Classic at Bay Page 5

  An ambiguous question in the circumstances, but Rob didn’t have dancing on his mind, only his relationship with Alice.

  ‘You know how tricky these things are, old chap,’ he replied.

  This old chap did, so I helped him out again. ‘If this is going to hurt Zoe, Rob, I want to know. I’d like to be around when you deign to tell her. You’ve a week to make up your mind whether you tell her or not. But if Alice is just another of your fancies, I don’t want to know.’

  He considered this. ‘Fact is, I’m not sure, but I appreciate that, Jack. Do the same for you one day, old sport.’

  I suppressed my fury. Louise? Did he really think I’d play fast and loose with her? Being in my forties I know when I’m blessed. Rob really was a first-class idiot and Zoe would be well out of it. Should I chuck the rest of my beer in his face? No. Non-alcoholic or not, it would be a waste of good beer.

  Instead I seized the moment to advance my own interests. ‘What you can do for me, old sport, is fill me in on Adora Ferne, her family and this whole set-up.’

  ‘Alice—’ he began uneasily.

  ‘Leave her out of it if you like,’ I said obligingly. ‘We’ll take it that she’s the most beautiful, innocent, sweet girl you’ve ever met.’

  He cast me a look which made me regret this gibe, but luckily he still stuck to the bargain. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘I’ve met Adora and Harry Gale and had a session with Danny Carter. Start with Adora.’

  ‘Not sure I can tell you much.’ Predictable answer. ‘She keeps her cards close to her skinny chest.’

  Charming. My translation: Adora won’t lend him any money for his daft schemes.

  ‘Is she well off?’ I asked him.

  ‘House is falling down but only because she’s tight-fisted. She’s enough stacked away to repair the Coliseum.’

  ‘Sure of that?’

  ‘No, but coming from Simon it’s a fairly sure bet.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  Rob considered this. ‘A decent bloke. Under his father’s thumb – that’s old Sir Rex, Adora’s ex – or one of them. Simon worked for his father. I wouldn’t like to be in his shadow and nor did Simon. Took early retirement a few months back.’

  ‘Rex Hargreaves is in insurance, isn’t he?’ I’d done my homework. Rob seemed to know Alice’s family quite well, I noted. Not looking good for Zoe, I thought – from her viewpoint, that is. From my own and that of any other sane person, a bust-up would be only too welcome.

  ‘That’s what Alice told me.’

  ‘Does she think the stories about the Jaguars and Adora are true?’

  ‘Wouldn’t know. But that’s what she says her granny trots out and I’ve never heard differently from Simon or Melinda. I asked to borrow one of the Jags once to take Al— someone,’ he corrected himself with a big wink, ‘to a big do. Adora wouldn’t even lend one to me.’

  My translation: especially not to Rob.

  Rob, I’m forced to admit, is likeable in some ways, they’re just not my ways. There’s a lot of talk about big deals and big dos and Zoe believes in them all, or so she tells me. How big they are and whether they exist is never clear, although I think he’s basically honest enough. No scams for him. Far too dangerous. He’s been on the Zoe scene for some years now so he must have some other good qualities, even if they escape me.

  ‘Has Adora told you about these letters threatening to burn the Lair?’ I’d hold back on the death threat. ‘And if so, does the family think that any of the car donors could be involved?’

  ‘Yes. Bit of a laugh, isn’t it? Can’t see Grandpa Rex Hargreaves creeping round with a can of petrol and a match. He handed over the XK 150 like a lamb, according to Adora.’

  It was a handsome gift, even as part of a divorce settlement. ‘Did he really hand it over willingly?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. He may have had his reasons. He’s a canny old bird and he and Adora go right back to the club days.’

  Despite Adora’s instructions, Danny had only very reluctantly returned to his office to pick up a copy of the list of cars and donors for me. I’d gone with him, fearing he might ‘forget’ to return, and on the way back to the Lair I had scrutinized the list, asking if he knew more about the men on it. Four of the men on the list were marked as deceased – Lance Benny, Travers Winton, Ivan Cole and Patrick O’Hara – but of the other eight I knew little save of Harry Gale, Rex Hargreaves and Charlie Dane, all three of whom had been married to Adora. Danny’s answer about the other five was that they were still alive. Of course, I had met Gabriel Allyn, who had no wish to join the Lair. Like a true jaguar, he walked alone.

