Something Hidden (26 page)

Andrew read the article twice, his eyes sticking on two words that most people would skip past: ‘Hughes Lawton’. It was the bank where the man opposite him worked; the bank whose
charity was currently funding Keira’s work.

Slowly, he looked up, trying to meet the stern gaze of his former father-in-law. Another chill rippled through him, nothing to do with the weather.

‘What are you showing me?’ Andrew asked, hoping it wasn’t what he thought.

Keira’s father wouldn’t meet his eye. ‘What do you think?’

‘Tell me.’

A flash of eye contact and Andrew knew exactly what had happened. He didn’t know how but that didn’t matter.

‘I’m smarter than you, Andrew. Better. I have money, contacts, and can make things happen. I’m trying to look out for you, son—’

‘Don’t call me that. You’ve never called me that.’

‘I’m trying to look out for you,
son
. I wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen.’

Andrew glanced at his phone again, holding it up. ‘What did he do to you?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does to me.’

Andrew thrust the phone forward until it was under the other man’s nose, almost pressing against his top lip.

Keira’s father went cross-eyed as he peered towards it, before slapping Andrew’s hand away. ‘Mr Ahmed was a thief who thought he could get away with it. I suppose he did get
away with it in some ways. Not in others.’

‘Did you do this?’

‘I can do many things.’ He downed the rest of his drink and then rattled the cup back onto its saucer, standing in one movement and plucking his phone from the table, before picking
up his satchel. ‘You
will
do what you’re told, Andrew –
son
– and don’t even think about pushing me.’

Andrew parked his car on the opposite side of the road from Margaret Watkins’ house and switched off the engine.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Jenny asked.

‘I’ve told you, yes.’

He could feel her peering at him from the passenger seat. Of course he wasn’t bloody okay. Being tied up in the woods at night with a knife pressed against him wasn’t as scary as
what he’d just been through. It had taken him five minutes to stop shaking before leaving the pub. If anyone else had told him to check that link and then hinted all was not as it seemed,
Andrew wouldn’t have believed them. With his former father-in-law, he believed every word. Was he really going to have to walk away from Keira again?

‘Do you want me to do the talking?’ Jenny asked. She had one hand on the door handle.

‘No, er . . . we’ll play it by ear.’

Time for another humiliation.

Andrew and Jenny crossed the road and rang the doorbell. Margaret flung the door open moments later, only for her face to fall instantly. Her hair had been tamed slightly. Instead of sprouting
in all directions, it was just big.

‘Oh,’ she said, taking in Andrew and Jenny before poking her head out of the door to stare at the road beyond. ‘I didn’t realise you were coming.’

‘We were in the area,’ Andrew said. ‘Can we come in?’

‘I’m . . . busy.’ She focused back on them. ‘I’ve got something on. Can you come another time? Tomorrow perhaps? I’ll be in all day.’

‘We only need a few minutes.’

She glanced past them again before pulling the door open. ‘All right.’

The manic hand-flapping wasn’t in evidence as she led them into the living room. Geoffrey was nowhere to be seen, although he could be in casualty given that he lived in constant danger of
getting clattered in the head.

‘I’m afraid I have an apology to make,’ Andrew said, nodding towards the giant canvas on the wall. ‘We’ve been trying to look for your cats but leads have been hard
to come by. Jenny’s done an awful lot of work behind the scenes; we’ve tracked down vets; other breeders; traders. We’ve followed a few threads but there’s really not very
much for us to go on.’

Margaret nodded knowingly. ‘I feared as much.’

‘Things don’t usually end like this. I’m a little embarrassed but I’m not sure using more time – and money – is going to be worthwhile for either of us.
We’ve still got a few informal inquiries going on, so it’s not the end entirely. We could get a hit, though we’re not hopeful.’

‘I understand.’

He took out a sheet of paper, sliding it across the coffee table between them. ‘We’ve got a list of expenses, but—’

She didn’t look at it. ‘Just leave the bill.’

‘I was going to say that we’d waive part of it because of the outcome.’

‘It’s fine. I’m sure you did your best. I knew it was a long shot – the police didn’t find anything, so I’m not sure why I expected anyone else to.’

