Sins of the Fathers

by Leah Hope

  “I could arrange for the battery to be “held up in transit’ if you fancy another night on the town tomorrow” said Gil making quotation marks with his fingers. If he’d spotted the look on his sister’s face however, he might not have felt so pleased with himself at his attempts of “all boys together” camaraderie.

  “That’s very decent of you Gil, but I’d better not push my luck! Now, where were we? Oh yes, we’ve been able to trace the gun. It was originally registered to a gun club just outside Nottingham, my old stomping ground. It was reported stolen five years ago and has obviously made its way onto the streets. I called in a favour from one of my former colleagues and had him check out the club. According to him, they’re clean as a whistle so nothing for us there. There is one interesting detail though which I may not have mentioned to you and strictly speaking I shouldn’t so keep it under you hat for now. The gun we’ve recovered is a Glock 17 semi-automatic pistol. It’s widely used by police forces throughout the world, including the UK, as well as the armed forces, gun clubs etc. What this means of course is that Daniel Collins would be very familiar with this weapon.”

  “So how do you think he could have come by the gun Inspector? You’re not suggesting he stole it?” Bridget asked.

  “No not at all but if the gun does belong to Dan Collins then he’s certainly acquired it and kept it illegally. There’s no record of him having a licence for it, which is an offence in itself.”

  “The evidence is stacking up isn’t it?” Said Gil, slowly stroking his chin.

  “As you know I was initially sceptical that Dan Collins was our man, because of the motive issue. But if Heather’s theory is valid, then yes, the case against him is building. All we’ve got to is find the bugger. Sorry Bridget that just slipped out.”

  “Don’t worry Inspector, I’ve heard far worse when Gil and the boys from the garage get together! How is the search going?”

  “I wish I had something positive to report but sadly that’s not the case. Oh we’ve had plenty of sightings, all unconfirmed of course. He’s been spotted painting the Forth Bridge, selling the Big Issue on Paddington Station and, my favourite, running a whelk stall in Whitstable. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t make light of this but we’ve had very few leads worth following up. He just seem to have disappeared off the face of the earth. But it’s still early days so nil desperandum. Well if that’s all?”

  “I think so Inspector” said Gil. “I hope your meeting tonight proves useful. I know Heather is anxious to find out what you thought of her theory.”

  “Oh that reminds me. Do you know the date her mother is planning on returning from France? I meant to check with her but it slipped my mind.”

  “Maggie is due to have her stitches out today and if they give her the go-ahead to travel, they’re leaving for France tomorrow” Bridget replied. “Now let me see, she said she would be staying for two weeks, she’d like to stay longer but she has to get back to start physio, so that would make it around the 22nd. Do you want me to ask her to ring you to confirm?”

  “No thanks Bridget, there’s no need for that. I just wanted a rough idea of how long she will be away.”

  As Gil and Bridget made their way out of the station, Bridget felt a twinge of envy. What she wouldn’t give for a few weeks in France too. Their cosy cottage and St Rémy suddenly seemed worlds away. Maybe she would plan a little holiday for when all of this was over. That would give her something to focus on, to take her mind off it, she thought to herself. She felt more cheerful already.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The weeks that followed were uneventful. Bridget baked cakes, Gil tinkered with cars. There was no news from Inspector Addison. No news was hardly good news in this situation. No news meant the gunman was still out there somewhere. At least he didn’t have the gun, which by definition meant he was just a man, which made Bridget feel slightly better.