  ‘The Three Parrots?’ I asked Rob.

  ‘That’s the one. Rex married Adora after it closed and she waved goodbye to clubland.’

  ‘She gave up singing too?’

  ‘No idea, but this was the mid-sixties and she was a throaty crooner, not a Rolling Stone.’

  ‘Do you know Rex Hargreaves?’

  ‘Met him once or twice. My ma and pa know him. Lives in Kent near Sevenoaks but owns a chunk of Berkshire – unlike Charlie, the next husband down the line. He’s from the London suburbs and not the fashionable side. As unlike old Rex as you can imagine.’

  ‘Not the right schools?’

  ‘Right for Charlie, maybe.’ Rob sniggered.

  My translation: Charlie didn’t go to Eton.

  ‘What was his attraction for Adora?’ My curiosity was fully awakened.

  ‘My guess is filthy lucre. He’d been after her for years but Rex nobbled her, so Charlie stepped in after the divorce.’

  ‘Was he the reason for it?’

  ‘No. That was some other chap.’

  I remembered then. ‘Patrick O’Hara?’

  ‘That’s him. Cheesy-looking fellow if his photo’s anything to go by. Seen it in the Lair?’

  I nodded. I wondered whether the donors knew about their celebrity status photos in the hall, and if any of them had taken objection to this in view of the fact that Adora featured in all of them and hardly in a supporting role.

  ‘I gather Charlie was the son of the owner of the Three Parrots,’ I said. ‘That would put a distance between him and the club members, especially in the sixties.’

  Rob snorted. ‘Yes, and Charlie reaped the benefits. Both got out quick when it was closed down.’

  ‘For drugs?’

  ‘Probably. I wasn’t around at the time.’

  I tried another tack. ‘Simon is Rex’s son and Melinda is Charlie’s daughter. Right?’

  ‘Yes. She and Simon don’t always see eye to eye, though they glue themselves together over their mother’s affairs and Crockendene. Simon reckons Melinda moved in on his territory as a kid and is still doing it. He behaves like a kid himself over it sometimes. Simon has lived in Crockendene Cottage for yonks and didn’t like it when Melinda came marching back.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘Some years ago. Five, maybe. She married a farmer who decided to plough more fertile grounds and Melinda couldn’t wait to move back to the beloved home of her youth. Melinda’s devoted to her mother – she’s appointed herself Adora’s guardian. Adora, however, sees her as the little baby daughter who needs the caring mother – the same one who pushed dear little Melinda off to live with her father when they were divorced in the early eighties.’

  A touch of bias towards Simon’s viewpoint there, I thought. ‘What about Harry Gale, the next husband?’

  ‘Also divorced from Adora but coming back for another go if he has anything to do with it. Luckily that isn’t much. He took a dim view of being divorced eight years ago. The family view him as the black sheep, one of the few things that Simon and Melinda agree on. Rex and Charlie shared the same opinion.’

  ‘And Adora too?’

  He shrugged. ‘Who knows? With Adora, anything goes.’

  ‘Does Alice take after her?’ I asked innocently.

  ‘Good grief, no. She’s a sweetie.’ Rob looked very smug.

  Time to take him down a peg. ‘Adora might have been a sweetie, too, at her age.’

  Rob looked totally thrown at this notion. ‘Alice is off limits,’ he snarled.

  ‘Not mine. Does she have a mother around?’

  ‘Divorced. Mother off the scene. There’s a brother – Michael. Not the most popular lad in town. At present in disgrace but usually the rotten apple of Adora’s eye. My opinion, not Alice’s.’ Rob was getting edgy.

  Tough. ‘What’s the reason for the disgrace?’

  ‘First he announced his intention of moving in with Charlie Dane’s daughter – by his second wife, not Adora. Then he dropped that idea and said he’d take over the Lair. That upset Adora and father Simon, who’d been longing to do that for years.’ Rob hesitated. ‘The general opinion is,’ he said awkwardly, ‘that Michael’s the most likely author of those letters. He can’t stand Danny Carter for a start. Mind you, none of them can, except Adora. Michael’s the most outspoken.’

  ‘Any particular reason for that?’

