Legacy of Lies (6 page)

‘No, a lot of the newer ones don't. Still, I can have a read of what's on the stick drive and I'll bet the shop computer will have a floppy drive. I expect Marcus will be happy enough to let me use that.'

He took Naomi's hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘More coffee,' he said. ‘You get the kettle on again and I'll dig out the laptop and I've got a phone call to make.'

‘Oh?'

‘Marcus gave me the name of the officer who dealt with finding Uncle Rupe. I'm hoping, as a professional courtesy, he'll agree to meet us where Rupert was found.'

It's disturbing, the way one drifts through life and never really thinks about what will happen when one is no longer there. All of the flotsam and jetsam collected through life will belong to someone else and all of the responsibilities passed on.

I hope I won't leave too many of those but there are a few. I will, of course, do my best to sort the problems before I pass on, but as another birthday approaches far too fast, I realize that I really ought to set things in order.

Marcus has talked about making a will and I think I will make mine too. It will all go to Alec, of course. There is no one else, really. Elaine will be settled as I've always promised myself, but the rest can go to Alec. I loved the boy and I respect the man. I don't know of many who have fulfilled all their youthful promise, but it seems to me that he has and
it
is good to know that even as we have both grown older there has been room for the occasional letter and that he is still capable of enjoying our humorous swipes at life.

So, I will make my will and leave it all to Alec and hope he has the sense to trust his old uncle and not to dig too deep into things not his, or by that time, my concern.

I
t had rained during the night but the temperature remained high and Naomi had not slept well. She and Alec had their breakfast on the terrace, the air heavy with the scent of roses and damp grass and filled with birdsong and the sounds of one very happy dog rolling in the damp grass.

‘Sure you'll be all right?' Alec asked.

‘I'll be fine. I just want to laze for a while. Your taxi should be here in a few minutes. I'm going to sit here for a bit and then explore the house, on my own, no one to see when I forget where I am.'

Alec laughed. ‘I know when I'm not wanted but, Naomi, make sure you have your mobile with you all the time, just in case.'

His taxi arrived and Alec set off to retrieve his car from the pub where they'd had lunch the day before. Naomi continued to sit, enjoying the sun and the warm, fragrant air and debating whether or not she could be bothered to go and make herself more tea.

When the doorbell rang it took her by surprise.

‘Who on earth is that?'

Napoleon scampered back on to the terrace and Naomi stood irresolute. She wasn't properly dressed yet, hadn't bothered to do more than pull on sweatpants and a T-shirt, and it occurred to her that this might be some friend or acquaintance of Rupert's who had not heard the news of his death.

The bell rang again, this time followed by loud knocking. Whoever it was didn't seem about to go away.

Slowly, Napoleon at her side, she made her way back through the house. The banging had not ceased. Naomi decided she wasn't keen on opening the door.

‘Hello, who is it?'

The banging stopped.

‘Hi, who's there?' Naomi asked again.

There was a pause, then: ‘I want to talk to the new owner.'

‘About what?'

‘Look, just open the door and let me in. I told you, I want to talk to the bloke Rupert left this place to.'

Naomi had decided she was definitely not going to let this man in but she felt stupid and childish talking through the door. She fumbled for the chain and fastened it in place before cracking it open just a little. ‘I'm afraid he isn't available at the moment. If you'd like to leave a message …'

‘What are you? His bloody answering service?'

Naomi didn't reply. She had, as Alec had instructed, slipped her mobile phone into the pocket of her sweatpants and she debated now if she should use it. Alec's number was on speed dial, but how soon could he get back?

‘If you take that tone,' Naomi said, ‘then you can damned well stay outside. If you have a message to give tell me now then clear off.'

He pushed the door. Naomi, taken by surprise was shoved off balance. Angry now she pushed back only to find something was blocking the door's return. Damn the man, he'd put his foot in the way. She swung her full weight against it and pushed harder. ‘What the hell do you want?'

