The Fall Girl (13 page)

“What – this great idea of yours about them having bumped off Elizabeth so they could get their hands on this place?”

“Well – for starters, what they were saying outside the pub was that sooner or later, I’d find out, just like Elizabeth did.”

“Find out what?”

“I don’t know, do I? That’s the thing. And they said, the longer I stay up here, the worse it gets for them.”

“You sure you heard them right?”

“Oh, yes – I’m sure. And get this. Ward said if I didn’t get out, they’d have to go to Plan B. He said, ‘We’ll just have to deal with her the hard
way.’”

Milo gave a short laugh. “What are you trying to say? That he’s going to come up here and take you out?”

“Yeah. And I don’t think he’s planning on taking me out on a picnic.”

“You really are living in La-La Land, Lomax.”

“Well, it’s possible, isn’t it? They want the cottage really badly for some reason. They’ve already tried to buy it from the Patersons, and they want me out of it right
now.”

“OK. Why would they want it that much?”

Lexy threw back her elderberry wine with a grimace. “There must be something in here that incriminates them in some way.”

“Don’t you think they would have removed it long before you arrived here?”

“Not if they assumed they would be able to buy the place as it stands. Anyway, perhaps it’s something not immediately obvious, something that they have to, you know, search
for.”

“Like what?”

“Who knows? But it has to be bad enough for them to be considering getting me out of the way... permanently.”

They stared at each other.

“That’s just crazy,” said Milo, at last. “What do you think – Ward Gallimore’s going to come striding up here and blow you away with a shotgun?
Hardly.”

“Can’t you at least check the case record for Elizabeth’s death? Someone might have missed something.”

“I knew it. I knew it would come to this. Any idea what you’re asking?”

“How difficult can it be?”

“I have to give a reason, you know.”

“Don’t bother, then.” Lexy opened the back door and let herself and Kinky out into the back garden. She breathed deeply. The sky was crammed with stars, double the usual
number, and two pale moons hung over the hillside. That cider had certainly got to her, and the elderberry wine wasn’t helping. She leaned on the rough stone wall of the house, having doubts
herself, now.

When she went back into the kitchen. Milo was rinsing his glass out.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Lexy, you’re making a mountain out of a molehill here.” He dried the glass and draped the tea towel over the back of a chair. “Just leave it. I’ll give you a ride
back to Clopwolde tonight and we can come and get your car tomorrow.”

“What – and let them win? I’m meant to be investigating Elizabeth’s death.”

“I’ve had enough of this.” Milo headed for the door. “You’re forgetting that one of my officers was in charge of investigating that case. If he’d found the
least reason to believe Elizabeth Cassall was murdered, do you seriously think he would have ignored it?”

“No. No, of course not. But he might have missed something.”

Milo turned, his hand on the door knob. “I’m telling you, Lexy – that woman fell backwards over her balcony accidentally. It’s not the first time something like that has
happened and it won’t be the last.”

Lexy shrugged, looked away.

His voice softened. “If it’ll put your mind at rest I’ll get someone from uniform to go and have a chat with the Gallimores tomorrow morning. We’ve got a ready-made
pretext if they’ve been talking about break-ins. Give them the not-so-subtle message that we’re watching them. But only if you go back home tonight.”

Lexy grimaced. “Even if I wanted to drop this case, which I don’t, I still wouldn’t go back to Clopwolde right now.”

“Damn, you’re pig-headed. But why don’t you want to go home?” His eyes narrowed at her expression. “Oh, yes – the husband. But he can’t be that bad, can
he? I mean, what’s he going to do if he sees you?”

Lexy looked down. “Let’s just say he’s not going to be very happy. And Milo, he’s mixed up with some very dodgy people.” She paused, noting the grey glint in the
detective’s eye. “There’s stuff he wouldn’t draw the line at. Not just ripping people off. He didn’t like being crossed. Over the last couple of years things got quite
nasty.”

“Didn’t you ever think about reporting it?”

“I gave a few anonymous tip-offs to your lot, you’ll be pleased to note. Not that they did anything. But Gerard suspected me. I had to keep my head down for a long time, and toe his
line.” She gave a ruthless laugh. “Funny, though, after all that – the thing that really pushed me over the edge was that lost Lowry painting. Y’know – Gerard stealing
all that money that should have gone to charity. That really got me here.” She thumped her chest.