  ‘He’s a layabout.’ Coming from Rob, this was rich. ‘He has his own ideas for the Lair but so does his father. Danny has his too, and usually gets his way.’

  ‘And thus he’s unpopular all round. Even with Melinda?’

  ‘You bet. Neither she nor Simon can stand the guy. But he’s just an employee, so they reckon he’s no real threat to their lifestyle.’

  ‘Is Adora herself a threat to that?’ I slipped in as Rob sat back, clearly signalling that he’d finished cooperating.

  Rob was caught off balance by this one and didn’t have enough time to compose his reply. ‘Big time – what do you think? Adora only has to marry again and everything goes up for grabs. And guess who’ll grab it? Mr Harry Gale. She’s walking on thin ice is Adora. And she knows it.’

  This is none of my business, I told myself as I headed back through Charing. I didn’t convince myself, however. This is partly my business, I decided. Why, though? What was it that made me think it was? The cars? The letters? A situation I couldn’t understand? A bit of all three? The letters were the lesser constituent, though, and that at least I could offload on to Dave. I was heading straight for Kent Police Charing.

  Dave Jennings isn’t keen on my just dropping by to see him, but I was on my way. He’s apt to be ‘busy’ if I call him on my mobile, so I just breezed in. It must have been my lucky day. His eyes actually brightened when he saw me.

  ‘Drink?’ he threw at me before I could get a word out. It was late afternoon by this time so his usual getaway ploy of lunch wasn’t available, but drinks would fit in nicely.

  ‘Suits me,’ I agreed and we returned to my Polo. It’s not a longing to escape the office that lures him from his desk; it’s the thinking and discussion time he values. I drove him to our favourite pub on the Canterbury Road and Dave sat down with a sigh of happiness. He’s a family man with young children, and to him a pub seems a peaceful paradise, noisy or not. To look at he’s the dreamy academic type, but this is an illusion. He has a razor-sharp mind for every tiny detail both on the crime side and the car side.

  ‘Fill me in,’ he said at last when we’d caught the measure of each other’s moods and were working our way through non-alcoholic beers. He listened patiently to my tale of the Lair and Crockendene.

  ‘What have you done so far about it?’ he asked me.

  ‘Nothing. I told Adora Ferne I’d sniff around but I’m turning down the paid job she offered. It’s the death threat to her that I don’t like.’

  ‘Could be sheer fantasy on the writer’s part or on hers.’ Then he pinpointed my concern right away. ‘Using the post is odd, I grant you.’

  ‘Elderly people involved?’

  ‘Ageist,’ Dave remarked dismissively.

  ‘That’s not the only point. Even though emails and tweets can be traced if it’s a serious threat, they’re the easiest method so why use post?’

  ‘Because this is the work of a joker,’ Dave replied. ‘Trust me, I’m a cop.’

  ‘Not so sure, Dave.’

  ‘You could be right,’ he admitted grudgingly. ‘This Adora Ferne sounds a cute cookie. She probably knows more than she’s let on.’

  ‘So why drag me into it and not you lot?’

  ‘Probably fell for your charms,’ he remarked. ‘Watch it. You’ll be asked to give her a Jag soon.’

  I ignored this dig. ‘What’s your conclusion?’

  ‘Without the evidence, helpfully destroyed, we can’t do a thing. But I’ll put Brandon in the picture.’

  At least he was taking the threat to Adora seriously, I thought as I drove back to Frogs Hill. I’d contact Adora tomorrow and tell her that I’d informed the police that I was sniffing around. On the whole, I reflected, cars were simpler than humans. True, they have complicated machinery and technology, but once one has sorted them out one can reckon with them. They don’t have unexplained mysteries in the past or emotional lives that have to be taken into account. I never feel myself reluctant to tackle a car because I don’t want to upset it. Human beings are different. Even though it appeared I would be holding my tongue over Alice for the next week, I was aware that I might have to look out for Zoe’s well-being in the near future. I’d detected no major signs of turmoil in her recently (except when an ill-treated Austin-Healey came in). Nevertheless, I did what any normal man might do in the circumstances – I tried to avoid her.

  I should have realized that this was not possible with Zoe. She cornered me on the farmhouse doorstep when I returned from Charing. I suspected she had been working this late on purpose, as it was seven thirty.

