Found Guilty at Five (6 page)

T
EN

T
HE BELOW-STAIRS MESSENGER, WHOSE NAME WAS
E
ZEKIEL
Parsons, had waited outside the concert hall last night in his van, and when Akiko climbed into the seat next to him, he had repeated that his mission was urgent. Her father had been taken very ill, and she was to come with Parsons to Scotland as soon as possible. She had protested that it would be much quicker by train, but he had ignored her and driven slowly through heavy traffic, until she said, “Please stop. Surely I can collect some clothes? If I have to stay with father for a bit, I shall need some things.”

“You’d better check your door lock when we get back,” he had said, grinning and pointing at a suitcase in the back of the van. “Child’s play, that was.” He knew her father wanted her back with him for his last few weeks, he said, so he had collected supplies. She was angry and scared, and did not altogether believe his story of her father’s collapse. He was old, yes, eighty-seven next birthday, but had been extremely fit and healthy for his age. But she needed to collect her thoughts. She must ring Jamie, first of all, and felt in her pocket for her mobile. It was not there.

“Good pocket-picking skills are essential in my line of business,” Parsons said, and laughed.

She ordered him to give it back to her, but he said she would have to wait until the time was right. There was something threatening about him. She had always felt this, even when he had first come to work for her father. In what capacity she had never discovered, but had often heard him claim to be a representative for Nakamasa’s business.

She had soon realised, however, that he was far too scruffy and unpleasant to represent anything worthwhile, and she had always suspected he had some stronghold over her father. Ever since she had left Japan, he had shown up at regular intervals with messages, mostly inconsequential, and she suspected he had been sent by her overprotective father to be half minder, half guardian angel, and an unsavoury one at that.

“I’ve thought of something important,” she said quickly now. “I must let my colleague know that I shall be away for a few days. Otherwise, he will send out a search party, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that. He probably won’t be back yet, but his flat’s just round the corner and I can leave a message.”

“No chance,” said Parsons. “Tell me where he lives and I’ll get a message to him.”

“I’ll show you,” said Akiko.

“Which one?”

“There. Over there. Stop, and let me out. I’ll just leave a message with the woman in the ground-floor flat. She’s an invalid and is usually there. You can come with me, if you don’t trust me.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, go and find the woman and be back here in two minutes. Or less. We’ve wasted enough time already!”

Akiko dashed across the road and rang first Jamie’s bell, but as she expected, there was no reply. Then she tried the neighbour, but with desperation mounting, she realised that the woman was also out. Gone to hospital, she guessed.

Parsons, losing patience, sounded his horn, and Akiko turned away, now in tears of frustration.

“Good evening, miss. It’s rather late to be out on your own around here. Are you in trouble?” A policeman had approached, and under the streetlight she saw that he was young and smiling. She was tempted to tell all, get rid of Parsons, and find Jamie. But then she thought of her father, and realised that if she appealed for help, this might well delay her journey to see him. Parsons could be telling the truth, and she might even be too late. That thought was unbearable, and she shook her head.

“Just a lovers’ quarrel,” she said, sure that he would go away. But he didn’t. He produced an electronic device and said, “Your name, please, miss?”

“I’m not in any trouble,” Akiko protested.

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind giving me your name?”

“Jacqueline Dupre, then.”

“Try again, miss.”

“I just told you.”

“Home address?”

“New York.”

“I see. Big place, New York. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I must just make a call.”

“You’d get a better signal over there,” said Akiko, pointing to an open space.

“Where?”

As the young policeman turned to look, Akiko was on her feet and running like the wind across to the van. Parsons had the engine running, and they were away in seconds. The policeman shrugged. Lovers! And Jacqueline Dupre? What rubbish. What did she take him for? It would have to be reported back at the station, and he could imagine the scorn of his colleagues. He put away his notebook and proceeded on his way.

Meanwhile, in the petrol-fumed interior of the van, Parsons told Akiko to make herself comfortable. They would be driving through the night, he said.

*   *   *

N
EXT MORNING, OUTSIDE
T
RESHAM RAILWAY STATION,
D
EREK
greeted his wife and son with a stern face. “I’ve decided to ask no questions,” he said, “except what the hell do you think you’re doing, the pair of you?”

Lois frowned. “I reckon that’s not bad to start with,” she said.

Jamie nodded. “Let’s get in the car and go back home, then we can have one of Gran’s breakfasts and tell all. We made a very early start! But there’s not much to tell, unfortunately.”

