The Fall Girl (28 page)

“Even more so than usual,” Edward pointed out.

“So we decided to take Kinky with us, in case he got lonely.”

“But I specifically asked you to keep him here at all times.” Lexy stared, dismayed, at Edward.

“We thought you were just being over-protective, lovie.” Edward twisted a tea towel. “I mean, who would have thought ...?”

“In the Jolly Herring, of all places...” agreed Peter, scandalised.

Lexy stared from one to the other. “So you took Kinky to Clopwolde, to the Jolly Herring.”

“Yes,” said Edward. “And he was with us all evening, eating crisps, perfectly happy. Then, just before last orders, we happened to leave him – it can only have been for,
what, two minutes?”

Peter nodded confirmation. “I was in the loo, and Eddie was at the bar. And when we got back...”

“Gone! We nearly died, sweetie,” said Edward. “Searched the pub from top to bottom, then had all the punters out looking for him up and down the street. Had to offer a reward,
of course.”

“Hang on, hang on,” said Lexy. “Was he tied up when you left him?”

“Yes, his lead was tied to the table leg – it had been all evening.” said Peter.

“Since that incident with the cocker spaniel,” Edward reminded him. “But he must have pulled it free.”

Or perhaps someone had deliberately untied it.

“Let me guess,” said Lexy. “Was Gerard Warwick-Holmes in the Jolly Herring that night?”

“Gerard was there, as it happened, yes,” said Peter. “He’s staying there, actually.”

“I suppose he was out looking, too, after Kinky disappeared?”

“Yes. In fact, it was the most helpful he’d been all week.”

“I bet it was, the bastard,” she said quietly.

Edward and Peter exchanged bemused looks. “The thing is, sweetie, we haven’t been able to find Kinky anywhere,” said Edward, pushing himself up, and pacing up and down the
kitchen. “It’s been the most traumatic episode in my entire life, and that’s saying something. We’ve had the whole village on red alert. When you called us, we totally
panicked.”

“No, you panicked,” snapped Peter.

“You were the one who told her he was all right.”

“Only because you already had, you great f...”

“Shut up,” said Lexy.

“Then we agonised about whether to call you back,” Edward continued, his voice shaking.

“But we kept hoping he’d turn up,” said Peter.

“And we stupidly left it longer and longer, and you kept trying to contact us, and basically we haven’t been able to sleep a wink since it happened. We were up all last night,
driving around Clopwolde with packets of Doggy Chomps. Just about to try to grab an hour now, before going out knocking on doors. God, darling, we’ve been to all the dogs’ homes and
rescue centres for miles around...” Edward slumped at the table, his eyes glistening. “We should have told you right away, lovie, but we know how much he means to you, and we just
wanted to get him back in one piece without...”

“We even called your policeman,” interrupted Peter.

“You called Milo?”

Edward frowned. “Fat lot of good that did us. He came round here, we explained what had happened, he asked a couple of questions, then off he went, like he had a poker stuck up
his...”

“Edward!” Peter took over. “One has to say he didn’t make any helpful suggestions, and when we asked if we should report Kinky as stolen through the official police
channels, he said don’t bother.”

“Don’t bother?” Lexy repeated.

“Well, he was in a tearing hurry,” said Edward. “Clearly our little trauma was beneath him.”

“Perhaps he had other things on his mind,” said Lexy, darkly. “Anyway, forget him. Listen, is Gerard still in Clopwolde?”

“He’s due to leave this morning, and good riddance. But what’s he got to do with all this?” Peter was bemused.

“Everything.” Lexy checked her watch. “Gerard is my husband.”

“What!”

“I know. Hard to believe, isn’t it? Imagine how I feel. Right – get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Yes, but... how?” Edward began, his round brown eyes widening. “Why did you never...? When did you...?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

“No – now.” Edward propelled Lexy upstairs and she hovered in the doorway as the two men hopped around the bedroom, pulling on trousers, shirts and socks.

“Fourteen years? You’ve been married to Gerard Warwick-Holmes for...?” Peter shoved his foot into a tasteful leather brogue. “Does that mean you were that
blonde...”

“Bimbo. Yes.”

“Can’t wear brown with black, lovie,” Edward muttered.

“... in
Heirlooms in the Attic
?” Peter began to pull the shoe off again.

“Yes.”

“The one who used to bend over a lot in tight jeans?”