  ‘You’re not going into the farmhouse yet,’ she informed me. ‘Len and I want to know about those Jags.’

  I obediently surrendered and went back with her to the Pits. On the way Zoe immediately displayed signs of true womanhood.

  ‘Any sign of Miss Goody Two Shoes?’ she threw at me.

  ‘Adora?’ I played simpleton.

  ‘Alice,’ she demanded.

  ‘I glimpsed her at the door of her home but didn’t speak to her.’

  She eyed me suspiciously. ‘Did she speak to you?’

  ‘No.’ True enough, but I was glad when we reached the Pits and found Len there, which meant this inquisition would stop. He too was eager to hear from me, only not about Alice. He immediately lay down his tools to hear about the cars.

  Relieved, I gave them a rundown on the Lair and the threatening letters, plus a detailed account of the cars themselves, which was really all Len wanted to know about.

  ‘Are you taking the job this woman offered you?’ Zoe asked as I’d mentioned the anonymous letters.

  ‘No. Told her I’d sniff around, though.’

  ‘Any nasty smells so far?’ she asked crossly. ‘Crossly’ because she suspected I wasn’t playing ball over Alice but couldn’t identify what the ball was.

  ‘Yes, but I can’t be sure what they are.’ Except for Rob, I thought.

  ‘Drains,’ Zoe observed.

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘Drains take nasties underground.’

  ‘Could be a few,’ I said cautiously, aware that Zoe was and would be examining my every word. I made a mental note not to chat too much to Louise about Rob when she returned. Louise and Zoe get on well, and if the sisterhood kicked in Louise might well drop a hint to Zoe that there was something nasty in the woodshed, i.e. Rob.

  I wasn’t sure when Louise was returning and when the phone rang just after midnight I was hopeful that she was on her way. She wasn’t.

  It was Dave bearing bad news. ‘Thought you should know, Jack. There’s been an incident at Crockendene Farm.’

  I was instantly awake. ‘The Lair? The cars?’

  ‘No. But Brandon’s on his way.’

  ‘What for?’ Then it hit me. Brandon – homicide. Death. ‘Is it Adora?’ I asked fearfully. Had the death threat been serious?

  ‘No. But a corpse has been found in that Lair of yours. Identified as that of Danny Carter.’

  FOUR

  Danny? That didn’t make sense. At least, not to me. Accident? Suicide? Murder? A random killing? I mentally kicked myself. An image of a solo maniac tramp creeping through the woods and coming across Danny might be a convenient answer but was so unlikely it had to be discounted. Coincidences happen, but it would take a lot to convince me this was one of them.

  I joined Brandon at the crime scene the next morning, and it made a grim start to Wednesday. I hadn’t taken to Danny Carter, but the thought of the man with whom I had so recently been dealing now lying dead – and presumably murdered if Brandon was on the case – was chilling. Had Danny disturbed the arsonist of the threatening letters? Was Adora Ferne the intended target? Had Danny found out who was sending those letters and tackled him? This would get me nowhere because I had no facts to go on, and so I stopped speculating. The evidence would soon be all too obvious. As I turned into the driveway to the farm I could already glimpse the familiar vans and police cars ahead, so I parked the Polo behind them and walked the rest of the way to Danny’s office, which was cordoned off.

  At the Lair the crime-scene tape covered a large area round the building, reaching back as far as the woodland. As I drew nearer I couldn’t see any sign of Dave but spotted Brandon on the forecourt. If this was indeed a murder case, I wondered whether Brandon would see the Lair merely as its location or linked more closely. As I said earlier, Brandon and I have had an up-and-down relationship but thankfully he has come to accept me as an annoying nuisance who buzzes around but whose help can be harnessed if needed on the classic cars front.

  I made my way to the cordon entrance but Brandon had seen me and come out to meet me.

  ‘Dave tells me you knew the victim, Jack,’ he began without preamble.

  ‘Not well. Met him twice. He came to Frogs Hill to commission me to buy a car for his boss and I came over yesterday to report on it. I expect Dave filled you in on Adora Ferne?’

  ‘Yes, but tell me again.’ His gimlet eyes were upon me.

  I gave him a rundown on everything that had taken place, including the hate mail saga. I wondered how he would take the thirteen Jaguar lovers’ angle, but as usual his non-committal expression failed to provide a clue.