The Twisted Way (30 page)

Not an auspicious start Felicity thought. Richard West, a burly ex-policeman, broad shouldered and well over six feet in height, appeared at the door of his office.

‘Come in,’ he gushed. Work was short and he was pleased to have this client. She had not, so far, suggested that his fees were too high and tried to negotiate a cheaper rate which made a change from the stance taken by most of his clients. She was well dressed and he anticipated that he could probably charge her his top rate without her quibbling. He smoothed his fine greying hair back from a broad forehead. His eyes were round, deep boot brown, and his wide mouth appeared firm but generous. He smiled warmly at Felicity.

A strong man, tough and dependable, trustworthy too Felicity thought, or at least hoped he was but she realized that looks could be deceiving. She liked him although could not imagine why. The feeling was not reciprocated but he managed to present a friendly and dependable front to all his clients. His living depended on that. He indicated that she could sit in a comfortable looking armchair at the side of his desk and once she was seated he turned towards her and gave her his full attention.

Felicity relaxed, as he had intended she should, and against her better judgement found herself anxious to confide in this charming man and enlist his help. The grotty office and rude secretary were forgotten.

Felicity told him about her desire to trace Tom Hands. She said that his family had lived in London, where she too had lived with her parents until her mother was killed in a car crash. That much was true. She told him she had moved to Canada later but on returning to England a few months ago she remembered that she had a relative who had been evacuated to Russetshire during the war and she was anxious to find out whether he was still alive.

‘Tom Hands, a little older than me, lovely chap, er ... distant cousin on my mother’s side I think,’ she lied. ‘I do hope he is well.’

Easy enough case Richard thought. She is not telling the truth but I will work around that.

‘Please tell me everything you know about the person you are trying to trace,’ he pontificated and produced a notebook and pen with a confident businesslike flourish. He cast a quick glance at Felicity who appeared to be impressed by his manner. He had made a good start.

Felicity produced the photographs she had obtained from Marianne.

‘I believe he was placed with foster parents in Enderly then later adopted,’ she said, concern mounting in her voice and crocodile tears forming in the corner of her cold sly eyes.

‘He may not want to meet you,’ Richard warned. ‘I will, however, do my best to help.’ He estimated that he could charge double the fee that he had in mind earlier. ‘There could be a lot of paperwork involved in this case, which may push up the fees,’ he lied and when he told her, with some hesitation, how much it might cost she was not, to his intense surprise, in the least concerned.

‘Please get on with your searches,’ she said. ‘I will look forward to the results.’

‘I will contact you as soon as I have found out anything concrete,’ he said.

Felicity’s legs felt wobbly as she stood up and he took her hand in his. He moved closer than was necessary. Nice easy job he thought as he showed her out of his office and watched with interest the flush that had crept up her scraggy neck and face as she departed. Amusing really, he thought. Ah well, all in a day’s work.

Felicity felt happier than she had for a long time. She hoped that Auntie’s credit card would take care of Richard West’s fees but she would have to check the bank balance with care. Tom Hands could be the last thorn in her side. She did not know how true that thought might prove to be. She was making progress – she had not yet decided what she would do should they meet but she did know she would enjoy getting rid of him and the sooner the better. Of course, he could be anywhere in the country, if indeed he was still alive, but a short holiday in order to meet him would not be amiss, depending, of course, if Richard West was able to track him down. She had faith in the man. Not bad looking, she thought ... I wonder if he is married and if he has any money.

Richard West had left the police force under a cloud. It had been suggested that he had been involved in a local fencing racket. Nothing had been proved but his name had been blackened and he had resigned. To obtain an income he had opened the detective agency in Brinton. He had made a fair living over the past few years, following and reporting on cheating spouses and tracking a few people who had attempted to disappear. He was good at his job and to find Tom Hands, alive or dead, would not be much of a challenge. He rubbed his hands together with pleasure. Easypeasy case this one; it would be money for old rope.

