A Cotswold Ordeal (26 page)

The crucial nugget in the story was undoubtedly the universal insistence that Dominic and Jeremy had murdered Nick. Cecilia had sounded as if she genuinely believed it to be true. Examining this from all sides, Thea reached a decision.

She went to the kitchen doorway and stood waiting for them to notice her. She felt Robert’s eyes on her and knew she had to act swiftly, before he understood what she was about to do.

‘Cecilia,’ she said. ‘You’re quite wrong about who killed Nick. It was Desmond Phillips. He was with me and Robert just now in the tunnel, and he locked my dog in DS Hollis’s car. It’s at Sapperton. It’s unjust for the boys to be charged with the murder. And I do not want Desmond to get away with it. He was threatening to kill me.’ She paused, fighting down the hysteria that made her want to say it all again, only louder.

Cecilia stared at her, mouth working as she repeated the words silently to herself. ‘Desmond?’ she echoed. ‘Don’t be so stupid.’

‘It’s true. Ask Robert.’

‘It can’t be. For heaven’s sake, why would I go to all that trouble to save bloody Desmond Phillips’ skin? I did it for Jemmy and Dom.’

Thea finally grasped who it had been who removed Nick’s body from the barn and restrangled it in the pony shed at Juniper Court. Robert Craven, evidently, had just reached the same conclusion.

‘Damn it to hell!’ he shouted. ‘
You
hanged him in the stable.’ His eyes bulged as he confronted Cecilia.

The woman was not intimidated. Her head twitched to one side as if tossing away an irritating strand of hair. ‘Of course it was me,’ she agreed. ‘Who else?’

‘We thought… I mean…’ he floundered.

‘You can’t have done it alone,’ Thea said. ‘You’d never have got him into the stable by yourself.’

Cecilia pressed her lips together, apparently dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events. Five people snatched alarmed glimpses of each other before finding a neutral point in the room on which to rest their gaze. Even Thea felt afraid of what she might observe on the other faces. Confessions were working their way to the surface like erupting boils, full of malignant contagion. To Thea it felt like a miasma of potential betrayal, one person’s words
casting another into disgrace and shame, wrecking lives forever.

It was abruptly much easier to think. The events of the previous weekend were laid out before her with crystal clarity. And another rapid glance around the room revealed to her that this put her in a unique position. With the possible exception of Frannie Craven, who looked weirdly relaxed and unconcerned, the others were still grappling with new ideas. They were slowly setting aside assumptions, and replacing them with Thea’s accusations, testing for validity and assessing implications. Thea watched the process, with a dawning apprehension. It might well occur to Cecilia that Thea’s version was unacceptable; that the bearer of such stories was best kept out of sight and sound. Having escaped the clutches of the actual murderer, she was now in those of someone almost as ruthless.

But Cecilia’s rage had already found a different object. ‘Desmond?’ she repeated breathily. She looked to Robert, who had his own gaze firmly on the carpet. ‘
Desmond.
My God. Have you known this all along?’ Shock turned to fury, and Robert cringed. ‘You’ve been hiding him, have you? Helping him.’ She stood up, looming over the seated man flanked by his wife and mother. ‘I’ll
kill
you, Robert Craven. You weak stupid treacherous little
bastard
.’

‘Hold on Ciss.’ Mrs Craven senior came up fighting. ‘That’s enough of that. Give the boy a chance.’ She got to her feet and faced Cecilia at a distance of a few inches. ‘It doesn’t have to be so bad.’

‘If I’d
known
,’ screeched Cecilia. ‘If only I’d
known
—’ She quivered with passion, eyes flashing. ‘Why didn’t you
tell
us? What did you want to shield him for?’

Robert shrugged at the impossibility of explaining. Cecilia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Were you there when it happened? Did you help him? Are you a murderer as well? I wouldn’t put it past you.’

He shook his head. ‘No I wasn’t. I never even saw Nick afterwards. Desmond called me and made me meet him and find him fresh clothes. He ran over the cat,’ he added as if this fitted vitally into the story.

Frannie squawked at this. ‘Milo? Desmond killed Milo?’ Thea flinched, remembering Cecilia’s dismissal of Frannie as not worthy of consideration. It was far from true: Frannie Craven was a force to be reckoned with. ‘Tell us everything, Robert,’ she said.

Thea was calculating days and times. ‘How
could
he have done it?’ she demanded. ‘The ferry didn’t dock in Cork till Sunday morning, which is when the cat was killed.’

‘He flew back in a private plane. He left Julia and
the kids the minute the ferry landed, and was back here by nine.’

‘And Julia didn’t object?’

