Saturday May 6th
To Cleo’s surprise, Mrs Coppins rang her very early
on Saturday morning.
“Jessie didn’t come home last night,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Her bed wasn’t slept in.”
“Not yet. I thought you might do that for me.”
“I’ll certainly see what I can do, Mrs Coppins.
Have you rung the school? Mrs Baines will need to know that Jessie is missing.”
“She doesn’t have to work today, Miss Hartley.”
“But you should ring the school, Mrs Coppins. She
might be there after all.”
“If you think I should, I’ll do it,” the woman
replied.
“I do think you should, but I’ll get onto the
police. Maybe she has had an accident.”
Cleo rang Gary on his mobile. He was puzzled to get
her call.
“I’m off duty this morning, Cleo. I’m having a
lie-in.”
“Who with, Gary?”
“Not with you. Can you come and make up for it?”
“If you want to discuss my cases, I’ll come.”
“Our cases.”
“OK., but I can’t stay long.”
***
Cleo had no idea where Jessie was. She must have
slipped out of the cottage during the night and might still be groggy from the
sleeping draft. Cleo had not wanted Mrs Coppins to know that Jessie had
threatened to kill her. She thought Mrs Coppins could probably handle the
situation, but that did not exempt Cleo from looking for her, had she not had
Gary in mind at that moment.
***
Gary had got up and taken a shower while waiting
for Cleo. He was clothed in his bath-towel and nothing else.
Cleo wondered if Gary really had been alone. He
stood now quite awkwardly with his bath-towel wrapped round his haunches. Cleo
did not offer him a hug. She ignored his outstretched arms, went straight to
his little all-purpose table and sat down.
“No hug?” said Gary, approaching her and laying his
hands on her shoulders. Cleo did not react to the warmth she felt coursing
through her veins.
“Jessie Coppins is missing,” she said.
“Jog my memory. Who is that?”
“That is the putative girlfriend of the man we
found stabbed on the common on Thursday night.”
“Do you suspect her?”
“I’m undecided. The reason I rang is that she seems
to have disappeared.”
“There’ll have to be a missing-persons report, but
I can’t organize that until she’s been gone at least 24 hours, Cleo. She’s an adult.
She can go anywhere she wants to, within reason.”
“I saw her late yesterday afternoon. She had slept
at the cottage for at least 17 hours. She said she was going for a walk., but
she came back and swallowed several sleeping pills before going to bed in the
little box room again.”
“And you let her go?”
“I’m not a cop, Gary. I don't arrest people. She
also came back the first time.”
“True. But once was enough for her, presumably, so
she did a bunk while you were not looking.”
“We were asleep, Gary.”
“Why don't you get her mother or father to report
her missing tomorrow?”
“Her father’s missing, too.”
“Great. We can look for him at the same time.”
“Apparently the police gave up looking for him long
ago.”
“He probably left the area, Cleo.”
“Mrs Coppins threw him out about three years ago. What
if he’s back here and holding Jessie hostage?”
What you base that idea on?”
“A hunch.”
“ One of Dorothy’s? Isn’t that a bit farfetched? We
are talking about Upper Grumpsfield, not New York.”
***
Gary did not take Cleo’s anxiety seriously. The
police can’t get emotional about cases. But then again, trying not to might be
one of Gary's special problems because he only feigned neutrality. Cleo though
he might think that being compassionate was not masculine enough. Gary was very
proud of his masculinity.
***
Cleo whipped round to face Gary.
“Do you ever take anything seriously?” she said.
“I take you seriously, Cleo. I know why you are
here.”
“Do you. Spell it out, please.”
“You want to know what’s going on between me and
Sybil.”
“What you and Sybil alias Moira do is none of my
business.”
On impulse, Gary pulled Cleo out of the chair and
threw her onto the carpet. Before she knew what was happened he had ripped off
her clothes and was making love to her. To her dismay, she responded
passionately. That was not what she had come for, or was it?
***
“Damn you, Gary Hurley,” she said. “You could
describe that as rape!”
“Damn you, Cleo Hartley,” he replied. “You wanted
it as much as I did-. You behaved like a harlot!”