It did not take him long to discover that Tom Hands the evacuee who had lived with the Merryweathers had later been adopted by a respectable middle-class family. He had his contacts and a little bribery as usual produced some good results. Greed and avarice was the human failing he could play on with an expertise acquired over many years. He soon discovered that Tom Hands had changed his name and had been a successful academic in Oxford. He wondered if he might be worth more to him financially than the spiteful looking Felicity. He would bide his time and keep Felicity Brown waiting for answers.

He found out that Robert Thomas Barker had been living in Enderly for approximately ten years after a successful career as a history professor and since his retirement had been working as a gardener for Felicity Brown’s aunt. The situation was interesting. Robert Barker was without doubt a man who was not short of a penny or two. He followed Robbie from what he thought was a safe distance for a few days, which was a mistake. Robbie became suspicious that someone was following him in Brinton and a strange man with thick-rimmed glasses and an odd pointed beard had observed him too closely for comfort on several occasions when he had been dining in the Green Man.

Robbie recalled Felicity’s conversation with Marianne. Felicity was the cause of this problem. He decided to approach DI Peter Holmes and ask his opinion about the stalker. He didn’t want to waste police time but there was something unsavoury about the whole business, though he knew he needed concrete evidence. He told DI Holmes about his childhood as an evacuee and his suspicions about Felicity Brown’s motives for tracing Tom Hands. It could only be money and possible legacies in which Felicity was interested. She was already spending her aunt’s money like water.

DI Holmes respected Robbie, he thought he was an intelligent man; he also had doubts about the unpleasant Felicity and the strange accidents that had befallen the Mace family who may also have been beneficiaries in Janet Lacey’s will. He would make a few further enquiries. If, as he suspected, Felicity was using Richard West’s detective agency it might not be long before she found out that Robbie was Tom Hands.

Robbie had stirred up his suspicions about Felicity Brown. His mind reverted to the day of Matthew Mace’s so-called accident. A walker who had come forward when she read about the incident in the local paper told him that she had seen a woman in a Barbour coat not far from the river that day but it had not been possible to identify her as Felicity, though he was suspicious that it was the wretched woman and that she had in some way been involved. In his opinion she was a dangerous individual.

‘Be careful Robbie,’ the detective said. ‘The woman is an unknown quantity. Be careful. We suspect that Felicity Brown knows more about the deaths of Peter and Matthew Mace than she has so far admitted. We know Matthew Mace had a boyfriend, Timothy. There was some chat about it in the village shop and their liaison was not so private as they had imagined it to be. You probably already know about him. He was on the river bank on the day of the accident but declined to admit that he had been there to meet Matthew or admit that he had seen the woman in the green Barbour. We think that woman was Felicity but we have no proof.’

Robbie could not answer. He too thought Felicity was involved in Peter and Matthew’s deaths. He would certainly be careful as the detective had suggested.

DI Holmes found Robbie’s latest suspicions about Felicity very interesting. Human beings are greedy things, he thought. So many crimes he had dealt with had been committed in the pursuit of money. He continued to mull over some of the recent disturbing events in which he was convinced Felicity Brown had been involved.

DI Holmes did not trust Richard West. In his opinion he was a bent copper who would stop at nothing to line his own pockets and would not care whom he cheated to obtain money from clients. He knew he would charge Felicity as much money as he could get away with and would not conclude the case too quickly.

‘I will keep an eye on Richard West, you may rest assured. It will be a pleasure,’ DI Holmes had told Robbie before he left his office.

He had been in communication with the Canadian police and they had a few unresolved queries about Felicity Brown in the past and her fingerprints and details were on file. He thought once again about the death of Peter Mace. The blow to the side of the head was not consistent with a fall but more likely to be the result of a deliberate attempt to crush his skull with a stone to ensure his demise. The stone had been sent to the police forensic laboratories but unfortunately the one smudged fingerprint did not match those of Felicity Brown and there was no DNA. Robbie’s visit had re-opened a can of worms.

