Guilt Edged (15 page)

People who work for other people just don't get it, do they? If you're self-employed, you don't just have moments to spare. In any case, assuming I did, what would be the chances of finding him in his office? Detectives aren't tied to their desks, are they? He might be out and about protecting the old ladies Brian was worried about.

On the other hand, I was interested in that horse, so I texted back suggesting he give me a specific time when he could guarantee to be around – or that he could pop into the shop if he were in the Bredeham area during the working week. That way he'd know I was tied up, and if he did take up the suggestion, it'd give Mary a frisson of pleasure, though it would take her three days to stop talking about it.

And so to bed. But before I headed upstairs, I gave the CCTV cameras one last check – it was nice, when I only had Tim for company, to know that anyone who approached the shop or cottage was still being photographed. Everything was fine. But on impulse, I checked what they'd recorded while I'd been out. I didn't like what I saw. When someone parks a car out of range – and there's plenty of parking in front of the cottage, much to Griff's irritation – and sidles up to the shop and then the cottage as if to avoid being seen, I get alarmed. All the man who approached did was look. Maybe he was appraising the alarm system, which wasn't the most reassuring thought. But if he cracked that one, tough enough in itself, there was always the hidden one. I didn't worry about writing down a description: I just copied the footage, enhanced it as much as I could and sent it off to Carwyn. Let him and his magic gizmos work out who it was.

That was what I said, anyway. Aloud. Just to make myself believe it. But I was scared enough to grab Tim. Should I call the security firm and ask for one of their nice solid guards to come and babysit the place? Given the hourly rate for a heavy, no higher than it ought to be for a man lurking in a cold van all night, this was not the obvious option. A character in one of the books Griff had read to me had said something about even an unsuitable man having a certain abstract value, and tonight – only for a nanosecond – I hankered after Morris. Not Tristam, with or without the flu. At this point I did the obvious thing: I retired to bed with Tim in one hand and the panic alarm in the other.

 

The guy who presented himself in the shop on Tuesday morning looked highly official, with the security company's logo on the pocket of his bomber jacket. He even had his company ID to hand, flashing it at Mary Walker, who'd summoned me to deal with him.

‘Good morning, Miss Townsend,' he said, with a polite smile. ‘We've detected some attacks on your system: would you mind if I checked it?'

My smile was equally polite. ‘Just hang on a minute. I've got a new dog and I'm not sure how he is with strangers.'

He cocked a hand to his ear. ‘Very quiet, isn't he?'

‘I wouldn't be so worried if he was barking,' I said, with a smile at Mary. ‘Give me a couple of minutes and come round to the front door. Mrs Walker's getting ready for a visit from our accountant and we don't want to waste her time. No sign of Mr Banner yet?' I asked her casually, not expecting her to say yes because Tuesdays were Paul's golf days.

‘Not yet.' She checked her watch against the grandfather clock in the corner. ‘I'll give him a call and see what's keeping him. Meanwhile,' she added with her kindest smile, ‘why don't you go and sort out Saul? You may have to shut him in the office. Would you like one of my rock cakes, Mr – er—?'

‘Clements. Home-made, are they?'

‘Is there any other sort?' she asked. ‘I use my mother's recipe, which involves plain flour and …'

Leaving her in blessedly full-flow, I sneaked out.

Don't think I didn't feel bad leaving Mary on her own with him: I did. But so long as our friend thought there was a man in the offing, I thought she'd be OK. The moment I was in, I speed-dialled our security contact, Geoff. ‘There's a guy claiming to have come from you in the shop,' I said. ‘Wants access to our security system. Wearing a uniform, carrying ID.'

‘Is he now … Yes, I can see him on our system. He's putting something in his mouth and approaching the door now as if to leave. No, he's still talking to your shop lady.' Taking a breath, Geoff added, with a mixture of pride and reproach, ‘You know we wouldn't send anyone out without contacting you first.'

‘Of course I do. Which is why he's still in the shop waiting for me to chain up the Rottweiler. Which, unfortunately, I don't have.'

‘You do, actually,' Geoff chuckled. ‘Mr Tripp being on the elderly side I added a little extra last time we serviced the system. Didn't he tell you? Ah, well. Bottom left of the master panel – press Start now.'

