Deadfall (35 page)

‘From the diary in the office, like Linc said. It's not a private one.'

‘I see. Well, it's just possible that whoever wrote this note – feeling as he obviously does about Mr Tremayne – might have come to see the results of his mischief-making. You know, the way arsonists like to stay and watch the fire.'

‘Well, I don't
remember
having seen anybody,' she said, frowning. ‘I don't think I even passed a car on the road – it's so narrow you have to pull in and I think I'd remember that.'

‘Hey! What about me?' Pepper had evidently begun to think that even police custody was preferable to remaining tied to a tree.

‘Read him his rights and cuff him,' Diller said to his silent, blond sidekick.

‘You gonna believe everything that ponced-up bastard tells you?' Pepper demanded. ‘Just because his father owns half the fuckin' county?'

‘Are you suggesting that forensics won't find your prints all over that crowbar?' Diller asked. Then, when Pepper's only answer was another bout of swearing, ‘No, I thought not.'

‘I saw someone,' Reagan interjected suddenly. ‘Yeah, I remember now. When I got out of the truck I could have sworn there was someone in the trees at the edge of the copse. It was just like a quick movement, but when I looked again I couldn't see anything. I'd forgotten about it with all this going on.'

The constable pushed his peaked cap back and scratched his head. His expression was openly disbelieving but he said patiently, ‘Well, I suppose we'd better take a statement from you too, Mr Reagan. Exactly where did you think you saw this . . . person?'

By the time Diller and his quiet colleague had finished, Linc had had more than enough of the affair. Pepper was cut free of the rope swing and pushed, protesting, into the police Range-Rover, provisional statements had been taken and signed and eventually the two officers and their prisoner had departed across the common to the road.

Linc looked at Reagan, who was gazing bitterly after the disappearing vehicle.

‘Well, Jack?' he said after a moment. ‘What about this bloody tree?'

Having got his phone back from Nikki, Linc found a number of messages on it, including one from Nina Barclay, asking if he was still okay to ride Hobo on Sunday, and one from Barney Weston, inviting Linc to accompany him to the track again and updating him on the progress of his young greyhound. There was also one from Josie, saying that Sandy had taken delivery of the replacement tack they had all been waiting for and would be at the Vicarage that evening to fit it, if that was convenient.

Returning the calls, Linc confirmed his availability to ride Hobo, ignoring the little voice inside that was telling him that he must be running close to the edge of his father's tolerance where days off were concerned. Josie's phone was switched off but rather than ring the house and risk one of the others answering, he left a message to say he'd certainly be at the stables for Noddy's saddle-fitting.

In the event, he arrived at the Vicarage before Sandy did, and found Hannah sitting in the tackroom eating a packet of crisps. Linc was surprised. She wasn't in the habit of frequenting the stables for fear of being roped into helping out.

‘Hello. Where is everybody?'

‘They're washing up and stuff,' she told him between munches. ‘Sandy's coming about half-past.'

Linc looked at his watch – twenty-past seven – and decided to give Noddy a brush over whilst he waited. He collected his grooming kit and a headcollar and went along to the brown horse's box, followed closely by Hannah who seemed disposed to be chatty.

Noddy was engrossed in a full haynet but turned his head enquiringly as Linc went in. He was still moving stiffly after his fall the previous weekend and Linc was beginning to think that his injuries would have to be investigated further.

As he set to work on Noddy's gleaming coat, Hannah kept up a rather one-sided conversation about anything and everything that came into her busy head. She didn't seem to require any more than sporadic input from Linc and he was listening with no more than half an ear to her disconcertingly sharp observations about the world and people around her when mention of Josie's name made him snap to attention.

‘
What
did you say?' he asked sharply.

‘They say Abby can come home soon. They just want to do a few more tests.'

‘No, after that . . .'

‘Oh. Well, Daddy says it's a shame Josie's got so fond of you because it'll upset Abby if she keeps bumping into you, but they can't really ask you to take Noddy away because of upsetting Josie.' She regarded Linc with her astute brown eyes, probing for a reaction. Apparently it didn't come up to her expectations and she tried again. ‘Personally, I think Abby's a drama queen and should just get over it.'