Milo smiled through the flickering light. “Well, he reckoned without you.”

“Yeah, he did, didn’t he?”

“So, he ever hit you?”

The question took her by surprise. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” She twisted her empty glass. “Anyway, I’m out of it, now. And perhaps you can understand now why I
want to stay out of it while he’s in the village.”

Milo nodded. It was too dark to see his expression. “Perhaps you are better off here, on balance,” he conceded.

“So, you’re off?” She kept her voice casual.

“I suppose I’d better get some sleep. As had you.”

“Guess.”

“I’ll see you when you get back to Clopwolde.”

“Yup.”

“Want me to stay?”

Did he really say that? “I’ll be all right.”

“If you’re sure.”

Lexy stood by the door. The engine and headlights came on. Milo was illuminated in the driving seat. He lifted his hand in a single salute, and went, taking the light with him.

“See you,” said Lexy softly, feeling her way back to a kitchen of jumping shadows.

Kinky pressed a damp nose against her ankle, making her gasp.

“What are you doing?” she shouted, then immediately bent to stroke him.

“Sorry, mate – I’m really on edge.” She sat dolefully for a long while before picking up the candle and lurching into the living room, dripping hot wax all over her
jeans.

The candle went out, and with a groan, Lexy lay back on the sofa, fully clothed.

The faces of the Gallimores drifted in front of her eyes. Bruce, Tyman, Ward, Bruce, Tyman, Ward – each wearing a sinister smile.

“Kinky – are you awake?”

The chihuahua grumbled from the other end of the sofa where he’d just settled.

She fell into an uneasy sleep.

At four o’clock in the morning Lexy’s eyes flew open.

She’d had that dream again. The faceless pursuer. Legs turned to lead. Hot breath on her neck.

She couldn’t even blame Kinky this time. He was still curled up at the bottom of the sofa.

She lay there, trying to get her hammering heart under control. This was becoming ridiculous. The same nightmare, twice running. Running. She gave a mirthless laugh which was suddenly cut
short.

She’d heard a noise.

So had Kinky. He jumped down, silent but alert.

Lexy crept over to the patio window and tweaked the curtain back. It was still dark outside. She stood straining her ears, listening for something – she wasn’t sure what, exactly.
The sound she’d heard had been one she thought she knew, but from where? It was out of context in this chilly night.

Nothing more broke the thickly blanketed silence.

Lexy stumbled to the safety of her sleeping bag.

When she next opened her eyes it was daylight, of sorts, an overcast sky, and a fine, misty rain. She had a horrible taste in her mouth, a thumping headache, and the sunburn on her shoulders was
as sore as hell.

“Why didn’t you stop me drinking pints, Kinky?” she groaned.

She lay back gingerly, assaulted by memories of the previous evening.

The irony was, it was meant to have been a pleasant night out, just Milo and herself. Then, along came the Patersons, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, the Gallimores of Pilgrim’s
Farm.

Lexy cringed as she recalled how worked up she’d been about the rare breed farmers, and their inexplicable threats outside the pub. How Milo had been trying to talk sense into her.
Offering to stay. And then that nightmare again.

She leaned down and picked up her jacket.

God, her head. It took a couple of minutes before Lexy was able to take the photo from her pocket and look at Steve Paterson, smiling kindly down at his daughter.

Lexy groped her delicate way to the kitchen, and reached automatically for the light. It came on. Electricity was back. Well, that was something. She wouldn’t have to boil up a billy-can
in the front porch to get a cup of tea. At a whine from Kinky, she unlocked and pushed open the kitchen door.

It was unseasonably cold outside. Purple clouds gathered like bruises.

Kinky slunk out.

From her bag, left on a kitchen chair, Lexy’s mobile rang. She glanced at the drear weather. Of all days, today wasn’t the one she would have expected to get a signal.

She plucked the instrument from her bag before the atmospherics changed their mind. It was Milo.

“You all right?”

“Yes – fine.”

“Electricity back on?”

“Yep.”

There was a pause.

“Any problems during the night?”

“You mean, did someone try to break in?” She sat down. “No. But I woke up at four in the morning... ” She hesitated. “I heard a sound.”

