Snow Angel Page 13

  Beatrice watched Dumpling nibble at the open can, licking his lips and looking up to blink at her. “I just told you. I’ll be there.”

  “I know you will. The reason I came over was to clear the air and explain. And there’s something else. I have new intel on your case.”

  The chill of the cellar crept into her bones, her hunger made her irritable, the stink of smoke and the towering To-Do list hollowed her out and there was nowhere to hide. The poor old moggy left his sardines and retreated into his empty box. He didn’t trust her. She didn’t blame him.

  Her voice was flat. “There is no case. I’ve decided to leave this investigation to the professionals. At this moment, I want to persuade this cat out of his hole and you’re not making it any easier. Please go and reassure Adrian I will be there tonight as promised.”

  There was a pause in which she could almost sense meaningful looks being exchanged. “Fair enough, I’ll leave you in peace. Could you please call me when the cat situation is resolved? I really do need to talk to you.”

  Beatrice grunted and pressed her knuckles to her eyes to stem the flow. Spontaneous weeping was a very bad sign. Indistinct murmurs from above ended when the front door closed. She continued sitting on the step, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the square of darkness into which Dumpling had retreated.

  The sound of the postman’s crunchy tread up the path echoed into the basement. Later the phone rang again and Matthew answered. She could hear no detail of either conversation but had no curiosity. The ping of the microwave in the kitchen attracted Dumpling’s attention and a little grey-whiskered face moved towards the light.

  The slap of slippered feet came down the stairs and she moved over to let Matthew sit beside her. He held a tray in his hands. To Beatrice’s surprise, Dumpling gave another soundless mew and padded across to greet him, bunting his head against Matthew’s bare legs. On the tray was a mug of hot chocolate, a bagel slathered with butter and honey and a packet of pills. Her mood stabilisers, neglected for ... she’d lost count of the days.

  She popped one of the blisters and swallowed one with a sip of hot chocolate.

  Matthew handed her the tray. “Take this upstairs and retire to bed for a couple of hours, please. It’s still dry as only the downstairs sprinklers went off. The girls and Mungo are coming over to help clear up, I have everything under control and you must not worry.”

  Her eyes welled up and she shook her head but could find no way of articulating her overwhelming sense of panic.

  He took her hand. “Please. Eat, rest and relax. Thank you for finding Dumpling and I’ll take it from here. That is not a suggestion but an order.”

  She pressed his fingers to her lips and did as she was told.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Adrian was training for the London Marathon, which he never actually entered after he discovered the nightmare of Jogger’s Nipple, he installed an app on his phone with a voice telling him every few minutes how far he’d run, how many calories he’d burned, his average speed and what time it was. What a nightmare. He’d deleted it months ago but still recalled that sense of intrusive internal pressure. A ticking clock, every second implying failure.

  That same sense of running but standing still was amplified to stadium levels by five-thirty on Friday night.

  Pam Harding and the registrar were still making small talk with Catinca, whose platinum hair gleamed under the ballroom lights, but the flicker of her eyes to the double doors betrayed her concern. Rose and Maggie were yet to make an appearance and there was still no news from Beatrice. Will was making no effort to hide his nerves, pacing the room and checking his phone every thirty seconds.

  Adrian shot Catinca a boggled-eyed glare. She knew perfectly well they had to get Pam out of there before Beatrice and Matthew turned up, so why was she still chatting away as if they had all the time in the world? The poor Harding woman was completely unprepared to see her ex-husband and new partner after so long and it was all horribly unfair.

  Will’s mobile rang and he stepped out of the ballroom to take it. The registrar slid back his cuff to look at his watch. A scream of rage built in Adrian’s core and he clenched every muscle he had to keep it within. WHERE WERE THEY? In response, Will came back through the double doors with a smooth smile.

  “Our friends got a little lost, but they’ll be here in around twenty minutes. Mrs Harding, we’ve delayed you long enough and I thank you for your patience. I’m sure you have a hundred and one things to do before Christmas. We’ll get on with the walk-through and on behalf of my future husband and me, we’re grateful for all you’ve done for us. Merry Christmas and thanks again.”

