Ring of Guilt (27 page)

More embarrassed than I was, I think, he did as I asked.

‘And it means?'

He explained. Then he said, ‘To hear you no one would know you were an autodidact . . . That's—'

‘I know that one! But I told you, I'm not self-taught so much as Griff-taught. And it was he who taught me my . . . probity. How to be . . . I don't suppose there's a describing word, an adj-whatever-it-is, from probity? Probous?'

He put his head back and laughed. ‘If there is, I don't know it. And I was educated at Eton and Oxford. Lina, do you tell everyone so much about yourself?'

‘Only people I like and trust. I don't want them to like me on false pretences. My false pretences, not theirs, I mean. You're taking a risk for me. I'm taking a risk trusting you with all this.
Quid pro quo,
' I ended triumphantly.

‘You see that lay-by there? Just pull over, will you?'

I did as he asked. ‘Why?'

‘Because, darling Lina, since nine o'clock this morning I've wanted to kiss you, and I can wait no longer.'

There was a lot of police activity round the hotel, and when I found the ladies' loos still cordoned off I drew the logical conclusion – whatever injury poor Dilly had suffered it was probably not self-inflicted. As if I'd ever believed it might have been . . .

Harvey put his arm round me and pulled me close, dropping a comforting kiss on my head. ‘It's about time the police updated you,' he said, as we made our way to the Tripp and Townend display.

As if on cue, Freya Webb bounded over, stopping short as she saw Harvey. I introduced them formally. ‘Harvey thought that after my name was so impugned yesterday, I might need some support,' I added, my chin raised a little. I was quite pleased to have remembered that nice word
impugned
, too.

He nodded. ‘Accusations like that can ruin the purest reputation. It's an honour to stand shoulder to shoulder with her.'

She looked as if she suspected that more than shoulders were involved, but smiled. While Harvey looked at all the pieces for sale, nodding occasionally to himself, I asked, ‘What's the latest on Dilly? Not to mention Chris Mason?'

‘They're still hoping she'll make it. But she lost a lost of blood, as you saw.'

‘Is selling a ring enough to make anyone want to kill someone? Let alone your wife?'

‘As I'm sure your aware, domestic violence doesn't operate on the level of logic. Could I just ask you to explain that business of the pendant once more?'

‘Might have been p . . . paranoia on my part. But I was worried about the secrecy she wanted. A lot of deals are confidential.' I flicked a smile at Harvey. ‘But this was secretive. And involved cash and no receipts. That isn't how Griff and I function. Ever. Absolutely everything we do is logged.' X's contributions apart, of course. ‘That's why I asked DI Morris for advice.'

‘So you really expected someone to frame you?'

‘Yes. So although the tea bowl business was a shock, it wasn't a surprise. If you see what I mean.' I added, for Harvey's benefit, ‘Lowestoft, Good Cross Chapel. And I'd seen it before, at the Broad-Ticemans' place. Or its twin.' I'd never even thought of that. My poor blancmange brain! ‘There must be others floating round in fairs like this. Bloody things. And why on earth should the B-Ts be in cahoots with Mason?'

She blinked. ‘They needn't be. They could have simply had the same devious idea.'

‘Bit of a coincidence,' I muttered.

‘So you suspected it was a plant,' Freya said, making a little winding gesture to get the conversation back where she wanted it. ‘That's why you didn't touch it?'

‘Absolutely.'

Her smile was pretty bleak. ‘You were right not to have done. It was clinically clean. More than just a polish-with-a-duster clean.'

I pulled a face. ‘Wouldn't there be the odd bit of DNA on it?'

‘Only a bit. A hair from the Community Support Officer. But nothing, repeat nothing else.'

Harvey joined in. ‘I hope whoever got it that clean didn't damage the bowl in the process. If it was in good condition it was worth – what, five hundred pounds? Maybe more?'

‘I didn't look all that closely, but yes. And it looked perfect. Have you run to earth the guy who planted it? I know the CCTV pictures weren't great, but—'

‘He pops up, but again, not very clearly, on your Mrs Walker's camera pictures,' she said, pulling a face. She looked around. ‘I take it you gave her the morning off?'