“It’s not what I came for,” insisted Cleo.
“We need more of it,” he said, pulling Cleo up roughly
and moving to the bedroom. She allowed, no, wanted it to happen.
Cleo stripped everything off the bed.
“I don’t want to share a bed with that hooker,” she
said.
“Neither do I,” said Gary. “And I don’t.”
***
Cleo did not know whether to believe him. She
wanted to.
An hour later Cleo found her way back into the
living-room and dressed.
***
“Can we just talk for a moment before I leave?”
said Cleo.
“I’m glad you came, Cleo. We had to straighten
things out.”
“We certainly did that,” said Cleo.
“So what’s the problem?”
“I feel responsible for Jessie and guilty for not
having stopped her from going out.”
“It was her decision, Cleo. No one can blame you
for a half-witted girl wandering off.”
***
Cleo’s mobile rang.
It was Dorothy.
“Where are you, Cleo?”
“Shopping, Dorothy.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“No. I’ve just been making love with Gary at his
apartment. That’s what you want me to say, isn’t it?”
“Of course not. I’ve just had an idea, Cleo.”
“Go ahead, Dorothy. I’m with Gary right now. He’s
still not dressed, but I am. Maybe he can help.”
***
There was a long pause while Dorothy grasped what had
been going on. Not that it was any of her business.
***
“We could try the Priory,” she suggested. “At least
there’s some sort of shelter in the crypt there, if she did not want to go
home.”
***
In the months after discovering
that according to ancient documents found in a disused family safe at the bank,
Cleo actually owned the Priory and grounds, she had not made it known, except
privately to Dorothy and the vicar. Robert had insisted on Cleo finding out
what the keys were that he had found in an old metal box under the rafters of
the cottage. The Priory deeds had been in a bank safe that one of the old keys
had opened. Never in his wildest dreams had he suspected that the keys did more
than open a shed somewhere. Cleo had wanted to go public about her ownership
and then sell some of the land to make money to repair the church bell tower,
but it hadn’t come to that because funds had been made available by the
diocese, so nothing had changed.
It was unlikely that an old ruin without much
architectural appeal would find anyone to restore it, so it remained an
attraction to children on adventure outings, photographers wanting ruins behind
their models, and tramps and other undesirables looking for somewhere to hang
out and bunk down. In summer, that is. During the cold months of the year they
preferred doss-house warmth.
Now and again Cleo and Robert went up to the ruins
and cleared away the rubbish left by picnickers and other inconsiderate members
of the public. No one else cared a jot about Upper Grumpsfield’s historical
monument and some even thought that the Priory was an eyesore and should be
done away with altogether to make way for a shopping mall or football stadium.
That, however, was not an option for Cleo. The fact that her ownership was the
result of a wager won by an ancestor made it all the more dramatic.
One day Cleo wanted to write a book. It would be entitled
‘The Hartleys and the Ghosts of Monkton Priory’. The proceeds would go to
making a real leisure location and she would re-start her guided tours and open
a cafe selling bagels, cookies and coffee.
***
On this sunny Saturday, Cleo was especially conscious
of the seriousness of Jessie Coppins’ plight. Had the girl been out all night?
Was she lost, or injured? Would they find her lying unconscious or dead
somewhere?
After inviting Dorothy to be at the cottage in an
hour she asked Gary to join her there.
“We need to decide what to do next, and you must
help us, Gary.”
“We must all die, but that’s about it,” said Gary.
“Awesome. What are you afraid of? Female sleuths
getting in before you?”
“OK, if Dorothy approves,” said Gary.
“She doesn’t know about Moira, Gary, and we need
not tell her. Neither of us owes her a confessional.”
“I hope she doesn’t mind my coming back into your
life.”
“You were never out of it, Sweetheart.”
***
As Cleo opened the front door of the cottage, a scrap
of paper flew down. It had been jammed between the door and the frame. On it
was a terse message in large print:
Mrs Detective, we got Jessie
Coppins. If you want to see her again, it will cost 1000 pounds. Instrukshons
to follow.