What the hell? What hadn't he told me? But I pressed anyway, to be rewarded by what sounded like that dog in the Sherlock Holmes story. Baying, that was what it was doing.

‘Bloody hell! How on earth do I stop it?'

Presumably his end Geoff was holding the handset miles from his ear. ‘Excellent,' he yelled. ‘Ed's on patrol your way – he'll be with you in four. Less. Ask him for the second, fourth and seventh letters in his password and text them to me before you let him in.'

‘But I know Ed.'

‘All the same. Cheers!'

‘No! Don't ring off. How do I turn off the bloody noise?'

‘Shout at it. Just like it was a real dog. There. All nice and quiet again, eh? If you'd pressed the button twice, it'd start again, just like a real dog. And then it'd shut up and whine a bit. When it's safe, you can press the Clear button. Hang on – ah, Chummie's leaving the shop via the front door. Press that doggie noise now. Twice, remember. Don't open the front door yet. If you feel you must, keep it – like Fido – on the chain! And Lina, my eyes won't leave this screen till I see you're safe.'

Fido – Saul! – still barking his digital head off, I called Mary on the shop phone. ‘You're OK? Thank God. Now, lock the door and don't let anyone in – anyone, any age, either sex. Except Paul,' I added with a giggle. ‘With his golf clubs, of course.'

It was hard not to respond to the doorbell, which was now ringing loudly. A bit more baying dog. It even came with the sound of large feet scrabbling on a wooden floor. I was so impressed I actually yelled at it to shut up.

And it did!

Then it started again, and this time I let it continue. Checking the chain was still in place, I opened the front door a crack. ‘You'll have to wait till Griff gets in,' I said. ‘He's the only one who can really calm him down. Give me your card and I'll call you the minute I can.'

The fake dog let out a terrific burst. Holding a card by the very end of his fingertips, the guy passed it quickly through the crack and left.

Talk about exit pursued by a bear.

Ed, like our previous visitor a man in his fifties, looked more like an old-style GP than a security geek, which was as good a disguise as any, I suppose. There was no sign of a company logo on his well-cut but not snappy suit. He didn't flash an ID uninvited. And there was no problem with his password letters.

As much to calm myself down as anything, I made tea, and summoned Mary from the shop, with a request to bring those cakes with her.

‘What was all that about?' she asked, sharply for her, setting the tin down on the kitchen table.

‘Someone's tried to get unauthorized access to the property – both properties, in fact, Mrs Walker,' Ed explained, cutting across me. He pressed a tiny receiver further into his ear, smiling as he absorbed what someone, Geoff, presumably, was saying. Then he added, ‘We think he was specifically aiming to tamper with the security system.'

‘You mean leave us without a burglar alarm? And all those clever photos?'

She sat down hard. ‘And was that woman who tried to get into the shop – no, I kept her out, don't worry … But, of course, you'd know that, wouldn't you, from your cameras.'

I didn't, of course. ‘It wasn't the same woman as before? With Puck?'

‘Mrs Fielding? No, I don't think so.'

‘Could it have been her with a wig? I think I might have clocked her the other day at a fair.' I explained to her and Ed, now halfway outside one of the rock cakes. I helped myself to one. ‘I'm still waiting for the police to get back to me about the bit of leg she left behind when she fell down. China horse's leg,' I added hurriedly.

‘One way to find out,' Ed said. ‘We check the photos. Geoff's got some really nice kit that compares faces. Excuse me just a second.'

While he stepped into the living room to make his call, I turned to Mary. ‘I was really sorry to leave you in harm's way like that.'

‘I'll give Paul what for, insisting on playing golf on Tuesdays!' she said, with a slightly watery smile.

‘No! He's entitled to enjoy himself. He's not even on the payroll! You are – and that means you're entitled to feel safe where you work.' Sighing, I put my head in my hands. ‘If things go on like this, I'm tempted to say we close the shop and concentrate on our Internet trade.'

She pulled herself straight. ‘As Griff would say, I Do Not Give In. Where would we be if we did? No, I shall carry on just as normal.'

