Whether I liked it or not there was a meeting the following morning, at ten thirty, at the Manvers Street police station. It was held not in Carrick’s office but in an area I had never set foot in before on the top floor, in a small conference room. Having spent quite some time the previous night writing a report on what had taken place, I had not actually expected to be asked to attend. Patrick, having taken a clinical look at my dilated pupils, had poured the rest of the Essence of Flowers down the kitchen sink saying, ‘You know what’s in this, don’t you? Home-grown poppies,’ so I was having to stick to conventional medicine.
We sat there in an otherwise empty room, waiting.
I eyed up James Carrick when he eventually entered and concluded that even if one ignored the business of his pills the recovery of possibly several million pounds’ worth of stolen ingots had not necessarily made this a golden morning for him. With him was the burly superintendent from HQ – I still thought him a real roughneck – who had been introduced to us as a Crime Prevention Officer, something I was now beginning to doubt, and another man wearing uniform loaded with the kind of insignia that suggested he was this individual’s god.
Who next, I thought sourly, Master of the Queen’s Musick?
They all sat across the table to us.
‘This is Assistant Chief Constable Judd,’ Carrick said. ‘You’ve already met Superintendent Norman.’
Yes, you virtually kicked us out of Carrick’s office, my mutinous thoughts went on.
I glanced sideways at Patrick. He alarmed me a little, exhibiting a mixture of boredom and amusement. Then I realized that actually I was immensely proud of him: he was not overawed by this lot. How mean I had been to think that he was a different person now he no longer worked for MI5.
‘I understand you said to Detective Chief Inspector Carrick that you would have preferred to enter as plain constable,’ was Judd’s opening remark to Patrick, without bothering with any good mornings or sympathy with regard to the piteous state of his partner.
Carrick then, had relayed everything that had gone on and been said, everything.
‘Yes, it would have been far preferable,’ Patrick answered quietly.
‘Why?’
‘I’m of the opinion that it’s a very clumsy way of doing things. It has a potential to cause resentment among established officers.’
‘It’s only a pay scale.’
‘I’m aware of that. Rapid promotion for suitable candidates would be better, especially as by then they would probably have moved on.’
‘Is that the reason why, as far as you’re concerned, the experiment failed?’
‘No, of course not. Anyway, it hasn’t failed.’
He wasn’t calling him ‘sir’, though.
‘But you’ve been suspended.’
‘For all I know you’ve decided to suspend everyone on the scheme who oversteps the mark to see how they react. I’ve never got results by sticking to petty rules.’
‘I’m sure it’s been made clear to you that working for the police isn’t the same as MI5.’
‘Yes, it was. I had practically free rein then.’
Judd shook his head. ‘That’s anarchy. And very dangerous.’
‘I had a very dangerous boss.’
‘Would you work directly for me?’ Norman enquired, eyes narrowed.
‘No, you’re not remotely dangerous – nor sufficiently senior.’
I nearly let out a rude whoop of joy.
‘To whom exactly did you answer?’ Judd said, with, did I imagine it, a hint of a smile?
‘I’m not going to reveal his name even though I’m pretty sure he’s retired. He’s a nobleman, a knight and I respect him tremendously. But he had the authority – reporting directly to the PM – to have me shot if I got it seriously wrong.’
‘I find that very hard to believe,’ Norman said.
‘Only on paper. He sometimes had me done over to remind me who was in charge.’
‘And you were happy with that kind of working environment?’ Norman said sarcastically.
‘Perhaps I should have said tried to have me done over.’
‘You were very successfully beaten up behind a pub in Bristol.’
‘Oh, glory be,’ Patrick whispered. ‘Drugs Squad volunteers, were they? They looked filthy enough. They lied through their teeth too. We left six of them on the floor or flushed down toilets and walked away.’
‘We?’ Judd said blankly.
‘Ingrid and I. Mostly Ingrid. She’s really evil with a bog brush.’
So no one had put that in their report, either.
Carrick coughed. ‘I understood we were to talk about the murder cases first, sir,’ he said.
