Ring of Guilt (21 page)

‘Not particularly,' I said. ‘But I'd like you to tell me how I can make a formal complaint.'

He went white, then scarlet. ‘But we might find them—'

‘You can find them tomorrow, but I shall still want to know how to complain.'

I was through the door and halfway down the corridor when I realized I didn't have a minder. Tough. I'd just find my own way out. If anyone stopped me – the visitor badge hanging round my neck was a bit of a giveaway – then they could do the honours. I stomped on.

At last I heard feet running fast behind me. Turn? Not me. Not even when a voice called, ‘Mrs Townsend? Mrs Townsend!' I didn't know the voice and the voice didn't know my name, so tough.

At last a breathless woman in a good suit overtook me and came to a halt. She'd be about Harvey's age, maybe a bit younger, with flaming red hair and the porcelain skin you'd expect. ‘Mrs Townsend? I'm DCI Webb.'

‘It's Townend,' I said firmly, pressing on. ‘And I'm single.'

‘I'm so sorry:
Miss
Townend
. I'm one of Will Kinnersley's colleagues. I think you're owed an explanation.'

‘
Ms.
And
I'm owed my rings,' I said, coming to a halt.

‘I know. I think you should know that we haven't lost them. We believe they were stolen. They were in a locked evidence store. We took every precaution: they were bar-coded and logged in on a database—'

‘And still got stolen. I'm glad our firm's security's better than yours.'

‘It's an inside job. Believe me, we want to find the perpetrator. Almost as much as you want us to. But this complaint business – is it really necessary?'

I wanted something better than a bald
yes
. What would Harvey say? Flipping her my business card, I said, ‘It gets more necessary by the minute.'

Something else got more necessary by the minute. Where the hell was the door? I bolted for it. I got as far as the immaculate front steps and spewed up my guts.

Which wasn't an expression that Griff or Aidan would have used. Maybe not even Harvey.

Harvey looked at me oddly when I asked him to drive, but said nothing, in a tactful, not uninterested, sort of way.

He got us out of the car park, but pulled over as soon as he could. ‘I guess you wanted to get away from there quickly. But you don't look well . . .' He tailed off, still not asking a direct question.

I stared at my hands, which seemed to have taken on a life of their own, they were shaking so much. ‘You know the expression
you make me sick
. Well, now I know what it means. Not you, of course, not you. Will. He says they've lost my rings. His boss says they've been stolen. And I got sick with rage and forgot to say something really important. To Will. His boss. Whoever.'

He took my hands – they both fitted into one of his. ‘Do you want to go back? I'm happy to come with you – and say anything you want me to say. But please, have a sip of this first.' He produced the bottled water I always keep in the side pocket.

That felt better. So did some of the rather soft chocolate lurking in the glove compartment.

‘Divine,' I said with what felt like a rather stiff smile. ‘Try some. Nice thing is,' I said, pointing to the wrapper, ‘it's Fair Trade. So you can feed your face and know you're helping some other poor sod.'

‘Excellent.' For some reason he started talking about cocoa solids and Christian Aid and all sorts of stuff. At last he stopped. ‘Feeling better?'

‘Much.'

‘Ready to go back?'

I shook my head. ‘There's more than one way of skinning a cat, isn't there? Would you mind if I made a phone call?'

‘I'll leave you to it.' He got out of the van and strolled round to look at the delights of Maidstone's roads.

Titus answered third ring. ‘Not a good time, doll.'

‘One question. D'you know what Dilly's partner does?'

‘Apart from beating her up? This is the bad bit, doll, why I never ever have anything to do with her – right? The bastard's in the filth.' He cut the call.

I got out of the van to join Harvey, who smiled me such welcome that I reached up to kiss him. ‘One more favour: would you mind forgetting I ever made the call?'

‘What call?'

Back in Bredeham, Griff was there to greet us and lock the gates behind us.

Harvey read the situation as if it was a large print book. ‘We've bought quite a lot,' he said, getting out and coming round to my side to help me out. That gave him a mound of brownie points in Griff's reckoning, at least. ‘I'd really welcome your opinion on some of it. Not that Lina would have let me buy any wrong 'uns.'