“Wow!” said Cleo.
“Who the hell wrote that?” said Gary.
Fortunately, Dorothy arrived as they were puzzling
over the anonymous threat.
“It’s definitely the work of a semi-literate person,”
said Dorothy, reading the message aloud for the third time, “You can’t take it
seriously.”
“But I must, Dorothy. A kidnapping is not just a
missing person incident.”
“I wonder if Jessie wrote this herself,” said
Dorothy. “Look at the spelling!”
“We’ll visit Mrs Coppins and find out if it’s
Jessie’s handwriting. I don’t want to make a fool of myself, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll run home and get my shopping list. Collect me
on the way.”
“What about me?” said Gary.
“Better stay here, Gary. Robert won’t be home until
about 3 at the earliest,” said Cleo. ”I assume you want to do some shopping on
the way home, Dorothy.”
“Would that be an imposition? I don’t want to
inconvenience you, Cleo.”
“Of course not. I need some groceries Robert
doesn’t stock.”
“Would you rather wait at my cottage, Gary?” said Dorothy.
“No thanks. Robert thinks I’m paired with Moira and
it has to stay that way.”
“But you aren’t, are you, Gary?”
“No Dorothy, and that has to stay that way, too.”
“Well, I can assure you that you are making me happy
too in an indirect way.”
“I love you both to distraction, said Gary. “I’ll
wait here.”
“About the distraction…” Dorothy started.
***
Mrs Coppins was not unduly worried about Jessie’s
absence. It had happened before. Only twice, she thought, but that had resulted
in two kids. The girl could have been coerced or cajoled into entering into
another one-night stand, she conjectured, but this time the pill after would be
administered, Mrs Coppins assured Cleo. There was no more room for extra mouths
at the Coppins’ house.
***
Dorothy was perturbed at Mrs Coppins’ off-hand
attitude to Jessie’s morals. The writing on the message printed on a bit of
wrapping paper proved to be hers when compared with writing in old school books
found in a box under Jessie's bed. The box also contained a diary extoling Tom
Crowe in yet more badly spelt words, but that did not solve the mystery of what
lay behind the message. Surely Jessie was not capable of thinking through a
blackmail attempt, so who had helped her?
“I think her father’s behind all this,” Mrs Coppins
said.
“I thought he had gone for ever, Mrs Coppins,” said
Dorothy, “But to be truthful, I’ve been wondering when he would turn up again
and so has Miss Hartley.”
“What if he ran out of money and wants to get some
from me?” said Mrs Coppins. “He’s tried it on before.”
“Would he kidnap his daughter and then use her as a
hostage?”
“Yes, Miss Hartley. That’s exactly what he would
do.”
“Why didn’t he come here first?”
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“Do you have a photo of him, Mrs Coppins?”
“On the mantelpiece. I keep it there for the kids’
sake.”
Cleo took out her mobile, pointed the camera at the
photo, and took snap.
“Can you please notify me if there’s any
development of any sort,” said Cleo.
“I think she’ll turn up when she’s hungry,” said
Mrs Coppins. “I’ll get the fish fingers on.”
***
Back in the car, Cleo and Dorothy could not help
feeling they were being taken for ride by everyone involved, in one way or
another.
“Do you believe that about Mr Coppins, Cleo?”
“I don’t know what to believe. I think Mrs Coppins
was more worried about the girl getting pregnant again than about her being
seduced or raped. And she must have dealt with Coppins effectively when he last
turned up.”
“I suppose that's consistent with her character.
She’s hardly a model of virtue herself, is she?”
“No. I think we have to find Mr Coppins fast,
whether he has kidnapped Jessie or not. I’m pretty sure that he has found his
way back. He must have forced Jessie to write that note, and it wouldn’t even
surprise me if she got the amount wrong. Maybe he wanted ten thousand and she
left a zero off.”
“Not only that,” said Dorothy. “The note was pushed
into the door quite recently. It can’t have been there when Robert left for the
shop and still it wasn’t there when you went to see Gary. Whoever delivered that
note can't be very far away.”
