In the gathering dusk it seemed further back to her car than Gina remembered and it was with some relief that she finally reached it. As she opened the door, she saw a car speeding down the hill towards her. For a second she thought perhaps Alex had decided there were still things to say. Then she saw it was a blue VW Golf, not the dirty grey Astra.
It slowed to a halt as it reached her. A woman was driving. The man in the passenger seat spoke through the open window.
‘Having trouble, darling?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You sure?’ said the woman, leaning across.
‘No. I just fancied a bit of air so I had a little stroll,’ said Gina.
It was kind of these people to be concerned, but she was not in the mood for kindness. She wanted to be left to herself in the private space of her car, to sit there till the darkness cloaked her completely, and to let flow all the still-unshed tears.
She turned to her open car door.
The man and woman exchanged glances, the woman nodded as if confirming a decision, and they both got out.
Even when the man grasped her arm Gina couldn’t believe that this was anything more than a really irritating excess of good Samaritanism. But when the woman opened the back door of the Golf and the man began to push her towards it, her mind did a somersault that brought all of Alex’s warnings about the expendability of staked goats to the surface.
She tried to wrench herself free. All that happened was she felt her arm forced up between her shoulder blades and her head cracked against the frame of the door as she was forced into the VW. She screamed. The man slid in beside her, the door slammed shut, the car set off. She screamed again.
The man slapped her face.
She stopped screaming.
The man said, ‘That’s better, darling. Any more noise from you and I’ll break your jaw.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Vince,’ said the woman. ‘How’s she going to talk then? Let’s find somewhere quiet, then she can scream all she likes.’
18.35-18.50
When Maggie Pinchbeck turned off the narrow country road to come to a halt before the high gates of Windrush House, the grey Jaguar that had been following her for the last half-mile turned too.
Maggie wound down her window so that the camera could get a better view of her face in the gathering dusk.
A voice she recognized as Milton Slingsby’s said, ‘Hi, Miss Pinchbeck.’
Then the camera adjusted, presumably to look at the car behind hers. Its driver decided to make life easier and got out and advanced till he was peering right up into the lens.
He was a tall imposing figure, in his forties, with a heavy jaw that looked as if it hadn’t seen a razor for a couple of days and a shock of vigorous brown hair, beginning to be tipped with silver.
He glared aggressively at the camera, but didn’t need to give his name as Slingsby said, ‘Mick, hi! It’s Sling. Long time no see!’
A short pause, then the gates swung open.
Maggie drove carefully up the gravelled drive, recalling Dave’s warning about his father’s pride in his lawns. She got the impression that if the man behind hadn’t been constrained by her pace, he wouldn’t have given a damn.
Outside the house she parked alongside Dave’s Audi with the Jag on the other side.
I’m in the wrong business, she thought as she got out of her dusty Corsa.
The Jag driver nodded at her but made no attempt at introduction or conversation as they went up the steps together. Milton Slingsby opened the door. He gave Maggie a bright smile. But the other arrival he greeted with a cry of, ‘Hi, Mick, how’re you doing?’ and a high-five.
‘Sling,’ said the man without any respondent enthusiasm.
Dave the Third came down the stairs as they entered the reception hall. He looked preoccupied.
‘Hi, Maggie,’ he said. Then he turned his attention to the Jag driver and said unenthusiastically, ‘Who’s this?’
Sling said, ‘It’s OK, Dave. This is Mick Purdy, come to see your pappy.’
Dave the Third frowned for a moment then managed a small official smile.
‘Of course! It’s Commander Purdy, isn’t it?’
‘Uh-huh,’ grunted Purdy ungraciously.
‘You gave evidence to a Select Committee I was on. Sorry I didn’t recognize you straight off. You were in uniform then, I think.’
‘Well, we know you lot like a bit of pantomime,’ said Purdy.
Mick Purdy, thought Maggie. Commander Mick Purdy. Who had interviewed a woman called Delay about an assault allegation against Goldie Gidman. Who had been a friend and colleague of the missing DI Wolfe. Who was now in a relationship with Gina Wolfe. Who was here to see Goldie Gidman. And who didn’t feel the need or wasn’t in the mood to be polite to Dave the Third MP.
She waited for her employer to express some curiosity about the purpose of Purdy’s visit, but he just said, ‘My father’s busy with my mother just now, but he’ll be free in a moment. Sling, show the commander into the lounge.’
The policeman nodded brusquely and followed Slingsby into a room off the hall.
Now Dave the Third turned to her and said, ‘Maggie, I’ve got you here on a wild-goose chase, I’m afraid. My mother got a phone call about twenty minutes ago. Her sister, Belle, the one in Broadstairs, has had a stroke. It sounds serious and Mammy wants to get there straight away. She’s just packing a few things, then I’m going to drive her down.’
‘No problem,’ said Maggie. ‘Keep me posted, and I’ll take care of things if you feel you ought to stay down there.’
‘Yes,’ said Gidman. ‘I know I can rely on you for that. But can I ask you a really big favour, Maggie? Mammy’s really upset at the thought of leaving Goldie on his own. It’s Dean’s night off, and when Dean has a night off, it really is a night, he won’t show till breakfast. I know Sling will be here, but he’s not all that reliable these days, so I wondered…’
He looks really uncomfortable to be asking me a favour, she thought. Have I made our relationship that impersonal?
She said, ‘You’d like me to spend the night here, make sure Goldie gets properly fed and watered?’
‘Yes, please. To tell the truth, he’s not all that domesticated and, between the two of them, I think they’re quite capable of setting the house on fire! Ma would be really chuffed if you’ll stay. You know how high she rates you.’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘No problem.’
‘Maggie, you’re a star,’ he said with a warmth that faintly embarrassed her, mainly because it seemed so genuine.
Flo Gidman came bustling down the stairs, an old leather grip in her hand.
She registered Maggie, said, ‘Hello, dearie,’ then to her son, ‘David, I’m ready, we ought to be on our way. I’ve said cheerio to your father, he says he’ll manage, but I do wish Dean was here. Doesn’t everything happen at the worst possible time, Maggie?’
She was saved from answering by Dave, who said, ‘Mammy, I’ve got some good news, Maggie here says she’ll stay the night and make sure Pappy’s properly taken care of.’
‘Oh, Maggie, will you?’ cried Flo. ‘That would be such a relief, you’ve no idea. It’s not that Goldie’s helpless, it’s just that he doesn’t bother. Unless there’s someone here to keep him right, he’ll sit up half the night in front of