  The double doors opened again and Adrian’s body tensed. Two white heads popped around the door.

  “Sorry we’re late, it’s all her fault,” said Maggie Campbell, jerking her head at her companion. “She had to go poking about in his house one last time. But we’re here now. Where are...”

  “So pleased to see you!” gushed Adrian, jerking his head at Catinca. “We worried about you in this weather. We’re just saying goodbye to Mrs Harding and then we really must do this rehearsal.”

  Catinca bounced over to introduce the women to the registrar. He and Will gently escorted Pamela Harding from the room, with enthusiastic expressions of gratitude, out to the foyer and into the sparkling snow-encrusted car park. Waving and smiling, they watched her car trundle up the drive, passing another coming in the opposite direction.

  Thirty seconds later, Matthew’s tatty old Volkswagen cruised to a halt right in front of them. Beatrice got out first, and without a word, gave Adrian a tight squeeze. He squeezed back. Matthew’s voice echoed off the façade as he greeted Will.

  “Damnedest thing! After scheming to get lost on purpose, I only went and did it by accident! Missed the turning and thought I knew a shortcut, but in this weather one lane looks much like another. Sincere apologies for delaying proceedings. I say, I’m assuming the coast is clear?”

  Adrian smiled down at Beatrice. “You just passed her. The registrar is impatient to get started so let’s get this show on the road!” He took her hand, but she was looking back at the main road, where a little car was indicating right.

  “That was Pam?” she asked, her face turned up to his.

  “Yes. Your timing was perfect, if a touch tighter than I’d like. Wedding rehearsal, people, let’s go!” Sweat slithered down his spine as he crunched back across the snow.

  Nothing more than a walk-through. Just learning the steps. No need for emotion. But when he stood at the table and imagined saying his vows as he looked into Will’s eyes, a wave of joy threatened to overcome him. He focused on the registrar’s peculiar accent instead. Luke and Tanya turned up just after six and they ran through it all again. He kept his emotions in check that time. As ring bearer, Luke was coached by Catinca to carry his cushion as if it held glass eggs. He took his instructions seriously and paced up the aisle with immense solemnity and care. As he offered the empty cushion to Will and Adrian, Catinca pulled down her arm in a fist pump.

  “Yes!”

  Luke beamed at her show of approval.

  As soon as they’d finished, the registrar rushed off to prepare another couple’s big day and the trainee bridal party repaired to The Angel for decompression in the snug.

  Beatrice appeared subdued but friendly and Adrian noted Matthew’s protective arm around her as they joined the party. He waited till the arrival of Tanya and Luke distracted Matthew and sidled up to see for himself.

  “How’s the cat?”

  She gave a rueful smile. “He’s not yet forgiven me for scaring him out of his wits, but I’m sure he’ll come round with the aid of some fish. Matthew’s the same. Whenever he gets himself into a bate, I can usually win him over with a New England seafood chowder.”

  “I know exactly what you mean. With Will, my sure-fire winner is paella. Is there some connection between fish and forgiveness?”

  A
sudden shriek made him jump. Tanya and a barmaid Adrian didn’t recognise had spotted each other and squealed in delight. The young woman dashed out from behind the bar to give Tanya an enthusiastic hug. Everyone apart from Matthew and Luke broke off their conversations to listen.

  “Frankie! When did you get back?”

  “Today. To give Mum and Dad a hand at Christmas.”

  “I’ve not seen you for ages!”

  “I know. The gallery has really taken off so I’ve not been home since the summer. Where’s Luke?”

  “Over there, badgering his grandfather for crisps.” Tanya pointed at the back of a small individual still reasoning with Matthew.

  “Oh wow, he’s ... I was just about to say ‘He’s grown!’ I am a walking cliché. How are you, Tan?”

  “Mad busy. Not just Christmas but we’ve got a wedding on Sunday. Come say hello to Adrian and Will, the groom and groom. Everyone, this is Frankie!”

  “FRANKIE!” yelled Luke, hurtling across the snug with his arms outstretched.

