Peter Helton - Rainstone Fall

‘Do you have anyone who could stay with you? A friend or a relative?’ I asked.

She hesitated. ‘My sister, I suppose.’

‘Where does she live?’

‘Trowbridge. But I’m not sure. We don’t exactly get on.’

‘Think about it. Now what’s your phone number here?’

‘I haven’t got a landline yet.’ She gave me her mobile number.

‘Keep that charged and topped up, please. The note says they’ll contact me. I think I should wait at my place. The sooner we find out what it’s all about the better. Perhaps they’ve already left a message. Now, would you like someone to stay here with you?’ I was aware that meant volunteering Annis but she gave me a nod of approval.

Jill shrugged. ‘It’s okay. I might call my sister. But should I tell her?’

‘That’s up to you, of course.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

Annis and I got ready to leave.

‘About the money, I will pay you, of course. It might take me a while but I’ll pay.’

‘Who said anything about money? Don’t worry about that now,’ Annis reassured her.

There’s always a faint chance that it was a case of mistaken identity.

On the windscreen of the Land Rover waited a folded envelope shoved into a little sandwich bag. I snatched it from under the wiper. Looking up at the house I could see Jill silhouetted against the light. I waved and we got into the cab.

Annis just sat for a second or two, letting out a deep breath through puffed-up cheeks.

I prised open the sandwich bag.

‘What have you got there?’ she wanted to know.

‘I think it’s from him.’ The envelope had Honeysett written across it in large computer-printed letters. I quickly ripped it open and pulled out the single sheet of paper. Return to Mill House and wait for instructions .

Nothing else. I looked around. People with shopping bags from the Co-op round the corner walked along Julian Road. There was no one in Harley Street just now. Blank windows and drawn curtains everywhere. Whoever we were up against was confident and on the ball and was here, had walked past this house a few minutes ago, might even be watching. I tried to look confident and unconcerned in case we really were being watched.

Annis started the engine. ‘Should we get Tim in on this? We could pop in.’

‘Not yet. Not until we know what it’s all about. Just get us back to Mill House.’

‘Okay. But this is serious shit, Chris. It really scares me.’

The last bulb that ought to have been illuminating the yard had apparently burnt out. We splashed from the Land Rover to the door from memory.

‘What’s that awful smell?’ Annis asked in the hall.

I raced ahead to the kitchen whence the smell emanated and in my eagerness to knock the casserole off the heat managed to burn my fingers twice. At last I got hold of the oven gloves and lifted the lid on the pheasant. One for the forensic students. I’d scatter its ashes later. In the meantime I opened the back door to air the place.

Listening on the stairs I could hear the faint bleep of the answering machine in the attic office. Out of breath from rushing upstairs I listened to all the messages but Louis’s kidnapper had not left one. I fixed my little voice recorder on to the cordless office phone with a couple of rubber bands (I’m terminally low tech) and sat it on the kitchen table by the fruit bowl. Drinking mugs of tea and coffee we sat and stared at it, willing it to ring and dreading it at the same time. Annis distractedly chewed through a few apples and I tested my dental work on a concrete pear.

Two hours later we were still sitting there, waiting. From time to time one of us would ask a question or make a remark but it always faded into bleak silence after a minute or two. We had talked ourselves to a standstill. What was keeping him? Was it a him? Was it one person or several? I didn’t suppose it was all that easy to snatch a teenage boy off the street. Could it all be a sick joke? Could the ex-boyfriend be behind it, whatever Jill had said about him? And what if he didn’t get in touch by phone? We’d both drunk too much coffee by now and I had started coughing from chain smoking. Even Annis had absentmindedly puffed through one or two. I didn’t care to remind her that she’d given up years ago.

I walked to the front door and checked first inside then outside for another envelope. There was nothing but darkness and the smell and sound of soft rain falling. The electronic warble of the phone back in the house made my heart miss a beat. I slammed the door shut and ran back to the kitchen. Annis stood, holding the phone out to me. I started the voice recorder and quickly checked the clock on the wall: it was half past ten. I pressed the talk button. ‘Honeysett.’

‘Listen carefully, Mr Honeysett.’ The voice sounded far away, like a long-distance call from the bad old days. It was too scratchy and faint to have much character beyond the tone of impatient arrogance, and sounded almost robotic. ‘We have got the boy, Louis. You do exactly as we tell you and he might just survive this.’

‘There’s no money,’ I protested. ‘The mother’s on the dole so you — ’

‘Do shut up and listen. We don’t want a pissing thing from the mother. We just needed a kid. It’s you, shithead. We’re hiring you . Get it? The boy’s life is the fee we’re prepared to pay for your services. I’m sure you’ll agree that’s an offer not to be missed.’

I sat down heavily. Annis did so too, never taking her eyes off me. ‘I’m listening.’

‘I knew you would!’ said the triumphant voice. ‘You’re the caring type, by all accounts. And here’s the little job you’ll do for us. You know Barry Telfer?’

‘Know of him.’ One half of the delightful Telfer brothers. Heavyweight villains both of them, only brother Keith was doing time right now. ‘What about him?’

‘Know his house up Lansdown?’

‘The 1930s modernist pile?’

‘If you say so. Clear out his safe. It’s in his office upstairs.’

I jumped up with surprise and indignation. ‘You’re winding me up. You can’t be serious. I’m not a burglar.’

‘Oh yeah? That never stopped you before. You’ve got a reputation for getting in and out of interesting places, so just do it.’

All through this exchange Annis’s eyes burnt fiercely across the table at me. ‘How is the boy, Louis?’ I asked. ‘I want to know that he’s unharmed. At least let me speak to h-’

‘Shut the fuck up, Honeysett!’ the voice bellowed. ‘You don’t make any fucking demands ’cause you got fuck-all to bargain with. The boy’s just fine but if you fuck us about, if you as much as think of dropping this one on the pigs, we’ll fucking cut him into ribbons, that clear, arsehole?’

‘Crystal. Calm down. I’ll do it. There’s no need to harm the boy. Now, what am I likely to find in Telfer’s safe?’

‘You’ll see. Try Thursdays, he goes and plays cards at the Blathwayt Arms. And bring the lot, every sodding little thing you find, I don’t care if it’s old ticket stubs and snotty tissues. When you’ve pulled it off, we’ll know. We’ll be in touch. Sooner you get to work, sooner the boy gets home to mummy.’ The line went dead.

I let the receiver clatter on to the table. ‘They hung up. They said the boy was fine but they wouldn’t let me talk to him.’ I somehow felt that this, and every sodding little thing , was my fault, that somehow, through what I was, through who I was, I had made this happen.

Annis clearly read my mood. ‘What do they want us to do?’ she asked quietly. ‘Did I hear something about burglary?’ I noted the ‘us’ with relief.