Derek had been at the station a good half hour before their train arrived. He would not tell Lois he had spent a sleepless night worrying about her, knowing from experience that nothing would be more calculated to irritate her. He had been far from pleased when she had set off yesterday, apparently on the spur of the moment, to hear Jamie and Akiko playing on their big night. “We’ve never been to a single one of his concerts,” she had said unconvincingly.

He had taken her to the station yesterday, and she had promised to be back home on the late evening train. He’d worried about that, too. Drunks and layabouts making nuisances of themselves. And then her call, saying something important had come up, and she was staying with Jamie in his flat overnight. Dark suspicions had entered his mind, and he had dialled the police station and asked to speak to Cowgill. Unavailable until tomorrow, they had said, and he had replaced the receiver sadly.

The smell of frying bacon was like a blessing as they all stepped into Gran’s kitchen. Without a word, they sat at the table, and she dished up platefuls of her specials. Conversation lurched from polite enquiries about the concert to the efficiency of Virgin railways. Finally Derek pushed away his empty plate, downed his coffee to the dregs, and looked sternly at Lois.

“Time to tell, Lois. Just what did happen? I can see from Jamie’s face that it was something unpleasant.”

“Yes, well. I’ll start. Akiko has disappeared. She seemed nervous during the second half of the concert, and told Jamie she wasn’t satisfied with her performance. She had decided to go straight home, not waiting for visitors backstage.”

“She’s very hard on herself, and an anxious sort of girl,” Jamie confirmed. “Finds being in a strange country a bit daunting. Only child, mother died early, doting wealthy father, and all that. Mum and Inspector Cowgill, who turned up unexpectedly, came round to congratulate us, and then the inspector said he was on police business, and—shall I explain, or will you, Mum?”

“It had better be good, Lois,” said Derek harshly.

Lois frowned and sat up very straight in her chair. “As I said to you on the phone, Derek, Cowgill turning up was a complete coincidence. But I’m glad he did, because he told us the case of the missing cello could be more dangerously complicated than any of us had thought. And take that stupid look off your face, for God’s sake. We’ve got trouble enough. At least, Akiko has. And Jamie has, and I shall help him as much as I can.”

Then she explained as if to a three-year-old about blackmailing scams involving offers to restore musicians’ stolen instruments to them in return for large sums of money. Only the returned ones were fakes. One refusal to be blackmailed had been fatal. “It could have happened to Akiko,” she said.

Silence followed this revelation, and Derek had difficulty in meeting Lois’s angry eyes.

“Sorry, gel,” he said. “So what has Akiko had to say about all of this?”

“We told you—she’s disappeared. Nobody’s seen her since she left the concert hall. And I’m very grateful Mum’s decided to help find her,” Jamie said with a frown at his father.

Gran suddenly thumped the table, and her face was red and shining from cooking at a hot stove. “Well, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” she said to Jamie, “and I’m fed up with you,” she added, turning to Lois. “Who do you think you are? Miss Marple or something? Rushing about and stirring up trouble for the rest of us! Why can’t you stick with being a wife and mother, and running a successful cleaning business? What more do you want! It’d be good enough for most sensible women. It’s got to stop! Leave it to the police, Jamie.”

“Now, now, Gran,” Derek said soothingly. “Lois has done a lot of good with her ferretin’ in the past. And now this business does have a direct connection with our family. Akiko is Jamie’s friend and colleague. Of course we all want to help as best we can.”

“Huh! Well, you’ve soon changed your tune, Derek Meade!”

“Lois knows how I feel, Gran,” Derek said patiently. “And I think we should leave it there.”

“May I speak?” Jamie pushed his chair back roughly, and stood up. “Seems all this is my fault. So the best thing I can do is go back to London as soon as possible.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jamie! Of course it’s not your fault. And this is your home and where you should be.” Lois was about to expand on this when Jamie’s mobile rang. He rushed outside, and they could see him on the lawn, walking up and down and speaking animatedly.

“Was it Akiko?” Derek asked, when Jamie came back.

“No, Dad. Just a friend of mine, dammit.”

“Never mind, lad,” Derek said, and got up from the table. “She’ll turn up of her own accord, like as not. Now I must get on,” he said. “I know it’s no good asking you to stop ferretin’, Lois. Just be careful, me duck. That’s all.”

*   *   *

I
N HIS OFFICE,
C
OWGILL TOOK A CALL. “
O
UTSIDE A BLOCK OF
flats where?” Someone was testing a police siren in the backyard, and he could hardly hear the voice.

