Beneath the Soil (22 page)

‘It seems the obvious reason, doesn't it?'

‘Tea? Coffee?' Millie put in from the doorway.

‘No thanks, love,' said PC Ching. ‘We need to be on our way.'

‘We'll radio in to CID,' promised her colleague. ‘Don't worry. The car was reported empty. No blood. There's no reason to believe your husband has been hurt. We've got people over there now checking it out.'

They made their way back to their police car at the gate and drove off into the night.

‘W
hat's happened to him?'

Suzie turned to find Millie behind her, wide-eyed. She was no longer the competent young woman offering support, but a frightened child. Suzie moved to put her arms around her daughter and found her shivering.

‘Ssh. Something's happened, but they weren't saying what. Something to do with the car. They said it wasn't an accident. There's no evidence that Dad's been hurt. But he's not there. And there seems to be something wrong with the car.' She let Millie go with an outburst of anger. ‘Why won't they
tell
us?'

‘Where's Fullingford Castle?'

‘It's the old stannary jail, where the tinners put their prisoners. It's about forty miles from here, on the western edge of the moor. You may not remember but we took you there when you were small. We were down in the dungeons when there was this thunderstorm.'

‘Yikes! That place! I was scared out of my wits.' She sobered. ‘And Dad's car is there? Something bad's happened to him, hasn't it?'

‘The police are looking.'

Suzie paced across the sitting room to the window and stood looking out at the lamplit road. On a sudden decision she turned and made for the telephone. Her fingers seemed clumsy on the pages of the directory as she searched for the home number of Nick's office manager.

‘Leila? I'm terribly sorry to call you at this hour. It's Suzie Fewings. Look, Nick texted me that he was working late, but he's still not home. The police have found his car at Fullingford Castle … Yes, I know. I haven't the faintest idea what he was doing there either, always supposing it was him who drove it there, not some teenage car thieves … No, what I wanted to ask you is what he was doing working late. Was he meeting a client?'

Leila's voice was thoughtful. ‘He didn't say anything to me about a meeting. As far as I recall there was nothing in the diary for this evening.'

‘Did anything out of the ordinary happen during the day? A visitor? Did somebody call him? Someone you wouldn't have expected?'

‘Mmm. Let me think.'

‘He sent the text message early afternoon. It would have been before that, but perhaps not much earlier.'

‘No, I don't think so … Wait. He got a call from Clive Stroud. That would be soon after lunch.'

‘Clive Stroud! The MP for Moortown?' Suzie felt the shock run through her.

‘Well, I didn't speak to him personally. Just someone from his office. I put her through. Sorry, Suzie. I've no idea what it was about.'

Thoughts were pounding through Suzie's brain. Nick had tried to tell her that Clive Stroud was a perfectly innocent constituency MP, going about his business. But everything pointed to him being more than that. She now knew, as very few other people did, that Clive Stroud stood to gain from Eileen's will. And even John Nosworthy, who drew up the codicil, had not known then that the seemingly small and bizarre bequest was potentially worth a fortune. Enough to kill Eileen for?'

Nick knew only that Bernard Summers had found gold at Puck's Acre. He did not know yet that Clive Stroud stood to inherit it.

All the same, what possible gain could there be, she argued with herself, in causing harm to Nick, when the facts of the will were there in the lawyer's office and Nick had told the police about the find?

She was aware that Leila was waiting for some sort of answer. ‘Sorry! That was a bit of a shock. Well, not really a surprise, but it was a name I didn't want to hear. Look, thank you. I wish I'd rung you hours ago. I've been sitting here worrying myself silly.'

‘Are you sure you're all right? Is there anything I can do?'

‘No, thanks all the same. The police are out looking for him. Now they've got the car, they should be able to find him.'

She hoped that was true. She had terrifying visions of Nick, bound and gagged, or worse, being tumbled out of the car in the dark, somewhere on the moor. How long would it be before anyone found him? And what
had
happened to the car?

Millie had been listening. ‘Clive Stroud? That man in the photograph, the one you were scared of? He was meeting Dad?'

