The Room on the Second Floor (18 page)

‘Yes, by all means. Who should I say was looking for them?’ He was really very smiley and attentive. The thought crossed her mind that maybe he might be a little on the effeminate side, in spite of his physique. Or maybe because of it, she wondered, as the notion took hold. She wasn’t really quite as green as many thought.

‘I’m Linda, Linda Reid. Professor Dalby’s girlfriend.’ That sounded rather fine. She was pleased to see recognition in his eyes.

‘Well, I’ll be sure to tell them, just as soon as they come out. See you tomorrow.’ He blew her a kiss and swept back to the rumba. She turned and retraced her steps to the first floor.

Roger was once more deep in the past. He was puzzling over the fact that André de Montbard, St Bernard’s uncle, had apparently left no written record of his time in the Holy Land. And the leader of the founding Knights Templar, Hugues de Payns, had left nothing either. It was as though any reference to them in their early years had been censored.

‘Jasper, old friend. We should always remember that history is written by the winners.’ The dog opened one eye and the long black tail wagged uncertainly.

Jasper then opened the other eye, but it was because Linda had walked in. The rhythm of the tail increased as she stooped down to pat him.

‘Are you still trying out your theories on Jasper?’

She gave Roger an affectionate peck on the cheek. Jasper lapsed back into unconsciousness, happy to let her take up the intellectual challenge.

‘Why, oh why, did the church hush up the Templars? There is so very little left behind.’ He was annoyed but, as ever, her presence had a beneficial effect.

He managed to switch off his medieval ramblings. To her delight, she heard him return to the twenty-first century. He stretched out his hands towards her and pulled her onto his lap. The old leather chair groaned, but she didn’t.

‘So what would you like for Christmas, my dear?’ She put her arms around his neck and replied, predictably, ‘You!’

‘I rather hoped you would say something like that, so I took the liberty of getting you something in advance.’ He managed to slide his desk drawer open without relinquishing his hold on her. Very proudly, he produced a small black velvet box.

‘Here, I wonder if you would like to look inside.’ Her face went from happy to serious, to elated. Inside the box was a ring he had bought only a few hours earlier. Never having bought any jewellery before, and certainly never an engagement ring, he had asked Duggie what sort of thing to go for. The answer had been typically unequivocal.

‘A bloody great rock. That’s what they all like.’ In answer to Roger’s puzzled expression, he had explained: ‘A damn great diamond. Can’t fail. The proverbial little black dress of jewellery. Get something weighing a few zillion carats and you’re home and dry.’

‘Oh, Roger, it’s fantastic.’

Duggie had come up trumps. Linda seemed totally blown away by the ring in her hands. She then rather spoilt it, by telling him that even a plastic ring from one of the Christmas crackers would have done. Nevertheless, he still got the distinct impression that she liked it. He offered a few words of explanation.

‘It’s what is commonly called an engagement ring. They told me the diamond weighs two calories.’ She giggled. ‘Would it be possible that you might be prepared to consider taking me as your lawful wedded husband, and surrendering your honour to me?’

He sounded very formal but, in spite of everything that had passed between them in the last few weeks, he was in fact still just a little nervous. There was no need. She squeaked excitedly and kissed him till neither could breathe.

‘I love you, Roger Dalby, and want to be your lawful wedded wife, calories or no calories. As for surrendering my honour, would you like me on the couch or over your desk?’

She threw herself back theatrically and threatened to rip her bodice open in fine fashion. He kissed her again, pulled her back into his arms, and they settled down to the details.

‘When? And where? I don’t suppose you have any ideas, have you?’

His question was a bit hesitant, unaware that she had been thinking of little else since their return from Tokyo.

As the December dusk fell outside, neither of them heard the gentle thud of a ladder against the windowsill. As they chatted happily about their wedding plans, neither of them heard the careful footsteps up the ladder. Neither of them spotted the dark balaclava-clad head that emerged in sinister fashion above the sill. A dozy woodpigeon, which had been happily snoozing there, suddenly got the fright of its life. Confronted with this apparition, it threw itself desperately into the air with a clatter of wings. Jasper, unconscious one moment, turned rabid beast the next, threw himself at the part-open window. This flew outwards, knocking the ladder off the sill and backwards into space.

