Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (42 page)

‘If you’d been here, you heinous old wretch, this would never have happened.’

Drawing her fist back, Lucinda punched her full on the jaw.

Martha staggered back, but Lucinda came on, punching and hitting until Martha’s legs buckled and gave way, and falling back, sprawled down across the floor.

Panting above her, she was about to kick when she heard the sound of plodding footsteps on the path outside, and swinging round, saw Arthur as he pushed the kitchen door open, but he stopped the moment he saw the scene.

‘Oh, so it’s you, is it? Well do come in. Come over here and see me.’

Hesitating, he swallowed hard and walked cautiously across the room.

‘Arthur, as I was just explaining to your useless sister, if you’d been here, Christiana would never have got away, now would she?’

‘No ma’am.’

‘Well then, you know what you have to do now, don’t you. So spread your legs.’

Looking at her imploringly, he tensed and spread his legs wide apart.

Gazing down to his crotch, she stepped closer, and with a determined look on her face, brought her knee up between his legs, just as hard as she could.

Arthur stood motionless for a second, but when the unimaginable pain convulsed him, he sank to his knees, vomit spewing out through his swollen mouth.

Glaring at them, she took a bottle of wine and walked away to the terrace.

‘And don’t bother getting up. I can look after myself… And do you know why..? It’s because I bloody well have to. So what’s the point in having servants?’

Stripping off, she settled on the swing seat, and as she drank, her thoughts wandered.

When she left this morning, Chrissy was chained and handcuffed to the bedposts, and the only keys were on her gun belt - and there was no way she could have reached them.

The bitch could hardly move, let alone reach up to the cowgirl outfit.

So the only answer that made any sense, was that someone had come here to rescue her, but who the hell could it be?

Thinking back, she remembered looking for the Goodwin girl, and had been amazed to find Chrissy at Hawthorn Cottage.

And she’d wondered at the time why that place had become the centre of the universe.

But maybe Christiana had been staying there all the while, and had just conveniently bumped into her at Cheltenham, and if that were true, her friends would know she was staying at the farm, and where to come and find her.

It was possible, but having rescued her, would they have taken her back to the cottage?

Maybe, if they thought it safe enough, and there was only one way to find out.

But she wouldn’t go back until evening, and if she was there, finish her off on the spot, and if those other vipers were with her, she would deal with them as well.

Later, when the sun was beginning to slip away, she heard footsteps on the terrace, and seeing the twins hobbling towards her, waved her arm to an imaginary audience.

‘Oh, look everyone, it’s the servants, and they’ve finally come to tend to their mistress, now isn’t that just frigging wonderful.’

Stopping at a safe distance, they stood quietly as Lucinda ranted away to them.

‘Now listen. I’ll give you two idiots, just one more chance, but if you screw this up, I may have to look elsewhere for staff, am I understood?’

They nodded, and stayed silent. They’d heard that threat a hundred times before.

‘Well tonight we’re going to find Chrissy. So Arthur, you will check both the Morris and the Land Rover, and you, Martha, will need your posh clothes and your tourniquet.’

41

As Stanley Teach sat in the crowded pub with his crossword, the door crashed open and there stood Ted Willis, his barrel chest heaving.

‘She’s gone, you bunch of bastards, and someone’s going to pay for it.’

Silence descended, foaming pints of beer coming to a halt in mid-air, eyes staring with apprehension as nervous people glanced to each other.

Ted Willis was roaring drunk and in a fighting mood.

People began to whisper, ‘Is it the anniversary of Maggie’s death?’

Surely not, but if it was, this was definitely the wrong place to be.

The landlord broke out in a prickly sweat as Ted lurched off the wall and began to stumble towards the bar, chairs toppling over as people divided left and right, drinks sliding and falling from jostled tables, women beginning to whimper while others called for the men to throw him out.

Then a burly young man with the courage of too much beer, pushed through to him, but even as his friends tried to drag him back, Ted swung his massive fist and caught him full on the jaw, and as he dropped like a stone, the mood turned vicious and ugly, the young man’s friends coming forward with broken bottles and glasses.

Moving quickly through the crowd, Stanley Teach stood directly in front of him.

‘Ted Willis, you’re a bloody disgrace, so why don’t you bugger off home.’

Ted swayed and looked down bleary-eyed to the old man, ‘What did you say?’

‘You heard.’

Ted stared, but the old man stood firm.

He’d known Ted all his life and he didn’t want his face glassed, and anyway, he was too drunk to fight.

‘So what would your Maggie say about this?’

Quite suddenly, Ted just crumpled, ‘She wouldn’t like it.’

‘No, she wouldn’t. So come on. Get yourself home.’

Lucinda drove the Morris down to the bottom of The Mumbles, and parking in the evening shadows, watched as Arthur drove the Land Rover through the gate of the meadow that backed onto the row of cottages.

‘Now then, Martha, you should know what to do by now, I’ve told you enough times.’

