Anna Jacobs (24 page)

He smiled as he thought of the fire. Well, at least Redway wouldn’t be poking his nose in where it wasn’t wanted now. He was still smiling about that as he fell asleep in his cosy bed.

* * * *

The customers coming into the bookshop the following day all talked about the latest fire. Aubrey listened to them patiently, getting the same story several times over, with details that changed each time. At one stage Ted grinned at him. “You’ll do for me, son. You not only love books, you listen to folk, and customers like that.”

“Thanks. It’s strange, though, isn’t it? No big fires in the town for years, then two houses burn down within the week, one of them completely destroyed.”

“I wish that bugger had been destroyed with it.”

“Fleming?”

“Aye. Who else? Redway’s a decent sort of chap, for a lawyer, but Fleming’s a nasty sod. He owns quite a lot of property round the town. I’m thankful this building belongs to me, though he’s had a go at me a few times, trying to persuade me to sell to him. As if I would!”

“What do you mean, ‘had a go’?”

“Came in to persuade me himself, hinted at problems I might encounter if I didn’t sell. Though he hasn’t set fire to the place yet, at least. Luckily I’m just opposite the police station here. Easy enough to call for help, eh?”

Aubrey frowned at this and Ted grinned even more broadly. “I bet you haven’t heard the rumour that he set fire to his own office to hide what he’s been doing? It’s not the sort of thing people say publicly, but it’s being whispered in private.”

“No, I haven’t heard it. Is it true?”

“Could be. He’s a gambler. Him and a few other fine gentlemen in this town in that fancy club of theirs with its private rooms. There’s two unlawful things that go on in those private rooms: women and gambling. I wonder why Fleming doesn’t want folk finding out what he’s been doing? They say that daughter of his can’t even get her own inheritance money out of him. There must be some truth in it.”

Aubrey’s head was spinning at these revelations about his father. “I didn’t know Fleming was a gambler.”

“Well, how could you? You’ve only been in Tinsley for a few days.”

“And you say he has a daughter?” Suddenly Aubrey had a mental image of the woman with the kind smile again and a stab of pain went through his head. “Where is she?”

“Rumour says she ran away from home a couple of days ago. She’s not living with him any longer, that’s certain.”

The run spun round Aubrey for a moment or two. “Serena,” he said suddenly. “She’s called Serena, isn’t she?”

“Yes, that’s her. Poor dowdy thing, she is.”

Aubrey stared at him in puzzlement. “Dowdy? I think I saw her at the station and she looked very modern, smart, with bobbed hair and shorter skirts. In fact, I’d call her pretty.”

“Can’t have been the same person,” Ted said dismissively. “She’s a real frump, Fleming’s daughter. Who was she with?”

“A man, tall with a badly scarred face. They got into a cab together going to the Hall, so I assumed they were married. They had two suitcases and well—they just seemed married.”

Ted stared at him in surprise. “She was with a scarred man? Does he have a bit of a limp?”

“Yes.”

“A chap called Marcus Graye inherited the Hall recently, and he was badly injured down one side of his face and body. Surely
he
hasn’t married her?”

Aubrey shrugged. “I don’t know. I just saw them together at the station.” He was puzzled about all this, wanted to think about it, see if he could remember any more.

Ted clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “Come on, we’ll make a start on clearing out the upstairs while there’s a lull. Though I don’t think you should move in until after Christmas. It’s a lonely time to be on your own, Christmas is. I’d invite you over for a meal, but to tell you the truth, my Margaret isn’t up to visitors.”

“I like being on my own.” Aubrey could see that Ted didn’t believe him, but it was true. He’d spent most of the past few months living cheek by jowl with other people and the thought of being absolutely on his own was very appealing.

He followed Ted upstairs to the three rooms on the first floor. Two of them were filled with boxes and miscellaneous piles of books, and above them were two attic rooms with sloping ceilings. He’d been up here before but this time he looked around with a proprietorial feeling. The front room was empty and very spacious, with a big window looking down on the station end of Yorkshire Road and as Ted had said, the police station opposite. He’d have this room for his sitting room, could imagine a big armchair in that square bay window, a small table with a pile of books on it nearby.