‘I'll clear the table,' Griff said, bustling indoors.

‘Bless you. I'll sneak off to apply some slap. And I'll choose my moment to tell him about the rings,' I whispered, opening the van and reaching out the first of the plastic boxes.

By the time I looked perky enough to put Griff off the scent a bit, the other boxes were on the kitchen floor. Like Griff and me at Christmas we reached out, unwrapped and admired. Obviously Harvey's haul was far more impressive than mine, but Griff was pleased with what I'd found, especially the Coalport. In fact, he pulled some bubbly out of the fridge.

Which suddenly raised an issue which ought to have been on my mind before. When would Harvey have to leave?

For some reason Griff insisted on cooking for us, so any moments of snogging had to be snatched, and there was no chance of things going further. Despite that, we had the best of evenings, which only ended at midnight – well, it would, wouldn't it? – not when our riches turned to rags, but when Harvey blinked in disbelief at the pretty Georgian bracket clock that Griff simply couldn't bear to sell, even though it was perfect and would have been profitable, as it struck the hour. He was on his feet in an instant.

‘And I've got a meeting in Marlborough tomorrow morning! I promised myself I'd be on the road by seven.'

‘I can open our gates for you at six fifty five,' I said, ‘so you can load your haul straight into your boot.'

Griff smiled. ‘Make it seven fifteen and I'll have breakfast ready for you here.' But he didn't budge from the room, so Harvey and I had to say our goodnights like lovesick kids in the hallway.

‘D
on't think I didn't notice you popping painkillers this morning,' I told Griff as we locked the gates after waving Harvey goodbye. ‘And your face looks quite swollen.'

‘Just a pang, my love. Nothing a bit of that toothpaste for sensitive teeth won't cure. And how about your pangs, at seeing Harvey depart?'

Just the opening I hoped for. ‘Nothing to the pangs at losing my rings,' I said, hooking my hand into his arm and steering him gently back into the warmth of the kitchen.

He stopped short, one foot inside, the other on the step. ‘Your rings? The—?'

‘Come and have some more coffee and I'll tell you all about it . . .'

When I'd finished, he sat and stared. ‘My dear one, have you edited the story to spare my ears? Because if you spoke as assertively as that, without a single expletive, you did extremely well.'

I slammed my fists on the table. ‘Just shut the fuck up about my bad language!' I bit my lip. I shouldn't be taking my temper out on him. But I still sounded angry as I continued, ‘What matters is that some slimy toad of a policeman has stolen my rings from what's supposed to be a secure area. They've gone. Just like that. And you know what, it's not that I've lost something that worries me. It's – well, I just fancied having my name in the British Museum, after all your dear friend Sir Douggie did to us. It'd be a nice rude gesture that only the three of us would understand.' With a grim smile, I looked at him expecting him to return the smile. But his face stayed miserable, as if he didn't dare move it. ‘Come on, that tooth's bad, isn't it? Let me phone the dentist now.'

‘Please don't fuss. You know how I hate dentists. Let's give it a couple of days. Please.'

‘Till tomorrow. OK?' And then I realized he might be pale for another reason. If I couldn't bear leaving Griff, how did he feel about me having a boyfriend who lived so far away? Tooth apart, had he had any sleep? I kissed the top of his head. ‘Now, you always swear by cloves, don't you?' I ran my finger along the spice rack; he insisted on grouping them not in alphabetical order but by the recipes that needed them. ‘Here you are.' I shook a couple into my palm. ‘Pop them in. And I'll make you some soup for lunch while I wait for a phone call from the police.'

He managed a wan smile. ‘A phone call? I'd expect a whole squad of them round here, all on their bended knees . . .'

Peeling the carrots for his favourite soup (carrot and coriander, with fresh coriander on top) gave me a bit too much opportunity to ponder. It was one thing to think I recognized someone, but quite another to prove it. I knew from personal experience how damaging false allegations could be, and one thing that still niggled was that the source of the rumours was none other than someone who as my possible grandfather should have done everything to protect my reputation. However, I didn't owe Dilly Pargetter's partner anything. On the other hand, I couldn't prove he'd tailed me aggressively – and if he had it was hardly a crime. And if I could, where would it get me? A policeman seeing someone with a reputation for handling stolen goods near a valuable site: it was almost his duty to warn me off.

