The Collared Collection (27 page)

David said, ‘Don’t worry about Mike; he’s a big boy now. I think he may have a new lady friend …’

She couldn’t see how he could recover so quickly from Ginny’s loss. ‘I don’t believe it … he was so cut up about Ginny.’

‘Hey, it’s just an educated guess on my part – I’m only a detective, what do I know? He’s been acting rather strangely the last few days, that’s all.’

‘I still don’t believe you – there’ll be some other, perfectly logical explanation. You’ll see.’

In the car – still the rust bucket on wheels – David said, ‘Next time you feel the urge to buy a picture, I’ll get my dad to knock one up for you. He’ll do it for a lot less than £750.’

‘I’m sure he would, and I might actually want to hang his finished article on my wall … I was rather suckered into shelling out for my Lyon-Smith masterpiece – Elizabeth was very embarrassed about it, knocked him down to £500.’

He chuckled. ‘A real bargain!’

‘I had a lovely weekend, though, apart from the riding incident. Fresh country air – does wonders for the soul. What have you been doing with yourself?’

‘Working hard, apart from a few beers with Mike on Friday night.’

‘Anything new on Dee?’

‘I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that …’

Chapter Forty-two

For the next week, nothing out of the ordinary happened, which was in itself extraordinary. Callie wasn’t feeling at her best physically – an almost constant dull ache somewhere in her abdomen, which she wrote off as festering stress playing havoc with her metabolism, kept bugging her. Apart from that discomfort, she was lulled into the false security of almost feeling like a regular human being again, the only difference being that she was a marked woman – and she missed her boys terribly. Oh – and all the fun had gone from her life and she despaired of ever getting it back.

David seemed to understand how confused she felt about everything, and gave her the space she craved, for which she was grateful. And yes, he did sleep on the sofa, without a murmur of complaint; the perfect gentleman. She conceded it was always possible he’d tired of her perceived neediness and was grateful for his own breathing space too.

That weekend, on the Saturday, Callie chartered a red London bus to take an assortment of Ginny’s friends and colleagues to Richmond Park to scatter her ashes near the Isabella Plantation – they planned to have a boozy picnic afterwards, to settle her in and make her feel at home.

Holding the urn in her lap as though it contained the crown jewels, she sat on the top deck with Elizabeth – they’d bagged one of the front seats, just like a couple of kids. David and George sat across the aisle, ditto.

‘Where have Alex and Sam gone for their holiday?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘Dominic managed to swing a cheapie to Turkey. They’ve gone for two weeks.’

‘You’ll miss them, I expect?’

Tears stung her eyes as she bluffed, ‘Well, I see them so rarely now, it doesn’t make much difference to me – we still talk on the phone every day. Sounds like a great resort they’re visiting.’

Elizabeth patted her knee knowingly. ‘All this must be terribly unsettling for you, Callie.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve no choice. Their safety comes first. Sooner or later, this nightmare will end and everything will get back to normal,’ she glanced over at David, ‘if our policemen ever manage to work out what’s going on.’

He either didn’t hear her, or he ignored her; her money was on the latter.

‘You’re looking very pale – are you feeling unwell?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Bit of a nervous tummy, that’s all – it’ll pass and it certainly won’t prevent me from enjoying the champagne.’

‘Good girl. By the way, St John keeps asking me when you’re going to visit Cassocks again – I think he’s rather smitten.’ Her good eye winked; the other was still protected by a patch, but the dressing was much reduced in size, though the jury was still out on whether her sight would be affected long-term. At least the burns on her face were slowly healing and she’d been assured that any scarring would be negligible and could be much improved by the minimum of plastic surgery.

Callie grinned and her shoulders relaxed a few notches. ‘Puhleese – he just can’t find anyone else insane enough to buy his paintings.’

Elizabeth chortled. ‘Mmm … maybe. I like to give him the benefit of the doubt … too bad Susan couldn’t make it today.’

‘Yes, she and her brother have gone to a family wedding in Cheshire, I think she said.’

Elizabeth looked surprised. ‘Oh … I didn’t realise she had a brother.’

‘Yes, Peter – I almost met him once.’

‘I suppose I don’t know her all that well, really. We’re mostly ships that pass in the office. When we do hold a conversation, it’s invariably about work.’

‘Mike couldn’t make it either – work commitments.’

‘Oh, what a shame, he seems like such a nice young man – and Ginny was so very fond of him, wasn’t she?’

