Cherringham--Follow the Money (3 page)

They had talked about going to Covent Garden for a performance, as soon as the crazy workload had got a bit easier.

“Do sit down …”

“Mum, can I help?’

Helen shook her head.

Sarah could tell that despite the beautiful music filling the room, the plaintive sounds of Callas seemingly floating about the orchestra, her mother seemed … what?

Distracted?

Agitated?

Something was up, and that didn’t put Sarah at ease at all.

“No, I just need to get the tea. That’s all set. A nice lunch for you.”

Jack had already taken a seat, letting the music work its charms.

She wondered if he could tell she was picking up on something from her mother.

She guessed that he did.

But Jack could always be patient.

She took a seat on the other side of the table with sandwiches and her mum’s best tea service.

*

And of course they had to wait until that first sip.

Ceremony
must
be observed.

Sarah tried to keep her anxious thoughts at bay.

Then: “Jack, did you see I got some bagels, you being a New Yorker and all that. I know how you must love them.”

Sarah looked at Jack as he reached down and grabbed one of the puffy doughnut shaped items, followed by a bite.

“Helen, you bet I do. So thoughtful!”

In fact, Sarah knew that Jack found the local incarnation of the famous New York bagel, while physically resembling a bagel, was actually miles away in taste.

Literally
!

Of course, he’d be as gracious as could be to her mum.

The egg and cress sandwiches, on the other hand, were truly delicious. Not an average egg mayonnaise … was there some chutney in there? Pickle?

I’ll need to get that recipe,
Sarah thought.

And still they hadn’t got to the reason for this luncheon.

Finally her mum put down her teacup and plate with a half-eaten sandwich.

She looked at them both.

“So, the reason I asked you two here … well, I have this friend. Claire Goodman. And she and her husband, their place was robbed the other night …”

“Alan on the case?” Jack asked.

Helen nodded. “Yes. He’s talked to them, been over to the house. Everything I’m sure that the police are supposed to do.”

“They live in Cherringham?” asked Jack.

“Over at Planter’s Croft,” said Helen. “You know, that little development further down the river?”

Sarah knew the houses. Two acres of fine riverside land on which four ‘executive’ homes had recently been built in landscaped grounds.

“Not short of a bob or two then,” said Sarah.

“I’ve seen the houses from the river,’ said Jack. “Couple of million a shot, huh?”

“And some,” said Sarah, waiting for her mum to continue.

Sarah didn’t have a clue where this was heading.

Her mother had seemed to prefer
not
talking about what she and Jack did, except for the occasional, slightly nervous …
you will be careful now, Sarah, won’t you?’

“Well, Helen,” said Jack. “I imagine Alan will do what he can.”

Helen nodded at first, then looked away.

Then, when turning back …

“That’s just it. He
can’t
you see. Because — well, he doesn’t
know
everything.”

Sarah saw Jack look over, eyebrows arched.

This tête-à-tête over egg mayonnaise sandwiches was proving interesting to him as well.

“And why is that, mum?” Sarah finally asked.

And Helen revealed the secret that only she knew.

*

Her mum’s account began with the dinner party — her new friend in the Oratorio Society, and her rough-around-the edges husband. The pair of them going home to a house that had been ransacked.

Jack asked what had been taken.

“That’s just it, Jack. The robbers took
some
things. A computer here, Claire’s jewellery. Left the big TVs, the silverware, the whole place in a shambles.”

“Must have Alan confused,” Jack said.

“Oh, I’m sure it does. But you see, everything was a mess — cushions pulled out of chairs, mattress off the bed, and the wardrobe … clothes tossed to the floor, shelves emptied. As if they were looking for something.”

Her mother was taking a bit of time to get to the point, Sarah noticed.

But nonetheless, they finally seemed to close to the issue at hand.

“You see, Claire told me, that they were definitely looking for something else.”

“Hmmm,” Jack said.

“Yes. Something else that in the end … they found.”

“And what was that, mum?” Sarah asked.

“Why — her ‘running away’ money! Nearly 20,000 pounds, and all of it gone!”