‘It was part of the plan. He’d invented a story about a fishing trip, with an early start on Sunday. If Flora hadn’t mucked everything up, he’d have gone back days ago and finished the holiday with them.’

‘So what was he driving?’ said Frannie.

‘What?’

‘When he ran over Milo. His car’s in Ireland, and don’t tell me he used the Lamborghini.’

‘He hired one. I was waiting for him at our gate, while you had your Sunday lie-in. I saw the whole thing. It ran in front of the car and he steered right at it. He was in that sort of mood.’ Robert shrugged, as if knowing he was describing something that no woman would understand. ‘He never liked Milo,’ he added.

‘Never mind the cat,’ Cecilia snapped. ‘It’s Desmond I’m interested in. He planned the whole thing – is that what you’re telling us?’ She focused intently on Robert. ‘Where was he all day Sunday?’

‘In the tunnel,’ said Robert, as if this was obvious.

‘And it was all planned – killing Nick at the barn, and giving himself a cast-iron alibi.’

‘Right,’ Robert nodded almost eagerly. ‘He spent weeks setting it all up. Paid a bloke to impersonate
him, sitting for hours fishing on a riverbank. Made sure three or four witnesses would swear it was him. Desmond’s clever. And he always gets what he wants.’

‘But
why,
Robbie?’ his mother demanded, taking his hand. ‘You’re going to be in terrible trouble for hiding him as you did.’

‘Why what, Ma?’

‘Why did he kill the Franklyn boy?’

‘Because of his fishing lake,’ asserted Cecilia. ‘He thought the Warriors would put a stop to his plans and wanted to break them up. He knew we’d all blame the Innes boys.’

Robert shook his head. ‘No, that’s not it. It was Flora. He thought Flora and Nick were – you know. And she’s only fourteen.’

The silence lasted an unbearable time. Thea tried to speak, but could not find words.

‘But that wasn’t true, was it?’ Cecilia whispered. ‘None of them touched Flora. I told them not to, and they laughed and said I didn’t need to worry.’

‘It might have been true,’ Frannie offered. ‘Flora was an awful little flirt.’

Thea was watching Robert, and the flush suffusing his face. A grim suspicion overtook her. ‘Yes, she’s only fourteen,’ she said. ‘And she was worried enough to come back here to try to stop her father. She
knew
what he meant to do. And when she got here, all she could think to do was hide
away in the car and hope she wasn’t too late. With me and my sister in the way, she couldn’t really protect anybody. It wasn’t until we found her that she knew she’d got there too late. Poor little thing.’

‘Poor little thing!’ Frannie protested. ‘She’s a devious little menace. One of those girls who make men mad.’ She too looked penetratingly at Robert and a chill descended. ‘
You
told Desmond she was sleeping with Nick, didn’t you?’ she accused. ‘It can’t have been anybody else. And why would you do that?’ All trace of the ditzy young wife so subservient to her husband, which had been Thea’s initial impression of her, was long since discarded. The truth only made her stronger. ‘To throw him off the track. Robert. Oh, Robert.’ The last words were uttered in a voice full of knowledge and despair and a kind of resignation. Everyone knew – even Thea had somehow understood it from the first – that Robert Craven liked young girls.

‘Robbie?’ his aghast mother spoke. ‘It isn’t true – it can’t be true. What’s Frannie saying?’

Robert recoiled. ‘I never – she isn’t – we didn’t—’ He rallied slightly. ‘Look, you can examine her. She’s not – I mean, it was only—’ He subsided again miserably, unable to name the acts he’d committed with the girl. All four women understood well enough without any graphic language.

‘Oh Robert,’ they seemed to sigh in unison.

After that, Robert became a broken man. Nobody protested when Thea lifted the phone and keyed the number for Hollis. She was patched through to his bedside, where he woke from the first deep hour of sleep, muzzy with exhaustion and total failure to understand.

‘Phil, we need you here,’ she said. ‘Wake up, will you.’ She had expected an alert cry of relief at hearing her voice. After all, as far as he knew she was still a hostage somewhere, in his car. Why wasn’t he on the road searching for her?

‘You took my car,’ he remembered. ‘Why did you do that? Did you get sick of waiting for me? Where did you go? I was frantic, wondering what might have happened to you. We checked the hospitals. We searched for hours, in the dark. I’ve got the alarm set for four, so I can go and start again.’ As he shook off the effects of exhausted sleep, his true feelings began to surface.

She almost laughed, but anger took precedence. ‘I was
kidnapped
, you idiot. He almost killed me. I thought you’d be out there looking for me.’ A cold sense of abandonment gripped her, along with several dreadful might-have-beens.

‘What? Who?’