  The woman’s face broke into a huge smile as she yelled back, “Luke Skywalker!” and caught the small body in her arms.

  Tanya laughed and turned to Adrian. “Frankie used to babysit Luke for me when she lived here. They used to have so much fun together I think he resented my coming home.”

  Still carrying Luke, Frankie moved around the room to congratulate Will and Adrian and to say her hellos to Matthew and Beatrice.

  Beatrice perked up considerably and actually laughed at one of Frankie’s comments. The woman brought an air of excitement into the room. Her looks alone were enough to arouse curiosity. Black hair in a shiny bob, Southeast Asian features, fine bones and skin that actually glowed, she was dressed in an off-the-shoulder Bardot top and black jeans. Striking merely to look at, but her personality illuminated the whole room.

  Adrian glanced through to the public bar and watched her unremarkable parents serving customers. There was a story to Frankie, he just knew it.

  When Tanya introduced her to Catinca, Adrian held his breath. Usually the person who turned most heads at any gathering, Catinca might not appreciate her fashion icon status being usurped.

  Frankie put Luke down and stared at Catinca. “You look incredible! I cannot take my eyes off your hair. Did you get that done in London?”

  “Cheers, mate. Found great colourist online, right up road in Crediton.”

  “Crediton?” Frankie’s voice rose an octave over three syllables.

  “I know!” exclaimed Tanya. “As soon as I saw Catinca’s do, I made an emergency appointment for midday on Saturday. Not for the same look. I couldn’t carry it off, just some highlights for the wedding.”

  “I need that salon’s number,” said Frankie.

  Catinca gave her an appraising look. “You don’t wanna mess with yours. Natural look suits you perfect. Where those earrings come from? That green is gorgeous.”

  Luke looked from one to the other. “What about my crisps?”

  After three glasses of Prosecco and much giggling, Tanya reluctantly decided she should take herself and Luke home. Matthew volunteered as chauffeur. Frankie and Beatrice saw them off and returned to the snug. With a deep sigh, Frankie went behind the bar and served a waiting customer. Beatrice parked herself between Will and Maggie. She looked content and engaged.

  If Ms Stubbs was returning to her usual equilibrium, Adrian’s next key concern would be the photographs.

  “Maggie, did you have a chance to look round the venue? I know it was dark by the time you arrived, which is a shame. There are some stunning gardens which might be perfect backgrounds for your shots.”

  “Aye, we did. We had lunch there today and if what we ate is anything to go by, Sunday is going to be a triumph. Me and Rose had a wee mosey about and we made a list of good spots for traditional staging and a few more experimental ideas. You see they have a maze? What do you say I go all the way up to the penthouse, if they’ll allow me, and take an aerial shot of the pair of ye in the middle of the labyrinth. You found each other!”

  “That’s a wonderful idea! The penthouse is the honeymoon suite, so you definitely have permission. What other ideas did you have?”

  “Plenty. Lookee here, swap places with Rose and I can show you my list.”

  Rose obliged by shunting over to sit next to Beatrice, while Adrian and Maggie bent over her notepad and browsed the examples on her camera. Catinca came back from the ladies and joined them, oohing and aahing as Maggie displayed her suggestions.

  “Love these! And if snow sticks around till Sunday, it’s gonna be exactly as we wanted it! Dream wedding!” Catinca clapped her hands in excitement.

  Emotion rose in Adrian once again and he could not help but hug the little Scottish lady beside him. “Maggie, you are a treasure!”

  “Aw go on wi’ ye. All I can do is my best. Just hope my assistant keeps her eye on the ball.” With hooded eyes, she looked over at Rose, whose head was bent in conversation with Beatrice and Will.

  “They’re pursuing their case again, aren’t they?” asked Adrian.

  “I believe so.”

  They watched as Rose pushed a manila envelope across the table towards Beatrice.

  Adrian whispered, “Do you know what that is?”

  Maggie sipped at her Aperol and shook her head. “She found something today, in her ex-husband’s house. Must be one of the few items her scavenger daughter missed. That’s what made us so late. I don’t know what it is; Rose told me nothing. That means it’s dangerous. She’s handing it over to the right people and I want to hear no more of it. Now tell me, how do you feel about airbrushing?”

