Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (37 page)

‘I didn’t know he had. He said he just wanted to check the room again.’

‘So you didn’t go in with him?’

‘There was no point, so when Evelyn asked me, I stayed with her in the cubicles.’

Angela frowned, ‘She asked you to stay with her, in the cubicles?’

‘Yeah, she was already wound up about Dudley, and when the Goodwin girl vanished she thought she’d get the blame, so she just needed some loving. That’s all.’

Making her way through the woods, Christiana half expected to hear the pounding of hoof beats coming after her, but stopping to listen, there was just the eerie stillness of silence, and later as the canopy of trees began to thin out, ahead she saw the glare of bright sunshine, and bursting through, found herself standing at the ragged edge of the woods.

Looking over the meadows, she breathed deeply on the late summer breeze, and choosing a tree of lofty branches, began to climb until she could see far away across meadows to the distant farmhouses and church spires, and there was no movement anywhere.

She waited, and when she felt sure no-one else was playing a waiting game she edged out into the meadows, and guessing the direction of Malmesbury, set off and saw the small river she and Lucinda had once followed halfway to the village of Easton Grey, and knew by getting there, she would almost be home and it wouldn’t be much further to Malmesbury and the safety of Ted Willis.

Swishing through the tall meadow grass, she came to the river and followed its direction, and as it meandered its curving way, waded across through the shallows to the meadows on the other side, the late summer sun beating down relentlessly.

Old Zed Bates grinned as he sat cross legged on the roof of his battered Land Rover, and rubbing his hands together, thought of the fifty pounds he would earn today, but the real prize was the chance of winning the bonus, and he meant to have it.

Zed had been a poacher all his life and his natural sense of field craft was second to none, and now, sitting up high and shielding his eyes with the palm of his hand, talked to himself as he scanned the meadows.

‘Now then Zed, old lad, if you were runnin’ from Sheverill’s Farm with nothing but hope and the shirt on your back, would you head for Sherston or Malmesbury?’

Filling his small briar pipe, he left it unlit, and half smiling, gazed around and lazily answered his own question in his broad country drawl.

‘Well Zed, me old lad, I don’t think I’d fancy Sherston, it’s far too close to the farm and every bugger knows every other bugger’s business. Why even the flies have names. No, I don’t think so. But I might fancy Malmesbury ‘cos it’s got a bus service and taxis. Yep, I reckon I fancy Malmesbury.’

Looking up to the position of the sun, he grunted and checked his old pocket watch.

‘Now then, Zed, how far do you think a townie would have got in just an hour or so?’

He grinned to his thoughts, ‘Well, me old lad, I reckon just about here.’

Sitting dreamily in the sunshine, he pulled the flat cap low against the bright light, but a slight movement way over in the tall grass suddenly caught his crafty eye.

‘Well, well. So what would long blonde hair and a red T shirt be doin’ way out here?’

He chuckled, ‘And if that darlin’ little lady carries on in that direction, me-thinks it might be just perfect to snare her lovely self in the quiet of the lane.’

Pushing on through the tall grass, Christiana came to a curve in the river, and shielding her eyes could just make out the shimmering outline of a distant village, and stripping off, rolled up her clothes and waded through the cool water.

Lucinda drove back up to the main road, and throwing her head back, laughed out loud.

Someone unknown, and obviously for their own reasons, had already put the fear of god into the duty sergeant, and long before she’d even got started on him.

Turning the Morris into the traffic, she headed home, and still couldn’t believe how easy it had been. And then that incredible stroke of luck when that name had been mentioned, a name not only that she’d instantly recognised, but a person who seemed to be involved with her very own target, Tara Goodwin.

Oh god, it had been so easy she might have written the script herself.

It seems that Tara Goodwin and Mrs Evelyn Carthwaite had been allowed to leave Thornley Manor yesterday by a Cardinal man, and although Mrs Carthwaite had returned this morning, her target had not.

But the most amazing part of all, was that the Cardinal man who’d allowed them to leave was none other than Frank Lewis, the so-called Section man. Robin’s honourable friend.