As the pigeon flew off, Roger called out sharply, ‘Jasper. Come back here.’

‘Fuuuccckkkk!’ Nobody heard the muffled cry as its owner sailed earthwards, still clutching the top rung of the ladder in his gloved hands.

Roger and Linda had other things on their minds. Anyway, they were still deafened by the barking of Jasper who had, by this time, worked out that more than a pigeon had been seen off. Linda went over to the window and pulled it closed. She gave Roger a stern look.

‘Instead of opening the window, you should turn the heating down. That’s very wasteful, you know.’

‘Very sorry, miss, I promise I won’t do it again.’ He lowered his voice to a low grumble. ‘I’ve only just asked her to marry me, and she’s bossing me about already.’ He grinned up at her and held out his hands. She crouched down and calmed the big dog, before returning to his arms.

The crash that announced the destruction of Stan’s cold frame was ignored by all of the inhabitants of the manor.

Duggie and Tessa, on the floor below, just assumed it was yet another invasion by the builders.

Mr Mulholland of Cardew, Mulholland and Waterman was totally oblivious to all bar the sight of Natascha bouncing up and down on top of him. His eyes were glued to her reflection in the wall-to-ceiling mirror of the Gossamer Room on the second floor. For her part, Natascha was deep in an exchange-rate calculation from sterling to roubles, and paid no attention.

In the next room, the new manager of the Salon was engrossed in printing off a poster. Wagner’s ‘Ride of the Valkyries’, booming out of her headphones, blanked out any other sound. The poster announced that the Salon was an equal opportunities employer.

Roger was delighted that the task of planning the wedding had clearly been taken out of his hands. ‘So that’s decided, then. As soon as possible, and you and your mum will come up with the details of exactly where.’

Linda was equally delighted that all arrangements had been left up to her. Her only worry was about her mother’s participation in the planning.

Outside, a first snowflake fluttered down to earth.

Chapter 31

The drive up to the manor was white with snow, albeit a very thin covering. Beneath it lurked patches of ice. Chief Inspector Cocker was glad he had pulled an X5 for the trip. Definitely a day for four-wheel drive. An ambulance screamed past on the main road, no doubt heading for yet another octogenarian who had chosen that particular day to take a morning stroll. At the entrance to the car park, he spotted another likely candidate for the fracture clinic. He stopped to warn of the icy conditions as the old chap hobbled gingerly past. He received a cheery response.

‘And the top of the morning to you, sir. Sure and it’s safer for a biped to perambulate out here in the ice and snow, than it is to risk life and limb on the fiendishly polished floors of the manor.’ Noting the inspector’s quizzical look, he explained. ‘Sure and we have a demon cleaning operative amongst the echelons of the personnel here. She near caused me to fracture my femur or, God and all His angels preserve us, serve me up the sort of intertrochanteric fracture that would have me on my back for months.’

He looked happy enough, probably more loony than inebriate, so the inspector wisely decided to leave this particular old man to his fate. He pulled into a parking space and headed inside, out of the insistent sleet. As he walked up the steps, he was idly trying to remember what intertrochanteric meant.

The very attractive receptionist showed him the way up to the first floor. As he turned the corner at the top, he was rewarded by the spectacle of an equally pretty young lady disappearing up the next flight of stairs towards the second floor. She was wearing a skirt that was little wider than a belt. A naturally observant man, he was surprised not to catch sight of any underwear. He sighed wistfully, and headed along to the professor’s study.

‘Good morning, Professor Dalby, and a happy Christmas to you. I hope you enjoyed your time away. I must say, the old place is starting to look terrific. It must have taken an awful lot of work.’

He removed his hat, wiped the wet snow from the peak and gratefully accepted the offer of a seat and a cup of tea. He admired the lovely surroundings of the professor’s office and compared it ruefully with the crowded environment, more like a call centre, where he normally worked. The receptionist on the floor below had added an unaccustomed touch of beauty to the scene and, of course, the young lady en route to the second floor had further reinforced the impression that this was a place of rare delights. He idly wondered if the club would ever need a private security consultant.

