Guilty Pleasures, page 11
‘People do that all the time. You don’t sign an attendance contract, you know. I mean, how often do you go to your parish church, let alone any of mine?’
‘Point taken. People work on Sundays these days, don’t they? But you’re the sort of person to pick up vibes, Robin.’
‘Spotting a would-be thief while I’m giving him Communion? Don’t think so.’
We were spared any more squabbling by the arrival of the courier bringing my next repair. Trev, a wiry man in his fifties who loved antiques in a quiet and undemonstrative way, always insisted on carrying the parcel into what he called my operating theatre. Then he would unpack it himself, getting me to sign for the damage I’d been asked to deal with and noting anything else. Robin wandered in.
‘This is Trev, who’s brought this for me to work on,’ I said. ‘And this is Robin. Look, Trev’s just driven up from Devon. You don’t suppose you could rustle up a cuppa for him while I check over my patient?’
A few minutes later he came in with a mug and a fistful of papers. ‘Pressed the wrong button on the computer,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t stop it. It’s just spewing them out.’
I dashed down to find more cascading on to the floor. He’d only started to print all the photos. Fine. Except they were A4.
‘Never mind,’ I said brightly, as I returned. ‘Only ordinary office paper, after all.’ And I’d got backup supplies of all the colour cartridges he’d almost certainly emptied.
Trev watched me straighten them up into a tidy sheaf. ‘What’s this – the ugly bugs’ ball? Sorry, vicar,’ he added hurriedly.
Robin looked bemused rather than affronted. ‘You’ve come all the way from Devon with just this vase?’
‘It’s one of a pair,’ I said. ‘Together they’re worth something in the eight thousand pounds range. Separately or with one broken—’ I shook my head.
‘But they’re just vases.’
‘They’re by Harry Davies,’ Trev said, as if that would make everything clear. He stroked the gilded plinth.
Robin shook his head. Any moment we could have a rerun of his attack on the opera.
‘Tell you what,’ I said, ‘the guy who sent this knows everyone in the antiques world. Right?’
Trev nodded. ‘At the top end, at least,’ he said.
‘And you know a lot more,’ I added, with a grin, which he returned.
The first snuffbox would almost certainly qualify, if Morris was to be believed. But I mustn’t think of Morris now. ‘Would you mind if Trev looked at these photos? And then took them back to show Harvey? They might just place someone.’
‘What about the Data Protection Act? People’s privacy?’ he squeaked.
‘What about Griff getting beaten up? And you getting run off the road? If I were you,’ I added airily, ‘I’d take the memory stick along to Freya and see if any faces match any of her records. Help her to steal a march on Scotland Yard.’
I might have flicked the Happy switch.
‘Really? Do you think she’d mind?’
‘She might find it extremely useful. As might Morris, of course. I’ll email these to him,’ I said. ‘See who comes up with something first.’
Leafing through the photos, shaking his head from time to time, Trev listened, sipping tea with which there was clearly something wrong, though he was too polite to say so. At last, with the air of someone who’d made a major sacrifice, he said, ‘Mind if I use—’
‘You know where it is,’ I smiled.
‘You’re sure you can trust him?’ Robin hissed. ‘In your house?’
‘I always have.’ But on those occasions Griff had been with me. On impulse I reached for the phone.
Harvey answered first ring.
‘Lovely vase,’ I greeted him.
‘Arrived safely?’
‘Would you expect anything else of Trev?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I was going to send you a load of photos, just in case there’s anyone there you might know. Anyone, and however you know them.’
‘Sounds very mysterious.’
‘I don’t want to put ideas into your head: now we’ve spoken, I’ll email them instead, but I warn you they’ll take forever to send and receive – they’re unedited.’
‘Why not just the hard copies then? Via Trev?’
‘Because I want you to look at figures in the background. I know you’ve got a programme that can enhance everything.’
‘I have indeed. I never needed it to enhance you, however.’ He paused while we shared a flirtatious giggle before asking, ‘I suppose I can’t come to collect the vase in person?’
