Chapter 18 Imogen
Imogen
Josh comes into the kitchen carrying one of Dorothea’s throws and drapes it over my shoulders. ‘You’re shaking,’ he says, running his hands up and down the top of my arms. ‘Do you want a cuppa?’
I nod, thanking him, while trying to push the image of Dennis’s prostrate body from my mind.
His face had been so pale and there was so much blood.
Josh keeps throwing me looks of concern as he puts the kettle on the hob.
The two dogs are lying by my feet under the kitchen table.
I had to bring Cady back with me, I couldn’t just take Solly.
‘I can’t stop thinking about Dennis.’
‘Well, he’s lucky to be alive by the sounds of it.’
‘I wonder what happened. Do you think he had a heart attack and then hit his head or something?’
‘God, it’s like Midsomer Murders around here.’
‘Don’t say that. Dennis hasn’t been murdered.’
But I can’t ignore the possibility that Dennis was attacked. First someone locks us in the bunker and now this.
The sound of the kettle whistling gets Josh’s attention and he turns away from me to make the tea.
I watch his body language, his rigid shoulders, his tensed jaw, and I bite back my annoyance.
I get the impression he’s still cross with me for not letting him have Dorothea’s study but trying to hide it on account of everything that has happened since.
As soon as I saw Dennis lying there on the floor I tried the door, but it was locked, so I called for an ambulance straight away.
Around five minutes later they arrived and managed to get into his house.
I followed them inside the kitchen and tried to calm the dogs down, but it took a while to persuade Cady to leave her owner.
There were bloody pawprints all over the floor.
I can still spot flecks of blood on one of Solly’s paws.
‘At least I’ve got Rachel coming over later. She’ll take my mind off it,’ I say.
He hands me a mug and then sits down next to me.
‘Oh, you didn’t mention she was coming today.
Is that a good idea with the security firm here?
’ He once told me he thought Rachel was ‘too loud, too brash and too forthright’.
He’s not entirely wrong – but she’s so much more as well.
Fiercely loyal, funny, sharp and kind. Josh doesn’t seem to think we need friends.
He has workmates that he never spends time with outside the office and he’s in a football WhatsApp chat with a group of mates from university, but he never makes the effort to see them.
‘We’ll make sure not to disrupt them. How are they getting on?’
‘They’re busy right now installing some at the front, but they’ll also do the back of the house – overlooking the wood.
We should probably put one on the gate so that it alerts us if someone enters the property, and they’re putting a new lock on the gate.
Oh, and there’s a bloke coming later to replace that flimsy door that leads to the studio with a proper back door, double glazed – so even if anyone does get into the boarded-up bit around Dorothea’s damaged studio, they won’t be able to get into the house. ’
‘Thanks for organizing it all.’ I sip my tea, feeling slightly calmer now after the shock of finding Dennis like that.
Josh is on a roll. He’s always at his most animated when he feels like he’s being useful.
‘And they’re going to install an alarm system.
I can’t believe that Dorothea never had one, living in a house like this.
’ He rolls his eyes. ‘These old people, it’s like they don’t trust technology.
Dennis wouldn’t have been attacked if he’d had security. ’
‘Stop saying he was attacked. We don’t know that for definite!’
I think of his back door, locked, with no signs of forced entry. The same with the front door, and none of his windows appeared to have been broken. I’m hoping that Josh is wrong and is just understandably paranoid after what happened to Dorothea.
I gave my name and number to the paramedics in case Dennis’s daughter wanted to speak to me. She might want to take Cady, but if not, I’m determined to look after her. It’s the least I can do.
Because deep down I’m terrified that Dennis was attacked, and if he was, then it’s my fault for dragging him into all this.
‘And this is where I found the intruder yesterday,’ I finish.
Since Rachel’s arrival, I’ve talked non-stop about everything that has happened, knowing that her natural inquisitiveness will mean she’s all ears.
Josh, predictably, has made himself scarce.
‘And I think he was after the key to the bunker.’
‘Why? What’s so special about the bunker?’ asks Rachel, stepping into the room and surveying the shelves.
I explain about the sculpture I found. ‘Look, I took photos. They’re not very clear, so I need to go back down there.’ I lower my voice. ‘I haven’t told Josh. He’d only worry, and after Filcher and everything …’
She gives a brisk nod of understanding as she takes the phone and starts scrolling through the photos. ‘Dorothea’s sculptures are sinister. What’s with all the magpies?’
I explain about the rest of the collection that was destroyed and how I believe she’d left this one behind for me to find.
‘Is it true that Dorothea was murdered?’ she asks to my surprise as she hands me back the phone.
‘What makes you say that?’ Have the police decided to release that information to the press after all?
‘Something that came in last night about a possible arson. I’m so sorry,’ she says when she notices my expression.
I sigh. ‘I think it was because of this sculpture, Rach. I found an article published the week before she died where Dorothea was interviewed, talking about her new collection and alluding to knowing all these secrets.’
‘But if the person who set Dorothea’s studio on fire thought they’d got rid of all her artwork, why would they be looking for the bunker? How would they know about it?’
‘Hmmm. I dunno. It’s like they knew where to look.’
‘Who else knows about the bunker?’
‘Well, the neighbour, Dennis, who was with me when we got locked in. Josh knows about the bunker but not what’s in it.
And a detective called DI Erica Shirley who rescued me and Dennis from the bunker, but I haven’t told her about the sculpture.
I made out that it was just a load of art supplies down there. ’
‘You don’t trust the police?’