In the meantime Felicity was getting impatient for news from Richard West. A few weeks had passed. It is about time he had some results, she groused to herself, and resolved to tackle him the next time she went into Brinton.

Following Robbie’s visit, DI Holmes’s assistant DS John Cross had taken to spending some evenings in the Green Man in order to watch the despicable Richard West. John wore jeans and an old jacket and claimed he was on an extended holiday in the area when asked if he was just visiting by the red-headed publican. Richard West did not know him, though he would have recognised DI Holmes. John enjoyed the beer and had a few good games of darts with the locals. Richard West, however, had found out what he needed to about Robbie. He was biding his time and had decided that there was no point in spending any more of his cash on beer in the pub.

Felicity tackled Richard West when she next went into Brinton. He was evasive and, as DI Homes had expected, said that he needed more time. He was making progress but would require some more cash to cover his expenses. A frustrated and annoyed Felicity paid up.

Richard West decided that he could keep the investigations going a little longer then arrange a meeting with Felicity. By that time he should have lined his pockets reasonably well for very little work.

Three weeks later he told her he had some interesting results for her. Felicity met Richard in his office. She was excited and agog with anticipation.

‘I’m really looking forward to meeting my long-lost relative,’ she said. Her face was unusually flushed and her fingers itched to pick up the papers Richard had displayed so tantalisingly in front of her on his desk.

‘You have already met him,’ Richard said, watching her reaction with undisguised interest. ‘He changed his surname to Barker, his adoptive parents’ name. His name is Robert Thomas Barker, Robbie to his friends, and he is working, as he has been for the past ten years, as your Aunt Janet’s handyman.’

Felicity clutched the edge of the desk. She thought for a moment that she might faint but she soon recovered her wits.

‘Robbie!’ she almost screamed. ‘I can’t believe it. I will look forward to telling him.’

That was in fact the last thing she had in mind. She needed time to digest the information and then decide what to do.

She settled her bill with the detective, which she thought was far too large, but who was she to argue? She had discovered the whereabouts of Tom Hands. It was a shock. What on earth was Robbie trying to do? No wonder he looked familiar. She could not remember him clearly from their early meetings when she was very young but recalled that there was a photograph of him as a young boy that her aunt kept in a silver frame for a while in the lounge after Uncle James had left. The way he stood … his eyes … yes there was no doubt. She was certain her aunt did not know that she had employed the precious evacuee for so long. She would not tell her. She needed time to think about the situation. It was strange but intriguing.

Robbie met Felicity in the market place where he always parked the car when he took her shopping. She was laden with the usual groceries and bags indicating she had purchased even more new clothes. She was very quiet on the journey back to Primrose House. She knows, he thought. He smiled to himself and wondered what she would do next. It would be necessary to be on his guard. At least he had alerted DI Holmes to her unsavoury activities and that knowledge provided him with some comfort and reassurance.

Ronald was intrigued to find that Primrose House was still so pretty. The strong red bricks contrasted with the grey 
stormy sky behind the building. The edges of some of the 
bricks showed grime and dirt that had collected on their surface over many years but this did not detract from the attractiveness of the building. He stood near the front gate under the shelter of a large bush that grew on one side where he could see but not be seen from the house. The old oak front door looked much the same, at least from his vantage point, fine grainy oak, though slightly scratched, and the trees planted by Janet many years ago were now tall and towered above the roof in some places, but strategically placed so that the lovely view across the fields to the river was not spoilt by drooping branches. Memories of things he thought were buried and forgotten began to intrude upon his thoughts.

Enderly itself had not been changed by large modern estates or new shops. The small post-war estate by the school looked neglected but the Green Man pub was well cared for and inviting. He made a bed and breakfast booking for one night in the pub, had a bar snack and looked forward to revisiting his old haunts. He made brief enquiries about Primrose House and Janet Lacey.