“Hang on,” Jack said, grinning. “’fraid you have me stumped there. ‘Running away’ money?”

Sarah had heard the term. Something even some of her friends back in London talked about.

So she explained just exactly what that was to Jack.

*

“Maybe it’s a British thing, Jack. But wives are often encouraged by their mothers to gather a bit of money as the years go by in a marriage. Gather it, hide it. Then, if things turn sour, instead of having nothing … they’d have something to — well — ‘run away’ with. To get away. A bit of independence.”

“And all very secret?” Jack said, turning back to Helen.

“Oh, yes. I mean what husband would want his wife pocketing cash, stowing it away for some unfortunate day when the marriage simply had to be escaped? I regret I never mentioned the idea to Sarah here.”

Sarah nodded.

When her marriage ended due to her husband’s cheating, she was indeed left scrambling.

Fortunately her parents were willing to help, at least till she got back on her feet and could support herself.

“Wait a second,” Jack said. “I think I see the problem. The robbers came, found the money — but Claire Goodman
didn’t
tell Alan about it?”

“Precisely. I mean, how could she? If she told Alan, he would have to talk to her husband about it. Then he’d know. It would be just terrible. And now — she has none of the cash.”

“Mum. I’m beginning to see where you’re going with this …”

Helen tilted her head as if it couldn’t really be that obvious.

“You do? I really debated having you two over. I discussed it with Michael, of course. And Claire. She was reluctant. But I said — you Sarah, Jack — well, she could trust the two of you with her life.”

“And her secret …” Jack said.

Helen nodded.

Then Helen leaned forward.

“Could you look into it? I mean, I hear what great things you’ve done in the village. Helping people. Regular Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot, the two of you.”

Jack laughed at that.

“Now there’s an image of myself that I had never imagined.”

“Me neither,” said Sarah. “Miss Marple? Thanks mum.”

“Oh come on darling,” said Helen. “You know what I mean …”

Sarah looked at Jack.

Would he be interested in this?

After all, it could be messy. A possibly rocky marriage, nosing around things while keeping someone else’s secret?

Finally Jack put his hands together.

Sarah knew that sign.

He was in.

“Helen, how about this.” A look to Sarah. “If Sarah’s game … we can talk to Alan. Say that you mentioned what happened to the Goodmans. Would he mind us looking around? Asking a few questions?”

“And nothing about the money?”

“Nada,” Jack said. ”Secret kept. Until — maybe, if and when we find out anything. Then, well we’ll see.”

“Her husband, that Terry, he mustn’t know about the money.”

“Gotcha,” said Jack.

“And will Alan be okay with the two of you? I mean, he is the police officer.”

Again Jack laughed.

“I do think your local constable has become quite comfortable with having us around.”

Sarah’s mum looked at her

“He used to like you, Sarah. Maybe still does.”

Sarah shook her head.

Nothing her mother would like more than for her to be married again.

And even better to the local, upstanding police officer.

“That was when I was still at school, mum. Ages ago.”

“All I’m saying is that if someone holds a candle for you this long, well you know what I mean, maybe it’s time you started thinking …”

Sarah stared at her mother, thinking …
not now, please.

Her mother got the message and didn’t go on.

Jack filled the silence. “Sounds like a plan to you, Helen?”

“Yes. It’s what I hoped. She’s such a sweet woman. And her singing voice? You both must come to the concert.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Jack stood up.

“So Miss Marple and I need to plan what to do, hmm?”

“Watch it Jack,” said Sarah.

Helen stood up.

“And mum, when you get a chance, that egg mayonnaise recipe would be great.”

That made Helen beam.

And she walked them to the door.

Her mother was from a different generation; had seen things that Sarah could only imagine.

But despite Sarah’s own fear about coming back to Cherringham when her London life imploded, to go home again, she had never felt closer to her parents.

And as her mother stood at the doorway, she walked with Jack back to his Sprite.

And true to his word, he had started putting the top up.

“Hey! No, Jack. It’s okay. Turned a shade warmer. The sun, the air. It’s nice out now. Leave it down?”

