His return changed the nature of her incarceration. All through the night she’d thought he’d left her there to die. Now it was clear he had some other agenda. Carole Seddon wasn’t about to be murdered; she had merely been kidnapped.
She shut her mind to the other reasons why he might have come back to her.
His body blocked the light as he rolled in through the narrow aperture. Carole wasn’t feeling light-hearted, but she thought a light-hearted approach might be worth trying.
“If you’ve come to give me another loo-break,” she said, “you’re only just in time.”
He didn’t speak, but untied the end of the rope from its root and helped her out into the open. The air was cold outside, but didn’t have the deathly chill of the cave.
“You’re going to have to untie me or I’ll wet myself.”
He obliged, releasing her legs. But he only freed one hand, keeping her like a child on a parental lead in a shopping precinct. For a moment Carole thought she’d fall over, but she stamped some consciousness into her legs and arms, before giving in to the urgency of her bladder and squatting down. Again he averted his eyes.
Once she’d rearranged her clothing, Carole sat down facing her captor. “How long are you planning to keep me here?”
“That depends,” he said, the first words he’d spoken to her that morning. “Depends on how much you know.”
“About what?”
“Don’t play games!” He snatched at the rope that still held her wrist and gave it a vicious tug.
Carole realized that, up until that point, she’d just been lucky. He wasn’t afraid to hurt her; he just hadn’t hurt her so far.
“I know some of what you know,” he went on. “Will Maples keeps his ears open in the Hare and Hounds.”
“And he tells you everything, does he?”
“Will Maples owes me a few favours.” He grinned complacently.
“Why? Is it something to do with drugs?”
“Oh, well done. Not just a pretty face, are you?” His grin turned cruel. “Not even a pretty face. Still, you’re right. Will Maples has been dealing drugs from the Hare and Hounds ever since he’s been there. I’ve known that for a long time, and so for a long time he’s done exactly what I tell him.”
“Otherwise you’ll shop him to his bosses?”
“Exactly.”
“Is he involved with the Brighton dealers?”
“Yes.”
“Strange life yours, isn’t it?” Carole felt defiant now. Since nothing she said was likely to do her much good, she might as well say what she thought. “A counterbalance of threats and blackmail. You’ve got information on someone, they’ve got information on you.”
“Exactly, Carole. And so long as the people concerned agree to keep that information to themselves, everything in the garden’s lovely.”
“And, if they don’t agree to keep that information to themselves?”
“Ah, then…” He shook his head regretfully. “Then, I’m afraid, they have to die.”
Suddenly he was alert to a sound that Carole had not heard. “Get in the cave!” he hissed. “There’s someone coming!”
? Death on the Downs ?
Forty-Four
Irene Forbes ushered Jude into the sitting room. She seemed unfazed to have a visitor, but then it was hard to tell what emotions lay behind that smooth Chinese face. Jude was moved by the woman’s beauty, and also by her appearance of youth. From what Carole had said of her history, Irene Forbes must have been at least in her late forties, but she could have been twenty years younger. Her skin, the colour of Rich Tea biscuits, was unlined, and there was no touch of grey in the black bell of her hair.
She was simply dressed in white trousers and brown jumper, but somehow contrived to look exotic, a hothouse flower in the Englishness of a Weldisham sitting room.
Jude refused the offer of tea or coffee and said, “I was very sorry to hear about your husband’s illness.”
Irene Forbes bowed acknowledgement of the sentiment. “I’m pleased to say he’s a lot better than he was at the weekend.”
“Good. People seem to make complete recoveries from strokes these days.”
It was unlike Jude to get caught up in this cycle of civilities, but there was something about her hostess’s serenity that unnerved her. Jude, a woman with her own inner strengths, could sense in Irene a matching or even stronger power.
“Look,” she went on, trying to be more assertive, “it’s very kind of you to invite me in when you have no idea who I am. We have a mutual Mend, actually. Her name is Carole Seddon and she came to dinner a week or two back.”
“A charming woman,” said Irene. “She comes from Feth-ering, I believe. Graham very much enjoyed her company. I believe they have a mutual interest in the
“Nor me.” Jude found the woman’s stillness seductive. She felt the urgency within her seep away and it was with an effort that she continued, “Look, Carole’s gone missing, and I’m very worried about what may have happened to her.”
“I am sorry she’s gone missing. And if I could do anything to help you find her, of course I would. But I’m afraid I do not know your friend well. I only met her that one evening.”
Jude took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, this is difficult to say, but I’m afraid Carole’s disappearance may have something to do with the bones.”
“Ah.” The monosyllable was one of acceptance.
“The bones that she found at South Welling Barn. Carole had managed to discover a lot more about where those bones came from and, in doing so, she may have upset someone.”
“I would think that was very possible.”
“Mrs Forbes, I haven’t got time to beat about the bush. Carole thought the bones belonged to your husband’s first wife, Sheila.”
There was a silence. Then Irene Forbes slowly lowered her face, so that she was looking at the floor. “They always say it is impossible to keep anything secret in an English village.” She sighed and looked up again, with a trace of a smile around her lips. “Graham and I have had thirteen years together, three in Kuala Lumpur and ten here. We have been lucky. Many people do not have so much in their lifetime.”
“But how long have you known about…what happened?”
“About Sheila? Not long. Only a matter of weeks.”
“It must have been a terrible shock for you.”
“A shock certainly. But more a sadness.”
A detail fell into place. “My friend Carole told me she first saw you in the church. St Michael and All Angels. She said you were crying. Was that because of what you’d heard?”
The helmet of black hair hardly moved as the woman nodded. “Yes. Religion can sometimes help. Faith is so much more forgiving than morality. No, it was very sad. That for Graham and me to be happy, someone else had to suffer so much.”
“Did it affect how you felt about him…when you knew?”
Irene Forbes shook her head slowly, but very firmly. “No. You love what a person is, not what they’ve done.”
“And the police know about it, do they? About the murder?”
“They suspect. Soon they will know for sure. A policeman – Detective Sergeant Baylis – came to see Graham last Friday. He had phoned in the morning to say he was coming.”
