It was a transparently feeble attempt to improve Stephanie’s mood. ‘We already said that. And you’ll have gone home before he comes again,’ she said stiffly.
‘That’s where you’re wrong, if I’m any judge,’ said Thea. ‘He’ll be back on Boxing Day, I bet you. I wonder what he’s said to Gladwin.’
‘She’s going to be pretty miffed at having her family Christmas interrupted,’ said Jessica.
‘Well, I hope she doesn’t blame me,’ said Thea.
Drew and Timmy were still an hour or so away, which gave Thea time to prepare mulled wine and mince pies to welcome the travellers home, as well as lighting candles in the windows and the ritualistic stacking of the presents under the tree. Everybody had accumulated parcels under their beds or in cupboards, in preparation for Christmas Eve. This particular practice had been instigated by Thea, who had grown up with dogs prone to sniff out anything edible and attack the relevant parcel when nobody was looking. The children had strongly approved it, owing to the added excitement it produced.
The only interruption was an unexpected text from Gladwin. Heard from DS Graham with your fresh info. Should probably be angry with you. Post-mortem to be done on Wednesday, so before that there isn’t a lot we can do. No obvious signs of violence, but the medic isn’t happy that it was a straightforward coronary, especially as the man was in pyjamas and it’s December, and there’s no hint of a reason why he would go out on his own like that. Expect I’ll be seeing more of you next week.
‘Put it away,’ urged Jessica. ‘You said you wouldn’t think about it again.’
‘I know I did. I fully intend to try. But pyjamas – doesn’t that change everything? Isn’t it a bit sinister?’
‘I don’t see why. No—’ Jessica held up a hand. ‘Don’t try to explain it to me. I don’t want to know. The fire needs another log – and I’m going to bring my presents down.’
Stephanie could see that Thea wasn’t ready to let it go. She kept reading the text and sucking her teeth. But she eventually gave up with a sigh.
Five o’clock on Christmas Eve saw the Frowses uncomfortably trying to find a way of getting through the coming evening. Even Percy was subdued, licking his feet and sighing, after being given a very short walk to the end of the garden and back. Ant had taken him, and in the process had managed to glimpse the police gazebo standing on the further side of the fence. He reported back to his father the news that there was no remaining sign of police activity other than that. Digby had merely shrugged.
Ant had tried about twenty times to phone his mother, until finally flinging his device onto the sofa and snarling, ‘She’s doing it on purpose. It’s not possible that she can’t get to a phone. There’s one in every pocket. All she has to do is go up to somebody in the street and ask to borrow theirs. Unless she’s actually been kidnapped, it’s got to be deliberate.’
‘Don’t be obtuse, son. She’s hiding out. She knows if she switches the phone on, she can be tracked. She’s scared.’ Digby was oddly calm. ‘But I’ve got one or two ideas about where she might be. We’ll leave it a day and then I’ll see if I’m right.’
‘“Leave it a day”? Do you know what day it is tomorrow? She’s never missed a Christmas. What about the damned goose and all those vegetables? Who’s going to cook them?’
‘Me, I presume. I can cook well enough if I have to. And Bev can have it warmed up when she comes home.’ The elderly man tried to smile. ‘Let me just see if I can find her on Tuesday. If I can’t get her to come back, I can take her some sandwiches.’
It seemed to Ant that his father was wandering in his wits. He was talking utter nonsense, surely. He’d been strange ever since Bronya’s visit, making less sense with every utterance. Now it was sounding as if he’d known more about his wife’s disappearance than Ant had even begun to guess. ‘If you know where she is, just tell me, and I’ll go and fetch her. Now. What’s to stop me?’
‘You don’t know why she’s gone. You can’t just force her back before she’s ready. You could do a lot of harm that way. I told you before, the less you know, the better for you. Have patience, boy.’
Ant angrily repeated his question. ‘Do you know why she’s gone?’
Digby shook his head. ‘Not for sure. But I know her. I know she’ll have a good reason, and that she’s got some trouble that she has to stay and sort out. She might think the police are looking for her, you see.’
‘They probably are, after we told Thea.’
‘Pity, that,’ said Digby.
‘Do you think she knows Blackwood’s dead?’ Ant’s insides were cramping with panic. He couldn’t put the next thought into words. Every time he tried to connect his mother’s disappearance with the death of their landlord, his mind went foggy and his throat filled up. He clung to the forlorn hope that the timing would work in her favour. They’d managed to agree that Beverley had left home on Thursday, and Blackwood had not been seen by his family since Wednesday. Every time he went through it, Ant persuaded himself more strongly that there was no connection between the two events. But it was all so vague that he could not extract very much encouragement from his calculations. A nasty little voice insisted that logic quite strongly suggested that Beverley had gone off not very long after Rufus had died. There were any number of inescapable