“Yes. And boys – this is an emergency. Brown with black is exempt for the day. Come on.”

Lexy led the way downstairs at a run.

“Where are we going?”

“The Jolly Herring. You’ll have to drive, Edward.”

She couldn’t risk Gerard recognising her car. Not now it had a new windscreen.

On the way, Lexy gave the two men a potted history of her marriage to the washed-up antiques show presenter. She didn’t tell them about the half million she’d nicked from his safe,
but she mentioned that when he last saw her, Gerard had laid claim to the chihuahua.

“He was very keen to get his hands on Kinky,” Lexy said. “Which is why I thought I’d put him in a safe house.”

“And instead,” said Edward, “I took the poor little mutt right into the lion’s den. I’m distraught, darling.”

“It’s my own fault. I should have told you all this before.”

“So you reckon Gerard’s got Kinky hidden in his room at the JH?” Peter intervened.

“I’m certain he has. He must have swiped him when you two weren’t there, and sneaked him up the stairs.”

“Yes – now I come to think about it, we were sitting right at the back of the bar, by the door that leads up to the bedrooms,” snorted Edward. “The bloody nerve of the
man.”

“And that... arse... actually came up to me at one point and asked about Kinky,” Peter said. “Asked if he was ours. I said he belonged to a friend.”

“That would have been enough for him.” Lexy slipped her seatbelt off as they approached Clopwolde high street. “Drive round the back of the pub, and drop me off. You two are
going to have to chat up the landlord and find out what room Gerard’s in.”

Edward swept the Jag into a space next to the pub kitchen, and Lexy slipped out and crouched between a row of wheelie bins, praying that her two friends wouldn’t screw this up.

After five minutes, Edward put his head around the corner of the pub wall.

“What’s the news?” Lexy whispered.

“He’s in the Pilchard Room, right at the top. Peter’s distracting old Fanny Adams...” Edward was referring to the pub landlord, Francis, “... so we can nip up the
back stairs.”

Edward led the way up three flights of carpeted stairs. The Pilchard Room was at the back of the creaky old Victorian pub. They crept up to the door. It had a Do Not Disturb sign hanging from
the handle.

“He might be asleep. Try knocking,” Lexy whispered. “I’ll hide around the corner.”

“What shall I say?”

“Whatever, Edward. Anything. Say you’ve come to wish him goodbye and thank him for all his hard work at the antiques fair.”

Edward harrumphed.

“All you need to do is get in there and get a glimpse of Kinky. I’ll do the rest.”

When Lexy was in position, Edward rapped on the door. He waited a minute then rapped again.

He shook his head at Lexy. “No muffled barks. No rustle of quilt.”

She hurried to join him. “Right.” Lexy felt in her inside pocket.

“What’re you doing? Ordering room service?”

“They didn’t call them access cards for nothing.” Lexy swiped the rectangle of plastic hard down between the door and frame, and on the second attempt, the lock sprang back and
the door swung open.

The room was empty. It had been left in a hell of a mess – bedclothes in a twisted bundle, damp towels on the floor, half-drunk whisky bottle on the table.

But the most disturbing thing was the blood. Blood spattered across the sheets, the towels and the carpet.

Edward clutched her.

“It’s OK. Kinky probably bit him.”

Lexy tried to keep calm. She checked the bin. Among the used tissues and discarded newspapers were five empty dog food pouches. The cheap kind. A bowl of water had been left in the corner of the
room.

“He was here all along – right under our noses.” Edward balled his fists. “If I’d even guessed...”

Peter put his head around the door.

“He’s left,” he called in a stage whisper.

“We know,” said Lexy.

“Is that...”

“Yes – blood.”

Peter swayed. Lexy and Edward helped him back down the corridor. “Gerard actually called Fanny just now,” Peter said, when he could talk again. “While I was standing there.
From what I could gather, he said he’d had to leave in the early hours of this morning, so he paid his room bill over the phone.”

Lexy swallowed. Gerard had been gone hours.

“Going to need to go up to London, then, aren’t we?” said Edward, briskly. “Still got your key to Gerard’s house, Lexy?”

Lexy shook her head. “I wasn’t ever intending to go back.”

“Well, I’m sure we can find a way to get hold of Kinky. Gerard’s got to let him out in the back garden sometime, hasn’t he? Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll get
him back, exactly the same way that slimy, red-faced gargoyle nicked him from us.” Edward dangled his car keys in front of Lexy’s face, and she and Peter followed him through the
pub.