‘Yes, we did,’ Judd agreed. ‘I’ve familiarized myself with the gist of it. Bring me up to date.’
The DCI gestured in my direction. ‘Miss Langley has the details. I’m still officially on sick leave and Inspector Bromsgrove is carrying out more investigations at Hinton Mill.’
As arranged with James I had been exceedingly well briefed by my colleague seated alongside me prior to climbing the stairs. Without waiting for permission I began, ‘We have three suspects under arrest, William and Margo Kadović, and Edward Brandon, her son by a previous relationship. I’ll quickly give you some background information. William Kadović is of Serbian origin, entering this country as a juvenile. His parents lived on the proceeds of crime and he soon joined the family firm, becoming involved with vice rings and protection rackets in London. Later, he met and married Marjorie Brandon, a one-time actress, also known as Margo, and together they ran a racket that involved bringing girls from Eastern Europe to the UK on the pretext that good domestic jobs were waiting for them and then forced them into prostitution. That is how DCI Carrick came to hear of them. By this time Brandon had Keith Davies, Christopher and Janet Manley working for him but the exact roles of the latter two, at the moment, are unclear. They can never have come face to face with the Brandons so whatever they did the orders must have been given over the phone. Their furtive behaviour at Hinton Littlemoor suggests Brandon had some kind of hold over them and ruled them by fear. We’re assuming Davies provided physical back-up and organized any intimidation that was required.’
Norman butted in with, ‘Are the Brandons talking?’
‘Yes, as it’s difficult to explain why you were trying to kick your way into a country rectory they all admit to being involved with handling the stolen gold. That came from an underworld crony who was implicated in thefts of other antiquities and desperate to get rid of it as it was “hot” – murder had been committed in order to get hold of it. The Kadovićs say they’d been drinking, were drunk even, last night and decided to try to get it back. There’s a chance they’d already rehearsed what they were going to say if they were arrested as they’re all insisting they thought I was just a meddlesome villager, no connection with the law, out to steal what they’d paid good money for. That’s a lie, they knew perfectly well who I was.’
Carrick looked up. ‘As of last night we have a signed statement from a man by the name of Paul Keen, who’s been in trouble on more than one occasion for poaching. He saw a woman being pushed out of a car two nights ago on the main road just before the Hinton Littlemoor turn-off. The car drove off. Before he could go to her aid she had been knocked down by a car coming from the opposite direction. Another car stopped so he reckoned he was superfluous and went home. He probably had the added incentive of a sackful of dead pheasants with him. He did get half the registration number, it was a silver Audi. We have the Kadovićs’ car, a silver Audi that has that same registration. There are very small bloodstains on the back seat, samples of which have been sent for DNA testing, together with a sample from Ingrid to see if they match. There was also an unlicensed shotgun that had been fired quite recently hidden in a secret compartment in the boot of the car.’
‘They’re denying the murders?’ Norman wanted to know.
I said, ‘Individually they are. Edward is saying he’s only just back from the States and his mother and William had already carried them out. That’s a lie too as he’s been in prison over there and was recently deported, arriving in the UK before the murders took place. Apparently he has a record of extreme violence when under the influence of alcohol. I think it was his idea to raid the rectory either to look for me or to see if I’d hidden the gold there. I’m sure he was behind the murders, or at least, the vicious manner in which they were carried out. He gets it from her.’
‘That’s just your own opinion, though,’ Judd said.
‘Yes, formed after she’d punched me three times,’ I said. ‘Why else d’you think I bled on the back seat of their car?’
Patrick fluttered his eyelashes at me. We have our codes. All right, I thought, I won’t be too corrosive and mess this up for you. Despite what you said just now I rather had the idea it was already messed.
‘And the motives for all these murders?’ Norman asked.
‘It’s another of my opinions,’ I admitted.
‘Go on.’