The man leaned in close. He seemed unconcerned about the pain she must be causing to his trapped toes. She could feel his breath on her face and smell his aftershave. It smelt expensive, she noted almost absently, and didn't gel with the rest of her experience of him. She tried to keep her voice steady. ‘I asked you what you wanted.'

‘Rupert Friedman owed me money,' the man snarled. ‘As I see it that means the bloke he left it all to owes me on his behalf. Now let me inside.'

‘No way,' Naomi told him. She released her pressure on the door just for an instant and then rammed it back against the intruding foot. The man pushed back. Her hand pressed hard against the edge of the door, but Naomi was startled to feel his fingers curl around hers. He tugged her grip free and started to pull on her hand.

Naomi felt panicked, then angry. Just before he dragged her hand through the gap in the door, she leaned in and bit him. His skin felt rough against her tongue. She bit harder. He swore and let go. She slammed again against his foot. This time that too moved away.

‘Little bitch. I'll have you!'

She slammed and locked the door. Pressing her ear against the heavy wood she could still hear him swearing and cursing as he stamped upon the gravel. Then a sound that chilled her to the bone. He's coming over the gate.

She knew the way easily now. With her hand against the wall as a guide she almost ran back through the house and slammed the French doors closed, locking them with the old key. Footsteps on the terrace told her that he was round the back and a moment later he was banging his hands against the French doors. Naomi knew they wouldn't hold for long. Not if he was determined to get inside.

She heard a crash as he smashed the breakfast tray from the table on the terrace. Naomi turned and headed back through the house. She had not expected this, not this level of violence. Most people took time to ramp up. This man obviously had a very short and very dangerous fuse.

The safest place to be? Where would be the safest place?

Calling Napoleon she began to climb the stairs. Rupert's study was next to the guest bedroom she and Alec occupied. It had a heavy, solid door and a decent lock. Below in the dining room, wood splintered. What the hell was wrong with this man? It had dawned on her that he might have been watching the house and seen Alec leave. It had also occurred that there might be two of them. The footsteps on the terrace had sounded different, now she thought about it. Lighter, faster. She had gained the impression from the man at the front door that he was heavily built.

Stumbling on the top step, Naomi reached out to find the wall, searching for the wood panel and the dado rail that separated the panelling from the paper above. She hauled herself up and then moved towards the study door, relieved to feel the solidity and reassuring weight as she swung it open and then slammed it closed. Alec had left the key in the door as, he'd told her, Rupert had always done. She turned it now, then stepped back from the door and stood, listening to the sounds coming from below – crashing and splintering and breaking glass.

She fumbled in her pocket for the mobile phone and dialled the three nines.

‘I need the police,' she told the controller, horrified to hear the shake and sound of barely controlled terror in her own voice. ‘Someone's broken into my house and I'm alone. Yes, they're still here. I've locked myself into a room upstairs and it sounds like they're wrecking the place.'

She listened to the calm voice of the controller on the other end and a surge of impatience, driven by pure fear sharpened her tone as the panic rose. ‘Look, I need someone now. Please.' And then she broke her own unwritten rule. ‘Look,' she said. ‘I'm blind. I can't see.'

The controller stayed on the line, her calm voice meant to reassure. She was playing a role that Naomi had played many times in her days as a police officer, before the blindness had taken her career and transformed her life beyond recognition. She spoke gently and firmly, telling Naomi that help was on its way, keeping her on the line and asking for reports of any sounds she could hear, any movement through the house.

‘He's coming up the stairs,' Naomi whispered. ‘I can hear him on the stairs.'

‘You've locked the door?' the woman on the line confirmed.

‘Yes, I've locked it and it's a heavy door but …' She could hear him now, standing at the top of the stairs, then two steps to the study door, rattling the knob.

‘I've called the police,' Naomi yelled at him. ‘I've called the police and they're on their way.'