Margaret’s gaze shot past Andrew to the door beyond. He followed it to where there was a clock hanging on the wall. By the time he turned back to her, she was looking at her watch.

She started to stand, one hand on her back, seeming older than she had when they’d first met a week ago. ‘You should have called ahead,’ she said, glancing at the clock
again.

Andrew and Jenny stood. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. He’d thought there would be disappointment, perhaps even anger, but instead it was resignation.

‘Are you okay?’ Andrew asked.

Margaret was practically shoving them through the living-room door, back into the hallway. ‘I’m fine.’

Andrew allowed her to shoo him, but Jenny stopped at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Do you mind if I use the toilet?’

There was a momentary pause but no one ever said no in that situation.

‘It’s . . . upstairs. Second door on the left.’

Jenny offered a sweet-sounding ‘thank you’ and then followed the directions. Andrew wondered what she was doing. It was clear Margaret wanted them out of the house and Jenny was only
prolonging that, revelling in how uncomfortable it was.

Andrew stood awkwardly in the hallway, peering up the stairs. He offered a weak – returned – smile to Margaret, before glancing away again. The space was covered with family
photographs: Margaret, Geoffrey and Edie, with the two Bengals front and centre in almost every picture. There they were in the back garden; with ribbons at a competition; in a park; dressed up in
red and green for Christmas.

‘Sorry,’ Andrew said.

Margaret nodded and checked her watch, the silent question passing between them: what on earth was Jenny doing? Another mutual, awkward, smile – and then a lot more wall-gazing. Andrew
tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete idiot. Everything that had gone wrong in the past week had happened because he was too soft. He shouldn’t
have taken on the case in the first place, knowing the moment Margaret had started talking about cats that they were going to get nowhere.

Finally!

The sound of a toilet flushing was like church bells on a crisp Sunday morning. The taps gushed and then, moments later, Jenny was walking down the stairs, all smiles and thank yous.

Margaret held the front door open for them and Jenny patted her pockets and turned back inside. ‘I think I left my phone in your living room.’ She offered an apologetic smile and
then ducked under the other woman’s arms, heading back inside. Andrew didn’t know where to look, but Margaret did: at her watch.

Jenny emerged again, holding her phone in the air. ‘Sorry!’

Andrew was halfway along the path when Jenny slotted in next to him. ‘It’s exactly four o’clock,’ she whispered.

‘So?’

‘She obviously wanted us out of the house. People usually arrange to do things on the hour, so if anything’s going to happen, it’ll be about now.’

They’d taken two strides when a car pulled to a halt at the end of the path. It was at least twenty years old, with rust around the wheel rims, dark-tinted windows and an exhaust that
sounded like a noise pollution enforcement notice waiting to happen.

The rear door opened, revealing a flash of black, purple and green, before closing quickly. A man in a beefy-looking army jacket clambered out, wearing sunglasses and a camouflage beanie hat. It
was difficult to judge whether he was thickset, or if it was the size of the coat. He stepped around to the boot, opened it, and then removed a black animal carrier. The weight was almost too much
for him as he leant to the side, before softly closing the boot.

Without paying any attention to Andrew or Jenny, he strode along the path and planted the carrier next to the front door. Margaret crouched, tears in her eyes as she glanced inside, before
heading into the house. She emerged moments later with a thick padded envelope and handed it across. The man lifted the envelope flap, peered inside, nodded, and then returned to the car.

The second animal carrier was placed carefully next to the first, before the car pulled away, leaving a slight ringing in Andrew’s ears.

Margaret caught his eye, still slightly teary. ‘They called last night,’ she said, crouching to open the first carrier. Tentatively, a tan and orange cat emerged, a galaxy of
beautiful black and gold markings on its back. A similar creature poked its head out of the second, sniffing the air before heading into Margaret’s waiting arms. They were too heavy for her
to lift them both, so Andrew helped, picking up the cat and taking it into the house. Jenny brought in the carriers, using the sleeve of her top to pick them up, before leaving them against the
hallway wall.

‘They might have fingerprints on,’ she said.

Margaret shook her head. ‘I don’t care.’