Linc frowned at her. ‘That's a bit hard, don't you think?'

‘Well, it's obvious it wasn't you who hit her,' she said. ‘Anyone can see that.'

‘Thanks.'

‘Well, you wouldn't need to break in, would you? You've got a key,' Hannah reasoned, brutally frank as always.

Linc hid a smile. ‘Your sister isn't thinking straight at the moment. It's not really surprising after all she's been through, is it?'

‘Hannah!' The shout came from the direction of the house, and as Hannah turned, Linc looked over her shoulder and could see Ruth coming across the yard. ‘Where did you get to, you lazy little cow? One sight of the washing-up cloth and we don't see you for dust!'

‘I was talking to Linc,' Hannah said defensively.

‘Consorting with the enemy,' Linc put in with a touch of bitterness.

‘Oh, Linc, that's not true!' Ruth said reproachfully. ‘No one believes that.'

‘Daddy does,' Hannah announced.

‘No, he doesn't!' her sister exclaimed. ‘And neither does Mum. Don't listen to her, Linc. She's just a troublemaker! And it's high time she grew up and learned to keep her mouth shut!'

He was inclined to agree but the fact remained that Hannah, for all her faults, was invariably truthful, and so he had to believe what she said she'd heard.

The arrival of Sandy's lorry precluded further conversation. As the engine noise died away, he opened the driver's door and jumped out, preceded by Tiger, who homed in on Linc with squeaks of joy, his stumpy tail wagging furiously.

‘Ah, you've got a friend for life there!' Sandy called out, and Linc pulled his foot out from beneath the muscly rump and wished the thought gave him more pleasure.

‘Ruthie m'darlin',' Sandy greeted her, putting
his arm round her shoulders and planting a kiss on her cheek. ‘How are you?'

‘A bit heavy-eyed after last night, to tell the truth. We went clubbing and danced the night away,' she added for Linc's benefit. ‘I haven't done that for absolutely ages!'

‘It was more exercise than
I've
had in years!' Sandy agreed, laughing. ‘But it was good to see you let your hair down.'

They fitted Magic for a saddle first, trying three before Ruth was happy with one, and chatting all the while about Linc's burgeoning eventing career. They had just put a headcollar on Cromwell when Josie finally appeared.

She greeted Linc with a smile and a kiss on the cheek as he stood holding the grey horse, but he thought he detected a slight reserve and signs of strain around her eyes. His heart sank.

Sandy said ‘Hi' to her and took up the conversation where he'd left off. ‘Yeah, I don't think you can really reach the top unless you're a kid with stinking rich parents or you find yourself a sponsor,' he said, agreeing with a remark Linc had made. ‘I'd offer myself but I don't think my level of sponsorship would benefit you much! I might run to the odd sack of horse feed and a set of shoes, but that's about it! Are you going to hop up and try it, missus?' He looked at Josie.

‘I thought Noddy looked a bit sorry for himself this morning,' she said, accepting Linc's offer of a leg up on to Cromwell's back. ‘What are you going to do about his saddle?'

Linc shook his head. ‘We'll have to leave it, I think. I don't really want to sit on him if he's
uncomfortable and we can't fit the saddle properly without.'

‘No problem, I'll hang on to the two I brought for him. I won't have any trouble selling the one you don't want.' Sandy moved the grey horse's mane to get a clear view down the front of the saddle, checking for a good clearance of the spine. ‘How does it feel to you?' he asked, looking up at Josie.

She shifted her weight, settling deeper into the soft leather seat. ‘Can you lead him forward, Linc?'

After a circuit of the yard, she nodded to Sandy. ‘That's fine. Very comfortable. What do
you
think?'

‘It's a very good fit, considering his build. Isn't your mum coming down?'

‘No. She's busy. Said she's happy to leave it to me.'

It seemed to Linc that her answer was just a little too casual and she was careful not to meet his eyes, but it might have been his imagination.

When Sandy had gone, Linc offered to help Josie fill the haynets for the night and Ruth tactfully went up to the house, leaving the two of them alone. Hannah was nowhere to be seen – for which he couldn't help but be thankful.