‘What can we do for you, Chief Inspector?’

Professor Dalby laid down the book he had been reading. From force of habit the inspector tilted his head and read the title:
Cistercians and Benedictines: Points of Convergence
. Not light reading by the look of it. The tea was brought in on a tray by another stunner, who was introduced by the professor as his fiancée. She then perched on the arm of the armchair alongside the professor. He certainly knew how to pick them.

‘Just a courtesy call, Professor Dalby. It has been six weeks now since somebody deliberately tampered with your car. I thought I might call by to see whether you had had any recurrence. We are keen to establish whether it was just wanton vandalism, or some more sinister attempt upon your life.’

‘As am I, Inspector.’ Roger was very serious. He thought back to the interview with Inspector Cocker before his protracted holiday. He had referred the police to Mr Heslop, the solicitor in London. ‘Presumably your enquiries into this Mr Kevin Jennings have led you nowhere?’ The policeman shook his head.

‘We were able to trace him to his home in,’ he consulted a notebook, ‘Sandbanks, Poole, Dorset. It seems he was somewhat unhelpful when approached by Dorset Constabulary. He would appear to have a cast-iron alibi for the day of the accident and, indeed, the whole of the preceding week. He was on a cruise-liner in the Mediterranean with a friend. You were, I believe, in the USA for just over a week, so it is still possible that the damage had been done to the car by Jennings before you and he left on your various trips, but it is tenuous. Certainly Mr Jennings seemed to think so, as did his solicitor, who appeared within ten minutes of our people arriving at his house.’ Roger and Linda glanced across at each other. ‘The main thing I need to know is whether there have been any other incidents or unusual activities here.’

As he spoke, another beautiful woman walked past the open doorway, or rather, tottered past on ridiculously high heels, arm in arm with an elderly gentleman. If the inspector had not known better, the man looked uncommonly like the chairman of the local board of magistrates. Must be something in the water, he thought to himself. He studied his half-empty mug of tea carefully as he returned to the job in hand.

‘You have been back in Toplingham for over two weeks now?’ Linda nodded, while Roger counted days. ‘And all is well? No further attempts on your life?’ The smiles on the faces opposite him confirmed this fact so, mission accomplished, he drained his tea and rose to go. ‘Well, remember that we are here to help, if you should have any more trouble. Let’s hope that that’s it now. I wish you both a very happy Christmas.’

As he was about to leave the room, there was a tap on the door and the lovely receptionist appeared. She murmured an apology and handed in the post. The inspector smiled and then followed her out and along the corridor. Linda took the letters and immediately saw a familiar envelope.

She put her head out of the door and called down the hall, ‘Chief Inspector.’

She just caught him at the top of the stairs. He turned back.

‘I’m sorry to bother you, but there is a letter here that might be of interest.’

As he returned to Roger’s study, she took the paper knife and slit the envelope open. Inside was a letter from Mr Heslop of Heslop Greaves. She handed it to Roger. He studied it for a few moments, then indicated with his hand that Linda should close the door. He read it out loud.

I am very happy to report that we would appear to be close to reaching a happy conclusion of the Kevin Jennings affair
.

I am in receipt of a letter from his solicitors, acknowledging the validity of our position. Indeed, the letter contains a clear and unreserved apology for the annoyance you have suffered. It would appear that Mr Jennings Junior had been furnished with a grossly erroneous account of the history of the company, compiled by his father shortly before his death, and only now has come into possession of all the facts
.

Although I await a formal declaration from them to this effect, I think it not premature to consider the matter resolved
.

I trust that this news will raise your spirits for the forthcoming festive season
.

I am etc. etc
.

Adam Heslop

‘Well, that’s one less headache.’ Roger’s voice was as cheerful as his face. ‘Mind you, if he’s not the one who’s been after me, then who the hell is?’

Inspector Cocker nodded. ‘I take this as a good sign, but we won’t call the dogs right off Mr Jennings quite yet. But it does sound very positive as far as he is concerned. You never know, maybe it was just some nutcase who chopped the brake lines, jealous of your good fortune. Let’s hope he has got it out of his system by now.’