Deadfall (18 page)

‘No, it doesn't really matter,' Linc told him. And hesitated, wondering how to close the subject without seeming rude.

His father had no such scruples.

‘Linc has foolishly been dabbling in such matters as would be infinitely better left to the police,' he stated from the head of the table. ‘I trust he's now learned his lesson, and I think the matter is best left there. We will talk about something else.' He bent one of his most quelling looks on Nikki's mother, who flushed and pursed her lips.

‘I was only concerned for his safety,' she protested in injured tones.

‘Yes, I'm sure you were,' Sylvester replied.

The ever-reliable Mary cleared her throat and
diffidently introduced a non-contentious topic of conversation and, apart from a slight sulkiness on Beverley's part, the uncomfortable interlude appeared forgotten.

Much as he often deplored his father's high-handedness, Linc had to concede that it came in useful at times.

When the meal was over the younger members of the party left the dining room on a mission to acquaint Josie with the rest of the house. Linc would have preferred to show her around on his own but when Nikki declared, ‘We'll come too, won't we, Cris?' there was little he could do about it, save for resorting to the kind of rudeness his father employed.

Crispin, indolent by nature, looked as though he would just as soon drink coffee with the others in the drawing room but obligingly got to his feet and followed his wife instead.

‘I can't wait to see Josie's face when she sees the chandelier in the ballroom,' Nikki said excitedly as they made their way across the hall, and Linc suppressed his uncharitable feelings towards her. After all,
he
still enjoyed the reactions of visitors to the house, and it was all much more of a novelty to Nikki.

Josie's exclamations of delight were enough to satisfy any guide; she took great interest in everything she was shown, especially the Long Gallery with its ranks of past Tremaynes gazing down from the walls.

‘Wow!' she breathed. ‘This beats the normal family photo album into a cocked hat! Doesn't it feel weird, having all your relations looking down at you? They all look so stern, too. Except your
mother, of course, she looks a sweetie! And your father looks . . . Well, you can see they were very much in love.'

‘My father was very different in those days,' Linc told her, divining her thoughts. ‘My mother's death shattered him. He's never really got over it.'

‘Oh, poor man!' Josie said with quick and very genuine sympathy, and watching the play of emotions across her face, Linc wished more than ever that Crispin and Nikki had stayed downstairs.

‘This is my favourite,' Nikki called from a little further along. ‘The Third Viscount, St John Tremayne. The black sheep of the family.'

Josie moved along and Linc smiled at her shock as she registered the strong likeness.

‘Oh! For a moment I thought . . . Obviously it isn't, because of the costume, but doesn't he look like you?' she exclaimed, turning to him. ‘Why is he the black sheep? What did he do?'

‘He nearly gambled the family fortunes away,' Nikki answered, gazing up at the portrait. ‘He's very handsome, don't you think?'

‘Hey, no! That's not fair!' Linc protested. ‘You're putting her in an impossible position. Don't answer, Josie.'

Josie turned a little pink but looked up critically at the devil-may-care face on the canvas. ‘Yes, he is handsome,' she admitted after a moment. ‘But I'm not sure he'd be an easy man to know.'

Crispin gave a shout of laughter. ‘Take that as you will!' he told his brother.

‘Well,
I
think he's gorgeous,' Nikki reiterated. She stepped over the ropes and reached up to caress the frame of the picture.

Crispin went after her, gently removing her hands. ‘And
I
think you've had too much to drink.'

‘Maybe I have,' she agreed with a sigh, allowing herself to be guided back on to the central runner.

‘So, what happened to the black sheep?' Josie enquired. ‘Did he see the error of his ways and settle down to raise a huge family?'

‘Not exactly,' Linc said. ‘He was wild to the end and – according to the records – died when a wheel came off his curricle during a race from London to Brighton.'

‘I've often wondered whether someone loosened that wheel,' Crispin remarked thoughtfully. ‘Before old St John gambled the house out from under them.'