She backed away from the door and bumped into the desk. The controller was still talking to her but Naomi could no longer hear. Napoleon whimpered, sensing her anxiety. He nuzzled at her hand and Naomi slid down beside the desk and gathered the big black dog close to her.

‘Naomi, are you listening to me?'

Naomi lifted the phone to her ear. ‘He's outside the door.' She tried to stay calm. She took long controlling breaths. Damn it, she told herself, she'd been in tight spots before and not panicked like this. She'd been trapped in a burning building, taken hostage in a bank siege, almost been thrown off the roof of a building, but she had never felt like this.

The difference, she decided, was that at those other times there had been other people to think about. Other concerns. In the fire, Patrick had been with her and she had been more worried about getting him out than she had been scared for herself. In the siege too, she had taken control then, fallen back on her training and pushed her own fears aside in order to calm other people.

This time, apart from Napoleon, she was truly alone.

‘I've called the police,' she shouted once more, then strained to listen. The door knob creaked again and weight thudded against the wood, then a muffled shout from down below.

So, he wasn't alone.

She heard the footsteps again, but this time they turned back to the landing, becoming muffled on the carpeted stairs.

‘I think they're going away,' she whispered into the phone. ‘I think they're going away.'

‘Officers will be with you in just a few more minutes,' the controller informed her. ‘Stay where you are.'

Naomi had no intention of leaving the illusory safety of this room.

She strained her ears, praying that the men had really left but angry that they might now get away. ‘Tell them to hurry. Please.'

‘Just hang on and stay put. They'll be with you in no time at all.'

Still straining her ears, Naomi caught the sound of an engine and car tyres on gravel. ‘They're getting away. I can hear the car.'

A moment later and the sound of distant sirens had her gasping in relief. She heard the cars in the drive, arriving at speed and tyres spinning in the gravel.

‘They're here,' she told the controller, trying hard to keep the tears from thickening her voice. ‘Thank you, they're here.'

She stumbled from the room and down the stairs, falling over the debris that the intruders had left in the hall. The front door banged open as she reached the hall and she cried out more in shock than fear.

‘Police,' a voice announced. ‘It's all right, love, you're all right now.'

Hands rested lightly on her arms and someone led her towards the door. ‘Let's get you sitting in the car, shall we?' His accent was local, thick with burr and drawn out vowels.

Naomi allowed herself to be led outside and seated in the car. ‘In you get, big fella,' the voice continued and Napoleon scrambled up inside, resting his big head on her leg.

Naomi leaned her head back against the seat and allowed the tears to flow.

A
lec arrived about a half hour after the police. Naomi had, in the end, refrained from calling him and the policewoman now sitting beside her in the car had concurred. No point in risking an accident because he had driven back too fast.

She heard his car come into the drive and skid to a halt. He ran across the gravel, calling her name and she heard the officer who had been first through the door asking who he was.

‘It's Alec,' Naomi told the woman sitting beside her, and a moment later Alec had replaced the WPC and was inside the car with his arms tightly around her.

‘What the hell happened? Are you OK? Why didn't you call me?'

‘I'm all right,' she reassured him. ‘Just a bit shaken up. A man came, just after you left. He banged on the door and—'

‘You let him in?'

‘No, I didn't let him in. I'm not that stupid.'

Alec was contrite. ‘I'm sorry. I'm just—'

‘He or another man broke in round the back. Dog and I locked ourselves in Rupert's study and I called the police.'

Quickly, she filled him in on other details. Alec, reassured that she was all right, had switched, she noted, into policeman mode. He asked her questions, looked for more detail then, hugging her again, he got out of the car. ‘Stay there, love. I'll be right back.'

Naomi sighed and leaned back into the seat once again. Her head hurt and, unaccountably considering the circumstances, she was now ravenous. She wanted to get away from this place, check into a nice safe hotel and find some breakfast or brunch, or whatever it was time for.