Ring of Guilt (29 page)

My turn to bite my lip. ‘You'll have noticed that Harvey wasn't wearing a jacket at supper time. It wasn't because he found the central heating too hot. It was because someone had doused it in bleach. Aimed for me. I wasn't going to tell you in case it upset you. And now it has.' I allowed a drop more brandy to fall into his glass.

‘The police know?'

‘Yes. And I'm afraid they're going to have to know about X and about Douggie.' But not, if I could help it, about Titus. ‘I bet he doesn't like the fact that Douggie means something
so
not respectable on the streets.' I explained.

‘At least you've found something to cheer me up,' he said, chortling.

‘And at least you're not scratching and your face has gone down,' I said, ‘so there are two more reasons to be cheerful. But there is just one more thing, Griff. What's Harvey done to get up your nose?' I waited. ‘Do you know something I should know? Like he's married?'

He shook his head. ‘I don't know anything, anything at all. But he's a good deal older than you and is clearly a man of the world, as we used to say. Most of all,' he added with a funny little smile, ‘he wanted you to leave Tripp and Townend and join his firm.'

‘And I told him – and you – right at the start that I wouldn't.'

‘But that was before you started to fall in love with him.'

‘And that was before I had this divvy thing,' I whispered, crouching beside him so I could bury my face in his shoulder. ‘Not about a plate or a ring or anything. About Harvey. I heard this voice in my head, wondering what he'd tell his wife about the jacket. My divvy voice. I told myself it wasn't working, because it hadn't taken me to anything I should buy. But it was.'

‘And have you asked him?'

I pulled away gently. ‘Not yet. I'm waiting for the moment. I don't think I'd want to be in his company too much if he is, because I really do fancy him and you know I don't do married men. Full stop. We're going to take those photos to Bossingham Hall tomorrow, remember, so I'll wait until that's out of the way.'

Griff nodded reflectively. ‘It'll be interesting to see what Elham makes of him. He's an old soak, just like X, but, again, just like X, he does have these extraordinary moments of insight. And in his own weird way he loves you, my child.' He looked me straight in the eye. ‘And that's another reason why you won't leave Kent, isn't it? Because you don't want to leave him.'

I kept him waiting a long time. Even that bloody clock struck. ‘I certainly don't want to leave him to his own devices. Not halfway through my restoration project. He'd go back under within a week without someone to keep an eye on him. And I could scarcely ask you to.'

‘You know, if I thought you were really happy with Harvey, in Devon or wherever, I just might. But he's not a project, loved one. He's your own flesh and blood.'

I helped him to his feet so I could hug him. ‘He's not my family though, is he?'

There was no point in setting off very early to Bossingham Hall, so I called Freya and told her about Douggie. She heard me through, occasionally stopping to check a fact.

‘And this all started then?'

‘Assuming the non-body was a false start, yes. It was the day after our meeting with Sir Douggie that I attracted Will's notice.'

‘And then you attracted it in a rather different way. OK, I don't suppose anyone ever died of a broken heart. So this Sir Douggie's top end of the market, and would know the Broad-Ticemans. Ought to be Broad-Ticemen, oughtn't it? As it happens, I've sent Will round to look at their place this morning, to check on that bowl. OK, it's fine art, not heritage, but what the hell . . . I shouldn't imagine he'll be long. Will you be on this number?'

‘No. I shall be out on family business. And Griff will be at the dentist's. As for Mrs Walker, who knows?' We shared a laugh. ‘But you can always try my mobile. Freya, I know you won't want to tell me, but have you run Mason to earth yet?'

‘I don't, and we haven't.'

‘Have you really, really hunted near the place where we found the body, Will and I? Because – I don't know why. All that ground cover, I suppose . . . Not a lot of CCTV cameras, either,' I said with more conviction. ‘And maybe more treasure . . . And Freya, just one more thing. And this is really, really important. Get the latest on Bernie Winters' health. I know he's on sick leave, you see . . .'

‘Any moment I'm going to have you down as one of those nutcases that phones in with helpful suggestions about where we can find Madeleine McCann,' she said.