Linc shook his head. ‘Oh, no, you don't! I don't mind admitting to a ne'er-do-well, or even a womaniser – like the Fifth Viscount – but I won't have it said that we Tremaynes ever stooped so low as to bump off one of our own!'

‘When are you going to sit for
your
portrait?' Josie asked.

‘Cris and I had one done together as kids but the official one's not usually done until the title is handed on.'

The tour of the house continued, finishing with a look at the servants' quarters, part of which had been restored to their original state for the benefit of the paying visitors, and ending back in the main hall where it had started. Here Josie demurely expressed a wish to powder her nose and was directed to the cloakroom, and Crispin went ahead to the drawing room saying that he would bespeak more coffee.

Left alone with Linc, Nikki drifted round the half-panelled hall, humming and running her fingers over the furniture like a child. She stopped and looked in the mirror above the fireplace, then moving on, picked up an umbrella from the stand in the corner and, apparently inspecting it closely, said suddenly, ‘She's a nice girl, your Josie. I like her.'

‘Good,' Linc said, slightly surprised.

Nikki put the umbrella down and wandered up behind him.

‘But I'm nice too, aren't I, Linc?'

‘Of course you are. Cris is a lucky chap.' He could hear the wine talking and knew from experience that it would be best to humour her.

‘But you had your chance, Linc, and you didn't take it. I would have been good for you. Your father likes me too.' Nikki came round to stand in front of him, gazing soulfully into his eyes from about six inches away.

‘It wouldn't have worked, though,' he said gently. ‘We'd have been at each other's throats all the time!'

She smiled at him, dreamily. ‘Yes, but think of the fun we'd have had making up,' she murmured, and before he could stop her, she slid her arms round his neck and reached up to kiss him full on the lips.

Startled, Linc tried to draw back, but for a moment she clung tightly. She was surprisingly strong and even when he turned his head away she remained draped against him, forcing him to take her weight.

‘Nikki, please!' he protested, trying to extricate himself from her grasp.

Across the hall a door opened and Josie came through, half-checking in embarrassment as she took in the scene. Almost simultaneously, Crispin reappeared from the drawing room.

Trying to shake off the feeling of being part of a staged farce, Linc said lightly, ‘Come and collect your wife, Cris. She's come over all emotional.'

‘I had a feeling this might happen,' Crispin sighed, coming forward. ‘She and Beverley opened a bottle before they came out. Sorry, Bro.'

‘Don't worry about it.' Linc prised Nikki's arms away from his person one at a time and transferred them to Crispin. ‘I'll tell you something – she's a lot stronger than she looks!'

‘She's been going to the gym, haven't you, Niks? Got a personal trainer.'

‘I love Linc,' Nikki told her husband earnestly. ‘And he loves me too.'

‘We all love you,' Crispin said tolerantly. ‘But just at the moment I'd love you more if you weren't standing on my foot. Those heels are lethal! I think perhaps I'll take her home now,' he added over her head to Linc.

At this, Nikki seemed to regain the strength in her legs and stood up very straight. ‘I am home.
This
is my home,' she stated.

‘I'll tell Beverley,' Linc said, moving towards the drawing-room door. ‘Come in and make yourself comfortable, Josie.'

‘Er, actually, I think I'll call it a night, too,' she told him, hanging back. ‘It's been lovely but . . .'

‘Oh, please. At least stay and have a cup of coffee.'

‘No, really. I ought to go. It's getting late and I
have to be in London tomorrow at ten o'clock. I'll just come and say thank you to your father.'

She looked resolute, and Linc didn't try any further persuasion.

After all the usual politenesses had been exchanged, and Crispin had departed for the Lodge with his two ladies, Linc helped Josie into her coat and she accepted his escort to her car.

It was a lovely starlit night but as they descended the steps Linc's mind was on other matters. Although Josie had said nothing to indicate that she was upset, she seemed a little reserved and had hardly made eye contact with him in the last ten minutes.

‘Have you got a job on in London?' he asked as they reached the gravel.

‘Yes. Something I was booked for ages ago. A car launch.'

Her E-type was parked not ten paces from the bottom step and they stopped beside it, both fidgeting awkwardly.