‘Yes ma’am. We’re doing a survey about cosmetic experiments on helpless animals. I let you do the talking, and when you’ve sprayed them, I finish them with the tourniquet and Arthur carries them down the back garden and takes them home in the Land Rover.’

Checking Christiana once more, Dmitri was so pleased that she looked more peaceful, and adjusting the duvet on the cradle over her feet, tiptoed out of the bedroom.

Stopping on the landing, he checked his watch and wondered where Ted was, and going through to the front bedroom, looked out, but all he saw were two smartly dressed women on the other side of the road holding clipboards as they went from cottage to cottage.

Watching, he saw them knocking on the doors and asking many questions, and crossing over the road, they knocked on Ted’s door, and he ignored it, but when the knocking went on and on, he hurried down the stairs.

It was dimly lit in the porch, so when Dmitri opened the door, all he could see were two very English looking ladies, both immaculately dressed and holding their clipboards as if offering them, while gushing all the time to the point of the nicest apology.

But Lucinda had been suddenly caught off guard.

Standing in the pale light of the doorway was none other than the foreign man who a few hours ago had caused a problem with the girl’s cakes, just when she was trying to steal her.

Steadying her nerves, she realised this confirmed her suspicions that Hawthorn Cottage was at the heart of a conspiracy against her, and the sooner it was cleaned out the better.

Calming herself, she casually pulled down the slant of the wide brimmed hat.

‘Good evening. We’re desperately sorry to disturb you, but we’re campaigning for the abolition of unnecessary experiments on animals. It’s the cosmetics, and we would be eternally grateful if you could spare a few moments to answer some simple questions, but it won’t take long, and it’s such a worthy cause, because the ghastly things they do to these poor darlings is absolutely appalling, don’t you agree?’

Dmitri was aware of the woman’s shrill babbling voice, and glancing to the stairs, put his hand up to refuse, but as he tried to close the door it bumped against Lucinda, and moving forward, she blocked the doorway, ‘Only two minutes, please …’

He sighed, knowing the insistent babbling of this woman might just waken Christiana.

‘Da, two minute.’ He pointed to the lounge, ‘But quiet.’

Smiling, she stepped past him with Martha following on close behind her, and when Dmitri turned to softly close the door, the two women nodded to each other, and snapping open her handbag, Lucinda held the can of Mace to the back of his head, and when he turned round, sprayed directly into his face.

Dmitri jerked back, and for just a moment stood bolt upright as the agonising pain took his breath away, and with his hands clawing wildly at his face, his eyes bulged in tears as he became temporarily blind, his chest heaving, his senses out of control as he coughed and gagged, his knees buckling as he sagged and slowly knelt down to the floor.

Martha smiled as she watched him, and opening her bag, took out the tourniquet.

It had been fashioned by hand in Arthur’s workshop, and was a work of art that could kill someone as simply as simple could be, being a strong cord with an eyelet at each end, and when the six inch rod of English oak was passed through them, it formed a deadly loop.

Dmitri knew nothing when Martha moved round behind him and gently slipped the cord over his head, and with it around his neck, began to rotate the rod, with Lucinda watching in satisfaction as the cord twisted and tightened with every turn of Martha’s wrists.

But Lucinda’s thoughts suddenly crashed when she remembered him saying,
Da.

Da was
Yes
in Russian.

So why was Christiana, an American, working with a Russian at Hawthorn Cottage?

It made no sense, but whatever their game was, she just had to know.

‘Martha. Stop …’

She faltered, ‘But I thought you wanted them dead, ma’am.’

‘I do, but not yet. These two have a lot of explaining to do.’

‘Oh, I see. So what are we going to do with them?’

‘We’ll have to take them back, but put them in the annex behind the holiday cottage, they won’t get out of there.’

Martha smiled, ‘Well no-one ever has, ma’am, not the way you’ve had it built.’

Removing the tourniquet, Martha dragged him through to the kitchen and began to search the lower rooms, but the cottage seemed empty.

Pointing to the stairs, Lucinda held the can of Mace ahead of her and began to climb with Martha following closely up the narrow staircase, the tourniquet held ready.

Treading lightly, they checked the front bedroom and bathroom, but both were empty, and when they stepped into the darkened back bedroom, that also seemed empty, until looking more closely, they froze, because laying on the bed with her tangled golden hair spread out over the deep pillow, was Christiana Levett.

In the pale light, Lucinda moved to the left hand side of the bed and watched as Martha tiptoed round to the right, her tourniquet held ready, but just as Lucinda was about to spray into Christiana’s face, the sudden eerie screech of a gate’s rusty hinges came from the front of the cottage.

Moving quickly through to the front bedroom window, Lucinda saw a man stumbling up the path, but he tripped, and falling heavily, smashed into a concrete statue and rolled away into the bushes.

It was a new complication, but as there was nothing else to be seen except cats prowling, she tiptoed back to the bedroom and saw Martha easing the cord around Christiana’s neck.

