The Savage Gorge

TWENTY ONE

They were still in the wilds when Marler received a message from Tweed. Slipping his mobile into his pocket, he grinned at Paula.

' I’m pulling in at that layby ahead of us. Tweed will join us there. Our next destination is Finden Square, the lion's den.'

'Why?' demanded Paula.

'Here is Tweed. You rejoin him in the Audi. Harry will be travelling with me.'

'OK, Paula,' said Tweed as he appeared, opening the door for her. 'I'll take over the lead from now on,' he told Marler.

'You must be mad,' Paula snapped as she settled beside Tweed in the Audi. 'He'll be expecting you at Finden – with an army of thugs.'

'I've changed my mind. We're heading straight back to Hobartshire. I'll inform Marler in a moment. As in the past, I had a surge of fury, and misjudgement, when I thought that landslide was going to kill you.'

'You'd have been killed too,' she pointed out.

'Goes with the territory where I'm concerned.' He used her mobile to tell Marler of the change of desti nation. 'He also likes the idea. Our main task is still to identify the murderer.'

'Any narrowing of the list of suspects?' she enquired.

'Possibly. A motive has appeared but it may not be right.'

Paula took a last look at the bleak inland landscape. She was so looking forward to getting away from the treacherous sea. To be revelling in the greenery of Hobartshire, the strange old town of Gunners Gorge.

It was mid-morning and still May. The sun shone out of a blue sky. The temperature indicator inside the car registered 70 °F in the open. Perfect – Paula settled down to enjoy the ride as they entered green countryside with rolling slopes and passed under arcades of dense trees in full leaf creating a boulevard- like atmosphere. Then the mobile buzzed. Tweed grabbed it.

'Tweed here. Bob! Great to hear from you. What? Accident? Has he survived? Thank heavens for that. We're on our way to you from Seaward Cove. Expect our arrival about dusk. OK. Meet you inside the garage at the Nag's Head. Watch your back.'

'Something has happened?' asked Paula.

'An attempt was made to kill Lord Bullerton this morning.'

'Neville Guile,' she said.

'Doubt that. They were still doing business together.'

'Maybe they'd completed their business, so Guile -'

'Maybe, maybe, maybe,' Tweed responded irritably. His voice changed to normal. 'Now there could be a motive there. I think the fog is clearing over these mass murders. Must let Marler and Harry know.'

He spoke briefly on the mobile, knowing the quick witted Marler would grasp the situation when told in a few words.

Then he concentrated on his driving. Half his mind was on this startling new development. Paula tapped his arm gently.

'You're driving much faster. Only just under the speed limit…'

'I know the speed limit,' he rapped back.

'I'm sure you do.' Paula changed the subject. 'I really am looking forward to seeing Bob again.'

'So am I. I suspect he may have accumulated a whole load of information as to what is really going on up there. Something is. I said earlier I believe it's some thing big. I'm more than ever convinced about that.'

'Bob won't have wasted his time. The energy of the man is phenomenal.'

'Paula…' He looked at her and smiled. 'I apologize for my recent irritability. An attack on Bullerton is the last thing I expected.'

'You've been under tremendous pressure. Please forget the apology. Not necessary. You took a wise decision to return to Hobartshire.'

'We could be walking into a dangerous situation,' he warned.

'Situation normal,' she replied calmly.

It was dusk when they arrived at the Nag's Head and drove slowly into the garage. Newman appeared from behind Harry's grey Fiat. For a moment Paula didn't recognize him. He was wearing khaki drill, a straw hat, brim pulled well down over his face, and dark glasses. He removed hat and glasses and came forward to hug her.

'Good to see you,' Tweed called out, still seated behind the wheel of the Audi. 'What do you advise as our immediate objective?'

'Drive with Paula and Harry to Hobart House right now. I can talk when you get back. Suggest dinner in your suite.'

Driving to Hobart House, Paula found it strange to be back in familiar surroundings. She sat beside Tweed who was behind the wheel. Harry occupied the rear of the Audi. Approaching the turn-off lane at the nearest end of the Village, he leaned forward.

'I don't believe it. Mrs Grout is scrubbing her steps again.'

'Maybe a cat with muddy paws climbed them,' Paula joked.

'Drop me off close to that hole in the hedge,' Harry requested. 'Anyone pursuing you up that slope will get a bullet closer to his legs than he'll like.'

When they drove on down to Hobart House it was pitch black. The moon was obscured by a low bank of dark clouds. Every light in the residence was on.

The front door was opened by Lance. Wearing a pale grey blazer and cream trousers, he looked as smart as he always did. His expression was one of relief when he saw them under the glow of the porch lantern.

'Am I glad to see the two of you. Something awful has happened.'