‘I know. But all the same.'

She covered the phone and spoke to someone.

‘Any moment I will,' she said. ‘But not quite yet.'

I'd phoned to warn my father that I should be bringing the digitally enhanced photos I'd promised, plus the man who owned the originals. I didn't mention the cake and biscuits Griff had provided, and didn't warn him about the Beamer, because I'd assumed I'd be driving our van. But if Harvey was prepared to risk his suspension on that track, who was I to argue?

‘Does all this ring any bells, Harvey?' I asked, as he picked his way towards the house, the car making much less of a meal of the jolts than the van did.

‘None at all. I was born and bred down in Devon and tend to regard Kent as outer darkness. And as for the photos, you've seen they're all taken too close to walls to get any idea of the building as a whole.' As the full glory of the house hit him, he gasped. ‘This is lovely, isn't it? And it might be yours, one day?'

‘Not a chance. It's all owned by trustees, even the part my father lives in. And when he dies, it will revert to them.'

‘You don't get a bean, then. What a shame.'

‘Thanks to Griff I've got a damn sight more beans than I had when I was a kid,' I said, not thinking I needed to tell him about the money in trust for all my father's offspring, not just me. ‘And with the skills his friends taught me I can always earn more. So long as people keep breaking things. Do you want me to tackle the crack in that Famille Rose plate, by the way?'

‘I was afraid you'd never ask. I'll leave it with you before I go back to Devon.'

So he did intend to keep in touch with me. Had he bought a damaged plate so he had a reason to? An excuse, if he had a wife? Damn that idea, for insisting on popping up, even as he was helping me out of the car and kissing my hand as he did so.

My father, standing on the front step, must have seen the gesture, but didn't remark on it. He was decidedly cleaner than usual, freshly shaved and wearing his London outfit. He was even reasonably sober.

‘I've found some more photos to compare yours with,' he said, showing us into his living room. Already on the table were the trinkets he'd shown me before, minus the Cartier watch. Presumably he was keeping that on one side until he'd decided whether Harvey really was Nanny Baird's true heir. I passed him my magnifying glass, and wandered off to make tea, because, family reminiscences not being exactly my thing, I thought I'd feel a great deal more comfortable in the kitchen.

I was waiting for the kettle to boil and trying to decide what I felt when I had a phone call. ‘Will?'

‘Tell me exactly where I ought to find that tea bowl,' he said.

I did. He cut the call.

Now that was interesting.

At last I was ready to carry the tray back through, with the jasmine green tea that was my father's grudging favourite. My father liked good china cups – in fact he refused point blank to use a collection of thick mugs someone had long ago left in the kitchen – and I'd unearthed enough Minton plates to make the whole thing quite jolly. It'd get even more festive if the vintage champagne I'd spotted in the fridge was called for.

Another phone call. ‘Are you sure that's where it should be?'

‘Positive.'

‘Interesting. Because all I've got is a ring of dust. Can't get the staff, can you?' End of call.

The two men were shaking hands warmly when I pushed the door open, but Harvey sprang away to take the tray from me.

‘One thing I can't get hold of is this name of yours,' my father said, as if he'd not noticed my presence. ‘Sanditon. What sort of name is that?'

‘My real name's not very user-friendly. I was christened Ronald Harvey Biggs. And I think you'll find Ronnie Biggs isn't the best name to trade under. My mother was a Jane Austen freak. Hence Harvey Sanditon.'

‘The unfinished novel, the one most concerned with trade,' I said.

‘God, and you pretend you're uneducated!' he said with affectionate irritation. ‘I wish she was
my
daughter, sir.'

Daughter! What sort of Freudian slip was that when it was at home?

‘She's mine and I'm proud of her.' My father nodded with pride across the room. No, I mustn't expect a hug or anything like it.

‘Do you have any daughters, Harvey?' I asked, my voice as even as I could make it.

Harvey went ivory white.

Even my father noticed and pushed a chair forward, not one he'd cleaned, unfortunately.

Harvey didn't sit, but gripped the back. ‘Just a son. Very good at cricket.'