“I’ll still need the big back room for storage,” Ted said, “but with the middle one for your bedroom and one of the attic rooms at your disposal, you’ll even be able to put up a friend, if you want.” Even as he was speaking the doorbell of the shop tinkled.

“You go and get it, lad. You’ve got younger knees than I have.”

Aubrey went down to find one of the two men who’d pushed past him at the station standing there. “Can I help you?”

“Need to see Mr Bailey. Urgent. Tell him it’s Jem Pitterby.”

Aubrey called up the stairs, “It’s for you.” He waited in the shop until Ted came down and even then he didn’t go up the stairs, because for some strange reason the man made him feel uneasy.

“Message from Mr Fleming. There’s a house to clear out. Old lady in Cooter’s Lane hadn’t paid her rent for a few months, so Mr Fleming is taking the furniture in lieu. Wants you to make an offer on the books. There are a bloody lot of ’em cluttering up the place, should be worth something to you.”

“All right. Where is it?” Ted wrote down the address. “I can come there with you now if you want. I’ve got a new assistant, so I don’t need to wait till after the shop closes.”

The man nodded, his eyes sliding sideways to Aubrey, his brow wrinkling as if something puzzled him.

As Ted went for his coat, Aubrey walked forward to ask the fellow, “What’s happening to the old lady’s furniture?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I need to furnish some rooms. Might suit me to take it off your hands. Might suit your employer too. What’s the furniture like?”

“Clean. Old-fashioned but solid enough. She’d known better days. You’d have to clear it out straight away, though. He’s got someone waiting to move in tomorrow. Shortage of decent houses, there is.”

So after Ted came back from valuing the books, Aubrey walked the few streets up to the house in question and looked over it with the man breathing down his neck.

“How much?” he asked at last.

“Fifteen pound.”

“Ten.”

He saw the other study him calculatingly and folded his arms. “I’m not made of money and I’m not going much higher because it isn’t worth it. How about splitting the difference? I’ll give you twelve pounds ten shillings.””

“All right, but you’ll have to take everything and move it today. Mr Fleming allus sells house contents to a dealer in one lot. Says it’s not worth the trouble of splitting them up, except for the books.”

“Always? Does he do this often?”

The man grinned. “As often as necessary. He gets his rent money one way or the other. Clever fellow, Mr Fleming. Well? I can’t stand here all day waiting?”

“All right. I’ll arrange for the whole contents to be collected.”

“I know a fellow as’d do it for you.”

“Thanks, but I know someone too.” He didn’t, but when he got back he asked Ted who would shift the stuff and then walked down the street to the address Ted gave him and arranged to have it moved that very afternoon. As Ted said, who was to know what Pitterby would take for himself if the house contents were left lying around?

“Are you always so suspicious?” Aubrey asked.

“Only when I’m dealing with Fleming and his men. Wouldn’t trust any of them as far as I could throw them.”

“Yet you do business with them.”

Ted shrugged. “I’m not stupid enough to show them how I feel. That’d really be asking for trouble.”

Which gave Aubrey even more to think about.

* * * *

The day after his brush with death, Justin hired Vic and his cab to drive him out to the Hall. He felt safer with a man he knew had no link to Fleming. That sod was walking round town looking like a cat that had swallowed a plump canary, for all that his offices had burned down recently.

“You all right, sir?” Vic asked, shocked by Justin’s pallor.

“Sort of. When we get out there, can you come in and join us while we talk? I reckon everyone who lives at the Hall is involved in this, whether they want to be or not.”

“What, even old Mrs Lonnerden?”

“Even her.”

Which made Vic worry all the way out of town. He left his horse and cab with Hill and raced up to the house to find out what was going on.

Everyone was in the sitting room, which Serena and Pearl had cleaned thoroughly the previous day and which still smelt faintly of grate blacking and Ronuk polish, a brand Gladys swore by. Even Mrs Lonnerden was there, sitting in a big armchair with a rug across her knees.

As soon as Vic joined them, Justin began telling what had happened to him. When he had finished relating his narrow escape, Marcus turned to Serena, who was looking white and shocked. Without thinking what he was doing, he took her hand. “I won’t let Fleming get hold of you, I promise. Forewarned
is
forearmed, you know. I’m going to get out my service revolver and keep it handy.”