‘It sounds like it.'

‘Where?'

‘Leila didn't know. She just put through the call.'

Suzie rang DS Dudbridge's number again. This time there was no reply. She left the information on his voicemail.

The hands of the clock were climbing towards eleven. Suddenly, Suzie could bear the waiting no longer. She hurried back to the phone. This time the number she wanted was keyed into her contact list. She tapped the name.

‘Mike? You weren't in bed, I hope.'

‘Nearly on my way. What can I do for you, Suzie, at this hour?'

‘I know it sounds mad, but I need to hire one of your cars.'

‘Tomorrow morning?'

‘No. Now. Look, I can't go into all the details, but Nick's got stranded on the other side of the moor.'

‘Can't the AA help? They'd run him home, surely?'

‘It's more complicated than that. I need to go there myself.'

‘Sounds mysterious. I don't like the thought of you setting out on your own at this time of night. I'll drive you.'

‘No, really, I'll be OK. I just need a car.'

She heard the silence as the garage owner thought over her request. She knew Mike well. They went to the same church. He serviced the Fewings' car and, on the rare occasions when Suzie and Nick both needed one, he hired her one of his fleet. But never at this hour.

‘I'm not having you walking over to get it this late. I'll drive it round to you.'

‘No, don't worry. I'll come.'

‘You stay where you are. Kay will bring our own car and drive me home.'

It was a relief. It would have been a quarter of a mile through the night streets. If she had qualms about that, then the craziness of what she was envisioning was beginning to come home to her. Perhaps Mike was right to be alarmed for her.

When she put down the phone, Millie had disappeared upstairs.

Suzie hurried up to her own bedroom and put on warmer clothes: jeans, a sweater. She hesitated, then picked up her fleece. The day had been hot in the city, but who knew what it would be like at midnight on the moor?

When she came out on to the landing, she met Millie similarly dressed.

‘You're not coming too.'

‘Oh yes, I am. You're not going haring off to that creepy castle all by yourself. Besides, I don't fancy being left on my own.'

‘I need you here to tell Tom what's happened.'

‘Leave him a note. He can read.'

Millie pushed past her and made her way to the kitchen, where she started filling a thermos flask. She stuffed some chocolate biscuits into a haversack.

‘Essential supplies.'

Suzie scribbled a note for Tom. It was hard to find a wording that would not alarm him.

‘
Dad's car's broken down. We've gone to fetch him in one of Mike's cars.
'

She felt a twinge of guilt that she had not mentioned Clive Stroud. That really would have been explosive.

Her ears were alert for the sound of a car drawing up outside. When she heard it, she had the front door open before Mike was halfway up the path.

He was a small, greying man, nearing retirement. He was already cutting back on the garage work, but Nick and Suzie were friends as well as customers.

He held out the car keys. ‘It's your usual, the Nissan. Don't bother about the paperwork. Pay me in the morning. I'm assuming this is just an overnight job?'

‘Thanks, Mike. You're a star. Yes, we'll be back tomorrow.' She devoutly prayed this was true.

‘I'm still not happy about this. Are you sure you don't want me to drive you? It's no trouble.'

‘At half past eleven at night? No, you get your beauty sleep. I'll be fine.'

She hoped she was right, and that Mike would be sufficiently misled by the feigned optimism in her voice.

He lingered reluctantly on the path. ‘OK, then. If you're sure.'

‘I'm sure.'

‘I'll give that husband of yours a flea in his ear when I see him, calling you out at this hour of night. Why can't he just find himself a bed and breakfast?'

‘I told you. It's more complicated than that. I need to be there.'

She gripped the car keys hard in her hand, hoping her confidence would not drain away before she hit the road. Was she being incredibly foolish?

The pressure of the keys reminded her of the hard grip of Clive Stroud's hand. She had a sinking sense that the threat she had felt then had been all too real.

She raised her hand to Mike's wife Kay in the driver's seat of the other car. Mike turned for a last farewell before he climbed into the passenger seat. The two drove off, leaving Suzie on the path, with the hired Nissan waiting for her at the gate.