“That’s what I think. It makes it even more likely
that Jessie is in the old Priory cellar.”
“Can we go there on our own? Is it safe?” said
Dorothy.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go there without
protection, since I got the impression that Mr Coppins is vicious as well as
debauched. We’ll tell Gary where we think the two Coppinses are. I’ll phone him
now.”
***
“You sound sceptical, Gary.”.
“I just don’t want to run round on futile errands.”
“Are you still at my cottage?”
“I’m waiting for you.”
“Then don’t. Go home and tell me who’s on duty at
HQ so that I can get their support.”
Gary realised that Cleo meant business. She could
be mercilessly sharp when she wanted to.
“That won’t be necessary, my love. What do you want
me to do?”
The softness of Gary’s new approach was enough to
make Cleo go weak at the knees like some teenager swooning over a movie hero.
“Are you still there, Cleo?”
“Just about. You clouded the issue.”
“I wanted to.”
“Meet me at Dorothy's cottage and we’ll go to the priory
on foot,” said Cleo, determined to be practical.
“I’ll order a patrol car. If it's you are on a mission
to find the guy Coppins I'll want to take him in for questioning.”
“That’s assuming the two Coppinses are where I
think they are,” said Cleo. “The problem is that they’ll hide or run away if
they think they’ve been traced.”
“The lads can park somewhere inconspicuous. The
main thing is that we are strong enough to deal with the two of them.”
“You’re right."
“Thanks, Cleo. I’m sorry I was such a rat a minute
ago.”
“If I didn’t … Well, you can be quite a skunk when
you want to,” said Cleo.
“Or a camel, or a love-sick cop?”
“If the cap fits …“
“Now you’re being a bit of a shrew, Cleo.”
“That’s what people love about me…!” she retorted.
“Is someone listening in?”
“Dorothy, I expect.”
“Je t’aime, even if you sometimes get on your high
horse.”
“Moi aussi,” said Cleo, “even if you do make my
blood boil.”
“Are you saying that I set you on fire?”
“Like a volcano, but not when you are being
deliberately annoying, Gary.”
***
Dorothy, am I fussing when I say that your old army
pistol is called for?”
“No problem. I’ve had it with me all day,” said
Dorothy, patting her sleuthing bag.
“But no shooting, Dorothy..”
“Of course not, unless there's acute danger.”
The whole action that Saturday evening was based on
a hunch and probably a waste of time, Gary thought, but did not say so. The three
of them set off on foot for the Priory. Gary commented that he would not be there
at all if he didn’t love them both.
Dorothy thanked him formally for loving her, too.
Cleo embraced Gary and thanked him for taking their
plea for help seriously.
She showed him the ransom note.
“Do you know what nitwit wrote that?” he scoffed.
“Someone who was probably forced to. The
interesting part for me is that Mr Coppins might have instigated the blackmail
attempt,” said Cleo. “I’d promised his son Joe that I would look for him. With
any luck, the boy’s dream of having his father back is coming true.”
“The handwriting is Jessie Coppins’, by the way,”
said Dorothy. “We checked. We didn’t want to waste your time.”
“I suppose a wanton reprobate of a father behind
bars is better than nothing,” said Gary, “but you don’t know that Coppins is
behind all this. It could be anyone.”
“Or Jessie has done it all by herself,” said
Dorothy.
“Does she have the brains for that?” said Cleo. “I
think not. Someone else is behind it.”
“Of course, Mr Coppins could have been trailing the
girl for some time,” said Gary. "I wonder if he has anything to do with
Mrs Oldfield’s murder.”
“So you are officially back on duty now, I take
it," said Cleo.
“I suppose so,” said Gary.
“You’ll thank us for asking for your help,” said
Dorothy.
“I suppose I will,” said Gary. “Lead on, McDuff!”
***
Gratified to be addressed as a pivotal
Shakespearian character, Dorothy marched on ahead to the priory, not least to
give Cleo and Gary more space. Her sister Vera’s words popped into her mind.
Dorothy was not basically a spoil-sport.
