The Dungeon House (Lake District Mysteries) (12 page)

‘I’ll never part with them.’

Robbie Dean the sentimentalist, who would have thought it? She looked around at the empty, windswept landscape. ‘I suppose you’re not used to visitors?’

‘You can say that again.’

‘See a lot of Nigel?’

A dismissive shrug. ‘I was helping the lads to cut ivy back at the house this morning.’

‘How is he?’

‘His daughter’s missing. How do you think he is?’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …’

His brow furrowed. She could almost hear cogs turning in his brain as he tried to make sense of her unexpected reappearance. An unpleasant smile sneaked across his face.

‘The look-out post is still there, y’know.’

‘So I see.’ She gave an embarrassed laugh.

How did he know about the look-out post, and what it meant to her? Instantly, she answered her own question.
Nigel must have told him. Oh God, had he boasted to his friend about getting inside her knickers? She could picture the two young men laughing at her expense as they watched a blue movie together. Back in the day, she’d have been mortified. Men were so childish about sex.

They stood in silence, staring at each other. Did Robbie see in her the girl he’d known twenty years ago? She’d blocked him out of her thoughts, just as she’d blocked out so many things. In her mind, catastrophe and Robbie Dean went hand in hand.

‘You still haven’t told me why you came here. This place isn’t on the way back to Ravenglass. It’s a detour.’

‘Yes, but … it’s good to catch up, isn’t it? Gray told me that he acts for you.’

‘Gray?’ He seemed appalled. ‘You went to see Gray fucking Elstone?’

‘I bumped into him in Seascale.’

‘Hell of a coincidence.’ He sounded like a hard-nosed cop in mid-interrogation, scornful about her so-called explanation for her movements.

‘Not really.’ She felt provoked into justifying herself. ‘How many people live around here? A couple of hundred in Ravenglass, the same in Drigg? Seascale is scarcely Brighton. It’s not surprising that I should come across a few people I used to know. I’ve met Scott Durham, too.’

He shook his head. ‘Unbelievable.’

‘Not really. A trip down memory lane, let’s call it. Long overdue, to be honest. You may have heard, my parents died, and …’

He wasn’t the sort to offer condolences about her bereavement. ‘You haven’t seen Nige?’

‘No, but … I’d like to.’

‘Why?’ He almost spat out the question.

‘Why not? He was a good friend, and I’m desperately sorry about what’s happened to his daughter.’

He peered at her, as if trying to detect some ulterior motive. ‘Is that why you’re here? To have a snoop around, and then try and find out from me about Nige?’

‘Hey, Robbie, no need for nastiness. We were … friends, remember?’

‘Friends?’

His bafflement seemed genuine. And it was true, she would never have described him as a friend. He might once have been a football star, but he never made her go weak at the knees the way Nigel did. Not before the crash, and not after it. And certainly not that night at Seascale.

‘We stuck by you after the crash.’

‘You had a fucking breakdown,’ he snapped. ‘You weren’t in any fit state to stick by anyone.’

‘You know what I mean.’ It was like being slapped on the cheek, but at least she knew what to expect from him.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me
. ‘I didn’t blame you for what happened, even though the car crash nearly killed me, as well as Carrie.’

‘Don’t talk about Carrie,’ he muttered.

She took no notice. ‘When we smashed into that tree, I was sure I was going to die. It was terrifying, can you wonder I was upset? But I never let you down. When the police asked me, I said everything you and Nigel wanted me to say. I’m sorry about what happened, but it wasn’t my fault.’

He took a breath. ‘Yeah. I suppose so. Yeah. Sorry.’

An apology from Robbie Dean! That had to be a collector’s item. Inwardly, she exulted. Her new-found confidence was giving her the courage to say and do things she’d never have dreamt of.

‘That’s all right. It must be a shock, seeing me here without any warning.’

‘Yeah, just a bit.’

He shifted from foot to foot, his hesitancy strangely reminiscent of Gray Elstone’s. Was he going to invite her in? She very much doubted it. It wasn’t Robbie’s style to chat over a brew. But she sensed a subtle alteration in his manner. The naked aggression had vanished, thank goodness, and he seemed unsure of himself. Had he ever truly been attracted to her? She doubted it, though with men, you could never quite be sure. Most likely, her sudden reappearance in his life had brought embarrassing memories flooding back, and he was desperate to be rid of her, but she was determined to exact a price. Given that he worked for Nigel, he could help her to make contact with the man who
had
loved her.

