Paws for Alarm (19 page)

‘Were awfully sorry,' Arnold said. ‘We wouldn't have had this happen for the world, but the kids –'

‘Yes, I know,' Richard said. ‘The children told me.' It was quite clear that that was not all they had told him.

‘You're back early.' Lania was still trying to preserve a smooth social surface. ‘Were your conferences cancelled?'

‘They were never scheduled,' he said. ‘I thought it was about time we brought this to a head.'

‘I think we should go home –' Lania rose to her feet.

‘Why? I don't think Nancy and Arnold can have any illusions left after last night.' Richard turned to us. ‘Have you?'

‘Poor Esmond must be starving,' I said quickly. ‘I'll take him out in the kitchen and feed him.'

‘I'll help you.' Arnold lurched to his feet.

‘I was just leaving –' Piers got up and moved hastily towards the exit.

‘Don't let me spoil your weekend,' Richard told Piers coldly. ‘I haven't unpacked. I thought –' he looked at Arnold – ‘you might be able to put me up for a night or two, while I look around for something else? I know your sofa opens into a bed.'

‘Oh, sure,' Arnold said. ‘Sure. Glad to have you – I mean, it's okay with us. Stay as long as you like.'

‘Thank you.' Richard deposited his suitcase in a corner.

‘Richard, don't be absurd,' Lania said. ‘Come home and we'll settle this quietly.'

‘It's too late,' he said. ‘I thought I could trust you to be discreet, at least. But now –'

‘That isn't fair!' I spoke without thinking. ‘How could anybody be discreet with their bedroom wall missing?'

Arnold sunk his elbow into my ribs and hustled me towards the kitchen. I didn't object. Even Esmond seemed glad to get out of that room.

We hung around in the kitchen until we heard the front door slam. It seemed to take a long while. After the silence had gone on for some time, we went back to the living-room, hoping for the best. We didn't get it. Lania and Piers had left, but Richard was still there.

Still there – and making himself at home. He had pulled the sofa out, turning it into a bed, and unpacked his pyjamas. Well, we
had
said he could stay. There was nothing to do but put the best face on it.

‘Let me get you a drink,' Arnold said.

‘Thanks, I could use one.'

I went round the room and collected the empty glasses. It didn't seem tactful to have them cluttering up the place – and reminding us of the people who had so recently been drinking from them.

‘I think we ought to tell him, honey,' Arnold said, as I returned empty-handed from the kitchen. ‘He might be able to help us.'

‘Tell me?' Richard asked nervously. ‘What more is there?' He had the nerve-racked look of a man who has been told: ‘That was the good news, now for the bad.'

‘Somebody,' I said, ‘is trying to murder Arnold.'

‘Oh,' Richard breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Is that – ?' He broke off abruptly, obviously having realized that
Is that all
? was not quite the comment called for.

‘Truly,' I said.

‘What makes you think so?' Richard was intrigued rather than convinced.

‘All those accidents I've been having,' Arnold said. ‘Don't they make you think?'

‘Hmmm ...' Richard said non-committally.

‘The brakes
could
have failed,' Arnold said. ‘But didn't it strike you as too much of a coincidence that a gang of soccer hooligans should set on me when I was minding my own business at the other end of the station from them?'

‘I hadn't thought of that,' Richard said soothingly – too soothingly. He was humouring Arnold.

‘And somebody deliberately tried to push me under that bus,' Arnold wound up his case. ‘I
felt
that shove. No way could it have been an accident. Somebody's out to get me!'

‘Why?' Richard asked simply. It was an excellent question. One we had not been able to answer.

‘Not only that –' I leaped in, avoiding the question. ‘We'd like to know more about John Blake's death. In view of what's been happening to Arnold, it strikes us as highly suspicious!'

‘That's insane!' Richard shook his head dazedly. ‘I mean –' He remembered his manners – and that he was our guest for the night and perhaps several nights to come. ‘I mean, there was never any question about that. It was an accident. The Coroner's Inquest said so.'

