Minette Walters - Fox Evil

No one volunteered.

"It was Fox," said a child's nervous voice from behind James.

Ivo and Bella spoke in unison.

"Shut your mouth," growled Ivo.

"Hush, darlin'," said Bella, trying to rise against the apparently casual pressure of Nancy's arm, resting on the banquette back.

Mark, as ever the observer, turned to look in the direction from which the voice had come. He was becoming obsessed with Lockyer-Fox genes, he thought, as he stared into Wolfie's startling blue eyes beneath the tangled thatch of platinum blond hair. Or perhaps the word "fox" had created associations in his mind. He nodded to the boy. "Hey, mate, what's happening?" he said, aping the style of his numerous nephews while wondering what the child had meant. Had a fox gnawed through the rope?

Wolfie's lower lip trembled. "I dunno," he muttered, his courage ebbing away as fast as it had come. He had wanted to protect Nancy because he knew she'd untied the rope, but Ivo's angry reaction had frightened him. "No one never tells me nothing."

"So what's 'fox'? A pet?"

Bella gave a sudden hard shove against Nancy to push her out of the way and came up against an immovable force. "Look, lady, I wanna stand up," she grunted. "It's my sodding bus. You got no right to come in here and throw your weight around."

"I'm just standing beside you, Bella," said Nancy amiably. "It's you who's throwing her weight around. We came for a chat, that's all… not to exchange blows." She jerked a thumb at the unit behind her. "If it's of any interest, my back's rammed up against your sink, and if you don't stop shoving your unit's going to collapse… which seems a shame, since you've obviously installed a tank and a pump, and the system will run dry if your pipes rupture."

Bella assessed her for a moment, then relaxed her pressure. "A bit of a wise-arse, eh? How do you know my name?"

Nancy lifted an amused eyebrow. "It's written on your bus in large letters."

"You a cop?"

"No. I'm a Captain in the Royal Engineers. James Lockyer-Fox is a retired Colonel from the Cavalry, and Mark Ankerton is a solicitor."

"Shi-i-it!" said Zadie ironically. "It's the heavy brigade, folks. They've given up on the candyfloss and sent in the armored division." She sent a mischievous glance around the table. "What do you reckon they're after? Surrender?"

Bella quelled her with a frown before assessing Nancy a second time. "At least let the kid get by," she said then. "He's scared out of his wits, poor mite. He'll be better off with the others round the telly."

"Sure," Nancy agreed, nodding to James. "We can pass him along in front of us."

The old man shifted to make room, reaching out a hand to guide Wolfie forward, but the child dodged back. "I ain't going," he said.

"No one's gonna hurt you, darlin'," said Bella.

Wolfie backed farther away, poised for flight. "Fox said he was a murderer," he muttered, staring at James, "and I ain't going down that end of the bus in case it's true. There ain't no way out."

There was an uncomfortable silence that was only broken when James laughed. "You're a wise lad," he said to the child. "In your shoes I wouldn't go down that end of the bus either. Is it Fox who taught you about traps?"

Wolfie had never seen so many creases around anyone's eyes. "I ain't saying I believe you'se a murderer," he told him. "I'se just saying I'se ready."

James nodded. "That shows you have good sense. My wife's dog walked into a trap not so long ago. There was no way out for him either."

"What happened to him?"

"He died… rather painfully as a matter of fact. His leg was broken by the trap and his muzzle was crushed with a hammer. I'm afraid the man who caught him wasn't a nice person."

Wolfie recoiled abruptly.

"How do you know it was a man?" asked Ivo.

"Because whoever killed him left him on my terrace," said James, turning to look at him, "and he was too big for a woman to carry-or so I've always thought." His eyes came to rest thoughtfully on Bella.

"Don't look at me," she said indignantly. "I don't hold with cruelty. What sort of dog was he, anyway?"

James didn't answer.

"A Great Dane," said Mark, wondering why James had told him the dog had died of old age. "Elderly… half blind… with the sweetest nature on God's earth. Everyone adored him. He was called Henry."

Bella gave a shrug of compassion. "That's pretty sad. We had a dog called Frisbee that got run over by some bastard in a Porsche… took us months to get over it. The guy thought he was Michael Schumacher."

A murmur of sympathy ran round the table. They all knew the pain of losing a pet. "You should get another one," said Zadie, who owned the Alsatians. "It's the only way to stop the heartache."

There were nods of approval.

"So who's Fox?" asked Nancy.

Their faces blanked immediately, all sympathy gone.

She glanced at Wolfie, recognizing the eyes and nose. "How about you, friend? Are you going to tell me who Fox is?"

The child wriggled his shoulders. He liked being called "friend," but he could feel the undercurrents that swirled about the bus. He didn't know what was causing them but he understood that it would be a great deal better if these people weren't here when Fox came back. "He's my dad, 'n' he's going to be right mad 'bout you being here. Reckon you ought to leave before he gets back. He don't- doesn't -like strangers."

James bent his head, searching Wolfie's eyes. "Will it worry you if we stay?"

Wolfie leaned forward in unconscious mimicry. "Reckon so. He's got a razor, see, and it won't be just you he gets mad with… it'll likely be Bella, too… and that ain't fair 'coz she's a nice lady."

"Mm." James straightened. "In that case I think we should go." He gave a small bow to Bella. "Thank you for allowing us to talk to you, madam. It's been a most instructive experience. May I offer some advice?"

Bella stared at him for a moment, then gave an abrupt nod. "Okay."

"Question why you're here. I fear you've been told only half the truth."

"What's the whole truth?"

"I'm not entirely sure," said James slowly, "but I suspect that Clausewitz's dictum, 'war is an extension of politics by other means,' may be at the root of it." He saw her puzzled frown. "If I'm wrong, then no matter… if not, my door is usually open." He gestured to Nancy and Mark to follow him.

Bella caught at Nancy's fleece. "What's he talking about?" she asked.

Nancy glanced down at her. "Clausewitz justified war by arguing that it had political direction… in other words, it's not just brutality or blood lust. These days, it's the favorite argument that terrorists put forward to validate what they do… politics by other means-i.e., terror-when legitimate politics fail."

"What's that gotta do with us?" Nancy shrugged. "His wife's dead and someone killed her foxes and her dog," she said, "so I'm guessing he doesn't think you're here by accident." She released herself from Bella's grasp and followed the two men. As she joined them at the bottom of the steps, a car drew up in front of the barrier on the road and set the Alsatians barking. All three glanced at it briefly, but as none of them recognized the occupant, and the guardians and their leashed dogs moved to obscure the view, they turned toward the path through the Copse and headed back toward the Manor. Debbie Fowler, in the process of reaching for her camera, cursed herself roundly for being too late. She had recognized James immediately from her coverage of his wife's inquest. Now, that, alongside her shot of Julian Bartlett, would have been a picture worth having, she thought. Discord at the heart of village life: Colonel Lockyer-Fox, subject of a recent police investigation, drops in for a friendly chat with his new neighbors while Mr. Julian Bartlett, vermin-hater and player, threatens to put the hounds on them. She opened her door and climbed out, pulling the camera after her. "Local press," she told the two masked figures. "Do you want to tell me what's going on here?" "The dogs'll have you if you come any closer," warned a boy's voice. She laughed as she clicked the shutter. "Great quote," she said. "If I didn't know better, I'd think this whole script had been written in advance."