“What kind of sound?”

“I dunno. A cough, maybe.” Or gunshot through a silencer. “Close by, outside.”

“Man or woman?”

“God knows, Milo.”

“Look,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about Elizabeth’s death. I mean, there’s nothing tangible to support reopening the investigation, but, well, like you,
I’ve just got a bit of a feeling.”

Lexy stared at the phone. Result.

“I’ll do a bit of digging. Meanwhile...” Lexy heard urgent voices in the background. “Right. Got to go. I’ll be in touch. Ring if anything else, you know...
suspect... happens.”

“I will.”

“In fact, call me anyway.”

“Sure.” Lexy clicked the phone off. Was he going soft?

Moments later, she heard an engine outside. She moved quickly to the window. It was the Patersons, here much earlier than expected. Lexy ran a hand through her hair. She was still wearing last
night’s clothes.

There was a knock at the front door, and Kinky whistled through from the back, barking loudly.

“Not too early, are we?”

Steve Paterson, who looked as if he’d also slept in his clothes, gave her his grave, sweet smile.

“No – come in. Have some tea.”

He went past her, followed by Gabrielle, who was wearing carefully applied make-up. Rowana brought up the rear, looking as if she expected Elizabeth’s ghost to pop out of a crack in the
floorboards any minute and smother her.

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

Lexy was sick of saying it. “Yeah, fine.”

Steve led the way into the kitchen.

“Sleep all right?” he enquired.

“Not really,” Lexy said. “Kind of explains my dishevelled appearance.”

“I didn’t notice anything different,” Gabrielle murmured.

Lexy filled the kettle and switched it on, then assembled four of Elizabeth’s best china bird-embossed mugs on the table. Robin, sparrow, blackbird and blue tit. She gave Gabrielle the
tit.

“I thought we’d go to a hardware shop today, and get a couple of bolts for the patio door, and a few window locks,” said Steve. “Don’t want any unwelcome
guests.”

“Any more than we’ve already got,” Lexy heard Gabrielle whisper to Rowana.

“Good idea.” Lexy dropped two spoons of sugar into her mug.

“Shall we have a look around?” said Rowana.

“Yeah. See if she had anything valuable.” Gabrielle grabbed up her mug and they headed out of the door. “Oh, and didn’t you say there was a photo of us here?”

Steve looked up sharply.

Lexy blinked. “Where did I put it?” she murmured. “In one of the books in the other room, I think. I’ll dig it out for you.”

“OK.” Gabrielle disappeared.

Steve was over by the window, looking out at the shed.

“It’s a great place, isn’t it?” said Lexy.

He nodded, and came to sit at the table.

“Hope you don’t mind me being here,” she said.

“Not in the least.”

“I was only planning to stay until the weekend, if that’s OK?”

“’Course it is. Stay as long as you like. Er... did you know Elizabeth well?”

Lexy had been expecting the question. She just thanked her lucky stars it came now, and not at the pub the previous night, in front of the Gallimores.

Even so, it was difficult lying to him.

“I only came to know her relatively recently.”

“Did you talk about the past much?” His eyes seemed to be asking more than his words.

Lexy shook her head

“Was she happy?”

“Think so. She seemed content here.”

“It had to be an accident, then?”

Lexy was taken aback by the conversational turn. “What – the fall? It seems that way. The coroner’s report...”

“Yes, I know what that’s going to say. But... what do you think? As her friend?”

“Me?” Lexy thought how to word it. “She didn’t seem to be depressed, if that’s what you mean.”

“So you don’t think it was suicide?”

She shook her head, noting his expression of relief.

Did he know something that might have caused Elizabeth to want to kill herself? Lexy was almost too engaged in this thought to notice he’d spoken again.

“Tell me about yourself.” He was considering her, head on one side.

“Not much to tell.” But all the same, Lexy found herself talking about her upbringing in a series of caravans and motor vans, and how she and her folks had travelled the lanes and
byroads of Kent and Sussex, hop-picking, fruit-picking, ditching, hedging and anything else they could get.

He in turn gave her a potted history of Paterson’s Fine Cakes, and the trials and tribulations of bringing up two daughters on his own. “Different as chalk and cheese they
are,” he said, fondly. “Rowana’s a thinker, and Gabrielle is a do-er.”