  Maggie was due to fly home today. Gil had offered to pick her up from the airport but her sister Gwen and husband Geoff had beaten him to it. Just back from Australia, where their daughter Sian and grandson Charlie were both now doing well, Gwen was anxious to see her sister. Gil understood, but what he didn’t understand was why he felt so disappointed. He’d only flown a few times in his life, when he was married to Pamela, but airports had always fascinated him. He’d often wondered if he’d been given a toy aeroplane instead of cars when he was a child, he might have become a pilot instead of a mechanic. But he doubted he would have had the brains to become an airline pilot. More than likely he would have been a mechanic for planes, or whatever they were called. It sounded silly, but maybe he would plan a visit to an airport, not to fly anywhere, but just to wander around the concourse and feel the excitement of travel to far-flung places. Yes, that would do it, that would take away the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  Unusually for Gil, he’d slept badly the night before. At six o’clock, convinced he hadn’t had a wink, he gave up trying. He got up, showered and headed for the garage munching a slice of toast as he climbed bleary eyed into the car. Two minutes later he was back in the kitchen scribbling a hasty note for Bridget to tell her where he had gone.

  In complete contrast, his sister had the best night’s sleep since the shooting. She hadn’t heard a thing since her head touched the pillow at just after eleven until she was woken at eight by the postman. She must ask Gil to look at that flap on the letterbox, she said crossly to herself. It made such an almighty clatter when it slammed shut.

  Bridget was surprised to read Gil’s note. Not by his spending the day at the garage, but that the fact that he’d left so early. As much as he loved spending time at the garage, Gil loved his morning lie-ins even more. Despite being virtually retired for a while now, he’d never got over the sheer bliss of being able to get up when it suited him. Most mornings it suited him to get up late.

  She was now doubly cross, firstly at being woken by the postman and now at having her plans for the day ruined. The fact that she hadn’t mentioned her plans to Gil didn’t make the slightest difference in her book. She’d had a hankering for a day out, nowhere fancy, she just needed to get out. Or was it to get away? Somewhere on the Downs maybe or a stroll through a little market town where she could browse around quaint antique shops. A late lunch in a country pub would round the day off nicely. But now it was all ruined. She knew if she rang Gil he would come home and take her out, but it wouldn’t be the same. Now what on earth was she going to do for the rest of the day?

  Bridget’s cure-all to lift her spirits or to relieve boredom was to bake. But for some reason today, the thought didn’t appeal at all. She’d made the mistake of baking when her heart wasn’t in it only once before. Her sponge didn’t rise and her panna cotta didn’t set. She had no intention of making the same mistake twice.

  She managed to fill the first part of the morning by taking a leisurely bath instead of a shower and by giving herself a long-overdue pedicure. She looked at the clock, it wasn’t even eleven. A walk along the Esplanade, blustery for the time of year but invigorating, killed another forty-five minutes but did nothing to lift her spirits. A book she’d been struggling to get into lay open on the sofa at the boring bit, ready for another, probably abortive, attempt. She stretched out her lunch of cheese and crackers for almost an hour. Picking crumbs off the sofa afterwards added another ten minutes. The clock had reluctantly made its way to half past two. Then the phone rang.

  “Maggie, how lovely to hear from you!” Bridget gushed with genuine enthusiasm. “When did you get back?”

  “I’d booked an early morning flight so I’ve been home for a few hours, unpacked, got the washing on, so I thought I’d give you a call.”

  “Well I’m so glad you did. Gil’s spending the day at the garage and I’m going out of my tiny mind with boredom, which is unusual for me, I can usually find something to do. How are you anyway? Did St Rémy weave its magic?”

  “It certainly did. The weather was glorious, cooler than when we
were all there together, but that suits me fine. I’ve been a real lady of leisure for two weeks, though. Heather and Tony wouldn’t let me do a thing. So physically, I’m getting stronger every day. I’ve been doing the exercises the hospital recommended, although getting off the lounger to torture myself every morning took a lot of doing I can tell you! I’ve got my first session with the physiotherapist at the hospital tomorrow, which is when I probably find out I’ve been doing them all wrong. How have you and Gil been? Any news from Inspector Addison? I half expected a call from him when I was away.”

  “Gil and I are fine thanks, but no news at all. Well that’s not strictly true. Inspector Addison has accepted Heather’s theory about Dan Collins having a credible motive. The last we heard he was planning to speak to his mother again to see if any of it rang true. We haven’t heard a dicky bird since. I wonder if I should give him a ring? I don’t like to bother him though a he always seems so busy. What do you think Maggie?”