‘You asked why I want to see Nigel. I hate to think of him upset, not knowing what has happened to his girl. And his wife died. It must be so hard to cope on your own.’

‘And you … think you can help him to cope?’ He spoke slowly, as if working out the answer to a riddle.

‘I’d like to do what I can. A trouble shared, and all that. It would be lovely to see him again. It might even take his mind off Shona for a while.’

He shook his head. ‘Spoilt rotten, that kid. Proper little madam, if you ask me.’

‘Even so, she’s missing. Perhaps someone’s taken—’

‘Nobody’s holding her captive,’ he interrupted.

She stared at him curiously. ‘You think she’s run away from Nigel?’

‘What else?’

‘Like I say, the police obviously haven’t ruled out kidnapping.’

‘No ransom demand,’ he said. ‘She’s off with some man, you can bet on it.’

‘A boy? Someone from school?’

‘A man,’ he repeated. ‘She’s trouble, that one.’

She stared at him. ‘Do you know where she’s gone?’

‘No!’

She’d struck a nerve – he was almost shouting. The only other time she’d seen him this rattled was on the night of the car crash, when they were together in the ambulance. He’d recovered consciousness, only to be told that Carrie was dead, and she’d watched tears trickle down his cheeks.

‘Okay, calm down. I only …’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Shona didn’t ever … flirt with you, did she?’

‘No way!’ He was breathing heavily, fighting for calm. ‘You shouldn’t poke your nose in, Joanna. It won’t do any good.’

‘I’d love to see Nigel again.’ She paused. ‘Are you going back to the Dungeon House this afternoon?’

‘Ravenglass Knoll,’ he said. ‘It’s not been the Dungeon House for twenty years. Nige is seeing the police this afternoon. They are due to give him an update.’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said recklessly. ‘I wasn’t hoping for a lift. I haven’t forgotten what happened last time I was your passenger.’

He took a step forward, and for a second she thought
he was going to start strangling her again. ‘And you think I have forgotten?’ he demanded through gritted teeth.

‘No, no, of course not. Sorry, Robbie, that was uncalled for. It’s just that …’

‘What are you after?’

‘Would you let Nigel know I’ve come back to Ravenglass? Please?’

‘Is that it?’

She dug her bag out of the Polo, scribbled her mobile number on a scrap of paper, and handed it to him. ‘If you could ask him to ring me? Or I can give him a call, if it’s easier. Will you do that, Robbie?’

‘All right. Now, I have things to do. You’d better go.’

She felt like dancing, she was so exhilarated. Her skin tingled, her heart beat faster. Soon she’d see Nigel again, she was sure of it. As for Robbie Dean, for as long as she could remember, he’d scared her. His mood swings were so intimidating. Yet she’d faced him down. And although she wasn’t quite sure how, she’d managed to turn the tables. Today, he almost seemed more scared of her than she was of him.

‘How was Cruella?’ Daniel asked as Hannah walked through the door.

She kissed his cheek. ‘May I be bitchy?’

‘Please, be my guest.’

‘Getting old. Grumpy. It won’t be long before we can describe her as
raddled
without risking an action for slander. Tell you what, though, her tongue’s still as sharp as a Stanley knife.’

‘The interview wasn’t a total success, I take it?’

‘Oh, I got what I wanted, her first hand impressions of the Whiteleys’ circle at the time of the shootings. In a nutshell, the sun shone out of Lysette’s cute little bum, and Malcolm was the devil incarnate. All of which may not be far from the truth, to be fair. As far as she’s concerned, the case was solved, and I shouldn’t waste taxpayers’ money asking questions about it.’

Daniel slipped his hand inside her shirt. ‘And the Mysterious Missing Witness?’

‘She was distinctly unimpressed. As far as she was concerned, your Dad revelled in making life complicated.’

‘Given the mess he made of our family life,’ Daniel said, ‘I suppose I can’t argue.’

‘Are you staying for the quiz?’ the waitress asked, as she cleared Joanna’s table in the Eskdale Arms.

‘Oh, I don’t …’ As Joanna reached for her bag, she heard a familiar voice. Scott Durham, responding to a greeting at the other end of the bar. ‘On second thoughts, yes, why not?’

‘Another drink, then?’

‘A Sauvignon Blanc, yes, please.’ Although there had to be a limit to hedonism. ‘Just a small glass this time.’

‘I’ll get you an answer sheet. Unless you’re joining a team?’

Joanna giggled. ‘I’m not sure anyone will have me.’

