Peter Helton - Rainstone Fall

That explained why Annis had had trouble getting hold of me. ‘How do you conduct business?’

‘Look, I get by, okay? Perhaps we could discuss my communication problems at some other point in the future? The distant future?’

‘Right. Take care.’ I didn’t want to leave, even though I wasn’t wanted, even though I was very much wanted elsewhere. ‘Perhaps you really should get a noisier gun.’

As I rode back towards Larkhall and the London Road I thought I could hear another motorcycle engine behind me but I didn’t see any vehicles, though I kept looking over my shoulder. Then the sound was drowned out by the drone of a microlight plane flying lazy circles under the clouds.

I stared at the cordless handset I had carried round the house since my arrival, waiting for the hated electronic warble that would announce the dreaded call.

‘Am I failing Jill? And Louis? Am I doing it all wrong?’ I asked Annis.

She buried her hands deep in the pockets of her jeans and shrugged heavily. ‘If he managed to intercept you before you even got to the police station then you were right, he knows what you’re doing and probably has you watched. I’m not sure we can do much about it. You can try and give your tail the slip but that doesn’t mean you can keep police involvement hidden from him. The police might cock it up just as easily as we could and he might kill the boy in revenge or to avoid detection. If Louis has seen his face he’s probably doomed anyway. He’s not going to be allowed to give the police a detailed description of his kipnapper after he’s released. And you have to consider the possibility that he’s dead already.’ She patted me on the arm in a gesture that was meant to be sympathetic but made me feel worse. There, there. ‘I’ll make us a nice pot of tea, how about that?’ she said in a creaky Miss Marple parody, but I had to admit that the British panacea for all ills and crises was just what I wanted right now. I never got it.

Just as soon as Annis had left the room the phone trilled in my hand and my stomach muscles contracted into an aching mess.

‘Honeysett.’

‘I’m disappointed in the kind of service you run, Honeysett. I expect more when I hire staff. So listen closely, shithead, and don’t interrupt, here’s how you can make good your earlier cock-up, though I’m still not completely convinced you aren’t trying to pull a fast one. But then again, I can’t believe you would jeopardize a boy’s health like that.’ His distorted, tinny voice sounded as inhuman and robotic as ever. I found it impossible to picture Louis’s kidnapper; he remained a shadow attached to a sound that emanated from this piece of plastic I held against my ear.

‘How is the boy, how is Louis?’

‘Bored and whining and annoying as fuck but he’ll be all right if you do what you’re told. So listen carefully. Write this down because I won’t tell you again: Rufus Connabear, at Restharrow, near Monkton Farleigh.’

‘Hang on, I need to find a pen.’

‘Don’t fuck about, I haven’t got time to spell it for you!’ he shouted down the phone as I scrabbled around for a biro. ‘Connabear. Retired businessman, and very comfortably retired he must be. He has to have more dosh than sense because he spent an awful lot of it on rare stamps. And I have it on good authority that he owns something very rare indeed, a Penny Black. The world’s first ever stamp. Worth an absolute fucking fortune and he keeps it at home instead of the bank where it belongs, so you can see he’s a nerd, an anorak, a stamp-collecting loser who deserves what’s coming to him. Which is you. Because you shall relieve old Rufus of the Penny Black.’

Even I had heard of the famous stamp. After all, it was from Bath that the first ever postage stamp, printed in black ink and then costing one penny, was sent in 1840, every school kid probably knew that. I wondered just how many shiny pennies it was worth now.

‘You have three days, Honeysett, and no fuck-ups this time, I won’t believe another disaster. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, just to make sure.’

I was going to protest that three days didn’t leave me much time to plan the robbery when engine sounds made me rush to the window. I recognized Superintendent Needham’s big grey saloon barrelling self-importantly through the gate. ‘I’ll do my best. Got to hang up now, unexpected visitors.’ I cut the connection. My head was buzzing. When did I sign up for this much excitement? Perhaps retired stamp collectors had entirely the right idea. I stepped away from the window so I could spy on Needham unobserved for a minute. I could see he was using DS Sorbie as a driver. And as though a visit from Needham wasn’t bad enough, no sooner had he squeezed out of his car than DI Deeks made an appearance, driving himself and even more self-importantly blocking the exit with his big ugly Ford.

‘Shit. That’s all we needed.’ Annis joined me by the window. ‘What does the bastard want this time?’

‘Needham, he’ll — ’

‘No, Louis’s kidnapper.’

‘Another burglary. Stamp collector’s house. He wants us to steal the Penny Black.’

‘Is that all?’

Outside the three officers had a quick pow-wow, then the besuited Needham and leather-jacketed Sorbie moved towards the house while Deeks, wearing his horrible rainproof, settled on the bonnet of his car, arms folded.

‘Hard to pull off?’ Annis asked.

‘Won’t know until we’ve taken a look but he’s only given us three days. Do you see what I see?’

‘The new boy is carrying what will no doubt be Needham’s search warrant.’

‘Yup, with the ink still wet.’

The doorbell jingled loudly and the door was being rapped in typical police fashion. I opened it before someone decided to kick it in again.

‘Honeysett, this is DS Sorbie and he has a search warrant. Show the man,’ he encouraged him as he hefted past me. I barely glanced at the paper, looking instead over Sorbie’s shoulder to check on Deeks, but he no longer adorned the bonnet of his car and was nowhere to be seen, which was a bit worrying.

‘After you.’ Sorbie made an inviting gesture down the hall with his warrant.

I had little choice. Needham had already disappeared right towards the kitchen. I hurried after him. ‘Keep an eye on Sorbie, there’s something weird about this,’ I managed to murmur to Annis as I passed her. Needham was already half-heartedly furtling about in the kitchen, opening cupboards without bothering to search them, letting his left hand trail over objects as though he was thinking with his fleshy fingers. I decided to play it by ear. The kettle was already quietly singing on the back of the stove.

‘Coffee?’ I knew Needham loved real coffee while his life was plagued by the ersatz brew his underlings invariably brought him, mostly in plastic cups.

‘And why not,’ he conceded without hesitation and disappeared into the pantry, where he inspected the shelves with his head gently cocked to one side and his hands behind his back. I had the distinct feeling that, perhaps unlike Deeks and Sorbie, he was here on a culinary search but I didn’t think this was the time to ask him how his diet was going. I could hear Sorbie rummaging in the cupboard under the stairs. I suddenly broke into a sweat. If Sorbie demanded the key for the gun locker and found my shotgun missing some awkward questions might be asked, since I had never reported the thing stolen. I knew who had it and still harboured hopes of retrieving it. But the question never came and I could soon hear him moving upstairs, shadowed by a vigilant Annis.

Watched by an appreciative Superintendent I spun out the ritual of coffee making, ground the beans finely in the noisy little mill, transferred the fragrant grounds to a cafetière, splashed recently boiled water on it, depressed the plunger and decanted the resulting brew into a warmed coffee pot. The cat appeared as if from nowhere, swished around Needham’s legs and gave his polished shoes a deep sniffing.