  “Why not? He can only say no and we’re the ones affected most by all of this. Oh, Doug and Helen send their love by the way. They did a brilliant job at the restaurant but I think they were very relieved to see Heather and Tony get back all the same. Pete sends his best wishes too, or rather it was more of a “say g’day to your Pommie mates for me”. He doesn’t change does he?”

  “He certainly doesn’t; he’s a good man though so that’s probably for the best. Talking of good men, I think I can hear Gil’s car pulling up in the drive. I wasn’t expecting him back just yet.”

  “Do you need to ring off, to get him a sandwich or something?”

  “Certainly not, he’s more than capable of looking after himself. I don’t want to encourage bad habits!”

  “Give him my love won’t you and tell him I really enjoyed our chat the other day.”

  “I didn’t know you two had spoken. Gil didn’t mention it.”

  “I think it was last Friday, Gil said you were at the hairdresser’s. I hope I haven’t got him into trouble, I did ask him to let you know I’d called. I had planned to call back, but you know how it is.”

  “Don’t worry Maggie, I know exactly how it is.”

  At that moment Gil opened the front door. Bridget mouthed “Maggie” and he disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Anyway, one of the reasons I’m ringing is to ask if I can take you both up on your kind offer to help me with the kitchen planning. Heather and I have poured over so many different units and layouts online that I can’t see the wood for the trees. I’ve got it down to two though, or maybe three, but I really need to see them in the showroom before I finally decide. Luckily my two favourites are both made by the same company and even better, they have a showroom just outside a very pretty little village not far from here. So I was thinking that maybe if you could come up on Thursday or Friday, we could visit the showroom and then find a nice pub for lunch afterwards. I haven’t forgotten about that lunch I promised you, hopefully our plans won’t be so dramatically disrupted this time. What do you think?”

  “I think that sounds a lovely idea Maggie. If you just hold on for a sec, I’ll ask Gil which day he prefers.”

  “So that’s Thursday then” said Maggie after Bridget had spoken to Gil. “I’m getting excited already!”

  “Me too” said Bridget. “I could just do with a day out. See you then.”

  Gil knew he was in trouble as soon as Bridget stormed into the kitchen and put her hands squarely on her hips. His cheese and chutney sandwich suddenly lost its appeal.

  “I honestly completely forgot about it Bridge” he muttered after Bridget told him what Maggie had said about her phone call on Friday. “You were at the hairdressers and, if you remember, I dashed off to the garage as soon as you got back. I’m sorry but it just slipped my mind. I didn’t do it on purpose” he added, which had been his favoured multi-purpose excuse ever since he was five.

  “Well make me a cup of tea then and you can tell me what you spoke about.”

  Gil almost knocked his chair over in his haste to put the kettle on. “Go and put your feet up in the living-room and I’ll bring it through. Cake?”

  “No thanks, but maybe you should cut yourself a slice of humble pie!”

  “Ok, Maggie said you had a nice chat, so I want chapter and verse” Bridge said later in the living-room, regretting her decision to decline cake as she watched Gil take a big bite out of a slice of Victoria sponge that oozed jam and cream.

  “Well it wasn’t that long. Anyway, what was it she spoke about? Oh yes, the weather, the restaurant, meals out, you know the usual stuff, oh and how she was getting on with her exercises. She moaned about them but the hospital had told her that if she didn’t do them she would lose movement in her arm and shoulder so that spurred her on a bit. Then we spoke about her coming home, I offered to pick her up from the airport but her sister Gwen and her husband Geoff had already volunteered. They’d been in Australia if you remember and hadn’t seen Maggie since the shooting. Their daughter Sian and grandson Charlie are doing very well now apparently after his difficult birth. Thankfully Maggie didn’t go into the details. I think that’s about it. It’s not as if we discussed anything important.”