‘Desmond Phillips. He murdered Nick Franklyn, Phil. And he’s got my dog, and your car. He’s very dangerous, and very clever. I’m at Cecilia Clifton’s house. The car was at Sapperton,
but he might have moved it by now.’

‘Thea, Thea,’ he pleaded. ‘The Innes boys killed Nick Franklyn. We’ve got them in custody. They’ll be charged tomorrow. I’ve had their mother trying to scratch my eyes out.’

‘Serves you right,’ she said, meaning it.

That woke him up even more thoroughly. ‘Explain it to me again,’ he invited.

But she had had enough of explaining. ‘I need you to go to Sapperton and find the car. It’s locked – if it’s still there. I hope you’ve got a spare key? But Phil, I think Desmond will have taken it away by now, and I can’t bear to think what he might do to Hepzie. He tied her jaws shut. She might suffocate.’

‘Can you get there?’

She looked around the room, which seemed full of dazed and terrified people, who were even so still potentially hostile to Thea herself. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Come here first and collect me. Cecilia Clifton’s house.’

‘And where’s that?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ Thea cracked, and threw the phone at Cecilia. ‘Tell him this address,’ she ordered. ‘And tell him to be here fast.’

In the car, Thea had a flash of foreknowledge at how the effects of the night would rebound on her for many months to come. Her revival after the escape from Desmond had been rapid, bringing her
to the point of issuing orders to a police superintendent and calling him an idiot. Rapid, but also transitory. For the present, her whole being was focused on the rescue of the dog. She leaned forward, as if this could make the car go faster. She held a vision of Hepzie curled patiently on the car seat, trusting her mistress to come back for her.
It’ll
be all right
she repeated silently to herself. Because any further turn of the screw would not be bearable.

Hollis tried to question her, especially on the matter of Desmond. ‘I’ll give you the whole story tomorrow,’ she promised. ‘You should have arrested Robert this evening, I suppose – but I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere. His womenfolk aren’t going to let him get into any more trouble.’

‘Robert?’ Hollis echoed. ‘Robert Craven, do you mean?’

‘Shut up,’ she pleaded. ‘And drive.’

Her vision was almost realised. The car was where they’d left it, the dog stretched limply across the back seat, breathing shallowly. Thea ripped off the binding from her jaw, and cradled her, oblivious of everything else except for the powerful stench of her own vomit. When the tail wagged and the tongue came out for some much-needed panting, she dissolved into tears that threatened never to stop.

Against all protocol, Hollis took Thea and her dog back to his own home in Cirencester. He removed her vomit-covered clothes, and wrapped her in a pair of pyjamas that smelled of airing-cupboards. He gave her a large glass of whisky, telling her she had to drink it in bed and then go straight to sleep. Hepzibah was placed on the duvet beside her. ‘I’ll see you both in the morning,’ he said.

He woke her at nine with a mug of tea. ‘Sorry I can’t leave you to sleep any longer,’ he said. ‘But I ought to be somewhere else already.’

‘You don’t believe me about Desmond,’ she stated flatly. ‘If you did, you’d have been up all night hunting for him.’

‘How do you know I wasn’t?’

‘Because you’ve obviously had nearly as much sleep as I have.’ He was shaved, and smelt of soap. His hair was tidy and his shirt new-laundered. ‘And you’re much
much
cleaner. I still smell of sick.’

‘So the story isn’t over,’ he summarised
regretfully. ‘I’ve been thinking it all through again, and need you to make an official statement. You called me an idiot,’ he reminded her.

‘Yes. Sorry.’

‘I’m beginning to think you might have been right.’

She hoisted herself up and sipped the tea. ‘Hepzie’s going to want to go out,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember if she had a pee last night. She must be bursting.’ The spaniel showed no signs of discomfort, nestled in the duvet, one eye half open. ‘Lucky she didn’t do it in your car.’

‘I don’t think it would matter, given that it’s awash with vomit already.’

‘Is it your own, or just one of a whole fleet belonging to the police?’

‘It’s mine, but the police paid for it. I’m foolishly fond of it, actually.’

‘I expect it’ll clean up all right.’

She finished the tea, knowing he wasn’t going to allow her to prolong the cosy interlude. ‘You’re being very patient with me,’ she smiled. ‘It must all be very confusing.’

‘You said we’d have to arrest Robert Craven. At least, I
think
you said that. But he didn’t kill Franklyn?’

‘He protected Desmond, knowing he’d killed Nick. And he had sexual relations with Flora Phillips, who is only fourteen. That, more or less, is
what started the whole thing. He put the blame on Nick, and Desmond was enraged and killed him. Flora came home when she suspected that her father might not be where he said he was. She probably thought he meant to kill Robert, who she must have been fond of, if not utterly in love with.’