There was a chance Edward was right, but Lexy wasn’t banking on it. She wasn’t sure what Gerard intended to do with the chihuahua, but she knew it wouldn’t involve giving him a
loving home in South Kensington. All her husband had really wanted to do was to part Lexy from the dog – which he had successfully done. What he did with Kinky from now on was anyone’s
guess, although one thing was for sure. If Gerard was true to form, he’d offload him as soon as possible. And he’d already had several hours’ start.

Lonny, Lexy’s neighbour, was standing at the bar with his cronies as they passed through. He waved cheerily to her. “That you, luvver? Didn’t recognise you with your clothes
on.”

The group of fishermen hooted.

“Just – let’s not go there,” said Lexy, at Peter’s enquiring glance.

“Ah – you should’ve seen ’im.” Lonny returned to his original subject. “Two lovely black eyes. Jumped in that thirty grand Chelsea tractor of ’is, and
drove out of the village like Old Shuck himself was after ’im.”

His friends roared with appreciative laughter.

Lexy had only just caught Lonny’s words as she followed Edward and Peter through the door. She stopped and went over to the bar.

“You talking about Gerard Warwick-Holmes?”

He put an arm around her. “Yes, my darlin’, I am. Four o’clock this morning, when I was heading for the beach with my rods, past the back of this ’ere pub, he came
rushing out the door with two shiners and a bloody nose. Looked like someone had given him a right pasting.”

“Did he have anyone... or anything... with him?”

Lonny shook his head. “Nah. Apart from that poncy designer suitcase.”

Perhaps Kinky was already in the car. “Right. Thanks.”

“What for, darlin’. I haven’t given you anything yet. Could do, though, if you like?”

More hoots.

So Gerard had been in a fight. Wouldn’t be the first time. Lexy just hoped that Kinky hadn’t been caught up in it, too.

Edward was gunning the Jaguar outside the pub, Peter sitting next to him, pulling at his seatbelt.

They arrived at the South Kensington villa two and a half hours later.

Edward parked at a discreet distance, ignoring the yellow lines and ‘residents only’ signs. Gerard’s ostentatious car wasn’t parked in the drive.

“Is there a garage?” Peter asked.

Lexy shook her head. She couldn’t trust herself to speak. All the way there, against her common sense, she had got up her hopes that Gerard would be at home with Kinky, and somehow between
the three of them, she, Edward and Peter would be able to recover the chihuahua. Gerard’s car not being in the drive was the first blow.

“Perhaps he dropped Kinky off earlier and went on somewhere, Edward mused.

Yeah, the hospital, if what Lonny said was right.

Edward pushed open the car door. “I’m going to have a listen through the letterbox.”

“Yes,” said Lexy, eagerly. “If Kinky’s there he’s bound to bark. Just be quick in case Gerard turns up – we need the element of surprise.”

She hoped that none of neighbours was watching as Edward sidled up the drive in a pair of shades and an old trilby he’d found in the boot of the Jaguar.

“He couldn’t look more like a housebreaker if he tried,” Peter muttered. “Why doesn’t he just stride up there... oh, sod it...”

A traffic warden had appeared. Peter slid into the driving seat and he and Lexy drove off, leaving Edward to it. The only parking space was two streets away.

Edward called Peter’s mobile, minutes later. “Not a sound from inside. I’ll be waiting on the other side of the... hang on...” His voice fell to a hoarse whisper.
“The chihuahua has landed.”

“Yes!” Peter started the engine. Lexy felt her heart surge.

But when they pulled up beside Edward, who was lurking behind one of the lime trees that lined the road, he shrugged his shoulders apologetically, pointing to a woman holding a lead.
“Different chihuahua. Sorry.”

“They’re practically compulsory around here.” Lexy gritted her teeth to stop the tears of disappointment that threatened to well. She looked over at the villa. “Sorry,
guys, I need to know if he’s in there.”

And before either Edward or Peter could stop her, she had marched over to her old home, walked down the side passage and scaled the locked wooden gate that led to the back garden.

“Kinky,” she called, jumping down. “You there, boy?”

He wasn’t. Not outside, at any rate. She stared through the conservatory window, shading her eyes against the sun. God, the place was a mess – Gerard had always been a stranger to
housework. Clearly hadn’t found anyone yet to take on the job for him. Lexy felt vindictively glad.