Over the centuries, after the mysterious
disappearance of the monks who had lived and prayed in the priory and helped to
feed and educate the villagers, the priory church had lost most of its roofing,
but the crypt was underground and still intact. During WWII it had served as a
shelter from enemy bombing. Thanks to protection from demolition, the priory
ruins still lived on. Monkton Priory and grounds were a popular adventure
playground and picnic area.
Cleo Hartley had conducted ghost-hunting tours to
Monkton Priory in her early days in Upper Grumpsfield, fortified by historical
records and literature she found at Middlethumpton library, where she was
working at the time, and spooky tales told by Dorothy. Much of that historical
background was based on myth, tradition or hearsay, but that did not stop ghost
hunters from using their eccentric spook-hunting ploys in attempts to invoke
the ghosts of the monks and anyone else who appeared.
Everyone who went to Monkton Priory had to admit
that it was eerie. The scariest thing about it was a beautifully illuminated
book in a locked glass case. Nobody knew how long the book and its case had been
there, but its pages were turned regularly, so someone somewhere must have a
key to the case and an interest in keeping something alive in those
surroundings. There seemed to be a guardian angel watching over the
installation. If someone knew who was turning those pages, nobody had ever seen
it happen, or was not telling.
***
Gary was insensitive to the mystery of any old
building when he was on duty. Multi-tasking was not one of his talents. He was
only cultured in his free time. He had considered history to be mainly old
wives’ tales until he met Cleo.
“Surely the monks didn’t live here,” he remarked.
“No. This is the church part. I suppose they lived
in wooden shacks at the back. Those constructions would not have survived for
very long. It’s even possible that the villagers broke them up and took the
wood away once they realised that the monks had gone for ever.”
Cleo was obviously steeped in history. Typical
American. Little or no history of their own so they went overboard for the Europe
past, Gary decided.
“This sort of place gives me the creeps,” said
Gary.
“It is rather spooky, isn’t it?” said Dorothy. “But
not because of ghosts. I don’t think I believe in ghosts.”
“I thought all the British believed in ghosts,”
said Cleo. “Their country houses, castles and theatres are teeming with them.”
“It’s all pie in the sky, but good for tourism, I
suppose,” said Gary.
“I’d rather have ghosts than terrorists,” said
Dorothy.
“And I’d prefer ghosts to criminals and tramps if I
thought they existed. So where will the guys we are looking for be hiding,
Cleo?”
“At the far end of the crypt, I should think. We’ll
have to be very quiet when we go down there.”
Two patrol men came towards them. They had parked
their car quite a long way away and were out of breath from trudging uphill.
“Reporting for duty,” they said.
“Why, it’s Greg and Nigel! I didn’t know you still
did patrol duty, Nigel,” said Gary.
“Only at weekends so that colleagues with a family
can have time off,” said Nigel. “Greg roped me in.”
“Very noble of you both,” said Gary.
“We do what we can,” replied Nigel.
“What do you want us to do now, Gary?” said Greg, who
was not so sure whether it wasn’t easier to be on patrol by himself than in the
company of Nigel, who was neurotic and scared of the possible duty he might
have to carry out. He’d heard f armed robbers kidnapping cars and they were not
even armed in those squad cars.
“Go down into the crypt very quietly and listen if
you can hear something.”
“I’m not going down there,” squeaked Nigel.
“Why ever not?” said Gary.
“Ghosts.”
“There’s no such thing, Nigel,” scoffed Gary.
“Prove it!”
“You prove there is such a thing,” said Gary. “Greg
will defend you.”
“Why don’t you come?” said Nigel.
“I’m defending the ladies,” said Gary.
“I’ll defend the ladies,” said Nigel.
***
Greg was a prize fighter in his spare time and put
the fear of God in awkward customers by gripping their arms tightly and telling
them his black belt at judo was not just a figment of his imagination.
Criminals were usually happy to avoid being treated to one of Greg’s winning
throws and gave no further trouble.
“I’ll look after you, Nigel,” said Greg.
“Ghosts go through walls and clank chains,” said
Nigel. “Your muscles won’t help us. I’m staying here in the daylight.”