'How is your father?' Tweed asked as they entered the hall.

'Lucky to be alive. Who would do such a thing? Father is in his study, working on some papers. He's amazing. The doctor has been, checked him over. No bones broken and no injury to the muscular system. I'll take you to him.'

'Hold it a second,' Tweed ordered. 'When did this happen? In the early morning? I see. Now, who was in the house at the time?'

'Let's see.' Lance frowned. 'I was here, so were Margot and Sable – in their rooms. Mrs Shipton was here – gets in to her kitchen where she is now at crack of dawn. To deal with the girl staff from the town, and they'd gone by then. I think that's the lot. No, the stable staff were in their stables.' He smiled ruefully. 'Dawn cracks when it sees them coming.'

'What was the nature of the so-called accident?'

'My father couldn't sleep, so he got up earlier than usual to take his morning ride before breakfast. Apparently found his horse, Fairlight, already saddled for him. Jumps on it, goes riding along the course. Was just about to go over a high hurdle when his saddle tips sideways, throws him off. Luckily they hadn't mown the side grass yet, which broke his fall.'

'Who saddles his horse?'

'Jacko, chief stable lad.'

'Thank you. We'd like to see your father now.'

Lance led the way to the study. Opening the door, he called out, 'Company which you'll welcome!'

As they walked into the spacious room, Lord Bullerton was at a desk pushed against the wall. Its surface was covered with papers. Lord Bullerton's bulk was settled in a tall Queen Anne straight-backed chair. What happened next startled Tweed.

Bullerton turned sideways, saw his visitors, leapt up and stomped steadily towards them. His hand was outstretched, his tread normal.

'Welcome, Tweed, and you too, Paula. I couldn't have expected two more interesting visitors at this time of night. I suggest you both celebrate with me over double Scotches.'

He indicated a large glass on the desk. It was already half empty.

'Paula,' he continued vigorously, 'come and join me on the couch. You're looking more beautiful than ever.'

'I hear you've had a bad so-called accident,' said Tweed, 'being tipped off your horse close to a high hurdle.'

'When you ride a lot, as I do, these things happen.' Bullerton finished off his Scotch, poured himself another. 'No point in fussing.'

'This was a carefully planned attempt…' Tweed paused, 'and I don't think you've grasped it yet – to murder you.'

'Oh, come off it, Tweed.'

'I've had a lot of experience with crime. Somebody attempted to murder you,' he repeated in a harsh voice, 'and make it look like an accident.'

At last it had hit home. Bullerton walked back and sagged into his chair. Paula thought his earlier ruddy complexion had turned pale. He lifted his refilled glass, put it down without drinking.

'Who would want to do a thing like that?' he asked.

'I have several motives in mind – and several sus pects…'

He stopped speaking as the door was pushed open and Harry appeared. Paula had been wondering where he was. He was holding on to a young man by twisting his arm behind his back. In his late teens or very early twenties, Paula estimated. His thick black hair was ruffled and he wore a well-worn dark suit.

'This is Jacko,' Harry announced. 'Found him very anxious to get away from the stable.'

'Going to see my girl friend,' Jacko burbled. 'She cuts up rough if I'm late.'

'You've heard about the so-called accident,' Tweed interrupted grimly. 'Did you saddle the horse for Lord Bullerton today as usual?'

'No, sir… I didn't… His Lordship had never arrived so early before… I was appalled when I heard what happened.'

'So appalled,' Harry rasped, still holding Jacko's arm, 'you made your first priority scooting away from here.'

'She's special…' the lean handler began.

'They all are. Until you meet -'

'Harry,' Tweed intervened again, 'you can let go of his arm. Very roughly he addressed Jacko. 'Who else was with you to confirm your story? Where were you?'

'No one, sir. I was in the adjoining barn, changing into my working kit. And I didn't see anyone else. It was very early.'

'Harry,' Tweed ordered, 'see him off the premises – first get his address.'

Bullerton had a sip of his scotch. He appeared to have calmed down as he spoke emphatically.

'I'd trust Jacko with my life.'

'Maybe you did,' Tweed said quietly. 'I think you should see this instruction from a Yard commander. It gives me full authority to search this house from roof to cellar.'

'I don't need to see it – after what happened today. Tear the place to pieces. Can't imagine what you'll find. Oh, at the very back of the brush cupboard in the kitchen there is a secret panel. You just push the right-hand side. My personal documents are inside. Read what you want.'

'Who in this house is a good rider?' Tweed enquired.

'All of them. Lance, Sable, Margot and Mrs Shipton. She is a wizard on a horse.'

'Where will I find Mrs Shipton now?'

