Finally, he sank down on to a kitchen chair and stared at Liz. ‘Sorry. Rant over.’
She gave him an understanding smile. ‘Now it’s my turn. I went to see Mr Foreman about that job he would like us to undertake, and although I know you are eaten up with worry about Will and Kate, as well as Emilia Swain, I think we should accept.’ He opened his mouth to object, but she held up her hand. ‘Before you say anything, Mattie, listen to this. I took the address of the village store in question and drove past on my way home. I parked up opposite and sat there for a while, just to get a feel for the village and his clientele, and I saw someone I recognised going in. Remember Clem Cutler?’
‘Do I ever! What a toe-rag he was!’ Matt exclaimed.
‘Well, he was there, in and out in minutes. I already have a slim suspicion of what could be going on, and if I’m right, I think I could get Mr Foreman the proof, or at least the information he needs to act on, very quickly indeed.’
Matt sucked in air. ‘I see. My only worry is Whisper Fen. Things seem to be getting worse out there and I could easily get sidetracked. I wouldn’t want to let a client down.’
‘I’ve told him we are pretty tied up, but I’m happy to make a few low-key enquiries, so long as he doesn’t need results yesterday. So far, he’s just delighted that we’ll look at it for him.’ Liz leaned closer. ‘But that isn’t all, Mattie. I noticed something else. In a corner of the pub car park, where I was sitting observing the store, I saw a man talking heatedly to a shadowy figure inside a battered blue Ford Fiesta. It was Gerald Grove, Mattie!’
Now he was really interested.
‘I tried to get a look at the driver of the car, but I could only make out a shoulder and a close-cropped head. I’d have had to get out of the car to see the reg plates, unfortunately, but I did see Grove back away from the Ford, remove something from his inside pocket, and pass it in through the open window. Then he buggered off. So did the Ford Fiesta, and from where I was sitting, I couldn’t see much of the vehicle, other than the make and colour.’
‘Drugs?’ asked Matt.
‘I don’t think so. It was more like a large envelope than a proper package.’
‘Something crooked though?’
‘Oh, it stank, Mattie. He was furtive, like a rat, glancing this way and that. Luckily, he didn’t clock me.’ She shrugged. ‘I have no idea what it meant, but it certainly proves that Will hasn’t lost his ability to sniff out a wrong ’un.’
‘I never doubted that for a moment,’ said Matt.
‘So, are you okay if I do a little sleuthing, and possibly pick up some small remuneration, while you are being psychotherapist to Kate? I’m not being dismissive of her plight, believe me, but it’s you she will respond to now you are home, not me. And I’m sure Will appreciates your support.’
Matt nodded. ‘Sure, and if things calm down, I can chip in and help. Don’t forget, Will originally wanted us to check out Grove, and that’s just what you’re doing, even if it was unintentional.’
‘Great. How about a glass of wine while I prepare the dinner, and we’ll work out how to proceed?’
Matt put her wine on the table. ‘Would you mind if I did a night shift on obo down at Little Anchor? I’ve been thinking that if someone has been monitoring Emilia’s comings and goings, they might have seen her drive off with luggage.’
‘Or they might allow the dust to settle and return when they think everyone’s forgotten about them,’ added Liz, cutting up vegetables.
‘True, but for some reason, I think they’ll strike quickly. There has to be something they want in that cottage, even if Emilia herself doesn’t know what it is.’
‘Well, we all know never to ignore our intuitions, but how about if we do shifts, rather than you doing a whole night? I could go down at dusk, and then you take over at around one or two?’ She looked at him. ‘Shall I get the flask out? I never do obo without a brew.’
‘I don’t want you overdoing it, my darling,’ Matt said.
‘I’m okay, Mattie. I know my limitations, and I’m certainly good for a few hours’ observation. Where do you suggest we park up?’
‘Let’s ring Will and ask if we can use his drive as a base, then walk back to Little Anchor and set up camp in her garden. She has a tiny summerhouse that they forgot to trash when they wrecked the garden. That would offer some protection and give a good view of the lane and the front of the house.’ Matt took a sip of wine. ‘Shall I ask him? Oh, and I’ll tell him about your sighting of Grove.’
‘Sounds good to me. Go for it.’
While Liz pan-fried some salmon fillets and cherry tomatoes, Matt called Will. ‘He’s offered to do a couple of hours as well, so that none of us gets bored or overtired, considering we aren’t exactly used to it any more. He said if we cover until four in the morning, he’ll wait there until around seven.’
‘It’ll be just like the old days, won’t it?’ she said and frowned. Some of the old days had almost killed them both. She saw from Matt’s expression that he was thinking the same. She smiled. ‘I’ll rephrase that. It’ll be nothing like the old days!’
* * *
Maybe it was the thought of doing observation again that made Will think of Billie Briars. That, or the mention of Grove. Upon whom his wife still looked benevolently. Poor misunderstood victim. Pah! What a line he must have fed her! Just like Billie Briars.
Young Billie was everything the do-gooders loved. Supposedly the product of a broken home, beaten by his father and ignored by a drunken mother, he had a baby face with an angelic expression that wouldn’t have been out of place in a white surplice. But instead of a hymn book, Billie preferred to carry a knife, and that cherubic smile concealed dark thoughts that no social worker could even imagine. Billie was pure evil. But what an actor! Billie was able to turn on the charm, and the waterworks, whenever they were needed. Will’s darling Kate wouldn’t have stood a chance, and she wouldn’t have been the first to fall for his “little boy lost” routine. He had been given more chances than anyone could count, but his luck finally ran out one dark night in a stinking alley, when he encountered Will and his crewmate.
Will and his mate had been called to a fight outside a pub in Fenfleet. When they arrived, the offending parties appeared to have sorted out their differences and were nursing only a few minor wounds. They had hung around for a while to ensure it didn’t flare up again. Just as they were leaving, a middle-aged man, red-faced and out of breath from running, called out that there was something going on down a service alley at the back of the parade of shops. He had heard a cry and the sound of a scuffle but was too scared to go down there himself. The two policemen had found Billie in the middle of attacking two terrified women. He went down for rape, attempted rape, unlawful possession of drugs and assault with an offensive weapon.
Will stared out of the kitchen window, reliving his relief when the judge sentenced Billie Briars to twelve years. At least he hadn’t been taken in by the amateur dramatics, and even Billie couldn’t sweet-talk away the forensic evidence that had piled up against him. Little bastard. It should have been life. Will shivered. There were times when he was glad to be out of the force.