Callie felt sad again. ‘Yes, she was. And the feeling was mutual, that much was obvious.’

As the bus ground through its automatic gears during the ascent of Richmond Hill, Elizabeth whispered in her ear, ‘Remind me later, I have something to tell you.’ Though Callie was intrigued, they were driving past the Star and Garter Home and about to enter the park, so she let it go.

‘Tally-ho!’ yelled George, right fist raised forward.

When they’d scattered the ashes and the picnic was in full swing, Callie did another round with a magnum of champagne. ‘Can I top you up, Bernard?’

He held out his plastic cup, ‘Oh yes please, it’s very good, isn’t it? Lucky we’re going home by bus.’ His eyes twinkled.

‘That’s the idea. Do you think Ginny will like it here?’

‘Who wouldn’t – an oasis of calm and the perfect choice for her final resting place. As a keen horsewoman herself, she can watch over all the riders putting their horses through their paces.’

‘Oh, don’t remind me,’ she joked, ‘you’re never going to get me on the back of one of those creatures again. If you’ll excuse me, I must do my Bet Lynch bit.’

‘You forgot the dangly earrings, my dear.’

When she felt she’d done her duty as bartender, Elizabeth suggested they wander off for a walk and Callie readily agreed. Her woozy head told her she’d had enough to drink. ‘This is a lovely place, isn’t it?’ she remarked, stopping to appreciate the scenery and sniff a lungful of air.

‘Yes, it’s hard to imagine anywhere more tranquil and stuffed with wildlife, so near to the centre of London.’

Callie smiled and nodded.

‘Charles the First had great foresight.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Charles the First – he enclosed the area as a hunting park in 1637.’

‘Oh, I didn’t know that – is that why there are so many deer here?’

‘I suppose so … do you know, I think I may request my ashes to be scattered here as well.’

‘Great idea – but not just yet, I hope?’

She guffawed. ‘Definitely not. We Lyon-Smiths generally live to a ripe old age – we are from hardy Viking stock, I believe.’

As they turned onto a track signposted to Pen Ponds, three loud retorts in quick succession scared the birds in the trees and they flew off en masse, squawking their annoyance at being disturbed.

Callie grabbed Elizabeth’s good arm. ‘What was that? Do you think they were gun shots?’ Her heart raced and she was worried they’d drifted too far away from the others. Walking and talking, she wasn’t really aware of how far they’d come – or from which direction.

Elizabeth patted Callie’s hand, ‘Of course not, we haven’t yet reached the Glorious Fourth. And I doubt hunting is allowed at all in the park now, though I may be wrong about that. Shall we start to make our way back, if you’re concerned?’

She felt foolish, but whatever the noise was it had frightened her, making her feel exposed and vulnerable. She tried to appear blasé, ‘Would you mind?’

‘Of course not. Now … which way is back?’

As they stood contemplating the quickest route to rejoin the party, Callie became aware of a rumbling noise. And it was getting louder. She stared at Elizabeth – she’d heard it too.

Suddenly, Elizabeth grabbed her top. ‘Quickly! This way!’

She dragged her to a tree that must have had more rings than Liz Taylor and pinned her to the bark. The rumbling noise crescendoed to a thunder and they held their breath as a herd of deer galloped past at high speed, either side of the trunk, jostling each other and destroying anything in their path – no longer were they the sweet, gentle, dappled creatures that they’d admired from a distance, but a raging force with the weight advantage to trample anything and anyone under hoof. The ground literally shook beneath the women’s feet and it seemed to go on and on forever. Neither dared move a muscle until the herd were long gone, leaving clouds of billowing dust in their wake to choke them. When Callie eventually felt it safe to pull away from the bark, she felt handfuls of snagged hair pulled from her scalp.

‘Balaclava Man?’ Elizabeth asked breathlessly, as they half ran, half walked back to the others.

‘I don’t see how – this was a pretty last-minute arrangement. He’s not psychic.’

‘Of course, you’re right – I’m being paranoid.’

They kept up their brisk pace, taking no further risks – whether or not they thought the stampede was for their benefit.

‘I’d rather not tell the others about this, if you don’t mind – especially David.’

‘Fine by me. Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you my news,’ Elizabeth said, still trying to catch her breath, ‘when I saw Keith on Wednesday, he suggested he might be able to help you.’

‘That’s very kind of him, but in what way does he mean?’

