Chapter 10
As Julia pressed the last strip of packing tape down on the final cardboard box in the spare bedroom, she heard the sound of a vehicle in the drive.
She looked at her watch. It was twelve noon, on the dot.
She smiled. Big Stu aka the Man With the Van was always punctual, which was why Wilma used him for all of Second Chances’ pick-ups and deliveries too big for a private car.
She wondered whether he’d waited in the road for a few minutes before driving in. She wouldn’t be surprised.
Biddy had said she would let her know when he arrived, but Julia thought she might as well save her the trouble and go and meet Big Stu herself. She went downstairs and set off across the kitchen courtyard to the back door of the manor and into the kitchen.
There was no sign of Biddy, but she heard the sound of the heavy front door opening and muffled voices. She opened the door from the kitchen and was about to set off down the passage when she saw something that stopped her dead in her tracks.
There was Garforth, opening the door. And there on the doorstep was not the familiar burly figure of Big Stu, the Man With the Van, but a taller, thinner figure.
And he was wearing a familiar grey hat. Frustratingly, he was turned away from her, and because of the angle and the hat, she could see only a glimpse of his chin, but not his face.
Over his shoulder was the same duffel bag she’d seen him with at the inn.
Julia stepped quickly back into the kitchen to avoid being seen.
She held the door open just enough to let in the sound of their voices.
‘My condolences on the passing of the colonel. I for one couldn’t be sadder,’ drawled an unfamiliar voice. The delivery of his claim was not convincing. He didn’t sound sad. He sounded irritated, if anything. ‘I’m here to see Gregory Loxton.’
Garforth said something Julia didn’t catch.
‘That’s as maybe, but business is business. Death comes to us all, but debts are immortal, if you think about it. Now, let’s go and find Mr Loxton, heir apparent, shall we? See what he has to say for himself… I feel certain we can persuade him towards doing the right thing.’
Again, Garforth’s response was unintelligible from behind the kitchen door, but his tone was clipped and coldly angry.
Julia presumed he’d assented to the man’s instruction, because she could hear their footsteps receding down the passage, in the direction of the room in which the colonel’s body had been found.
‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Julia said, patting down her pockets for her phone which was – she recalled – in the Coach House. She was about to dash back and fetch it, when Biddy walked in from the garden with a basket.
‘I was just picking tomatoes for lunch when I heard the bell. Was that the Man With the Van?’
‘No. Someone else. Garforth got… Sorry, I must run. Forgot my phone and I need…’
Julia didn’t finish her sentence, it all just seemed too much to explain, and time was of the essence. She trotted back to the Coach House, leaving the housekeeper with her hands on her hips, staring after her in bemusement.
DI Hayley Gibson answered on the first ring, her voice clipped.
‘Julia, what’s up?’
‘He’s here! The man with the grey hat is here!’
‘Where? Where are you, Julia?’
‘I’m back at Greystone Manor. It’s the same man, I’m sure. He has just arrived. Garforth let him in. I overheard them, and it seems he’s taking him to Gregory, the son. What shall I do?’
‘Nothing. Do nothing. Do not go anywhere near him. I’m coming. I’m on my way.’
‘Okay.’
Heart pounding, Julia dithered, not sure what to do.
Hayley had told her to do nothing, and she fully intended to follow the detective’s instructions in that regard.
But the wait was killing her. Where was Hayley?
Where had she been when Julia phoned? She hadn’t said.
She could be five minutes away, or half an hour.
What if the meeting between the mystery man and Greg was very brief, and Hayley missed him?
What would Julia do then? Would she try to delay him?
Detain him? Or get a photograph at least, so they knew what he looked like?
Her heart was beating so hard that she briefly wondered if she would be the next death at the manor.
It occurred to her that if she were to go back to the main house across the courtyard and around through the garden, instead of through the kitchen and into the house, she would pass the study window.
If she happened to be passing, and a meeting happened to be underway, she might get a proper look at the face that had so far been shaded beneath the grey hat.
Then at least if Hayley didn’t get there in time, Julia would be able to give her a good description.
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a reasonable plan.
Strictly speaking, she would still obey the instruction, ‘Do nothing,’ but she would do it in such a way that she could gather information about the mystery man.
Doing her best to look like a woman taking a casual stroll next to the hydrangeas, she walked along the side wall of the house, glancing into windows as she went.
She arrived at what she determined must be the study window, and stopped.
She edged forward, so that her head inched into the window area, and she could peer in with one eye.
The grey-hatted man was once again turned away from her. It meant she was safe from detection. But it also meant, frustratingly, that she couldn’t see his face. What she could see brought her out in a cold sweat.
The man was holding a heavy pair of pliers in his right hand, his arm hanging down at his side.
His left hand rested heavily on Greg’s shoulder, as the younger man sat in the desk chair.
Greg’s shoulders were pulled back and his arms not visible, but from their angle, to Julia’s horror, it seemed they were tied behind his back.
Greg kicked and flailed. The hat man moved a step to the side to get out of range of Greg’s feet.