Normal? There was no point in telling her to vary her route to the post office when she dispatched our mail order parcels – in a village this size there was only one route.

‘It's true I shall be looking over my shoulder more till this business is sorted out. And perhaps Ed would install another panic button so we have one at either end of the counter.'

Ed, returning, caught her second sentence. ‘I can run a sensitive strip the whole length. Geoff's got a bit of an emergency over in Essex, so he can't do the face comparison yet. I'll just get my stuff from the car.'

Catching his arm, she said, ‘You're always reading in the papers about people being deliberately run down.' She listed several examples, one of which had actually made the national TV news. ‘I wouldn't want you to be the victim of a hit and run attack. Do be careful.'

He gave a slow smile. ‘That's what I'm paid to be.'

A
lthough Ed was far too professional to say so, I suspected that Geoff and his staff wouldn't rest till they'd nailed the man claiming to be their colleague. That was their business, not mine. But I did suggest quietly to Ed, as Mary set off across the yard to open the shop, that he talk very firmly to Mary about her and Paul's personal safety.

‘When I can get a word in,' he said with a rueful smile as he opened the front door. ‘It's the adrenalin – some people can't stop talking after a scare.'

I didn't disagree. No need to point out she could always talk for England. The phone rang. I reached for it.

He put out a warning hand. ‘Let it ring. Could be a diversionary tactic. Lock me out, then answer it.'

He was taking things horribly seriously, wasn't he?
Diversionary tactic
sounded a bit too military to me. But he'd probably say it was his job to be serious. ‘OK.' I withdrew my hand. Then I got serious too. ‘And I need to talk to you about Griff's safety before you go. He's staying with a friend.'

‘Best place he can be.'

When I got round to checking, I found our caller had withheld his or her number. Had we won yet another holiday to Florida? Or not. Before I could turn off my cynical smile, it rang again.

‘Carwyn Morgan here, Ms Townend. I have to be over your way round about midday. Would you be in? Or, of course, we could meet over lunch somewhere?'

Oh, yes please! But then I remembered what Griff – and even Pa – would call My Duty. ‘We've had a bit of a security scare, Carwyn, so you'll understand I don't want to leave my shop manager alone on the premises.' Mouth turning down, I mentally reviewed the fridge contents, and then had a brainwave – before Ed left I could nip to the deli. ‘Why don't you eat here? So long as you don't mind salad and something?'

But even as he agreed, I remembered that whatever else we had to talk about, apart from the china horse, he'd almost certainly want to pick my brains about Titus. It would be a very careful lunch indeed.

‘Tell me about this security scare,' Carwyn said, by way of a greeting. ‘Mmm, something smells good.'

‘The deli's speciality flan. Usually Griff cooks.'

‘That's your business partner – and honorary grandfather. Right?'

‘Right. He's still in Tenterden with his other sort of partner. Aidan and I don't always see eye to eye, so I'm trying to keep out of their way.' Here I was, gabbing on again, just as if I was Mary Walker.

‘How is he?'

‘Making excellent progress. But I wouldn't want him exposed – to any possible danger?' I prompted him. And then I slapped my head in fury. ‘Hey, the guy who claimed he was from the security people gave me his card. It's over here somewhere. I promised to call him back when I'd tied up the dog.'

‘Dog? What dog? I didn't hear one last time I was here.'

‘You wouldn't. I didn't even know I had one myself until I called the security firm. It's a nice fierce one, but beautifully house-trained. Very convincing.'

‘What about a real one?'

I spread my hands in despair. ‘When would I walk it? Look after it generally?'

He smiled. It was nice to see the man behind the cop again. ‘My gran got one after she was diagnosed as starting diabetes. She read that exercise might postpone the diabetes, so she started walking. Lost two stone. Even plays tennis again. And no diabetes – yet. So it might help Griff's heart. Have it as his dog, not yours. After all, you've got enough trouble with white horses,' he added with a smile.

‘Would you mind if Mrs Walker was here while you updated me? She's been involved from the start. And then her husband joined in,' I explained. ‘Plus I don't see why she shouldn't have a share of that flan.' Did I detect a tiny frown? Annoyance at being asked to share sensitive information? Hell, it couldn't have been disappointment, could it?