‘Of course you can.’ Another game we always played. If he ever did turn up in person, I’d be so surprised that I’d probably drop whatever I’d repaired. ‘Or you could drop into Matford next week and collect it then,’ I added.
‘Angel. Will Griff be there? I’ll shout you both dinner at a little place I’ve just discovered. A gem to match you. Can you put me on to Trev?’
‘Here he is now.’
Trev took the handset, but spoke to me. ‘There’s this really old guy still hanging around. He drifted away when I came to the door, but he’s still at the end of the street. Just checked.’
Harvey must have picked something up. I heard him squawk: ‘Keep an eye on her, Trevor.’ I wish he hadn’t added, ‘Can’t risk any damage to those hands of hers.’
It was probably just X, I told myself, with more goodies. He certainly wouldn’t want to appear at the same time as anyone else. On the other hand, it was late in the day for a man who liked to arrive before breakfast, so I nipped down to check on the security system. It didn’t take long for the men to join me. The three of us peered at the current view from our cameras. The street was empty as far as the cameras could scan. So I rewound to about five minutes before Trev arrived. Sure enough, an old guy wandered past, and then back again. Trev’s anonymous Ford van arrived. The old man drifted away. Actually, a pretty fast drift. But then he came back again, and, staying the far side of the van, bent as if he was looking under a wheel arch. Somehow I didn’t think he was checking the tyretread. I rewound to the time Robin arrived. His car got the same treatment, again from the side further from the pavement. But where was the old guy now?
Trev was ready to dash out and start hunting. I held him back. ‘We don’t know what he’s put there and what will activate it.’ Pressing the phone into Robin’s hand I said, ‘We need the police. Call Freya. Speed dial! It’ll be quicker than nine nine nine. Now!’
FIFTEEN
‘He was just attaching tracker devices,’ Freya said. I was amazed she’d come out in person, since she was really a number-cruncher these days, as she was the first to point out. However, perhaps she liked to escape into the real world from time to time, especially when it was Robin who put in the call. ‘Cheap and cheerful makes, easy to get hold of on the Internet. Plus he’s scraped something off both sets of tyres, for some reason. Just cleared out a bit of the tread. I’d like you to get them changed before you think of driving off – you’re both members of a car-rescue service, yes? And our forensic people will have a look.’
The village street was quiet again. It hadn’t been very noisy before, apart from a few indrawn breaths and the sigh of curtains being twitched as our neighbours watched a guy operate a robot from the safety of an armoured car. He might have been working in Afghanistan. At least he didn’t find anything nasty enough to warrant blowing anything up. Any moment an AA van might turn up for Trev, but Robin was going to have to change his wheel himself, since it seemed letting his membership lapse had been one of his recent economies.
Not replacing a highly illegal spare might have come under the same heading, too. He stared at it glumly, clearly unable to put it on the car under the gaze of a senior policewoman with whom he shared what Griff would discreetly call a mutual attraction – goodness knows what he’d call this episode with Morris – and a couple of lingering male helpers.
Looking at the poor car leaning on an unsteady jack, I heard myself say, ‘I’ll run you over to Maidstone when we’re finished here.’ It wasn’t pure kindness. There were certain items from the bottom of my make-up drawer, well below the level of my cosmetics, that needed replacing. I might have inherited my lust from my father, but I certainly wasn’t going to be as careless as he. Ever. But to save Griff’s blushes as much as my own, I didn’t feel I could buy them from the village pharmacy or from the mini-supermarket.
Once again I copied everything from our security system for the police, and then waved them off. Next it was Trev’s turn.
‘Mind you,’ he said, fastening his seat belt, ‘I really don’t like leaving you on your own. A slip of a girl like you. You know Harvey’d come up if you said the word. Never known him so smitten, Lina.’
‘Oh, we always flirt like that on the phone,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t mean anything, Trev.’
‘It might not to you. You want to meet Mrs Sanditon. Estelle. Then you’d see why he’s sweet on you. Plus you’re pretty enough in your own right. And as for those clever hands of yours . . . Well, like I say, you’d only have to pick up the phone. Tell you what, I could drive him – chaperone you.’