‘It’s not that … it’s just …’ I try to organize my thoughts. ‘She left it for me to find for a reason. I think she knew she might have been in danger and potentially even from whom. And she didn’t go to the police herself.’
‘But you could be in danger, Immy. However, I think you’re right to keep the bunker to yourself. Don’t tell anyone else about the sculpture.’
‘I won’t.’
She moves to the study’s sash window that overlooks the edge of the woods. When she turns back to me her expression is serious. ‘Let’s take the dogs into the woods with us and I can take a proper look. No offence, but your photos are pretty shit and I need to see this sculpture for myself.’
As we cross the lawn I spot one of the security team by the patio doors.
I wonder how much this is all going to cost and if Josh has gone overboard.
And then I remind myself that we can never be too safe.
It’s great I’ve been left all this money from Dorothea, but I can imagine maintaining this place will become a financial drain. We can’t waste it.
‘Everything okay between you and Josh?’ asks Rachel, linking her arm through mine.
‘What makes you say that?’ The wind has picked up, sending a flurry of leaves into the air.
‘Just … you keeping things from him.’
‘You know how he worries.’
‘Hmmmm. He seems to think you’re made of glass.’
‘It’s worse since that whole Dominic Filcher thing.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘No, it’s not. He was like that before. He always insisted he wait for you if you were working late.’
‘He was worried about me. I liked it. I’ve never had anyone worry about me before.’
‘And now you find it stifling?’
‘Um … no, I didn’t say that …’ I blush because, despite my protestations, she’s right.
‘It’s okay if you do. You are nearly thirty years old, you can look after yourself.’
‘Rachel,’ I inject a warning tone into my voice. ‘Everything is good between me and Josh, okay?’
‘Fine. Do you think you’ll be able to come back to work? It’s more of a commute now you live in Bath.’ She puts on a plummy voice when she says Bath and I laugh. ‘Although you don’t need to now, I suppose. Not now you’re minted. You probably never need to work again.’
The subject of money makes me feel uncomfortable.
And now I’m concerned that all this will change the dynamics of our friendship – that Rachel will stop seeing us as being ‘the same’.
We were always bemoaning our lack of money, our long working hours, our big mortgages and outstanding student loans.
‘I like working, so I hope so. And also Dorothea stipulated that we can’t sell the house for a year. Don’t you think that’s odd?’
‘Actually, it makes sense if it’s linked to the sculpture. Maybe she wanted to give you enough time to work everything out.’
A chill settles over me. ‘Which means she must have known she was in danger.’
‘It looks that way, yes.’ A disbelieving noise escapes Rachel’s lips as we walk further into the woods. ‘I can’t believe you have a whole wood!’ The two dogs lollop in front of us, making me feel a whole lot safer.
It’s not long before we reach the spot where the bunker is and I pull out the key from my jacket pocket. Rachel stares down at something on the hatch door. ‘What’s that?’
I follow her gaze and frown. I kneel down to pick it up, confused.
‘A Zippo lighter?’ she says, taking it from me. ‘Is it the one stolen from the box?’
I push my hair out of my eyes. ‘It looks like it, which means he was here, in the woods.’ The hairs on the back of my neck bristle. ‘What does he want?’
‘He must know about the bunker and possibly the sculpture as well.’
I glance about, wondering if we’re being watched, but then I reason that surely they’d be put off at the sight of the security men on the driveway.
Satisfied we’re alone, I bend down and put the key in the lock.
‘I’ll stay above ground to make sure we don’t get locked in,’ I say to Rachel as I open the metal door. It clanks back against the ground.
She nods, staring down at the open space. ‘Wow, this is so cool. Bit dark though.’
‘There’s a light switch, just on your right. The sculpture is in the corner, covered by a sheet.’
She hands me back the lighter and descends the steps with trepidation.
I keep watch as she disappears into the bunker.
A rook caws overhead and I shiver, thankful that the dogs are with me.
I don’t like being out here alone and I have to keep telling myself that the security guys aren’t far away.
I turn the lighter over in my hand, noting the engraved swirls.
It’s definitely the one I first found in the box.
Why would that man steal it just to then dump it here again? Is it a warning?
Eventually Rachel emerges from the bunker, dusting the shoulders of her coat. ‘It’s so strange,’ she says. ‘All those magpies with the little trinkets attached. They’re obviously clues. And is the sculpture supposed to be of Dorothea?’
‘I assume so, yes.’
Rachel keeps watch this time while I go back down.
I try to imagine Dorothea coming here, working on this sculpture in secret.
‘What are you trying to tell me?’ I whisper into the damp air as I study the sculpture again, hoping that, this time, something makes sense to me, but nothing does.
I always feel this way when studying a piece of art, totally baffled as to its meaning.
The only thing I can work out is that the sculpture is of Dorothea, and the red paint on her hand must signify blood.
Is she trying to say she had blood on her hands? Yet only one hand is painted red. Is that significant?
And then an item on one of the magpies catches my eye. It’s the lighter. A miniature version of the one I’m holding in my hand.
I run back up the steps to tell Rachel.
She’s standing between the dogs, looking a little freaked out, and I can see why. A magpie is perched on a branch staring at her, head cocked to one side. When it sees me it flies away.
I hand her the lighter and explain about the tiny version I’d found on the sculpture.
We both examine it properly for the first time.
It looks as though it could be silver, or silver plated at least, but most of it is tarnished.
‘Look, there are initials,’ she says in a low voice, rubbing at the front of it with her finger.
‘RF.’
‘We need to find out who RF is,’ she says, her eyes widening. ‘Because those initials could belong to her killer.’