“Was hoping you’d say that.”

And she got in, looking forward to the plans they’d make and really hoping they could help her mother … and her mother’s now-trapped friend.

Jack settled back in the passenger seat of Sarah’s RAV-4 but didn’t take his eyes off the road. It wasn’t Sarah’s driving that made him nervous, but even after two years living here these crazy thin English roads were still nerve-wracking.

And then there were the drivers who seemed to treat it as a badge of honour never to slow down or give way.

“Warm enough?” said Sarah.

“Sure,” said Jack. “Good call by the way — taking your car this morning. Turned so chilly. My car — would have been freezing.”

“Definitely winter today, Jack.”

“Yep, no more open top driving for me this year.”

He watched the fields and woods roll by through the window. Stone cottages, so warm in the summer, but now so grey in the dull winter light.

“Here we are — Coutts Lane,” said Sarah, swinging the car off the road and down a narrow wooded lane.

Jack leaned forward. Though they were only a mile by river from Cherringham, the road looped round for a couple of miles through countryside that Jack didn’t know.

He’d been in Cherringham for a few years now, but still there were areas he’d never explored, even whole villages tucked away with their regular pub, church, and grocery store.

The road got more and more narrow, with dry stone walls on either side. The woods finally gave way to open fields and ahead, down a gentle slope, Jack saw a copse of trees.

And just visible within it, with a lot of distance between them — four dramatic, modern houses, all glass and timber, with high roofs.

The houses had been spread out within the trees to give plenty of privacy. Just beyond them Jack caught glimpses of the river.

“Wow,” said Sarah. “Alan said they were pretty smart — he was right.”

“Think he’s really okay with us nosing around?”

“As long as he gets the arrests,” said Sarah.

“Happy to oblige.”

At the bottom of the hill a discrete sign read ‘Planter’s Croft’. The road split into four long gravel drives.

Sarah took the final one and pulled up outside what had to be the Goodmans’ house, next to a little red sports car.

“God knows how they got planning permission,” said Sarah.

“Oh, I think we know — don’t we,” said Jack. “Just gotta have the right friends. And sometimes there can be shortcuts to getting such ‘friends’.”

Before Sarah had turned the engine off, Jack saw a woman’s face appear at an upstairs window, then disappear again.

As they both climbed out of the car, the front door opened and Jack saw the woman come out and walk towards them.

In her late forties, Jack guessed, and even in jeans and a sweater she managed to look dressed up for visitors.

“Jack? Sarah?” she said, holding out her hand to Jack, then quickly embracing Sarah as if they were old friends. “Oh look at me! What am I doing giving you a big hug? I hope you don’t mind — it’s just, well Sarah, your mum, I feel like I’ve known her forever and she’s been such a support …”

“No need to apologise,” said Sarah.

“You’re too sweet!” Then she turned to Jack and smiled. “And you’re the famous New York detective?”

“Ex-detective, Mrs. Goodman,” said Jack.

“But still at it, I hear. Oh, and do call me Claire, please!”

“Happy to,” said Jack.

“So, you getting much support from Alan up in the village?”

“Oh, he’s fine, doing his job, fingerprints, chaps in white suits, taking care of all that, it’s just, well, you know …”

Jack watched her look around as if there might be eavesdroppers lurking in the bushes.

“You know … he doesn’t know the whole story, does he?”

“I’m not sure that we do either, to be honest, Claire,” said Sarah. “Why don’t we go inside, so you can tell us in your own words what happened?”

For a second Claire Goodman seemed to pause as if she didn’t know what Sarah meant.

Then her face broke into a grin.

“Of course, of course! What am I doing, leaving you out here in the cold! Come on in and let’s have a latte. I’ve got one of those machines, makes it just like real coffee …”

“Mind if I take a few minutes, look around out here first?” said Jack.

“No, of course,” said Claire. “We’ll be at the back of the house in the kitchen. Come on, Sarah.”

And she put her arm through Sarah’s and headed towards the front door of the tall glass-fronted house.

*

As Sarah followed Claire inside, Jack stood with his back to the building and took in the setting.