He would too, wouldn’t he? ‘Thanks, Trev, I appreciate that. See you next time,’ I said, patting the roof of his van. ‘Look after yourself.’
‘Nice to know whoever that guy was can’t track me, anyway,’ he said. His face fell. ‘Unless he left another one anywhere . . . No, he didn’t have time to, did he? Goodbye, luvvy – God bless!’ He waved, ready to pull out.
I stopped him. ‘Tell you what, you keep an eye on that rear view mirror. And I’ll get the fuzz to do an extra check on Robin’s. If there’s a problem, I promise to call you as soon as I know.’
By the time Robin and I got back, a familiar Saab was sitting in the White Hart car park. Morris strolled up to the cottage while we were wrestling with the new tyre, and, leaning against our front door, offered helpful suggestions.
‘Haven’t you got some masterpiece you ought to go and ransom?’ I asked, pushing a lock of hair off my face with the back of my hand. Robin might be bright and generally strong, but he really was clueless about cars. All the more reason for AA membership, I’d have thought.
‘There’s one in Sweden, but Interpol are on to that. Are you sure that’s not a bit overinflated? Or maybe it’s the others that are soft. He embarked on the classic manly see, I know the right pressures just by kicking the tyre walls routine, with Robin soon joining in. I let myself into the house to find soap and water and have a conversation with Tim the Bear, before sending Robin off with a suggestion that the fuzz forensic team might like to give the whole car another once-over.
‘The TV ploy didn’t work, then,’ I said later as Morris passed me a mug of tea. It was too hot, so I put it on the bedside cupboard. ‘Because if it had, whoever planted the tracking devices would have known he didn’t need to bother tailing my contacts.’
‘So we’re looking for someone in the south-east who doesn’t watch TV or read the local press – we got a lot of newspaper coverage too,’ he said ironically. ‘There, you didn’t even see it yourself, did you?’
‘I’ve not had a lot of time, with the succession of visitors I’ve had this morning. You included, of course. Why did you come down?’
‘I’d have thought the last hour made that abundantly clear. Plus I was out Folkestone way – someone trying to spirit something they shouldn’t have through the Tunnel – when Freya Webb called to say there was further activity here. I wanted to make sure you were all right. Being guarded by teddy bears is one thing; I thought you might need a police presence. And I’d say you were expecting me.’ He patted my morning’s purchase. ‘Maybe hoping?’ It might have sounded smug, but he looked almost anxious.
I peered into my mug. Josie would have wanted to read the tea leaves. Even thinking about her made me twitch with guilt – I’d never phoned to ask about my double, or to pass on Griff’s thanks for the cake, in whichever order. I’d never – the list was quite long.
‘Post-coital tristesse?’ he asked, touching my hair.
‘Might be, if I knew the words,’ I grumbled, trying hard to work out the meaning. Morris was one of the few people I’d ever told about my poor vocabulary (I’d learnt that word very early on!), and as far as I knew was the only one who’d ever betrayed my trust. He’d meant if for the best, of course, but a lot of things go wrong when people do that. ‘The thing is, Morris, I’ve let all this snuffbox business bury me. I’ve got work to do, contracts to fulfil, a big fair next week. All without Griff, of course.’
‘I can’t say I’m sorry Griff’s not here at the moment.’
‘I know. He really needs a change after that break-in.’
‘I wasn’t quite thinking of Griff’s well-being, Lina.’
‘Neither was I, to tell you the truth,’ I admitted. ‘But every minute I listen to Robin’s miseries, for instance, and he’s got so much to bear at the moment, is a minute I can’t be doing something else. A something that keeps our business afloat.’
‘No, the economic climate’s not good, is it? Any moment I expect a call saying our squad’s been abolished or merged and that I’ve been transferred to Traffic.’
‘Now who’s got post-coital tristesse?’ He didn’t correct me so I must have used the term properly. ‘Seriously, what if they do close you down?’