“I’ll go with you, Greg,” said Dorothy, tucking her
arm through his. “We aren’t afraid of ghosts, are we?”
Greg was amused.
“I’d better come, too,” said Cleo. “You’d better
look after Gary, Nigel.”
Gary and Nigel stood by and watched as the trio
disappeared down the crypt steps.
“Is there more than one felon?” Greg asked in a
hushed voice..
“We hope so. A chit of a girl in her early twenties
and I suspect that her father is down there, too,” whispered Cleo.
“Let’s hope we find them,” said Greg.
***
The trio proceeded cautiously down the worn-out
stone steps into the crypt, leaving Gary and Nigel waiting for them at the entrance,
on hand if someone tried to escape, they promised. Nigel was visibly uneasy and
Gary was bored. What a silly way to spend a free Saturday, he thought. He would
stop working with the Hartley Agency as soon as it was convenient, he decided.
It was extremely dark in the crypt once the steps
had been negotiated. Greg’s mobile phone torch lit up the ground in front of
them but made eerie shadows on the walls and ceiling. The floor was uneven and
stony, so it was quite difficult to pick one’s way.
“I expect it was covered in straw-matting in the
old days,” Cleo mused.
“The ground under the stones has sunk in places,”
said Greg knowingly. “That explains the unevenness. Wait here. I’ll go ahead.
Don’t let anyone get past.”
Dorothy drew her pistol and aimed alarmingly at
Greg’s back.
“Don’t jostle me,” she whispered to Cleo.
“Point it at the ceiling,” Cleo hissed.
There was a scuffle in the darkness ahead of them
and Jessie ran into Cleo’s arms. Then there was silence.
If Greg had not been such an awesomely strong cop,
Cleo might have thought he had been overpowered. By now she had reached the
foot of the steps. Jessie was struggling half-heartedly.
Dorothy marched in Greg’s direction. He shone his
torchlight in all corners, but there was no one else there.
“Either that girl was here by herself, or that
father of hers has cleared off,” said Greg. “Go back to Gary and the fearful
Nigel. I’ll look again to make sure no one is cowering in a corner.”
“What if he’s armed?” said Dorothy. “Take my pistol
just in case.”
“Your what?”
“My father’s army pistol. It’s loaded.”
Covering up his astonishment that this elderly
person could be armed to the teeth, Greg assured her that he was also armed,
and then took his own pistol out of its holster to show her.
“It’s not officially police,” Greg said. “I’d
forgotten it, actually. I was on my way to shooting practice when we got the
call. I don’t suppose you like to practice somewhere where you can’t hurt
anybody.”
“Oh yes, I would. I used to in London you know.”
“So this pistol is really a sports pistol, but can
be used as weapon of course.”
“That’s all right then,” she said. “I wouldn’t want
anything to happen to you.”
“It won’t ma’am. We get these situations all the
time.”
***
Later, Cleo was to tell Greg not to encourage
Dorothy to be trigger-happy. Dorothy had told Cleo again about the amazing
offer of shooting practice at the HQ shooting range. Cleo was amused at the idea
of Dorothy lining up between the cops to take aim at targets. But encouraging
her to shoot was in Cleo’s view going a step too far.
The women made their way back up the crypt steps.
Cleo was holding Jessie’s arm firmly, but the girl did not struggle. She was
half Cleo’s size and sensed that she had no hope of escaping.
“This is Jessie Coppins, Gary,” Cleo said as they
reappeared out of the gloom.
Gary looked wide eyed with astonishment, but
managed to address Jessie in an authoritative voice.
“Do you know what trouble you have put us to, young
lady?” he said.
Jessie shrugged her shoulders and said nothing.
“Where’s your father, then?”
“Dunno.”
“So he was in there with you?”
“Dunno.”
Greg emerged from the crypt bearing articles of
men’s clothing, a rucksack and a couple of blankets.
“It looks as if two people were down there,” he
said. “I left the remains of a picnic and 2 empty tumblers for forensics to
look at. I expect you will get Chris here, won’t you, Gary?”
Jessie interrupted.