'In her lair, in the kitchen…'

Tweed tapped lightly on the closed kitchen door. Nothing. He tapped a little louder.

'Go drop off a cliff,' Mrs Shipton's strong voice barked. 'I won't have anyone in here, whoever you are!'

Tweed opened the door quietly. Mrs Shipton stood at the far end of her work table. She had a wide alu minium bowl close to her together with a smaller variety of dishes filled with different ingredients.

'Get out, both of you!' she stormed.

Tweed was holding a document he had unfolded. He waved it at her. Wearing a spotless apron, Mrs Shipton glared at him.

'And what might that be?'

'An authority signed by a Yard commander giving permission for us to search the whole house. Any resistance is a criminal offence.'

'You mean you propose to search my bedroom?' she demanded, her hands on her hips.

'If that becomes necessary I shall not venture inside. Paula alone will enter.'

'You do realize why I'm working this late?' she snapped.

'No idea.'

'Because at this hour His Lordship has decided he'd like me to make his favourite dish. A souffle.'

'He's had a nasty shock today,' Paula said quietly.

'Were you here when it happened?' Tweed demanded, seizing on the opening.

'I suppose I must have been.' Mrs Shipton sat down in a wicker chair. 'He got up exceptionally early I gather for a pre-breakfast ride. Never known him up so early.'

'Anyone else about at that hour?'

'Only the hiker.'

'What was he doing here? Can you describe him, please.'

'About five feet eight tall. Very well dressed, with a pack on his back. Lean and agile. The odd thing was his complexion – very pale. Had a slightly crooked nose. Very polite. Needed a glass of water. I took him through into here, he drank all the water.'

Paula turned her back on Mrs Shipton and mouthed 'Lepard' to Tweed. The description per fectly matched Harry's description of the villain.

'Which route did he follow when he left?' Tweed asked.

'Very considerate. Said he didn't want to risk leav ing mud from his boots on our beautiful carpets. Was there a more direct way out of the kitchen? I pointed him through the back door along that footpath.'

'Does that lead anywhere near the barn where Lord Bullerton mounted his horse before his accident?'

'Yes, it does. Can't see it from here.'

'Would this be a few minutes before Lord Bullerton went to the barn?'

'I've no damned idea.' Her patience snapped as Tweed, with latex gloves on, opened a tall door, real ized it was the broom cupboard with neatly stacked equipment hung by string from hooks on both side walls. 'Don't you go messing that up,' shrieked Mrs Shipton, 'I'm an organized woman and -'

Tweed, shining a powerful torch and now deep inside, heard her switching her tirade on Paula, who was opening several wall cupboards containing expensive crockery. He passed a five-foot-tall metal drum, from the top of which protruded a collection of well-used brushes and mops. Reaching the back wall of white panels, he pressed the right-hand side hard. It swung inward on a central metal pivot. Inside was a cardboard roll, which he extracted.

By the light of his torch he read the legal document quickly. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, refolded the document, slid it back inside the tube, replaced the protective cap and tucked it under his arm.

On his way to the exit he noticed again the drum crammed with used brushes and mops. It was then he noticed a long green rod shoved between them. Its handle was rusted. Still wearing the gloves, he eased the whole handle out. At the working end were rem nants of an ancient mop. His expression became grim.

Walking back into the kitchen, he closed the door. Paula was just closing the last of the cupboards she had searched. She smiled at Tweed, then noticed his expression.

'Find any treasures?' she asked quietly.

'Have you a long enough evidence envelope for this handle?'

'Might have. Let me look in my briefcase.'

In no time she hauled out an envelope folded sev eral times. Extending it, she held it out to Tweed, who slipped the green handle inside. She sealed the top, wrote the date and place on a card attached to the envelope's mouth.

'What do you want that old thing for?' Mrs Shipton demanded. 'Where did you get it?'

'I have never seen such a neat and well-organized kitchen,' Paula told Mrs Shipton when Tweed didn't reply. 'You are such a well-organized person. I know I'm repeating myself but I'm so impressed.'

'Time we left,' Tweed said abruptly, heading for the door leading to the hall. 'Sorry to disturb you, Mrs Shipton.'

Lance met them in the hall. As usual, his eyes roamed over Paula.

'Two odd visitors have arrived to see Father,' he told them. 'Sable, the idiot, answered the door, took them straight to the study. She rushed past me to her room. I asked her who they were. "No idea," she snapped.'

'Did you hear a word either of them said?'

'I was on the landing. They never said a word. One was incredibly tall and thin. He -'

Tweed walked fast across the hall, took hold of the study door, threw it open and entered. Paula was at his heels.

Lord Bullerton was seated at his desk, looking very aggressive. Seated facing him on a couch were Neville Guile and Lepard.