‘You should talk to Griff about him. He's passionate about the game.' My lips were still working quite nicely. Perhaps I should be grateful for those bloody divvy's premonitions. ‘So you are Nanny Baird's relative. What a weird coincidence.'

‘No. Nothing's proved. You can't see the whole of the toddler's face in any of them. OK, it's likely. But it'd never convince a lawyer. And we've agreed neither of us needs convincing either way. It's just a nice theory.'

My phone again. Freya. ‘There's been an interesting development or two. Care to come over?'

‘I'd need a lift. I'm out in Bossingham, in Lord Elham's wing of Bossingham Hall. Not the main drive, up a little track off Mann's Hill.'

‘Could you bear it if I asked Will to collect you?' She didn't wait for an answer.

‘I could—' Harvey began.

‘It could take forever,' I said. ‘And I know you've got to tackle the dreaded A303.' Should I take a risk? ‘If you want to drop off the plate at the shop I'll fix it for you. I can return it next time Griff and I are in Devon. Powderham or Matford?'

He nodded. ‘I'd best be off, then.'

My father looked at the unused tea things, but said nothing. He heaved himself to his feet. ‘We'll see you out.' He offered me his hooked arm, and we progressed to the front door together, standing on the bottom step to wave our guest goodbye.

When we were back in his living room, he said, quite huskily, ‘That was a terrific performance, my girl. Stiff upper lip and all that.'

‘How did you know?' I asked numbly.

‘That old bugger Griff, of course. Saw this Ronnie Biggs' picture in some magazine at the dentist's. With his wife. Phoned me. But you knew anyway?'

‘Inspired guess.'

He shook his head. ‘More like what you do with the china. Talking of which, I could do with a bit more bubbly. Hang on, before you go walkabout, you should try this for size.' He dug in his pocket and produced a leather covered box. ‘Was going to save it for your birthday, but you earned it today. No, I wouldn't have let anyone else have it even if he could have dotted all the i's and crossed all the t's. Here you are. What the bloody hell's that racket? The damned house isn't on fire, is it?'

Just Will, employing blues and twos. The walkabout would have to wait. But at least I managed to put my arms round my father's neck and give him a hug. He even patted my back lightly in return.

Not every one travels to a police station with a Cartier watch round her wrist. I pulled my sleeve down over it, in case anyone wanted to accuse me of nicking it. Will told me he was under instructions to say nothing of what was going on, but it was clear he was as pleased as I was to have found a spot that just fitted the tea bowl base. SOCOs were happily recording all their findings, according to Will.

Freya swept in to greet us both in a conference room, one with all those clever electronic screens showing what people should be looking at. ‘How well do you know your Shakespeare, folks? Lina?'

What sort of question was that? It hadn't been a very easy day so far, and I was tempted to tell her where to put her stupid test. But she was clearly bubbling with something, and although the topmost file of the pile she'd dumped on a table clearly said BUDGET I didn't think it was with the joys of accounts.

‘It depends which play,' I said without a smile.

‘
Hamlet
. The bit where Claudius is talking about his wedding to whats-her-name?'

‘Gertrude,' Will prompted. ‘. . .
The imperial jointress to this warlike state
. . .'

‘Yes! That's the good thing about you graduate fast-tracked people, you know your stuff.
With an auspicious and a dropping eye.
Two conflicting emotions. Which is what we've got here.'

She waited while the room filled up with other officers, one or two of whom I recognized from the fair. Not PC Acne, and not Bernie Winters. ‘Firstly, I have to give you all some bad news. PC Winters, known to a lot of you as Bernie, has died. He was suffering from liver cancer. But he didn't die of it. He killed himself. Because he'd committed a crime no police officer should ever commit. He'd killed someone. Chris Mason. We found both the bodies by the site near Ottinge that we've all been protecting because of its national importance. Mason was strangled; Bernie hanged himself.'

Someone asked, ‘Why should he—?' But, covering his mouth, sprinted off without waiting for an answer.

Freya looked at me.

‘Night hawking?' I suggested. ‘Bernie loathed night hawks. Worse than just thieves, he said. They desecrated graves, like the one Will and I found by accident.'