‘Last night Margo shouted at Teddy, Edward, that he’d ruined their retirement. I think he has. He’s aggressive, stupid and dangerous. I have an idea that his mother and her husband had retreated to the mill, using her maiden name, with a view to waiting quietly until they could recover the gold, which as you know had been concealed in a coffin and buried in the churchyard. They recommended that their one-time employees do the same. When the gold was recovered and a fence, or even genuine private buyers, found for it they probably planned to sell up, the properties almost certainly having increased in value by then. But Teddy – and on reflection this morning I think it was him the Manleys and Davies were terrified would turn up again – came back and turned it all into a bloodbath. He wanted in. Why should all these other people have a share?’
‘And I take it it’s too early to know whether wool fibres found at the scene of the barn murders are compatible with any clothing belonging to those detained,’ Norman said.
‘I understand that when arrested Edward Brandon was wearing a woollen sweater with a hole torn in the sleeve,’ I replied. ‘But yes, we await the results of tests on that and the fibres.’
‘The – er – counterfeit notes found in Keith Davies’s flat?’ Patrick floated into the room at large.
Carrick shrugged. ‘A little souvenir of the bad old days?’
‘Did the bag containing the samples of tea and sand that Ingrid found in the garage turn up?’
‘Yes, it did,’ Carrick replied. ‘She must have dropped it in the garage where the Porsche was kept. That too has gone for testing. Another point I must mention is that some pieces of decorated Chinese porcelain were found at the Kadovićs’ flat, in a box that had sand and tea in the bottom.’
There was a short silence.
Norman said, ‘Am I to understand that a search of the garages was carried out before Superintendent Gillard conducted one himself without a warrant?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Just before I found the gold in the river. Did you miss that bit in the report?’
He obviously had. Neither, for a moment, did he know how to react. Then, to me, he said, ‘We shall have to wait until after further questioning and enquiries to know whether your theories bear fruit.’ He would have continued but there was a knock at the door and before anyone could say anything it opened and Commander John Brinkley came in.
‘Sorry I’m late. The trains are all to hell this morning.’ His gaze came to rest on me. ‘Ingrid! What’s the world been doing to you?’
‘Most unfortunate,’ Norman put in quickly. ‘But at least it would appear we have the perpetrator.’
Then, for several minutes, the three ‘resident’ police officers briefed Brinkley on the cases we had been working on. He had changed. It was not just that he had put on a little weight: here was a man who exuded self-confidence and fulfilment and dressed accordingly, with style and at considerable expense. Obviously, the world was good to him. He smelt like a gigolo.
The briefing reached the point at which Patrick had been suspended and four pairs of eyes fastened on him.
‘Well, frankly,’ Brinkley said, ‘I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t got into hot water.’
‘Would you be less or more disappointed if I now walked out?’ Patrick enquired. ‘My question after that is how much longer is this pettifogging charade going to continue?’
‘Patrick,’ Carrick said earnestly, ‘I agree. It’s gone on for too long and personally I want to apologize. But you must have realized that everyone on the scheme has been tried and tested – in your case to see how you behaved when placed under stress and treated with less deference that you were used to in the army.’
He had risked getting into trouble for saying this and I waited for Judd to explode. I was looking in the wrong direction.
‘Was that the sole reason for my request for a search warrant being refused?’ Patrick asked in a dead kind of tone.
Judd nodded slowly.
‘You don’t seem to have hoisted in exactly the kind of people we’ve been dealing with,’ Patrick told him. ‘I’ll jump through hoops in role-play sessions until the end of the world but had I known you’d extend silly-bugger tactics into the real job I’d never have agreed to take part. And, for the record, I was not used to being shown much deference except when actually in uniform and junior ranks were required to salute. I suggest you research your subject next time. You could have even come along to the dinner where all the senior officers serve everyone else if the bloody government hadn’t binned the regiment.’ He added a couple more sentences which I will not repeat, grabbed my hand and we left the room.
Outside in the long corridor I finally succeeded in slowing the pace at which he was going and then brought him to a halt. He was breathing hard and then turned, unseeing, tears of anger in his eyes.
On tiptoe, I kissed his cheek. ‘I’m really sorry. This is all my fault – I’ve wrecked it for you. I kept telling you to do things by the book and then went off and did exactly the opposite.’