Once inside, the two cats strutted through to the living room, noses and tails in the air. Margaret followed them through, sitting on the carpet and stroking the nearest one. ‘Come to
Mummy, Presley. What have the naughty people done to you, Elvis?’ She reached underneath the coffee table and pulled out a basket, taking out a brush and running it along the cat’s
back.

‘How much did you pay?’ Andrew asked.

For a moment, he didn’t think he’d get an answer, then Margaret opened her mouth, not turning from the cats: ‘They asked for three-thousand a cat . . . I was going to phone
you, but . . .’

Presley crossed the room to join Elvis. The two cats seemed unperturbed by whatever had happened to them, tails curling as they purred in pleasure at the attention.

‘Geoffrey didn’t understand. He said we should call the police but I just wanted them back. Edie doesn’t get home from school until five, so it’s just me.’ Andrew
didn’t reply but she must’ve known what he was thinking, adding: ‘You can’t put a price on a family member.’

‘But that’s exactly what they did. The police could have been here waiting if you’d contacted them.’

‘They said they were watching the house and that they’d know. If I got the police involved, they wouldn’t show up and I’d never see my boys again. They said they knew I
could get cash and that they wanted it in an unmarked envelope. It’s why I was so worried when you turned up. I thought you’d put them off but I guess they know you’re not
police.’

‘Who called you? A man? A woman?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

Andrew exchanged a glance with Jenny, wondering if she’d seen what he had. He couldn’t read her face. ‘What would you do if I found out who did this?’ he asked. ‘If
I gave you a name?’

Margaret didn’t look up from her cats. ‘I don’t care. I’m just glad I have them back.’ She picked up one of the cat’s feet. ‘Oh, Elvis, look at your
nails. They’re going to need a trim. It’s baths for the pair of you tonight, too. I don’t care how much you complain.’

‘Margaret . . .’

She peered up at him, smiling softly, looking shattered. ‘Just leave your invoices, your bill, whatever you want. You don’t need to knock any money off, I trust that you did the
work. I’ll pay it within seventy-two hours, I just need to move a few things around.’

‘There’s no need . . . we’re . . .’ Andrew was struggling. ‘Is there anything else we can do?’

She shook her head. ‘Just go.’

‘Did you see it?’ Andrew asked.

Jenny was fiddling with her seatbelt as he pulled away. ‘On the back seat of the car?’

‘Yes.’

‘I was going to ask you the same thing. I thought Margaret might have spotted it but it was only because we were halfway along the path that we had the angle. What do you think we should
do?’

Andrew checked his mirror as he reached a T-junction and turned left. ‘I’m not sure I trust my judgement much at the moment.’

Jenny smacked her lips together. She could have commented but didn’t. ‘Perhaps we should just have a talk? See what our thief has to say for themselves.’

Andrew’s eyes flicked to the mirror again. As he’d turned left, two vehicles had slotted in behind from the right. A silver Vauxhall was hanging on his bumper, with Andrew trying to
peer through its windows to the car beyond.

‘Someone you know?’ Jenny asked.

‘Maybe . . .’

Andrew slowed slightly, allowing the Vauxhall to get even closer. There was a child seat strapped into the passenger’s side, while the female driver was either talking to the baby or on
hands-free. She was flapping a hand in Andrew’s direction, wanting him to speed up, even though he was only just below the limit.

‘Jen.’

‘What?’

‘If I drive a little bit like a dickhead, could you not call me names?’

She twisted in her seat, checking behind.

‘I can probably manage that, just look out for the speed patrols.’

‘Fine.’

Andrew slowed even further until he was doing twenty in the thirty zone. Behind, the mother was becoming increasingly agitated, holding one hand out to the side in the universal ‘stop
driving like a knobhead’ pose, easily confused with the ‘what are you doing?’ stance.

Slow . . . slow . . . slower . . .

Fifteen miles an hour. Ten. It felt like they were barely moving. Down to second gear.

‘Ready?’ Andrew asked, still looking in the mirror.

‘Yep.’

Go!

Andrew stamped on the accelerator, wrenching the car right and barrelling along the side street, before taking the next left. He was lucky nothing had been coming the other way but the short
burst had been enough. The Vauxhall driver had been so taken by surprise that she’d stopped in the middle of the road, blocking the car behind. By the time he’d gone left, she still
hadn’t passed the junction where he’d turned in the first place.