaching from Griff: ‘If they think you’re rattled, they’ll do their best to rattle you some more. So make sure they’re the ones on edge – but not enough to make them hostile.’

  Winters smiled without much amusement. ‘Your body – the body you found, Ms Townend.’

  I nodded. ‘I’m happy to be Lina. All I did was see this young man in a field. As I said to your colleagues at the time, I should have done the right thing – gone to see what I could do. But I was on my own, with my firm’s name blazoned all over the van, which was full of uninsured items, and I was afraid it was a scam. One of my friends was the victim of a similar one not so long ago. He lost his van and everything in it, which was a bit of problem, as you can imagine. Especially since he dealt in silver.’ Was I talking too much? It sounded fine, but was it a bit too pat?

  He nibbled a fingernail. ‘Did you see any other vehicles in the vicinity?’ He peered anxiously at me as if it really mattered.

  ‘If I had, I’d have flagged one down. There was no network coverage for my mobile, but someone else might have had better luck.’

  ‘So no cars, no vans, no lorries?’

  ‘A pretty quiet road on a pretty nasty day. But I can’t work out why no one saw him earlier and called him in.’ Neither could they, it seemed. ‘I know I should have done more. But to tell you the truth, I was – scared. For my safety.’ I lowered my eyes as if ashamed, and didn’t tell him that I reckon with the dirty skills learned during my street days I could deal with most individuals who attacked me. To be fair, not two at once. Not now I was out of practice.

  He jabbed in my direction with another, badly bitten finger. ‘But you took a photo.’

  ‘Just in case. Because I could. I don’t know.’

  ‘Did you expect him to disappear? So you wanted proof of your story?’

  ‘Put it another way,’ I said, getting irritated, ‘I was afraid that if I stopped another driver they wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t think your mates from Folkestone would have done, when they turned up and found him gone. But when they saw the photo they got all serious. And they found something to interest them – enough to want to keep my phone.’

  ‘I gather you wouldn’t let them.’

  ‘Would you let them keep yours? All those phone numbers and appointments? Quite.’ I smiled. ‘In any case, they had the photo – surely that was all they needed.’ I paused. ‘Why are we going over all this again?’ By now I didn’t want to call him Bernie, Bleak or Dave. I think my voice might have told him that.

  Suddenly he was Mr Nice, all apologies and fluttery movements of those poor hands. ‘I just wanted to get everything straight in my mind. And to hope that talking about the incident might just help you to remember another detail or two. Can we just go back to how he was lying?’

  Was one of us being dense? ‘The same as in the photo. On his back. One arm across his chest. One behind his head, but not cushioning it.’ I demonstrated.

  ‘And it couldn’t have been a cow or a sheep?’

  ‘Not according to the photo.’

  ‘I’m more interested in the photo in your head, so to speak.’

  ‘Are you trying to ask if he moved between the time I first spotted him and the time I took the photo?’ I closed my eyes as if trying to relive the scene. Funnily enough, I saw the body as if in the photo, rather than as I’d first seen it. I tried to see myself catching sight of it, pulling over, deciding not to get out – and then taking the photo. ‘No, I’m fa
irly sure he didn’t. And I didn’t see anyone hanging around ready to carry him away, either. Though there could have been – there was a bridleway on the left as I headed north. That would have lead in roughly the right direction. But I didn’t see anyone driving up or down it. Or riding, come to think of it.’

  That had surprised Will at least. ‘Riding?’

  ‘Well, it was a bridle path. It said so on the sign. No access for cars or something.’ Not for anyone was I going to attempt the word vehicular.

  ‘That’s very strange,’ Winters said, accusingly.

  ‘Are you saying there isn’t a bridle path there?’

  ‘Not at all. Or rather, there’s a perfectly good road there, leading exactly where you said. But it doesn’t have any signs like those you’ve described.’

  ‘So I’ve done what that American politician did – misremembered? Sorry.’

  Winters shook his head. ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘Someone changed the signs?’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ This time he said it with menace. ‘Was there something you wanted to say?’ He managed to make this into an accusation.

  ‘Ye–es.’ Quite a lot, actually. ‘It’s weeks since I saw this, and made my statement. I’m a sucker for stories. I want to know what happens next. And yet this story seems no further forward than when your colleagues first asked me these questions. If it was a body, aren’t things going a bit – well, slowly? And if the man was alive, won’t he have left tracks your clever forensic scientists could have picked up? And if he was dead, someone else must have picked him up – lots of tracks there.’

  ‘We’re exploring a number of possibilities,’ he said, as if that was the end of the matter.

  ‘I’m sure you are. And here’s another possibility. What if you and Will didn’t share the same car just because you wanted to save petrol? What if my body and my rings are connected?’ Should I have said the body and the rings? Probably.

  Will flicked a swift glance at his colleague. ‘Lina, you know we can’t tell you.’