‘No. No, actually I haven't spoken to her today. I assumed she was with her new boyfriend, Mr Banner. They may just have lost track of time. She's never let us down yet,' I added, a frown appearing of its own accord. ‘Of course, she might just be caught in traffic.'

‘On a Sunday?'

‘And the doors aren't open to the public yet. This is her first fair – she might not know you should get in early.'

‘Let me know if she doesn't come – say, within the next half hour. I can understand that you might not wish to disturb love's young dream, but I wouldn't have the slightest compunction.'

Another nice word. No time to worry about that now, however. ‘Have you . . .' I searched for the police formula ‘. . . any reason to believe he's not kosher?'

She smiled grimly. ‘Maybe I'm just paranoid too.'

I could have sworn she looked over my shoulder at Harvey. Perhaps he thought so too. He produced his card. ‘You might want to check me out too. I don't know if it's relevant, but because I do some voluntary work, I've had to have a Criminal Record check too. Negative,' he added with a smile that didn't so much as flicker towards the smug end of the spectrum.

She nodded. ‘As a matter of interest, Lina, do you happen to know where Mrs Walker met her new boyfriend?'

‘He came into the shop,' I said slowly. ‘And he was so pleased to see her here. Took her for a very long lunch. And then she came asking to have time off so she could have her hair done on Tuesday when they planned their first date.'

‘Let's just hope their affair moved rather quicker than she expected, then,' she said, and turned to move away.

Not yet she couldn't. ‘Freya, you never answered my question about Chris Mason. Did you run him to earth? No? And would you mind my asking if the five hundred pounds I gave Dilly just before the assault on her ever came to light?' She didn't need to answer either question. ‘A man can get a long way with that much cash in his pocket.'

‘True. He won't need a cash machine yet. And he may avoid using his mobile phone. But we've still got a few tricks up our sleeve, Lina – surveillance cameras. Number recognition cameras. We'll pick him up soon. Don't worry. Ah! The paying public.' She turned back for a moment, dropping her voice. ‘We've put out a statement about the assault on Dilly, but haven't mentioned you at all. With luck, the other stall holders will be so irritated at having to traipse through the hotel for alternative loos you won't figure in any conversations at all. If they do, well, we'll just have to hope that having Mr Sanditon here will allay everyone's fears.'

If there'd been punters for everyone else and none for me, he might have had to. But there was hardly anyone around yet.

‘Tell me about this Lowestoft tea bowl,' he said, ‘and the Broad-Ticemans.'

I gave a quick resumé.

He nodded. ‘You've seen that they've got a lot of money tied up in the property and in paintings?'

‘They're rich,' I exploded. ‘Bloody rich.'

‘Only if they can sell their assets. The way the market is now they may actually be suffering cash poverty.'

‘Poor things,' I said, not very sincerely, perhaps because I knew at first hand about the commoner sort of poverty. ‘But why try to get at me? What had I ever done to them? We inhabit different worlds. No competition, no rivalry. She played with me like a cat playing with a pretty dim mouse.'

‘First, you're pretty but not dim. Secondly, I've known bored young women like her do odd things simply because they have the power to do them. You might have been imagining the whole camera and DNA thing; she might just have wanted to show you things and have some company for lunch. And when you pulled out, she got miffed and decided to teach you a lesson. Or not. Simply behaved as she usually does, with no consideration.'

‘Are they and Lady P best buddies?' Lady P sounded so much more grotesque than the name I'd really known her by, Nella.

‘I've never seen them in each other's company. Nor am I likely to now. And not just because Lady Petronella's in prison. Afterwards, no one would want to be tarred with her brush. Knowingly fencing, forging provenances, ringing silverware . . . She's rather brought the whole profession into disrepute, hasn't she? And you can't rub shoulders with people like that without calling your own honesty into question.' As if to reassure me that that didn't apply to me, he put his arm round my shoulder and kissed me. What Griff, even my father, would have made of such public displays I dreaded to think.

Although we certainly didn't need Mary Walker to fight back the hordes descending on the stall, Webb's official anxiety was infectious, and I caught myself looking regularly at my watch.