Pushing the Morris on through the gears, she couldn’t help wondering how this man Lewis had metamorphosed himself from the Section into Cardinal, and that could be a worry as this unexpected development could just possibly bring danger to her door.

So could Angela be using him for some devious reason, and if she was, what reason could it be, and she was beginning to wonder if Lewis really had turned up on her doorstep just to offer his sympathy, because when Mrs A had arranged her release from the asylum, the agreement clearly stated that there would be no more girlie games.

And thinking back, Angela had not asked for the return of Tara Goodwin’s body …

So if she was guessing she would take her back to the priest hole, was she using Frank Lewis to check up on her and catch her out?

Knowing Angela, it was quite possible, so it might be wise to cleanse him as well.

36

Settling in to Ted’s cottage, Tara smiled as she looked at the snug little bathroom, so spotlessly clean and so very old, in fact everything in the cottage was simply ancient.

The decor, the furniture, carpets, china, glass ornaments and the paintings, why even the telephone in hall was the old dial type.

It was like visiting a time from the past, a time when a sense of security and permanence had been normal. As she gazed at it all, a long forgotten memory suddenly came back as she remembered the large old teapot her nanny used all those years ago.

Holding back the tears she walked through to her bedroom, and taking a breath, began to unpack her case, but she left the large colourful bags till last, the bags that held all the shopping she’d bought with Monty.

She looked at the smart blue jeans with the Levi label, but dare she wear them, although Monty said it was fine and his daughter practically lived in them.

Shaking them out, she stared in wonder, she’d never worn anything like this before.

It had always been the boring business suit, the skirts, the dresses, and the …

Hugging the jeans, she pushed the bedroom door shut, stripped off the boring clothes and eased first one leg and then the other into the silky crackle of the jeans, a wild sensation coming to her as she pulled them up around her bottom and slid up the zip.

Looking into the mirror, she puzzled.
Was that really little Tara Goodwin?

Tipping out the next package she saw the cream surfer top, just so casually chic and soft, and slipping it on, felt the tingle as it caressed her skin, and smiling, put on the bright red socks and the colourful new trainers, and taking one last long, lingering look in the mirror, walked out and cautiously went downstairs to find Ted.

Stopping at the kitchen door, she saw him preparing a tea tray, with cups and saucers, a teapot and a plate with huge cream cakes and chocolate eclairs, and watching, smiled with a curious pleasure, because although he looked huge and dangerous, underneath he seemed as gentle as a kitten, and as if by a sixth sense, he swung round and his jaw dropped.

‘Mr Willis, these are my brand new clothes, but they aren’t presents or anything nasty, Monty helped me choose them. So do I look alright?’

Ted took a deep breath, ‘My dear young lady, you look absolutely wonderful.’

Tara smiled, but looked down to the floor, her face now red with the blush of pleasure.

‘Thank you, and my proper name is Tara Goodwin, but would you call me, Tara?’

Ted carried the tray down to the table by the pond, and as they sat together in the sun, he couldn’t help wishing Maggie could be with them. He would give anything for that.

As the late afternoon passed by, their gentle question and answer conversation had rung all the alarm bells for Ted, his earlier suspicions having been proved right, and by the time the sun allowed the shadows to join them, everything was beginning to make sense.

Although it hardly seemed possible, this young lady appeared to be trapped in a world few people could ever understand, but Frank had obviously recognised it from years ago, and now it was all too clear why he’d wanted this young lady safe, and it wouldn’t surprise him if Frank was already making plans for Tara to go to Mrs P at Moon Shadow.

As they relaxed with laughing and talking, he found himself wondering if she liked cars, and maybe even trucks, although the Scammel might be too big for her, but there again, it wouldn’t take long to teach her how to drive it, and if she enjoyed the garage, maybe she wouldn’t want to go to Moon Shadow.

Christiana pushed on through the heat of the sun, her skin sticky with dusty sweat and her throat so dry it reminded her when she’d lost her way in the Nevada desert and her faithful old jeep had finally run out of gas.