As Mike and his wife disappeared round the corner, Suzie had a sinking feeling in her heart. She was sure that, if Nick knew what she was doing, he would forbid it. She couldn't honestly put her hand on her heart and say she knew it was the right thing. It was just that she couldn't bear to sit at home all night waiting and wondering. She was convinced that the police hadn't been telling her the full truth of what had happened to Nick's car. She had to see for herself.

She thought about Clive Stroud. As far as she knew, Nick had never met him. Suzie had been the one who had, and who had felt threatened by him. But why had Nick thought it unnecessary to tell her where he was going and whom he was meeting?

He hadn't wanted to worry her. He must have known he was taking a risk.

She had her hand on the driver's door of the hire car. She was aware of Millie on the other side, opening the door and throwing jackets, thermos and haversack on to the back seat.

‘You're not coming,' Suzie said, with a sudden decision. ‘There's no need for you to get involved.'

Millie slipped into the passenger seat. ‘Stop fussing and get in. You're not going by yourself.'

At that moment, Suzie almost changed her mind. She might have persuaded herself that the dangers were imaginary if Bernard Summers had not died. Now she knew that her fears for Nick were more than just hysteria. She could not, with a good conscience, leave Millie in the house alone, but she could have stayed with her.

But when Millie told her to get in, she obeyed. Now she was sitting in the driver's seat, turning the ignition key. The headlights sprang on. The car was starting to move away from the kerb. She was committed, without being really sure what lay ahead.

A figure came round the corner under the street lamp. Tall, rangy, though perhaps without quite the usual swing in his stride.

‘That's Tom!' cried Millie.

Suzie slowed the car to a halt and found the control to lower the window.

‘What's up?' Millie leaned across and called. ‘Bad evening? Nothing doing with the date?'

Tom stopped and scowled. ‘I had a perfectly pleasant evening, thank you.' Then consternation took over. ‘What's going on? Where are you going at this time of night? Where did you get the car? Where's Dad?'

‘I've left you a note on the kitchen table,' Suzie told him. ‘The police have found Dad's car over at Fullingford Castle.' Tom frowned. ‘The old stannary jail on the other side of the moor. Dad wasn't with it. I'm going to see for myself. Mick hired me the car.'

Tom had his hand on her door handle. ‘I'll drive.'

‘No, you won't. There's no need for you to come as well.' Though she had to admit to a feeling of relief. Tom was so like a younger version of Nick. His very presence brought something of the comfort that Nick himself would have done. ‘Oh, all right, then. You can come. But I'm driving.'

Tom went round to the other side and stood waiting, as if he expected Millie to relinquish the front passenger seat to him. She got out, folded the seat forward and kept her hand on it pointedly, forcing him to climb into the back seat.

‘They didn't make these things for legs like mine,' he grumbled, as he folded himself into the rear of the small car.

Suzie drew out on to the main road and headed for the motorway that would take her around the city and on to the dual carriageway heading west.

The bright lights of the roundabout at the end of the motorway faded behind them. Suzie had briefed Tom on the evening's developments. Neither of the children said much now. There was hardly any traffic on the A road. They headed up the long incline towards the moor.

‘Let's get this straight,' Tom said after a while. ‘Dad gets this phone call from Clive Stroud.'

‘From his office, yes.'

‘He texts you to say he'll be working late. Well, that part could be true. He might be designing a house for this Clive Stroud bloke, couldn't he?'

‘If you believe that, you'll believe in the tooth fairy,' put in Millie.

‘I was just going to say, if you'd let me, that it wouldn't explain why he's still out at midnight, and why he hasn't phoned you. Have you tried recently?'

Millie got her own phone out and rang the number.

‘Still nothing doing. He'll be all right, won't he? Nothing really bad's happened to him?'

‘Well, at least we know nobody's tried to stage a car accident,' Suzie tried to reassure her. ‘The police say there's no evidence that he was injured, and he wasn't with the car.'