“I slept down there, Mr., and I took food from the
school.”
“You and who else, Jessie. A lover?” said Gary.
“A what?”
“A man.”
“Mind your own bloody business.”
Nigel laughed. He was enjoying the scene. Gary
wasn’t often lost for words, but now he seemed to be.
“Hold your tongue, young lady,” he eventually said.
Jessie poked her tongue out at him.
“You ‘old it,” she said.
Gary turned away from her. He found her repulsive
and left it to Dorothy to admonish her for being so rude.
“Why do I have to waste my time associating with
the scum of the earth?” Gary asked himself.
“I wouldn’t mind havin’ it off with ‘im,” said
Jessie”, pointing at Gary.
“I’d like to send this little whore packing,” said
Gary, putting a bit more space between himself and the girl. Cleo went over to him
and put her arm round his shoulder.
“Hookers are not usually scum, Gary”, she said.
“They are doing a job like anyone else, and their employers are usually men
exploiting them. And Jessie is not a hooker, either. She’s a silly girl with no
sense and very little education who has been led astray by a man she calls her
father.”
“He is her father, isn’t he?”
“Not biologically.”
“Lucky for him,” said Gary.
“Coppins just helps himself, Gary. No ethics. No
morals. Nothing of any value.”
“I want you with me all the time,” said Gary very
quietly and aware that they were now being watched.
Cleo drew him further away from the others.
“I’m trying to be honest with myself, Gary. I want
you, but we can’t be together right now and you know why.”
“I don’t call that honesty. You are kidding
yourself, Cleo.”
“The awful part is that I know that, Gary. I’m
trapped in a prison of my own making.”
“Break out,” said Gary. “Please, before I lose my
sanity.”
“Dorothy’s watching us.”
“She isn’t your keeper.”
“At the moment she seems to be.”
***
Cleo stepped over to Dorothy.
“Did I miss something?” Dorothy asked pointedly.
“No, Dorothy, not this time,” said Cleo. “Gary was
a bit upset. That’s all. We just discussed what to do with this girl.”
Gary threw off his melancholy and re-joined the
group.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I had to think of my
daughter out in Spain at the mercy of the bastard who went off with my wife and
daughter.”
That explanation seemed to satisfy everyone. Greg
had not known about Gary’s situation. He put his hand out to Gary now and said “Say
the word and I’ll get on a plane and bring your daughter back, Gary.”
“Thanks, Greg. I appreciate that offer and would be
glad to take it up.”
Cleo decided that was the best idea anyone had ever
had to make Gary a happy guy. He could not go himself because his estranged
wife would make difficulties.
“Do that soon, Greg,” she said. “I have a feeling
that Charlie would be better off here than with Mrs Hurley’s lover-boy.”
Dorothy and the other onlookers were astonished at
the repartee. Weren’t they looking for the Coppins guy?
***
Gary phoned the pathology lab. Chris Marlow was
putting in a few extra hours and did not welcome having to break off his
analyses and turn out to Upper Grumpsfield yet again. Turning out to Upper
Grumpsfield was getting to be a habit, he said, but at least it wasn’t a trip
to the common this time.
“There are no bodies in the crypt, as far as we know,”
said Gary.
“That’s a comfort,” retorted Chris. “Corpses on a
Saturday are always a bit of a logistic nuisance.”
***
“What shall
we do with Jessie?” Cleo wanted to know. “She hasn’t committed a crime.”
“I’ll ask her,” said Dorothy. “Have you, Jessie?”
“’ave I what?”
“Committed a crime.”
“Not bloody likely. I ‘aven’t done anything wrong,
either.”
“Then you’ve nothing to fear,” said Cleo.
“Let’s take her to your office, Cleo,” suggested
Gary. “I’d like to question her about her father.”
“I’m not bloody saying anything about ‘im,” Jessie
protested.
Cleo strengthened her grip on Jessie’s arm. The
girl was wily and cunning. Cleo did not put it past her to make a run for it if
they stood there much longer.
“Wouldn’t you rather we took her straight to
headquarters, Sir?” said Nigel.