  “I think I’ll be the judge of that Gil Honeyman. Besides, I think your offering to pick Maggie up from the airport is quite important actually. You’re never keen on long journeys these days because of your knees, unless they’re essential. So, is there anything you want to tell me?”

  Gil looked genuinely puzzled but his flushing cheeks told another story. “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

  “Do you know Gil, I don’t think you do. Not yet anyway.”

  *

  Gil and Bridget were up at the crack of dawn on Thursday morning. Gil had insisted that Bridget set her alarm for six thirty and that she decide the night before exactly what she was going to wear. This should ensure they would be ready to set off for Bath by seven thirty thereby avoiding the worst of the rush hour traffic.

  They had a light breakfast of tea and toast to leave room for the delicious lunch that awaited them in some quaint country pub. As she buttered her second slice of toast, Bridget was struck by a sense of déjà vu. The first time they had planned the very same trip, disaster had struck. Was it only a month ago? So much had happened in a short space of time. Come on Bridget relax, lightening doesn’t strike twice she told herself. Besides the last trip to Bath had been very pleasant indeed and no catastrophe had befallen them then.

  As Gil busied himself with checking the car, lord knows what for Bridget thought, it’s better maintained than a Formula 1 racing car, she did her usual last minute check that doors and windows were locked and cooker burners were switched off.

  “Come on Bridge” Gil called from the driveway, we’re going to get caught in that snarl-up on the bypass if we don’t get a move on.”

  “But it’s only quarter past, we’ve got plenty of time. I won’t be a minute, I just need to get my camera from the bedroom.”

  Gil sat in the driver’s seat quietly fuming to himself when he heard a bumpety bump sound from inside the house accompanied by a scream. Rapidly unbuckling his seatbelt, he dashed into the hallway dreading what he might find. What he did find was Bridget in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, her left leg bent awkwardly beneath her.

  “Get me up Gil, please!” she pleaded tearfully. Gil moved behind his sister with the intention of putting his arms under her shoulders to gently lift her off the floor and onto the bottom step. He’d no sooner started to try to lift her when Bridget let out another piercing scream. “Stop, don’t move me, let me go, please stop!”

  After ten minutes of stop-start manoeuvring, Bridget was at last safely seated on the bottom step of the stairs. Gil was by now bathed in sweat, not so much from exertion as from stress.

  “I’m going to try to take your shoe off Bridge, it may hurt a bit but your foot is swelling up. This will make it a bit more comfortable for you.”

  “Please tak
e it slowly Gil, it really hurts. I hope I haven’t broken anything.”

  “I’ll have a look when I get your shoe off. Now hold tight, there we are, good girl. Now wiggle your toes.”

  Bridget wiggled her toes.

  “I don’t think anything’s broken, probably a bad sprain though. Maybe we should call a doctor.”

  “No, please don’t, I don’t want any fuss, but we do need to get some ice on it. Can you go to the freezer Gil and put what we’ve got into a muslin bag, they’re in the drawer next to the dishwasher. Oh and some paracetamol too, and a glass of water.”

  “Ok, but we need to get you into the living room and on the sofa before I do any of that. Do you think you’re ready to stand up?”

  “I’ll try but it really hurts.”

  “I know love but you can’t stay here all day. Now I’m going to put my arms under your shoulders and on the count of three, I’m going to lift you up. Ready?”

  “Not really but it has to be done.” At “three” Bridget let out another almighty yell. Gil ignored it and carried on lifting.

  “Good girl, now grab hold of the bannister and take a breather before we try to get you moving.”

  “Oh Gil I don’t think I can make it, I can’t put any weight on my foot at all.” Bridget started to cry.

  “Just hang on there, I’ve just remembered we’ve got Dad’s old walking cane in the shed, won’t be a minute.”

  “Ok, take this in you left hand and lean on me” Gil said when he returned with the cane. “Don’t worry I’ve got you, so best foot forward eh! Atta girl.”