‘He might be able to find out who Dee really was – if he can’t remember any story of significance, he can arrange for his erstwhile colleagues to search the archives. He still owns the newspaper, after all. You’ll need to be able to pin the timescale down to within a manageable window, or it will take for ever.’

‘Elizabeth! That’s brilliant, please thank him for me. Why didn’t I think of that?’

Her lips twitched. ‘Sometimes we’re just too close to something, or someone, to think logically.’

On the homeward journey, the bus driver steered them through Barnes. It was dusk and lights from windows along the way were beginning to illuminate the pavements – Callie sat gazing out of the window, not really seeing much because she was very tired and distracted by niggling pain. Then a figure about to enter a restaurant caught her eye.

She nudged Elizabeth, ‘Look – quickly – is that who I think it is?’

Elizabeth peered then gasped. ‘Well if it’s not, it’s her doppelganger!’

‘But Susan is meant to be in Cheshire, at a wedding – what’s she doing here? And dressed from head to foot in black – hardly wedding attire is it?’

Elizabeth looked down her beaky aristocratic nose at her. ‘No, but we all know who does dress like that, don’t we?’

Chapter Forty-three

On Sunday, David took another day off. No wonder Balaclava Man felt free to roam at will, wronging rights.

Just before noon, Callie turned the key in the lock of her house. ‘Wow! That’s what I call progress,’ she said, scanning the place. All the downstairs walls had been re-plastered and painted white, making the whole area appear fresh and new. Had she not known about the fire, she’d never have guessed there had been one.

‘It’s really starting to come together, the kitchen looks almost finished,’ David said, ‘very
Homes and Garden
.’ He smirked – his first for some time and she realised how much she’d missed them. ‘Are you sure about selling up, now it’s looking so smart?’

‘Yes, I think so,’ she looked around again, ‘I’m not sure it feels like my house now, lovely though it is – but I don’t have to make up my mind yet, do I?’

‘I suppose not – you’re welcome to stay at my place for as long as you want.’

‘Thanks.’ She thought how the footing of their relationship had become a lot more formal of late.
Mea culpa
. She felt a sudden desire to make amends, ‘Do you fancy lunch at that new trattoria? My treat.’

He looked pensive – was he going to turn her down? As she waited for him to vote yes or no, she felt unbelievably sad for the loss of intimacy. ‘It was just an idea, no problem if you have other plans …’ She had no inclination to beg.

‘No, it’s not that …’

There was a sharp rap on the front door.

‘Damn, I’d better get that,’ she walked down the hall, side-stepping tins of paint. She knew exactly who had come calling, even before she opened up.

‘Hello, Robert … oh!’ she wasn’t, however, prepared for the person standing next to him. ‘Eloise? What are you doing here?’

‘Hello, Callie,’ she said, ‘may we come in?’

Utterly confused, she swung the door wider. As the only person present who knew who everyone else was, she felt it incumbent upon her to do the introductions. ‘Eloise, this is David Bennett, my … err … friend.’

She thrust out her hand. David hesitated then shook it. ‘Hello, Eloise,’ he said, darting a quizzical glance to Callie.

‘Pleased to meet you too, David, I’m Robert’s wife. Please call me Ellie.’

As bombshells go, that one caused a pretty massive crater; Callie tried to cover up the fact that her flabber was gasted. ‘David, I don’t think you’ve met Bernard’s daughter? This is Eloise … err Ellie Green, or is it Wyatt?’

She smiled indulgently, ‘I work under my maiden name, Eloise Green – at all other times I’m Ellie Wyatt. I’ve only just realised we are near-neighbours, Callie. Robert never tells me a thing.’ She flapped a hand in his direction.

‘Well, I suppose we’ve always missed each other by a whisker – my house burned down shortly after you moved in, and each time I’ve spoken to Robert after that, you’ve been away.’

Her chin dipped. ‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘And I don’t suppose Bernard knows where I live either – I’ve moved around rather a lot since I started working at chambers.’

‘Mmm …’ She surveyed the renovations. ‘Your builders are doing a magnificent job – when will you move back in?’

‘Actually, I don’t know that I will. I haven’t decided yet.’

‘I see … what do you say, Robert? We’ll get these guys in to do up our place? It’s such a novelty to find workmen who don’t cut corners – our house needs a complete facelift, it’s so old fashioned and dingy. It has a great layout, but all that dark wallpaper and varnish – it gives me the creeps.’