‘It's true!' All I had needed to convince me of that truth was a bit of opposition. ‘Arnold is in desperate danger of his life. They killed John Blake – now they're trying to kill Arnold, too! You've got to help us. You know Blake's background. There must be something in it somewhere that will explain all this.'

‘Er, yes, certainly.' Richard looked profoundly uncomfortable. ‘I'll, er, do all I can ... er, to help.' Now he was humouring both of us.

‘I know it sounds incredible –' Arnold had caught Richard's longing look towards his own half of the house; he was quite obviously having second thoughts about spending the night with a pair of lunatics. ‘We've sprung it on you too quickly. We should have led up to it gradually –'

‘No, no,' Richard murmured, edging away. ‘Quite all right. Er, as you say, it's a bit sudden. I dare say I'll get used to the idea.'

‘Just think about it,' I urged. ‘I didn't believe it at first, either.'

‘But it doesn't make sense,' Richard protested mildly, still cautious about upsetting us. ‘There's no reason in the world why anyone should have wanted to kill ... John Blake.' I noticed he wasn't so certain about Arnold.

‘How well did you know Blake –
really
know him?' I was growing desperate. Here we had somebody who might have the key to the mystery hidden away in some recess of his brain, in his knowledge of background and events before we had appeared on the scene – and he was balking. He wasn't taking it seriously.

‘Please, please,' I begged. ‘
Think!
There
must
be something, somewhere. Maybe just some tiny thing that didn't ring true at the time ... something you noticed but forgot again ... something you don't even
know
you know ...

‘Please –' I was close to tears. I felt like the beleaguered heroine in some old film, pleading for her lover's life while the mood music swelled in the background. ‘You
must
believe us. Arnold's
life
is at stake!'

There was deep silence from Richard, while the orchestra soared in a crescendo ...

Wait a minute – there
was
an orchestra playing in the background!

‘God damn it!' I exploded. ‘Those brats have sneaked down to the study and are watching television again!'

Richard flinched. For a moment, I'd almost had him convinced. Now he was back to thinking we were crazy again.

‘Shhh!' I held up my hand. ‘We'll catch them in the act –' I tiptoed over to the study door and eased it open silently.

It was a black and white movie, with all the moody shades of grey that established foreboding and dread. The music throbbed softly.

In the middle of the screen, a man lifted bandaged hands to his bandaged head and slowly began unwinding the bandages – upon emptiness.

‘See –' Donald nudged his sister. ‘I told you. She had a date with the Invisible Man!'

‘Okay, you kids –' I snapped on the light abruptly, but my anger had disappeared, driven out by a new thought. ‘Suppose you explain.'

‘We only wanted to watch for a few minutes – just this part.' Donald was frightened by my expression.

‘Just this one movie –' Donna began to sniffle. ‘We won't do it again.'

‘Never mind that –' I snapped the television off. ‘I want to know what you meant about the Invisible Man – it's not the first time you've made that crack. Was that what you saw in Boulogne?' I waved towards the darkened screen. ‘Hazel, meeting a man in bandages?'

‘Well ...' Donald said carefully, not understanding what this was about, but grateful that I had been deflected from the major issue of their deliberate disobedience. ‘Well, his
hands
weren't bandaged.'

‘But his head was?'

‘His face,' Donna corrected. ‘It wasn't an all-around bandage, like that. I guess they'd never have let him out of the hospital these days, if it was. But there were bandages all over his face – and he had dark glasses over his eyes.'

‘Okay!' I threw discipline to the winds. ‘You can go back to watching the movie. It's a good one. Very illuminating.' I withdrew back into the living-room and closed the door behind me.

‘What is it, Babe?' Arnold studied my face anxiously. ‘What's the matter?'

‘I was just thinking,' I said slowly. ‘Maybe we've been approaching this from the wrong angle. Maybe we shouldn't have been worrying about John Blake's past at all. Maybe he was just an innocent bystander ... like Arnold.'

‘What do you mean?' Richard was caught by my tone.