“Speak up! Who is it?”

The young policeman seemed reluctant, but continued haltingly.

“Your superior told you to ring me?” said an exasperated Cowgill. “So where were you? Address? Go ahead then . . . Of course I know it! And you couldn’t catch a small, defenceless girl? Said she was Jacqueline Dupre? Dear God, give me patience. Speak to me later.”

He put down the phone, grabbed his jacket, and went to the lift. A notice on the doors informed him that the lift was out of order. He swore, and tackled the stairs two at a time, arriving at the bottom considerably out of breath.

“Leaving,” he said to the receptionist, and stepped out into blinding sunlight.

E
LEVEN

“B
ETTER HAVE A STOP SOON,”
P
ARSONS SAID. “
I
NEED COFFEE
to keep me awake, and you look peaky, Miss Akiko. And this old bus could do with a rest.” He had pulled into the car park of a motorway café and turned off the overheated engine.

They had driven through the night, with the old van in no danger of breaking the speed limit, and now they were more than halfway to Hightoun House. Akiko’s father had purchased a large mansion some years ago, partly for investment, but also for business entertaining and a retreat for himself and Akiko in Scotland.

He had adored her from the moment she was born. An elderly father, he had been glad that he had chosen a wife half his age. But then his plan had gone awry. She had contracted a virulent influenza bug and had died when Akiko was not quite two years old. Distraught, he had hired a loving nanny who had stayed with her charge until she left school and went to college.

Akiko had had plenty of time on the journey north to think about her father and try to understand why he had endeavoured to keep such a restricting rein on her, even though she was now an independent adult. She recalled how hard he had tried to dissuade her from moving to London, but she had protested that she needed to see more of other cello players and establish some useful contacts, and he had given way. As an extra precaution, he had calculated that by using Parsons as a monitoring device, and arranging to come to Britain and use Hightoun and his office in London much more often, he could keep a protective eye on her.

“Should be there in another couple of hours,” Parsons said after a long silence. Akiko had slept fitfully, waking every so often in alarm, for a moment still lost in troubling dreams, and Parsons had done his best to reassure her with a kind voice. He had relaxed now that the end of his mission was in sight.

They walked into the café, and Parsons collected a tray with two coffees and sandwiches, taking it to a table only partly occupied by an elderly couple.

“Don’t try anything,” he muttered to her as they sat down. “I can run faster than a frit rabbit. You’d get nowhere.”

“I’m not even thinking of it!” she protested. “All I want is to get to see Father as soon as possible. And please treat me with respect, Parsons. I shall already have enough to tell Papa to cause trouble for you,” she said.

“Oh, I couldn’t allow that, Miss Akiko,” he said, his kind voice turning sharp. “You wouldn’t want to risk losing a chance to see your father before he dies? No, best to be grateful to me for a safe journey. I am, after all, doing your father’s bidding.”

She shook her head. “I hope so,” she said, “otherwise Papa will be extremely annoyed.”

With a steady hand, he tore the top off a twist of brown sugar and emptied it into his coffee. He turned and smiled at the couple at their table. “Lovely day again,” he said politely.

He patted Akiko’s hand fondly, and the couple smiled. She moved her hand in disgust. “Eat up, girl,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing worse than a cold fried egg.” He lowered his voice even more. “Though come to think of it, I know many things that are worse, and one of them would be the result of not doing exactly what I am about to instruct you. You will tell your father that everything has gone extremely smoothly, and that your escort—me—has been most helpful and comforting.”

Akiko felt anger rising. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she said, and put down her knife and fork, saying she had had enough.

*   *   *

T
HE ELDERLY COUPLE SAT IN THEIR CAR.
I
T WAS HOT, WITH THE
sun beating down whilst they had had their lunch. “Better be off, Tom,” the woman said. “We’ll get the air con going and cool down.”

“Right you are then. All set for another couple of hours? We should be there by then. Oh look!” he added. “There’s that girl we saw, and the scruffy chap who was with her, walking out together. What does she see in him, d’you think? Look, he’s taken her arm.”

“She’s getting into that black van with him, too! Honestly, Tom, young people these days, they don’t seem to have any sense, carrying on like that. Mind you, I’m surprised at that girl. He didn’t seem to be making much headway with her in the café.”

“None s’queer as folk. Ready then? Got your sunglasses? Off we go, then.”