Brinkley was hurrying to catch up with us. ‘That man Judd has handled everything appalling badly,’ he said. ‘Look, Patrick, I really do need you. The Met are giving me a small branch of my own. I want you for a department of it. Undercover stuff, just your line of business. You’d practically be your own boss.’ He chuckled in a phoney kind of way. ‘Sort of a branch of a branch.’
‘That sounds more like a bloody twig to me,’ Patrick said. ‘No, sorry, John. I’ll fill in the questionnaire and post it off to you.’
‘But, man, you’re not even at the end of your probationary period!’
‘No, but you’re at the end of mine.’
We left him standing open-mouthed, trying to think of something to say.
‘They’ll make James a scapegoat,’ I said when we were driving away.
‘They might try. I have every intention of writing a letter to the bod who contacted me in the first place and copying it to quite a few other people.’ Patrick glanced at me quickly. ‘Are you feeling bad?’
‘About the job? Yes, I’ve just said so – for your sake.’
‘No, you, yourself.’
‘I could do with the rest of the day in bed.’
‘Then home, eh?’
‘Heaven.’
I had my rest, sleeping for most of the time, and when I finally decided it was time I showed my face downstairs at just after eight the following morning I found everyone having breakfast. Tea and loving kindness flowed, followed by bacon and eggs, and I soon felt almost restored to normal.
‘Lorna Church rang,’ Patrick said. ‘She’d tried to get hold of me at the nick but was told I wasn’t there so tried here. She was worried because she’d forgotten to tell me something. Apparently Janet Manley had given her a small porcelain bowl as a present when they were invited up for drinks one night. Janet said it had been in her family for a long time but I reckon it had been one of those the gang grabbed along with the ingots and she’d kept it in that box.’
‘And that’s how the tea got in there,’ I said. ‘I had wondered if there were a few more ingots on the loose. Will she be allowed to keep it?’
‘I’ve no intention of telling her or anyone else it might be stolen property. Anyway, as far as I’m concerned it’s all purely academic now.’
‘You’ve really decided to give up?’ Elspeth said.
‘I’ve not given up,’ Patrick told her. ‘Just decided I can’t work the way the law does.’
Could not stomach working for the plumped-up and fragrant Brinkley either, I had already surmised. Ironically, Carrick had been perfectly correct in his original judgement.
‘We must contact James,’ I said.
‘I already have. As we’d suspected, he’s been under huge pressure to act unfriendly – the powers that be thought he might carry me in the job and give an undeserved glowing report. It was the reason he didn’t initially want to have anything to do with it. I got the impression that after we left he virtually told Judd and Norman to sod off back to HQ and let him and Bromsgrove get on with the work in hand. It looks as though Bromsgrove might stay though, he’d asked for a move to Bath as he lives in Oldfield Park.’
John looked up from the crossword. ‘Vernon Latimer’s resigned from the PCC,’ he said. ‘He told me he found your questioning of him quite unwarranted. The fellow seemed to think I’d set you on him in future if he put a foot wrong.’
Had he actually written that letter to the bishop complaining that John was no longer fit enough for the job, I wondered, then received a less than sympathetic reply? We would probably never know.
‘Good,’ Elspeth said. ‘I never liked him.’
‘His wife’s left him,’ John went on. ‘And he’s having to sell up – leaving the district by all accounts.’ His gaze rested briefly on Patrick and me. ‘You two do make waves, you know.’
‘I want to know if you really must rush home,’ Elspeth said to us, hands clasped at her bosom.
‘Why?’ Patrick asked.
‘I’d love a few days on Sark. You know, we stay with our old friends the Framleys who used to live at the grange next door. They’ve a massive garden and a while ago decided to sell part of it to someone to build a house. Your father and I used some of our savings to buy the plot – I have to say they let us have it very cheaply – and it seems such a lovely thing to do at such a miserable time of the year to go over there and talk about plans and architects—’ She broke off, eyes shining, hugging herself.
‘Do go,’ I said. ‘Go for as long as you like. Patrick and I can take it in turns to house-sit.’