‘Don’t be so modest, love.’ A large man in a Fair Isle pullover leant over from the next table. ‘Join up with us, if you’re not fussy about winning. We’re short of two of our regulars tonight.’

As she opened her mouth to answer, Scott ambled in,
and the Fair Isle man greeted him like an old friend. ‘Hey up, mate. Thought you weren’t coming. We’re already a man down. Bob Evans’ wife has been taken poorly. But I’ve just recruited another member, this young lady here.’

Scott hesitated before giving her a thin smile. ‘Hello again, Joanna.’

‘What? You’re already acquainted? Blimey, I always knew you were a fast worker, mate. Aren’t you going to introduce us, then?’

‘My name’s Joanna,’ she said. ‘I used to live in Holmrook, a long time ago. I’ve booked in next door, and lo and behold, I ran into Scott last night.’

The only empty seat left at the table was next to her. Scott wavered, before realising there was no escape, and making the introductions. The Fair Isle man and Walter, a small, taciturn chap with a hearing aid who made up the rest of the team, both lived in Waberthwaite. They all chatted amiably through the first three rounds of questions, in which Joanna performed creditably on history and literature, whilst revealing a profound ignorance of pop music and politics. When the Fair Isle man, whose name was Kelvin, headed for the bar to order a fresh round of drinks – Joanna played safe with orange juice this time – Scott asked if she’d had a good day.

‘Lovely, thanks. Went for a walk on the shore this morning. Your studio has a marvellous position.’

‘Thanks, it’s not bad.’ She wondered if he’d invite her to take a look round, but no joy. He seemed more distracted than ever, and she asked if he was okay.

‘Yes, fine. Sorry, I’m just a bit preoccupied. Usually, I’d have been the first to figure out those anagrams.’

‘The painting’s going all right, I hope?’

‘Yes, yes.’ He took a surreptitious peek at his mobile, for perhaps the fifteenth time that evening. Whatever text he was hoping to receive showed no sign of turning up.

‘I do hope things sort themselves out. Whatever they are.’

‘Thanks.’ He was offering no clues. ‘So you’ve been exploring Ravenglass? Did you go for a trip on the La’al Ratty?’

‘No, no, the train is a treat for another day.’ She wanted to draw him out. ‘I’ve been meeting one or two other old friends, as it happens. Gray Elstone, for instance. Were your ears burning? We had a cuppa together in Seascale, and he told me he still acts for you.’

‘You met Gray?’ His eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Anyone would think she’d confessed to an assignation with Daniel Craig. ‘What on earth for?’

‘I used to work for him, remember?’

Kelvin returned with the drinks, and Scott gulped down a large mouthful of beer. ‘Yes, yes, of course you did. Sorry, I was just … I forgot, that’s all.’

‘He told me his ex-wife was horrid to him. She even accused him of being responsible for his daughter’s disappearance.’

‘Unthinkable,’ Scott said. ‘You know Gray. He was a good father.’

‘You think that Lily is dead?’

He looked bewildered. ‘There’s always hope, I suppose, in the absence of definite news. But really – three years is a long time.’

‘What do you think happened?’

‘How would I know? It’s a mystery.’

‘What if the same thing happens with Shona Whiteley, and she never shows up? Do you think one person could be responsible for taking both girls?’

‘No!’

His vehemence took her aback, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kelvin exchange a look with Walter. She suspected the older men shared a tacit disapproval of any outpouring of artistic temperament on a quiz night. Before she could say anything else, the quizmaster was asking them to name the highest mountain in Oceania.

Ten minutes later, when the sketchiness of her geographical knowledge had been brutally exposed, she murmured in Scott’s ear, ‘Robbie Dean told me that Shona is rather spoilt. I suppose it’s not surprising. Nigel’s probably making up for the fact that she lost her mother. Can’t have been easy for either of them.’

‘You’ve talked to Dean?’ Plainly, he had no wish to discuss Nigel and Shona.

‘Yes, he lives out near the dunes.’

‘You were in his car that night he crashed, and his girlfriend was killed, weren’t you?’

So Scott remembered. ‘Yes. It was a long time ago. Bygones should be bygones, don’t you think?’

The quizmaster bellowed into his microphone that the time had come for teams to exchange their sheets and mark each other’s answers. This was evidently Scott’s job. She watched him jotting down the ticks and crosses in his neat hand, concentrating on the task, oblivious to the groans that echoed around the pub whenever a mistake was exposed.