  The noise levels in the pub on a Friday night made it difficult for Beatrice to hear Will and Rose, but it had the advantage of ensuring their conversation could not be overheard.

  “The police questioned Gabriel Shaw again today,” said Will, evidently impatient to draw Beatrice’s attention to the case.

  “How do you know that?” asked Beatrice. “I thought they were writing it off as an accident. Are they going to bring charges?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think they’ve got anything but circumstantials.” He looked over his shoulder at Adrian, Catinca and Maggie poring over Maggie’s camera and dropped his voice. “I found out because Tanya mentioned she’d spoken to him this morning. Everyone knows each other’s business round here. You can see why they’re putting pressure on Shaw. He has no alibi for Friday, works in the forest with access to poisonous mushrooms and has good reason to detest the victim. But if they didn’t charge him, that’s all they’ve got.”

  Beatrice thought about Gabriel’s assertion in the Land Rover. She had believed him then and still did. Something else was niggling at her but she had no time to pinpoint what it was as Rose leant in to whisper.

  “I have some news too.” She tapped the handbag on her lap. “Your lovely man let me look around Vaughan’s cottage this afternoon, in case I wanted some kind of memento. I wasn’t sure I did, but curiosity got the better of me. There’s nothing of value left after Grace grabbed all she wanted and even if there had been, that’s not what I was about.”

  “So what did you find?” asked Will.

  Rose’s eyes sparkled. “His diary. A most illuminating read. Along with a stack of pornographic magazines, defaced copies of The London Review of Books and what I assume were his trophies.”

  “Trophies?” asked Beatrice.

  “Women’s underwear, jewellery, intimate photographs, letters from his conquests, that sort of thing.” She scrunched up her nose. “All very tacky.”

  Will rubbed his brow. “Why didn’t Grace take any of that? Not because they’re worth anything, just to save him from embarrassment. Although his diary would be worth a mint.”

  “Because she didn’t find it. She’s not the kind of person who’d want to get her hands dirty.” Rose took a sip of her Lucozade-coloured drink and smiled with feline serenity, her expression mischievous. “When I w
as married to Vaughan, he used to spend a long time in the bathroom. All men do, that much I know, but he would stay in there for hours. I soon worked out he’d got some kind of ... entertainment hidden away. Sure enough, while I was cleaning the toilet I spotted one of the panels around the bathtub was loose. That was where he hid all the evidence of his affairs. Too vain to throw it away, the man was hoisted by his own petard. Or suspender belt. Except he never got hoisted or exposed or even challenged. Back then, fearful of what might happen to me and my little girl, I never used that knowledge.” Her eyes glittered with what might have been grief or rage.

  Beatrice glanced at the wedding planners once more and reassured herself they were still occupied. “So you checked if he was still using the same hiding place.”

  “I did and he was. Vaughan lacked imagination, as I think I mentioned before. He stashed his trove of treasures, including his current diary, in the cavity under the bath. Don’t mind telling you I read it, and spent far too long proving to myself what I already knew.” She pulled a manila envelope out of her handbag and slid it over the table. “Beatrice, I’m giving this to you because I am quite sure it will help in your investigation. Otherwise I’d set fire to the rotten thing.”

  Beatrice took the envelope and hesitated with a guilty glance at Will. “We really should take this to the police.”

  “I trust you to do what’s best. Keep it, give it to the police, use it as evidence, whatever you want. Just one word of caution. Don’t let Matthew read it. He wouldn’t like the real Vaughan Mason.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Once Matthew’s breathing had slowed into his familiar snore-puff, snore-puff rhythm, Beatrice slid from the bed, tiptoed past Huggy Bear’s basket and made her way downstairs. It was impossible to forget the package Rose had given her. She had an obsessive need to read the contents and try to focus on the moth-like thought she had not quite captured. In the living room, she wrapped a chunky-knit cardigan around herself and threw another log on the embers of their earlier fire. Curled into the armchair, she slid a finger under the envelope to retrieve a cheap lined exercise book, around two-thirds full.