‘Martha. What the hell are you doing? I said I wanted them alive, you idiot.’

‘Sorry, ma’am, but she looked so nice and peaceful, I couldn’t resist it.’

Murmuring, Christiana wakened a little, and looking harder, a fuzzy understanding came to her when Lucinda began to whisper softly.

‘There, there, hush now my pretty. You’re coming home to the lovely priest hole. And won’t that be nice, you’ll be in there with the other playmates, for ever and ever.’

The mocking voice brought a sudden panicky fear to her eyes.

‘What’s wrong, my darling, don’t you want to? Oh, but you must, you deceived me and ran away, so it isn’t fair to blame me, now is it, you silly girl.’

Martha began to smile more kindly, ‘Well, ma’am, I reckon she’s wanting a loving death, she seems that kind of girl.’

Lucinda suddenly glanced up, ‘You could be right, Martha.’ She smiled down to her, ‘Is that what all this fuss is about? Well for goodness sake … Why didn’t you say so? Oh dear, you’re so old fashioned. Now come on, admit it, you’re just being sentimental. I don’t know, I really don’t, so what on earth are we going to do with you?’

Christiana’s eyes bulged in terror when she saw Lucinda lift up the can of Mace, and when the spray came, she fell into torture before her mind slipped away.

Lingering for a moment, Lucinda blew her a soft kiss and led Martha off down the stairs, and standing in the hall, they listened, but everything was as silent as the grave.

‘Now then, Martha. We must leave this cottage just as if we’d never ever been here, so fetch Arthur and take these two out to the Land Rover, then get them back to the farm and make sure they’re both locked up nice and tight in the annex. And Martha, if you or your idiot brother hurt either of them, you know what will happen, don’t you.’

‘Yes ma’am. But first, should I go out and see to him in the bushes?’

Lucinda was tempted, but because of this Russian, all her plans had changed.

‘No. We would have to take him away as well, and we’ve got enough to do already, so this can be his lucky day.’

Samantha stood in high-heels and stockings and suspenders of daffodil yellow as Angela strolled around her making sure that nothing had been forgotten.

‘Well you look absolutely wonderful, the ugly old bitch will think it’s Christmas.’

And it was hard trying to forget that Michaela hated all the beautiful people, and loved to punish them for being so, but never mind, it will be worth it to capture her on film tonight.

‘So are you all set, with cigarettes, food, wine, your music, fairy outfit and the toys?’

Samantha nodded, but Angela could see the look of resigned despair on her face.

‘Oh, come on, it’ll all be over by midnight.’

Driving up to the gates, she gave the gamekeeper a hard stare.

‘Now as you know, Miss Rattenegger will be here soon, so no foul-ups, understood?’

‘Yes ma’am, the whole shift has been alerted, so she won’t be disturbed.’

‘Good, she’d better not be. So is there any news of Mr Lewis?’

‘No ma’am, not yet.’

She scowled, ‘Well don’t forget he has to stay at the Manor tonight, so if he ever turns up make sure you run him over there, okay?’

Angela drove away, but the guard was frowning as he walked back into the lodge.

‘Hey Bert, Mrs A’s in a right state about Miss Piggy, but why do you reckon she’s coming to see Mrs French, ‘cos there’s nothing bent about her, it doesn’t make sense.’

‘Don’t ask me, nothing makes sense in this place.’

A horn sounded, and walking over to the window, he grinned as he looked out.

‘Hey Bert. It’s her. Miss Piggy’s arrived.’

He looked up, ‘Well go on then, open the gates, and remember, no ‘oink oink’ jokes.’

Frank had spent the day getting back to nature, rambling and clearing the junk out of his head, and when he walked up to the lodge gates, saw a car disappearing down the drive towards the cottage and wondered who it might be, and coming up to the lodge window, heard voices, so he stopped for a moment to listen.

‘Jesus, Bert, that Miss Piggy gets more ugly every time I see her, so what’s going on? First Mrs A goes off for the night and leaves Mrs French alone with the ugly Rattenegger, then that bloke Lewis isn’t allowed back on site and has to spend the night at the Manor, and just to finish it off, the Church Warden is starting work at midnight.’

‘Well I’ve told you before, leave it alone, it’s got nothing to do with us.’

‘Makes you think though. First Miss Piggy comes storming in, and now that creepy old woman, the Church Warden, is starting work at midnight.’

Hearing everything through the window, Frank couldn’t help feeling intrigued, because although Samantha was entertaining someone tonight, that was her game, but this woman, the Church Warden, was starting work at midnight, so could Angela be playing her game?

If she was, and it involved Tara or Monty, he really ought to find out, and the only way to do that was to be here at midnight.

Moving back from the lodge, he called out, ‘Hello? Anyone there?’

A face appeared at the window, ‘Hey Bert. It’s that bloke Lewis.’