Shielding her eyes, she looked back to the sun and guessed it must be getting quite late, and yet Malmesbury was still nowhere in sight.

But later she gave a huge sigh of relief when ahead she saw a hedgerow straggling out into the distance, and drawing closer, saw what she’d been praying for.

The hedge was old and tangled, but on the other side was an overgrown lane that seemed to meander away towards Malmesbury, but just as she looked for a way to push through, she heard the harsh rattle of a diesel engine coming up along the lane.

Dropping down, she flattened herself in the long grass, and looking up, saw the shape of a battered Land Rover lurching past the gaps in the hedgerow, but it slowed down and came to a halt, right on the other side of the hedge.

Laying quite still, Lucinda came into her mind, but her Land Rover was immaculate, not like this, so she began to crawl forward, but on reaching the hedge she stopped when the engine was switched off, and then a door creaked open and someone clambered up onto the roof of the cab. So why would someone do that?

As she listened, a strong country voice suddenly floated out to her.

‘Right then, me little blonde beauty, so where are you?’

She tensed.

‘Oh, come on darlin’, you should be here by now.’

Christiana heard the dark confident chuckle of a rough countryman in his later years.

‘Show yourself then, ‘cos Lucinda wants your ass, and she’ll pay good money for it.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Come on now, there’s a good girl, ‘cos old Zed don’t want to be waiting for you all bloody night, now does he, not when he can spend your bounty in the pub.’

She froze, not expecting this, so just how many people were out there looking for her?

‘Oh, come on, me American beauty, you must be around here somewhere.’

She listened hard.

‘And old Zed fancies a look at those big old jugs of yours, ‘cos Arthur reckons your tits are even bigger than the prize milker over at Motcombe Farm.’

Grimacing, she thought it would be real good to give this disgusting old man a good hard kick in the nuts.

‘So where are you then, ‘cos I could spit into Malmesbury from here?’

Christiana thought,
‘Oh really, well thanks for the information.’

Laying perfectly still, she heard the sound of boots clambering over metal, and when the old man’s voice came back to her, he sounded angry.

‘Ahh, fuck it. I’ll have to drive round to Malmesbury and try to catch the bitch there.’

The old diesel engine rattled into life and the Land Rover began to bump and lurch as it reversed at speed back up the rutted lane, and when the noise faded away, she pushed through the hedge and set off running along the lane to Malmesbury.

Bringing the Morris to a skidding halt, Lucinda grabbed her bag, slammed the door and walked quickly along the path, but on reaching the kitchen door, found it to be locked.

‘Open this frigging door. It’s me, you stupid old bag.’

Tottering across the kitchen, Martha snatched at the bolt and flung the door open.

‘Oh. You’re back early, ma’am.’

‘Well what do you expect when there’s all this bloody work to do, and only me to do it. And where’s the bitch, any sign of her?’

‘Not yet, ma’am, but Arthur’s got his mates looking.’

‘Oh, he’s managed that, has he? So where is the useless idiot?’

‘He’s on his way back, ma’am, the men need more money for fuel.’

‘More fuel? So what the hell are they doing with the stuff? Drinking it?’

Flouncing over to the hall door, she stopped and turned.

‘And when he gets back, send him up to me, it’s about time he earned his pocket money.’

Martha lowered her eyes, ‘Yes ma’am.’

Padding through the house, Lucinda climbed the gloomy staircase, and letting herself into the priest hole, cursed the new cobwebs, and logging on, sent a request to the Minotaur.

Priority 666. All information, re, Frank Lewis. Possibly NSA Section or Cardinal.

Going through to her bedroom she heard the muffled sounds of a diesel engine, and after a while, steps came on the stairs and Arthur appeared, his bruised and reddened face swathed in a layer of untidy bandages.

‘My god. What on earth do you look like?’

Arthur mumbled a few words, but nothing made sense.

‘Oh, don’t bother. And I don’t suppose you’ve found her, have you?’

He shook his head.