“I suppose that’s a better idea, but there’s a
problem,” said Gary. “We can’t let the Coppins fellow give us the slip.”
“I said I’m not going down those steps,” said
Nigel.
“You’re going. That’s an order,” said Gary. “You’ll
thank me one day.”
“Don’t bother,” said Jessie, “He’s bloody gone, the
swine.”
Cleo thought he must have molested the girl again.
“So he was here, was he?” Gary said.
“I’m not sayin’ anything,” the girl said.
“Where is he, Jessie? Can’t you tell us?” cajoled
Dorothy.
“It’s a secret between me and ‘im.”
“Well, just whisper to me. I promise not to tell on
you.”
“To everyone’s surprise, Jessie actually whispered
something in Dorothy’s ear.”
Dorothy was quite smug about that. It had not been
the ‘bog off’ she had been expecting. But looking for anyone in Monkton Wood
would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
“Jessie doesn’t really know,” Dorothy said.
Greg called HQ and arranged for a second patrol car
to come immediately. He did not think Nigel was going to be of any use. Cleo
and Gary marched Jessie down the hill to the main road. Nigel was to wait for
the second patrol car and forensics but was excused from entering the crypt.
Then Gary and Cleo bundled the girl onto the back seat of Greg’s patrol car.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Dorothy and climbed onto
the back seat next to Jessie.
Nigel ran after the departing group.
“You can’t leave me here,” he shouted, a look of
horror on his face.
“It’s OK, Nigel. The other patrol guys can search
the building,” said Greg. To Gary he said “I can take Nigel back to HQ if you
can wait for the colleagues to come, Sir.”
Gary nodded thankfully.
***
It was a curious situation. Nigel got into the
passenger seat next to Greg as the second patrol car rolled up. Greg drove off
after issuing instructions. Jessie had relapsed into silence. Whatever was
going to happen to her, she was not going to give anything away by losing
control again.
Gary confirmed Greg’s instructions to the second patrol
team and had a word with Chris before leaving with Cleo, intending to pick up
his car at her cottage and drive into HQ.
"We'll set up the arc lights and make a
thorough investigation," said Chris.
"The bird has flown, but with any luck his
daughter will sing like one," said Gary. “I’ll leave you to it.”
"Whatever transpires, there are bound to be
fingerprints to collect,” said Chris, wondering if Gary had plans to spend time
with Cleo. “We’ll soon know who has been here recently."
"I'm sure of that, Chris," said Cleo.
“The things Greg found are in a pile on the steps, and apparently there are the
remains of a meal in the crypt.”
Chris looked at Gary looking at Cleo. He's still
keen on her, he decided, and if I’m not mistaken, she feels the same. Robert
won't be amused.
“Get going, Gary,” Chris could not resist saying as Cleo and
Gary turned to leave. “Don’t be so reticent … You really are a pair of clowns!”
“Chris definitely knows about us, Gary,” said Cleo
as they walked back down Monkton hill.
“Us?”
“Yes, us … my love.”
“I wonder how he knows. We are so careful,” said
Gary.
Cleo only laughed. They walked silently down
Monkton Way. Cleo linked arms with Gary. They both started humming the same
tune the start of the 4th movement Mozart’s Jupiter symphony, at the
same time.
“I often wonder how Mozart could think up such
heavenly music,” said Gary.
“Love, Gary. Love of humanity, music, nature. Did
you know that even writing down Mozart’s music – let alone inventing it - would
take a copyist a long lifetime?”
“I think that’s why abstract music attracts me. I
don’t need words to think what I’m thinking now.”
***
“Like to come in for
a coffee?” said Cleo as they reached Gary’s car. “We can make some now and play
that wonderful music over and over again. ”
“I’m tempted,” said Gary. “I’d like that butcher of yours to
catch us making love like crazy,” said Gary. “That would settle things once and
for all.”
“Don’t you believe it,” said Cleo.
“Where is he, anyway?”
“Gone to Bristol. Table-tennis again.”
“So he won’t be back for hours, will he,” said Gary. “I
think I would like that coffee, after all.”
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