‘I go private. Bruce Farfrae’s always on at me to go in with him. Crime never stops, even when police officers are being made redundant. He’d like me to run his New York office. But obviously, I wouldn’t want to move to the US.’ He kissed my lips. ‘Obviously. But we were talking about you, Lina. Your problems. Which I’m about to make worse, actually, as far as invading your time is concerned. I want to chew this business over with you officially.’
‘Which means we’d better get dressed and go into the office,’ I said, swinging my legs on to the floor.’
‘Absolutely. But not just yet.’
‘So when you went to see Colonel Bridger, he denied all knowledge of the snuffbox and this poor thing.’ He patted the poor tatty folio.
‘Never seen either of them ever before. My father recognized the box, don’t forget.’ And would love to get his sticky mitts on the folio, I added, but silently. To the best of my knowledge, Morris still thought my father was a boozy old idiot.
‘I think we should talk to your father.’ He got to his feet – we were off now, it seemed.
‘And while we’re in Bossingham, maybe we should look at Bugger Bridger’s neighbours. The ones sharing a boundary with him. They could have popped it into his box of rubbish, hoping someone would pick it up at the fête?’
‘Why? It sounds a dead risky move. Was a dead risky move. After all, you got there first. The whole point of covert operations like that is that they’re successful and that no one else knows about them. But we can at least look at their property. Now what?’
‘Just texting my father to say we’re on our way.’
‘Texting? That’s a bit twenty-first century!’
‘So is Sky, and he’s still hoping to find a hidden site for a dish.’ I didn’t like not telling Morris that sending a text was simply warning my father not to be doing any illicit forging when we arrived. I preferred Morris to think of him as a doddery old soak, rather than as a master forger.
‘The locks you installed for me are still working very well, as you can see,’ my father told Morris. ‘Had a bit of a scare then – nice quiet life since. Until some other bastard turns up claiming to be one of the family.’
As always, I tried not to flinch at the word. What was I if not a bastard?
‘It’s surprising none has,’ Morris ventured. After all, he’d seen my father’s list of sexual partners and their offspring.
‘Nothing for them if they did. Everything belongs to the bloody trust. Even that damn apology for a track, though they won’t admit it. Hope your suspension’s still in one piece? The sump?’
Morris blinked. ‘I think so.’
‘Actually, there’s a few quid in a trust fund Lina insisted I set up. Sold some book to the nation – wouldn’t take a penny profit for herself. Maybe I’ve already told you. Sorry. Have some more fizz.’ He topped up Morris’s glass before he could put his hand over it. ‘Any chance of your finding a few goodies to sell, Lina? And bringing in a few cases next time you come?’
‘In a minute,’ I said. ‘Morris is really here to talk about that snuffbox I showed you. You said you remembered someone round here using it. Colonel Bridger didn’t. In fact, he didn’t even recognize it.’
‘Johnnie Come Lately, isn’t he? They say he’s tidying up his place because he’s importing a mail order bride. Certainly didn’t want to let me in to clutter the place up.’
‘Nor Robin the Vicar and me when we went to talk to him. And no, he didn’t so much as pinch my bum, thanks to you.’
My father leant confidingly towards me. ‘It’s not so much pinching, Lina, as—’
Morris rescued me. ‘Is he normally a hospitable man? Or is this reluctance to admit people a recent development?’
‘Always been a few pence short of a shilling – but then, the army, you see,’ my father explained. I think.
‘But you knew the snuffbox?’ Morris fished in a pocket and put it into my father’s hand.
‘Yes, indeed. And it isn’t this one, young man. The one I knew was worn, where the owner flicked it open. I told you, Lina. This is some copy. Not sure they’ve got the pattern the right way round either.’
Silently, I passed over my eyeglass. After a bit of a fuss about fitting it, as if he didn’t use one regularly for his work, he peered at the snuffbox. ‘Saw something on the box the other day. I know Lina thinks I’m wasting my time, but I learn some things you’d never dream of.’
He did.
‘They can forge almost anything, you know.’