‘Thea,’ Hollis said warningly. ‘Stop talking, have a shower, get dressed and come with me. Now. The dog stays behind. You can come back for her later.’

‘Dressed?’ she repeated, looking down at herself in his roomy pyjamas.

‘Ah,’ he paused. ‘It’ll have to be a bit makeshift. I haven’t washed your things yet.’ He produced a passable brushed cotton shirt and a pair of jeans that were ludicrously big on her.

The first surprise was that they did not get into his replacement car, but set out on foot. ‘It’s only five minutes,’ he said. ‘Very convenient.’

The next was seeing him in action with his colleagues. As he walked into the building, people materialised, all anxious to speak to him, but maintaining perfect order. Thea had assumed that she was his priority, but instead he directed her to a row of chairs and asked if she would wait fifteen minutes or so. It had not until then occurred to her that there would be other crimes needing his attention, that the world had not simply stopped while the murder of Nick Franklyn was resolved.

Finally, and most startling, was the appearance of
Julia Phillips, walking in through the front entrance as calm as could be. Wihout thinking, Thea jumped up and went towards her. ‘Julia!’ she called. ‘Hello!’

Julia gave her a cold look, turning her face away.

Too late, Thea understood that there could be no happy reason for Julia’s being there. The mislaying of her daughter, the allegations of sexual misdemeanours, the interruption of her holiday and above all the actions of her husband – no wonder, Thea thought charitably, she isn’t feeling very friendly.

‘Sorry,’ she faltered. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘No,’ Julia agreed.

Hollis returned as promised and led her into a small office, where she made her statement, describing everything she could recall of the previous evening. Although he remained with her, prompting her with questions, scratching his nose from time to time, his thoughts seemed to be partly elsewhere.

‘You don’t seem terribly interested,’ she complained eventually.

‘Oh, I am,’ he assured her. ‘But I’m not happy.’

She looked at him. ‘Why not?’

‘I’m not sure we’ll ever manage to make it stick. Your evidence is hearsay. Robert Craven might refuse to confirm what you’ve told us, and not one of those three women has any reason to back you
up, either. If they construct a viable account and stick to it, you’ll be a voice in the wilderness. You’ll sound like a hysterical fantasist.’

‘What about Flora?’

‘Flora is fourteen years old, and already on record as disturbed and rebellious. Her testimony isn’t going to persuade anybody of anything.’

‘So we just abandon it, do we? Let Desmond escape, as well as Robert and Cecilia? Don’t tell me you’ll stick to the charges against the Innes brothers.’

He put up his hands. ‘Whoa! It’s not as bad as that. We know you were taken away in my car, against your will. Your dog alone is proof of that. We can lay charges against Phillips for abduction, if nothing else. But—’ he sighed. ‘The rest of it isn’t nearly so simple.’

‘Julia’s here,’ Thea remembered. ‘She seemed furious with me. How much of all this does she know?’

‘That remains to be seen. She’s being interviewed as we speak.’

Uneasy at her dual role of witness and – what? girlfriend? – Thea got up to go. Then she remembered that she had no transport, and no obvious destination. ‘Um,’ she said. ‘You’re busy, aren’t you. I should let you get on with it. But what happens next?’ She sagged at the weight of the decisions and complex logistics. ‘My clothes and
car are at Juniper Court. Hepzie’s at your place. Where am I meant to be?’

‘Wait here a while. I’ve sent someone to fetch Craven and Miss Clifton. I ought to be here for their questioning. And I can’t leave the Innes boys dangling for much longer with their father raising hell the way he is. Plus there’s a new case just breaking, and nobody else but me is available to oversee it. But I want to take you back.’ Their eyes connected; rueful, forgiving, thwarted looks were exchanged.

‘You haven’t got time,’ she said briskly. ‘I can walk to your place, collect the dog, and find a taxi back to Juniper Court. I can’t just abandon it – although I suppose Julia—’

She faltered under his gaze. Nothing at the Phillips house seemed to matter any more. The pony and rabbits might be hungry and thirsty, the poultry vulnerable to foxes, but Thea had no lingering sense of obligation to them. Julia was home now, anyhow. She could feed her own damned animals.

‘Well,’ he hesitated. ‘That would save me some time. I’d send a PC with you, except—’

‘You’d rather nobody knew I’d left my dog and clothes at your place,’ she finished.

He grinned self-mockingly and took a step closer to her. ‘Just for now,’ he agreed. ‘If it wouldn’t be too unchivalrous of me.’