She looked down at their joined hands and though she didn’t pull away she didn’t meet his eyes either. “Fleming can be a very determined man. I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“So can I be determined,” Marcus said. “And I look after my own.” He turned to Vic. “Be careful who you take as passengers from now on, especially after dark. In fact, don’t you think you’d better stop working after it gets dark? This is a time to be rather careful. I know we agreed you could do some part-time work with the cab, but maybe it isn’t wise.”

“I was just thinking that I’d get out my revolver and kept it handy when I drive out.” Vic grinned. “I used to be a crack shot, actually. They used me as a sniper for a time.” He smiled across at his fiancée but even Pearl’s usual ebullience seemed dimmed by the news and she didn’t return his smile.

“We’d better be even more careful about locking up here,” Serena said. “I’ll have a word with Gladys and Ada, if you like.”

Aunt Pamela stared at them bleakly. “Fleming is getting out of hand. Something needs to be done about him.”

“He’s a little difficult to pin down, Aunt.”

“Hmm.” She went back to staring into the fire.

Serena realised Justin was sitting quietly, waiting to speak. “Sorry, Mr Redway. We’re being very rude to you.”

He smiled. “You’ve just had some bad news. I do have some good news for you, though.”

They both looked at him questioningly.

“The magistrate has ruled that the sale of the final cottage is null and void, so it and its contents are yours to keep, sell or do whatever you wish with.” He hesitated, then said, “There is some doubt about the validity of the forged signature.”

Serena brightened. “Really?”

“Whenever you sign something you put a dot nearby, like a full stop. You did it when you gave samples of your signature for Marley and when you signed papers for me. We said nothing at the time, but he feels you’d have a good case for challenging Fleming about the sale of the other cottages. But of course, it’d cost money to do that and the result could not be guaranteed.

She turned to Marcus, smiling. “Well, at least I’m bringing you something.”

“I keep telling you: all I want is you.”

She stared at him and swallowed hard.

“I mean it,” he added very softly.

“I’m still glad I’m not coming to you penniless.”

Justin coughed. “Unfortunately, your father is saying he can’t give details about what happened to the money from your annuity over the past few years, because the records have been burned. No one believes him, but he’s sticking to his story and he smiles as he repeats it. Marley has ordered Dewison at the bank to disclose details of Fleming’s accounts, but I’m guessing there won’t be anything showing in his personal account, and who knows what other names he uses for accounts? I doubt Dewison will disclose those.”

Serena sighed. “Fleming’s a thief, isn’t he?”

“It seems likely. No doubt he’ll concoct a story to cover the losses, so you may never retrieve anything, but the annuity itself should still be intact. Even there he’s stalling, has a doctor’s letter from Tolson saying he’s too ill to do business—though that clerk of his goes to work at Fleming’s house every day and the men who deal with his properties are coming and going as well.”

“How can he keep doing this?” Serena asked, eyes flashing.

“It’s a question of proof. And finding someone willing to stick their neck out to challenge him.” Justin looked at the clock. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay much longer. I’d rather drive back by daylight, for obvious reasons.”

Vic stood up. “I’ll go and bring the cab round.”

When he’d gone, Justin said, “You’ve got a good chap there, Graye.”

“I’m well aware of that. He’s more a partner than an employee, though. We have a few plans for the future and they don’t include him driving a cab, but at the moment he’s saving hard to get married, so wants to earn every extra penny he can, and I’ve not really got going here.”

* * * *

On the way into town, on a stretch of road where there were no houses and where high banks hid the road from view, a battered looking motor truck drove towards the cab, swerving at the last minute to block the road and causing Dolly to shy and nearly land them in the ditch.

Vic reined the horse in hastily, trying to calm and hold her while reaching for his revolver.

The door of the truck opened and two men got out, their faces covered by mufflers. They left the motor running and turned to face the horse cab. “Need a word with your passenger,” one called. “Stay where you are and you won’t be hurt, driver.”

Vic didn’t like the looks of them. “It’s you who’d better stay where you are. If you take one step further I’ll shoot.” He let them see the revolver, pointing it at them and praying that Dolly would stay still. There was no sound from Mr Redway inside the cab.