‘There’s the dog too, but only for a week or so.’
‘Which dog?’ Patrick said.
‘Whisky. The RSPCA phoned and asked, as you’d expressed an interest in him, whether we’d have him here for a short while. In fact, they sent an inspector round to make sure the place was suitable.’ In response to our blank looks she went on, ‘Sorry, I must have forgotten to tell you but it only happened the day before yesterday. Vera Stonelake is going to live with one of her daughters and wants to take the dog with her. It’s hers, after all. The daughter’s got to have the garden fenced or something first. I was told Vera’s a lot better since being looked after in the nursing home and with her daughter’s help is contacting her solicitor to check up on her will. Isn’t that good news?’
‘Wonderful,’ Patrick said warmly.
It was not until a fortnight later to the day that Patrick and I would be at home together and when he came in the front door he had a smile on his lips.
‘Remember the blue car?’ he said.
‘The one I saw in the garage that disappeared?’
‘Yup. You were right, it almost certainly had been booby-trapped when you found it. Traffic police became suspicious yesterday about a vehicle that had been parked in a side road for a while, and even more so when they saw liquid of some kind dripping from it that seemed to have killed all the grass nearby on a verge. They ended up calling in the bomb squad. It was acid. It wasn’t actually set to go off but was a crude device that would have squirted anyone who opened up the car unless something was disconnected first.’
‘William Kadović?’
‘A bit of an inventor, he himself bragged. He’d done it with us in mind. Yes, I spoke to Carrick, went to the nick, in fact. After apologizing all over again he told me he has a good case against them and they’re tacking that charge on for good luck.’ He looked around. ‘Where are the kids?’
‘They should have just come down the drive and be waiting outside for you.’
‘Can’t they come in?’
‘No, because the present we’ve bought you is too big to go through the door.’
The present, Katie’s hand on his velvet nose in the hope it would prevent him whinnying, had been secreted in one of Lydtor’s hidden lanes by the excited children a few minutes previously, Matthew holding Vicky. Justin was part way up a tree with strict instructions to watch the road and report when Patrick turned into the drive. For this reason I had asked him to ring me when he left Exeter so I could roughly calculate the time of his arrival.
George was dark bay in colour and had been described as a medium-weight hunter in the advertisement but was, I had been pleased to see on inspecting him, on the light side of that and at sixteen hands was ideal for Patrick’s height. With slight trepidation I had ridden him out on Dartmoor myself the previous day. The words ‘hunter’ and ‘wide-open spaces’ can add up to make an explosive equine handful. But George was a perfect gentleman and had cantered off steadily when asked. However, he had at the moment a very light person on the other end of his lead rope and had towed Katie over to Patrick’s car where he was busily scratching his chin on the radio aerial.
‘That’s George,’ I said. ‘He came well recommended by knowledgeable friends.’
‘That’s a very good horse,’ Patrick murmured. ‘Wow.’
‘I got a pretty massive advance from the States for the screenplay,’ I said. ‘Go on, we tacked him up for you.’
Mounted, he said, ‘I still don’t have a job.’
‘No, but the vegetable garden needs digging, the apple trees will have to be pruned and a length of gutter has fallen off the cottage. Oh, and the woodstove chimney of the barn needs sweeping.’
‘I quite like the idea of being a kept man,’ he said as he rode away, jeans, leather jacket, ordinary shoes and all.
This ambition was thwarted a few days later when a letter arrived from John Brinkley when he humbly proposed a new offer; would Lieutenant Colonel Gillard consider a position that would involve his being called upon to help the Metropolitan Police as an independent adviser on cases of ‘great sensitivity’ where his expertise could be utilized to the greatest advantage?
‘He hasn’t mentioned you,’ Patrick commented.
‘As always,’ I said. ‘Two for the price of one.’
‘Do we consider?’
‘When they’ve given us a few more details?’
‘That’s a good idea – play for time to give us a chance to think about it.’
‘And you could go and ask George.’
Patrick went riding.
Sending rescued chickens in all directions in the drive.