Thea swallowed a wave of self-pity, as she remembered what had happened to her barely twelve hours earlier. She had not sought solicitude, had valiantly concentrated on the police investigation, and even now had as much concern for Hollis’s reputation as her own wellbeing. Somewhere in all that, there was something missing.

‘Okay then,’ she said lightly. ‘I think I can find the way.’

He fished in his pocket for a key to his front door. ‘Leave it under the dustbin when you go,’ he said. She forced a laugh at that. Already he was almost at the door, needing to be elsewhere, intent on his duties. He had given her shelter and hot water and clean clothes, kept her safe and provided sustenance. Perhaps he thought that was the limit of his responsibilities towards her.

The streets of Cirencester felt strange in a number of ways. She was reminded of the first time she had gone out alone after giving birth to Jessica, when crossing a street seemed impossibly dangerous and her body felt tender and unfamiliar. The people all around her were remote, uncomprehending, knowing nothing of what she had so recently endured. She could be a ghost or a time traveller, operating in a wholly alien reality.

A taxi was summoned by a phonecall from
Hollis’s hallway, her filthy clothes bundled into a black bin liner, and her dog attached to her by a length of string located in a kitchen drawer. It all seemed to take a long time. Her head was thick with the muddle of the past week’s events. Nothing was going to get settled as it should. Hollis, she admitted to herself, was not a proper policeman at all. He didn’t behave a bit like films and books ordained that he should.

For the first time in many days, she thought of her brother-in-law James, another Detective Superintendent who, now she thought about it, was often just as laconic and disorganised as Hollis seemed to be. James would be concerned, alarmed, even reproachful when he heard the story – and with any luck he might throw some light on some of its more shadowy areas.

When the taxi finally delivered her to Juniper Court, it was with a bizarre sense of déjà vu that she observed another brother-in-law standing in the gateway, looking as if he might have been there for some considerable time.

‘Alex!’ she shouted, stumbling out of the car, Hepzie entangled with her legs. His familiarity and strong male presence were entirely welcome in those few seconds before she remembered his abuse of her sister and the new relationship she must henceforth construct with him.

To his credit, Alex asked almost no questions, but instead briefly explained that he’d come back for Jocelyn’s car. He had knocked at the door of Juniper Court and received no response, then explored all the buildings, and found nothing but a hungry pony and some birds roosting on the straw of the stable loft. The fact that Thea’s car remained in the yard, alongside that of his damaged wife, gave him confidence that Thea would eventually return.

‘But how did you get here?’

‘Train, bus and then Shank’s Pony. It’s a lovely day for it.’

Thea hadn’t heard the phrase ‘Shank’s Pony’ since school. Typical Alex, old-fashioned, slightly maladroit and disconcertingly likeable. Perhaps, she thought wistfully, Jocelyn would be able to forgive him and everything would revert to normal after all. It would be a pity to lose him from their lives.

‘I’ve got to pack all my stuff,’ she told him. ‘Will you wait with me?’

He gave her a narrow look, but still suppressed all curiosity. ‘If you want,’ he agreed. ‘But I shouldn’t be too much longer. Joss can’t do much for herself, and she’s got all the kids there.’

The kids can do everything, then, Thea thought impatiently, surprised at the implication that Alex was still under the same roof as Jocelyn. Then she
realised that there had barely been time for any other arrangement. ‘You haven’t wasted any time coming back for the car,’ she said. ‘You only left here last night.’ It seemed like weeks ago.

‘We didn’t know how much longer you’d be here,’ he said. ‘Or what your people might think about minding a strange vehicle. It seemed best to get a move on.’

He hovered in doorways and passageways as she scoured the house for any of her possessions that might have escaped from the bedroom. ‘I should wash my sheets,’ she worried. ‘And look at the mess Hepzie’s made of the sofa. I was going to clean that.’

‘You really have to go now, do you?’

She turned to face him, aware of his admirable restraint. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I owe you some explanation. Things have been very – dramatic, I suppose – since you left yesterday. We know who killed the boy, and who hanged him in the stable here. But they haven’t actually been caught yet. I’ve given a statement this morning, and I don’t think I’m needed any longer. The woman of the house has come back from her holiday early, and I don’t want to be here when she gets home. She’s at the police station as well – or she was.’

‘It sounds a total mess. You’re well out of it, if you ask me.’

Only then did Thea think ahead to the rest of the
day. She felt herself grow pale and cold at the idea of simply returning to her own home in Witney, reliving the drama all on her own.

Alex watched her face. ‘You’ll come back to us, of course,’ he said, as if it only needed this light confirmation. ‘I don’t think Joss can cope otherwise.’