‘I'm sorry about tonight . . .' Linc spoke first.

‘Why? I enjoyed it,' Josie sounded sincere. ‘It was quite an experience. And the house is wonderful. Thank you for showing me round.'

‘Yes, but Beverley was a pain, and Nikki isn't normally like that, you know.'

‘Oh, well. Dad always says you can't choose your relatives. But they were okay, really. I didn't mind.'

‘Are you sure? I thought you seemed a bit quiet at the end there.'

‘I'm a bit tired, and I've got a long day tomorrow,' she said, fishing her car keys out of her bag and jingling them in her hand.

‘Okay, I'll let you go,' Linc said. Her body language was uncertain, so he reined himself in and had to be content with kissing her lightly on the cheek.

As he stepped back she bowed her head, opened the door of the low-slung Jaguar and slid into the driver's seat. Winding the window down, she smiled and thanked him again before gunning the engine and driving smoothly away.

Linc was left very thoughtful. Although she'd said it hadn't bothered her, Nikki's untimely display had definitely been the turning point in Josie's attitude. He was almost sure she'd been intending to stay for coffee until she'd walked in on that little scene.

He wandered back into the house and made his way to the drawing room where he found his father and Mary seated at either end of the sofa. There was nothing remarkable in this, but something about the relaxed way Mary was sitting, with her shoes off and her stockinged feet drawn up beside her, suddenly struck him.

‘I'll say goodnight, then. And thank you.'

‘I like your Josie,' Mary said warmly. ‘She's a lovely girl.'

Linc thanked her, reflecting that it was the second time that evening that Josie had been described as his girl. He found he didn't mind at all, but judging by her demeanour, Josie herself wasn't so sure.

‘You must bring her again,' his father suggested.

‘I will, if she'll come. But it wasn't the most harmonious of atmospheres.'

‘You say she comes from a big family. I should think she'd be used to it. All the same, Beverley was a confounded nuisance, as usual. Don't worry about it. I'm sure Josie won't.'

He seemed more mellow than usual and Linc looked speculatively at Mary. Lay the wind in that quarter? It was food for thought. Nevertheless, he couldn't help wondering if his father would have been so genial if he had known where Linc had arranged to spend the following evening.

LINC THOROUGHLY ENJOYED
his evening at Ledworth greyhound track. Barney was a pleasant companion, and Linc found the charged atmosphere of the stadium on race night exciting. Absorbed in the preparation of the dogs and learning the order of things, he easily forgot his original reason for getting involved and it was with a sense of shock that he rounded a corner and came face to face with Marty Lucas, the unhelpful stadium worker he had met on his previous visit.

The man was wearing an official jacket and badge, and had his hands full of cardboard cartons which he nearly dropped as he collided with Linc in the narrow space behind the stands.

‘Shit! Look where you're fucking going!'

‘Sorry.' Linc made a swift decision to duck his head and carry on past but he couldn't resist looking back when he was well clear and Lucas was still standing there, staring after him with a slightly puzzled expression.

So much for keeping a low profile, Linc thought
as he went on his way. He had no reason to suspect that Lucas was involved in anything illegal but it was quite possible that he'd passed on news of Linc's interest to those who were.
Somebody
must have said
something
to provoke the attack in Shaftesbury. And might well report this second appearance at the track, he supposed gloomily. If he ever found out, Rockley would not be pleased.

Later in the evening, after he and Barney had cheered his first runner to a close second place, Linc spotted Marty Lucas again, apparently having a beer with Sam Menzies at the trackside. He pointed him out to Barney, asking what he knew about him.

‘Marty Lucas? He's Sam's son-in-law, or at least he was until he got divorced last year. He's a lorry driver and does odd jobs here and there. He's a bit of a chancer, but okay so long as you keep on the right side of him.'

It was a bit late for that, Linc reflected ruefully.

A little later, when he was walking back to the van with Barney and his second dog, they met Lucas and Menzies together. The trainer acknowledged Barney with a brief nod and scowled at Linc as he passed. Lucas ignored them both.