‘Dear god, I’m surrounded by idiots. But at least you can earn your pocket money, you can manage that, can’t you.’

Watching as she stripped off the hated dowdy clothes, Arthur stared in horror when she walked over, switched on the television and chose
that
DVD.

Slipping it into the player, the screen became full with the happy revellers at the Last Night of the Proms, and when the conductor raised his baton, the music of Elgar’s, Pomp and Circumstance March Number One came to fill Lucinda’s bedroom.

Kneeling up on the foot of the bed, she looked eagerly to the enormous screen.

‘Well come on then, it’s starting.’

Trying to ignore the pain in his mouth, Arthur walked over and unbuckled his belt, and pushing his clothes down, held her hips and mounted her.

Turning, she glared at him, her dark eyes fiery and demanding.

‘Now for your information, this happens to be patriotic stuff, so show a little decorum, and for god’s sake try to follow the rhythm this time, and if you get into any problems, watch the conductor … He isn’t up there just to swat bloody flies.’

Later, having washed Arthur away, Lucinda forced herself to return to the priest hole, and seeing the print out from the Minotaur, sat down and scanned through Lewis’s history.

Casting her eye over his career, she couldn’t help thinking of Robin.

His journey through the shadows had led him along the same stepping stones of Lewis, and in much the same way he’d disappeared into those unmentionable agencies.

The National Security Agency, then the National Security Agency - Executive Section, and though for completely different reasons, the ultimate stepping stone and into Cardinal.

She read the list of his associates, past and present, but there were surprisingly few, although that might be explained by him being an orphan, and she wished he wasn’t.

That word had the power to remind her of the mother and toddler group.

Thinking of his orphan status, she flicked back through the list and re-checked, and it was strange, there was no record of a death certificate for his mother, and only dark rumours of abortions about the doctor who’d been treating her, and later, the doctor had died from a drugs overdose, but there was still no confirmation if his mother was alive or dead.

Lucinda knew that somehow, all these strands must fit together, and looking down the list of his associates, came to an abrupt halt, when in front of her lay part of the answer.

She blinked, and reading it through again, could hardly believe what she was seeing.

One of Lewis’ associates was the owner of Malmesbury Garage, Mr Edward Willis, and his address was Hawthorn Cottage, The Mumbles, Malmesbury.

With hairs rising on the back of her neck, she saw that Willis’ history was virtually the same as Lewis’, even down to having been selected for the Executive Section, and he’d spent years working as a partner with Frank Lewis.

Lucinda sat bolt upright as all the pieces of the jigsaw began to come together.

So, Tara Goodwin was not only a suspect in a crime, but an orphan, and she’d recently come into contact with Frank Lewis, another orphan who was investigating the same crime, and later he’d allowed her to leave Thornley and disappear.

But she had to go somewhere, and if the intention was for Lewis to hide her, it would have to be a place he trusted.

Remembering back to when Lewis had come to see her, Arthur said he’d arrived on foot, but he must have walked from somewhere, or maybe been given a lift by a friend, a local friend, an ex-Section man who now lived in Malmesbury, a local friend by the name of Edward Willis who might do anything for an ex-partner.

So wouldn’t that be lucky if her target was just down the road at Hawthorn Cottage.

Tara was full of cake, Earl Grey tea and a growing happiness, her old life already seeming to be a million miles away, and she hadn’t felt the need to worry for ages.

While Ted washed and shaved she explored the semi-wild garden and saw it was a small piece of nature, with old wizened trees of apple, plum and pear, and wild flowers and butterflies flying in a wobbly cloud, and the old stone wishing well that went
plop
when she dropped a stone into its mysterious depths.

‘Tara. I’m ready now.’

Spinning round, she looked back to the old thatched cottage and saw Ted waiting for her, and she smiled when she saw him standing there in highly polished shoes, smartly creased trousers and a freshly ironed shirt, and while his battered face was freshly shaven, his thinning hair was neatly combed back, and she thought he looked self-conscious when he allowed himself to smile.