Julia could see Greg’s face, so pale it was almost green, and the cloth tied over his mouth.
He caught sight of Julia and his eyes widened.
He kicked more vigorously, angrily, his head shaking from side to side.
It was a wonder the chair was still upright.
Julia ducked below the windowsill, afraid that the man with the pliers would turn around and see her.
She ran, hunched over, back in the direction she’d come from.
Her heart beat a million beats a minute.
She realised that the tools in the pouch the man had accidentally left behind at the Topsy Turnip weren’t intended for a bit of handymanning.
They were intended to hurt. Mr Peckham – if that was indeed his name – had used them to break the colonel’s toe.
And unless she was very much mistaken, the hat man had invested in a new pair of pliers, and he was going to use them to hurt Greg next.
No matter what assurances she’d given DI Hayley Gibson about doing nothing, Julia couldn’t let that sort of thing go on.
She was going to have to try to stop it.
She would feel much better with someone by her side.
Maybe Garforth could help her? Except she didn’t trust Garforth.
He’d lied about seeing the man in the hat, and about letting him into the house. And who knew about what else.
‘Biddy!’ she called, as she came to the end of the wall, running onto the gravel driveway. She nearly turned her ankle as she came round the corner.
She needed backup, or at least someone to give her confidence, if she was going to be confronting a madman. Speed was of the essence.
‘Biddy!’ she shouted more loudly as she entered the house.
A call came from inside the kitchen: ‘In here…’
Julia pushed the door open. ‘Come with me,’ she hissed in a sort of whisper. ‘There’s a man. He’s going to hurt Greg. Hurry.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Biddy asked, although to give her credit, she didn’t wait for an answer. She followed Julia down the passage. Julia flung open the door to the study.
This time, she saw the man’s face – a hard face, not softened by the frightening scowl etched across his features. He saw her, and was struck still for a moment.
There he stood. In his left hand, Greg’s bare foot. In his right, a pair of pliers. Greg’s sock and his shoe lay on the carpet.
Julia knew instantly what was afoot.
‘Stop that immediately!’ she cried.
Biddy, behind her, said supportively, ‘Yes, stop!’
‘Leave him alone. The police are here,’ said Julia, hoping that Hayley was at least close by.
The man sized up the two women – one middle-aged housekeeper, and one mysterious woman a little past what might reasonably be considered middle-aged – and decided to leg it.
He dropped Greg’s bare foot and grabbed his pouch.
Then he ran across the room, shoving Biddy out of the way, narrowly avoiding pushing Julia down as he flung himself past her.
Julia reached for him as he went by, grabbing his jacket and slowing him momentarily.
He shrugged her off, and made it to the door.
Where he ran straight into the arms of Detective Inspector Hayley Gibson.
The man had momentum, and Hayley was knocked back a step.
She righted herself quickly, hanging onto his shoulders as she did so.
She wasn’t big, but she was strong and determined.
As for the man in the hat, he seemed ready to shove his way out, until he saw DC Walter Farmer behind Hayley.
And coming up behind Walter was the Man With the Van, who was not called Big Stu for nothing.
With two police officers and a tough burly fellow between him and the exit, not to mention two women of a certain age, there would be no way to flee the scene.
The puff visibly disappeared from the man who had, moments ago, been quite in control with his sneer and his pliers.
Julia watched him come to accept that the odds were against him.
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ said Hayley Gibson. ‘You’re going to tell me the whole story, starting with your name.’
The rather odd assembly – Greg Loxton, Julia, Biddy and now Big Stu, the Man With the Van – looked on expectantly.
‘Peckham. Neil Peckham.’
‘Now, Mr Peckham. Tell me what you are doing here, and what you were doing here last week. When Colonel Clarence Loxton died.’
‘I had nothing to do with the colonel’s death. Nothing!’ Peckham said. ‘I paid him a visit – just doing my job. But he was fine when I last saw him.’
‘What is your job?’
‘I facilitate the recovery of outstanding monies owed to… certain parties.’
‘A debt collector,’ the Man With the Van said quickly, as if he was answering a question on some sort of television quiz show.
‘If you like,’ said Peckham, with a shrug.
‘What did you plan to do with those pliers, then?’ said the Man With the Van in a triumphant tone.
‘I’ll be the one asking the questions,’ said Hayley Gibson, wrangling control of the conversation before the Man With the Van took over the inquiry altogether. He made a gracious ‘after you’ sort of hand gesture, which brought a flash of irritation to the detective’s face.
‘You borrow the money, you pay the money back. It’s as simple as that,’ said Peckham. ‘Everyone knows the rules. Some people, though, they seem to forget. My job is to remind them.’
‘Like you reminded Colonel Loxton?’ said DC Walter Farmer.
‘I reminded him of his obligations, but I did not kill him. What good would that do my employer?’
‘And your employer is…?’ Walter asked.
All eyes were on the man in the grey hat.
He folded his arms across his chest and said, ‘I’ll need my lawyer if there are to be any more questions.’