But there was something else. He beat his wife – someone ought to dob him in for that alone. And he'd beaten his wife when she'd sold me the second ring. That didn't necessarily mean anything. As a child I'd seen that domestic abuse could be sparked by anything or nothing.

I really needed to chew this over with someone. Since Griff didn't know about most of my conversations with Titus, it couldn't be him. Mrs Walker was hardly a good listener. Morris had made it pretty clear he didn't want to be involved in my life again, and I liked Penny too much to argue with that. Actually, I liked her enough to wish I could talk to her, and not bother Morris.

And then a huge great smile formed on my face. I could talk to Harvey. But Harvey was on the M4, and even though he had a hands-free system, I didn't want to disturb his concentration.

And the smile disappeared. Not because I was worried about his driving. Because he'd never once mentioned that we'd be seeing each other again – let alone when.

A Toby jug featuring Kitchener's face never was going to be a joy to repair. For some reason I've never been turned on one scrap by Toby jugs, and having to touch up the beak of the man who sent all those young men to their deaths brought back all the terrors of my nightmares in broad daylight. I couldn't keep my hand steady.

‘Dear one, what's wrong?' Griff asked, bringing me a cup of green tea.

‘
Your country needs you!
' I said mockingly. ‘Oh, Griff! All the dreadful things he did.'

‘My dear, yours, to parody another quotation, is not to wonder why, but simply complete the commission. I've always disapproved of ivory, but that doesn't stop us selling netsuke. And take my word for it, if you don't finish it today, it'll be harder to start on it tomorrow. Ah! The phone! It's certain to be the police, my love.'

I went down to the office more slowly than I ought, but I was trying to gather my thoughts so I could string nice formal sentences. So I was really taken aback to hear my father's voice.

‘Lina? That you? Running a bit short of casseroles and things, you know. And I'm quite out of that tea of yours.'

‘I'm bang in the middle of a really shitty job—'

‘Now, my girl, I can't help agreeing with that old queer of yours – not the sort of expression a young lady should use. So I'll see you this afternoon, shall I? You can bring him too if you like.'

‘He's got toothache.'

‘Do him good, a bit of fresh air.'

‘And the casseroles won't be home-made.'

‘Get some frozen ones. Won't tell anyone.'

‘Tomorrow morning at the earliest,' I said at last. Griff was right about that jug. If I didn't finish today it'd go right to the back of the queue and offend a valued customer who had at least another thirty of the dratted things on her shelves.

Griff had looked quite cunning as I put the idea to him; at a guess, he saw a chance of dodging the dentist one more day. And he actually cooked a couple of curries and a casserole for my father, so I could get on with the dratted jug. I had no interruptions, either from the police or from Harvey. I didn't care about the one, but was getting quite upset about the other. All the same, I'd always worked on the principle that if you have a lovely day, like the one I had yesterday, you often have to pay for it with a really bad one. So I bit my lip and concentrated on Kitchener's face.

I was just washing my hands before supper when two things happened at once. The phone rang. There was also a knock on the front door. I chose the phone, taking the call in the privacy of the office.

Harvey!

‘Darling Lina! I'm so sorry! I haven't had a moment to call you all day. A crash on the M4; meeting; endless lunch; meeting. And someone who really did not like my valuation and tried to tell me – well, you know what they're like, when they think they've got a swan and it's hardly even a goose. Now, tell me about your day.'

It didn't sound any more exciting when I recounted it than it did while I was living it. ‘But it'll be fun going over to Bossingham Hall tomorrow,' I said, trying to sound upbeat.

‘Bossingham Hall? Rings a bell somewhere.'

I gave him a text book description of the place, without going too much into my personal connections.

‘No, it's not its architectural merits,' he mused. ‘Something else. It's dancing round the back of my mind . . . But it won't replace you . . .' From that point the conversation was the sort that's nice for the people taking part but either boring or embarrassing for anyone else.