‘Why don't you simply phone the woman? You're her boss, after all.' Harvey changed the angle of a plate by a millimetre.

‘I know I am. Mind you, everyone assumes it's the other way round. Funny, I can't get round to calling her Mary. She was a teacher,' I added. ‘Retired and lost her husband almost immediately.'

‘Did she talk him to death? Go on, phone her. No need to sound headmistressy.' He watched as I fished out my mobile. ‘Now what are you doing?'

He might as well have the truth. ‘I'm practising what I want to say, in case I have to leave a message.'

‘Everyone I know leaves garbled messages.'

‘I want to get them right.'

Sure enough, I was switched to voicemail. ‘Good morning, Mrs Walker. Lina here. I'm just a bit worried that I haven't seen you today. It's not a problem if you can't make it – but just phone me back when you get this to say you're OK. Bye.'

‘Very good. You could give lessons.' He was about to kiss me again when he said, ‘Punter approaching from your left?' He stepped back and let me take centre stage.

It wasn't the man who'd left the tea bowl, but another, equally nondescript one. It wasn't a piece of china he held in his hand. It was a squeezy bottle. And it was pointing at me.

‘D
arling, it was a choice between my suit and your face. No contest. Now, are you sure he didn't get you?'

We were lying on the floor, me on my back and Harvey on top of me, in the cramped space behind the display area where he'd pushed me away from the jet of bleach. It was all too clear that in other circumstances he'd have enjoyed it very much indeed. Actually, I would too. At last he moved enough for me to roll away and on to all fours. On the other side of the display table there was a lot of yelling. I crawled beneath to see what was going on. Mistake. All I could see was feet, a lot of them: if I twitched the pleated fabric modesty panel, goodness knows how many pieces of china I would pull off.

At last, both of us picking our way round some splashes that were rapidly giving the carpet the clean of its life, we got to our feet. Harvey shed his jacket and sniffed.

Bleach. At least it wasn't acid. Meanwhile, the scuffle had moved from our stall to way down the room. Punters were pressed up against stalls – at least one man was trying to nick something from a display under cover of all the chaos.

Without stopping to think, I hurtled towards him. ‘Stop, thief!'

That improved everything no end. Or not. By the time I got there the brooch or whatever was back where it should be, and everyone close by looked as if not even Benecol would melt in their mouths. At least the stall holder had time to lock the case – idiot, leaving it open in the first place. And I was close enough to see that under a pile of navy blue was the guy with the bleach bottle.

I assumed he'd have to stay there till he was cuffed. But somehow he was using the scrum to ease himself free.

In his dreams.

A great rococo brass candlestick found its way into my hand. As soon as I could get in there, his skull would feel it. With luck it'd be the last thing he'd ever feel. There was just that candlestick and his skull in the whole world.

Until someone grabbed my arm. A voice said, ‘Don't be a bloody fool. We need him to talk, woman. Just behave yourself.'

I couldn't not. I was in an arm lock myself, and I knew from bitter experience that, bar fighting very dirty indeed, there was nothing I could do to free myself. But then the candlestick was gone, and my arm was my own again. Harvey was gathering me up and holding me tightly, but it was a hug, not a restraint. The police had the man I'd been ready to kill on his feet and there was a sudden silence.

‘OK,' Freya yelled. ‘Fun's over, everyone. Just carry on spending your money!'

Would they hell. Not with all that lot to talk over. What was really needed was someone with a bit of initiative printing off a load of T-shirts saying,
I SURVIVED THE BLEACH BOMBER.
I had a nasty feeling that Harvey and I were about to become the focus of everyone's attention. We couldn't even retreat to the quiet of our stall because it was suddenly an official crime scene. Where the white paper suit brigade had popped up from, and so promptly, too, I'd no idea.

So we had to act normal, even if neither of us felt like it. I turned to him with a smile. ‘I didn't know you could do arm locks.'

‘I can't. I don't. This guy suddenly appeared from nowhere, disarmed you, and then vanished. Weird. But thank God he did. What the hell were you thinking of, Lina?' There was an edge to his voice I'd never heard before.