Josie said little while they stuffed the nets with sweet-smelling hay but afterwards, straightening up and picking bits off her jumper, she asked Linc if he wanted to come up to the house for a cup of coffee.

‘Er . . . no, I think I'd better be getting back.'

She paused, looking searchingly at him. ‘Not because of Mum and Dad?'

Linc couldn't deny it. ‘I don't blame them, but I don't want to make things awkward.'

‘Linc, they don't really think you did it, you
know. What Dad said at the hospital – he was just protecting Abby.'

‘I know he was, but I can't forget the look on his face . . .'

Josie put her arms round his neck and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. ‘Oh, Linc, I'm so sorry. And we were so happy . . .'

Her use of the past tense didn't escape him but he didn't comment on it.

‘I just wish I could figure out why she said it,' he murmured after a moment. ‘What are we missing? Why was she so sure?'

Josie shook her head slightly, then lifted her chin to kiss him.

Linc responded with sudden, leaping passion and when they finally drew apart, gazed deep into her eyes and said, ‘Come home with me?'

There was an infinitesimal withdrawal and Josie's eyes fell. ‘Linc . . .'

Immediately he released her and stood back.

‘No, it's all right. I understand. I've got things to do anyway.'

‘It's just . . . the way things are . . .'

‘It's all right,' he repeated. ‘I'll give you a ring in a day or two.'

He turned away and she didn't call him back.

THAT SATURDAY WAS
Linc's thirtieth birthday.

Having spent the last few years away from home, he'd grown used to birthdays coming and going with the minimum of fuss and, somewhat naïvely, had hoped the same would be true of this one.

Being a public day at Farthingscourt, it was business as usual, although Linc knew his father had a long-standing engagement that meant being in London for the best part of the weekend. So it was that when he called in to the library for what had become their habitual morning meeting, it was more in anticipation of wishing his father a safe journey than in any expectation of a birthday surprise.

‘Hear you had a turn up with Pepper yesterday,' the Viscount began as Linc settled himself into the wingchair opposite his desk. ‘Have we seen the last of him now, d'you think?'

‘For a while, I should imagine. Caught in the act like that.'

His father grunted. ‘Didn't hurt you, did he?'

‘No, but not from lack of trying. I'm just glad he chose a crowbar for a weapon and not a hatchet! I don't think he thought it out very carefully.'

‘And Reagan? What do you make of that?'

Linc hesitated. ‘I'm not sure. If he
was
behind it, it was very clumsily done. But it seemed to me he was completely bewildered by the whole thing. After the police had gone and we could actually get on with looking at the tree, he went from being angry to almost kind of dazed, as if he couldn't quite get his head round it. He didn't try and talk his way out of it or anything.'

‘But they were his initials on the note.'

‘Yeah, but that's what I mean by clumsy. After all, with Pepper in the frame of mind he was, a simple time and place would have sufficed, I would have thought. He didn't really need to take the chance of putting what was to all intents and purposes his name to it.'

‘But why would anyone try and set him up like that?'

‘I wish I knew,' Linc said, sighing. ‘But I can't think Jim Pepper would've bothered to make it up himself.'

‘No.' The Viscount was thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it. ‘Anyway, other business. If I remember rightly, it's your birthday today.'

Linc grimaced. ‘The big three-oh. I'd hoped nobody would remember.'

‘Well, as a matter of fact, it was Mary who reminded me,' his father admitted. ‘But, whatever . . . I decided that rather than buy you some expensive toy that you probably didn't want, I would give
you something a bit more meaningful, so I thought you should have this.' He opened his desk drawer and removed a black drawstring pouch which he passed to Linc. ‘It's been in the bank with the other things. It's up to you what you do with it – wear it or put it back – but by tradition it should belong to the heir.'

Linc took the soft leather bag and pulled the top apart. Tipping it, a heavy gold ring fell out on to his palm, and as he dropped the pouch and turned the ring over he could see the elaborately chased design with the huge emerald at its centre. It was the ring that featured in so many of the portraits in the Long Gallery; most notably that of St John Tremayne, the family black sheep.