‘Think about it –' My mind was travelling like lightning in a dozen different directions – all converging on the same point. ‘John Blake died after he'd spent a couple of hours with Hazel. Then, the first attack on Arnold occurred after
he'd
been alone with Hazel for a couple of hours. The next attack was after he'd been snuggling up to her in public, right under her porch light –'

‘I wasn't snuggling up,' Arnold protested. ‘It was just a friendly hug –'

‘And the third attack was after that day trip to Boulogne, when Arnold boarded the bus with Hazel, looking very chummy.'

‘You told me not to wait while you parked –'

‘And now we find out that Hazel met a strange man in Boulogne – after she'd told us she was going to a dressmaker for fittings. A man in bandages.

‘I don't know how it seems to you –' I looked from Arnold to Richard – ‘but it strikes me that any man who spends much time around Hazel has a pretty rough time. She ought to carry a Government warning: she's more hazardous to health than high-tar cigarettes!'

‘Hello -?' The voice at the other end of the phone was wary. It was late at night and any woman had a right to feel uneasy about a sudden unexpected call. I wondered if Hazel had special reason to fear. A wildly jealous husband, perhaps?

‘Hazel,' I said quickly, ‘it's Nancy Harper. I'm sorry to be ringing so late, but I wanted to catch you before you made too many plans for the children –'

‘Plans?' She sounded surprised. ‘For the twins?'

‘No, not
my
children,' I said. ‘
Yours.
The school holidays have started. You'll have them home again. I wanted to –'

‘Oh, no,' she said. ‘No, I won't! They – they've gone to their grandparents ... in Wales. It seemed better – I mean, they love it there and I'm still getting the house in order here. Their rooms aren't finished. There'll be less upheaval for them –'

That was what I had thought. I listened for a moment as she tied herself into verbal knots trying to justify how much nicer and more convenient it would be for the children to spend their holidays in Wales and go back to school directly from there. She'd get down to see them, of course ...

‘Listen, Hazel –' I interrupted her. ‘I think it's time we had a little talk.'

‘A talk? But we
are
talking –' There was the sharp peal of a bell in the distance and a trace of genuine fear crept into her voice. ‘Will you hold the line a minute, please? There's someone at the door –'

‘Don't be frightened, Hazel,' I said. ‘It's only Richard. Richard Sandgate. He volunteered to collect you and bring you over here.'

‘At this hour?'

Please come, Hazel. It really
is
a matter of life and death.'

‘Is everything all right?' Lania was at the door as I hung up the phone. ‘I saw Richard drive off. Has he -? Is he ... coming back?'

‘You'd better come in.' I swung the door wide resignedly. ‘He'll be back — and it's high time we all found out what's been going on.'

‘Going on?' Lania followed me into the living-room. I saw her swift relieved glance at Richard's suitcase.

“This is nonsense, of course.' She took possession of the suitcase and began repacking it. ‘Piers has left now and Richard is coming home with me. I'm sorry you've been troubled.'

‘I think we'd better fold the sofa back into shape before they get here,' Arnold said. ‘Can you help me, honey?'

‘Before who get here?' Lania snapped the suitcase shut.

‘Richard's picking up Hazel.' I helped Arnold get the sofa in order. ‘We decided it's time for a showdown.'

‘Hazel?' Lania was still caught up in her own problems. ‘What has she to do with all this?'

‘Everything,' I said grimly.

We'd briefed Lania by the time Richard and Hazel arrived. She had been initially uncertain, but more than willing to admit that something strange might have been going on.

‘John was always such a careful driver,' she remembered. ‘I must admit, I did think it ironic that such a thing should have happened to him – of all people. In fact, I sometimes wondered –'

The doorbell rang and I left – her in full flow of hindsight while I went to admit Hazel and Richard. They preceded me into the living-room. Richard seemed displeased, but not surprised, to find Lania there; Hazel just seemed numbed. I knew then that I was right.

‘Sit down –' I gestured her to a seat. She perched unhappily on the edge of a chair, looked around fearfully, and seemed relieved to find no strangers in the room.