Minette Walters - Fox Evil

"You are no different from your friend Fox," he told Ivo as he wrote a check to cash with an accompanying letter to his bank. "You both believe in destroying lives to benefit yourselves. However, I would have given Fox everything I have in exchange for my wife, and I consider this a small price to pay for my granddaughter's peace of mind."

"Each to his own," said Ivo, tucking the check and the letter into his pocket and grinning maliciously at Bella, who was leaning against the library wall, "but you'd better approve this if the bank phones. You offered it fair and square so there's no going back."

James smiled. "I always honor my promises, Ivo. You'll have no trouble at the bank as long as you honor yours."

"It's a deal, then."

"Yes." The old man stood up behind his desk. "Now will you please leave my house?"

"You've gotta be joking. It's two o'clock in the morning. My wife and kids are asleep upstairs."

"They're welcome to stay. You are not, however." He nodded to Bella. "Will you ask Sean Wyatt to come in here, my dear?"

"Why do you want the copper?" demanded Ivo.

"To have you arrested if you don't leave immediately. You have exploited my distress over my wife's murder, my gardener's murder, and the attempted murder of my granddaughter to coerce blood money out of me. You either leave now and cash that check as soon as the bank opens, or you spend the night with your friend at the police station. Whichever way, once you've left this house, you will not come back into it."

Ivo's eyes darted nervously toward Bella. "You'd better not make out I had anything to do with Fox. I didn't know him from Adam before the selection meeting."

"Maybe not," she said, easing herself away from the wall and opening the door into the hall, "but the Colonel's right. There ain't much difference between you and him. You both reckon you're more important than anyone else. Now, come on, shift your arse before I decide to tell the coppers about the nicked stuff in your bus."

"What about my wife and kids?" he complained, as James rounded the desk and forced him to walk backward. "I need to tell them what's going on."

"No."

"How am I supposed to get hold of them without a bloody phone?"

James looked amused. "Perhaps you should have thought of that first."

"Shit!" He allowed himself to be shepherded into the hall. "This is a fucking kangaroo court."

"Will you stop with the whining!" said Bella disgustedly, pulling the bolts on the front door and dragging it open.

"You've got your thirty pieces of silver. Now beat it before I change my mind about dropping you in it."

"I need my coat," he said as a blast of cold air blew in.

"Fuck that!" She manhandled him through the opening and pushed the door closed again with a massive shoulder. "The cops won't let him back on the campsite," she said, "so he's gonna freeze his arse off unless he wants to explain why you've thrown him out." She chuckled at James's expression. "But I guess you'd worked that out already."

He took her arm. "Let's have a brandy, my dear. I think we've earned it, don't you?"

The valley itself came under siege as soon as the roadblocks were removed at daybreak on the twenty-seventh, and any hope anyone had had of keeping a low profile evaporated. The Manor and the Copse remained under police guard but the tenant farmers, the Bartletts, and the Weldons found themselves at the mercy of the press and the broadcasting media. Shenstead House attracted the most attention because of Julian's remarks on travelers in the local newspaper. A copy was posted through the door, and his phone rang continuously until he disconnected it. Photographers hung around outside his windows, waiting for pictures while reporters shouted questions.

"Do you feel responsible because it's a traveler who did it?"… "Did you set the dogs on them? Is that what started this?"… "Did you call them thieves to their faces?"… "Do you know who this man is? Has he been to Shenstead before?"… "What's his interest in the Manor? Why did he kill the gardener?"… "Why did he attack the Colonel's granddaughter?"… "Do you think he was responsible for Mrs. Lockyer-Fox's death?"

Inside the house, Eleanor sat in huddled, gray misery in the kitchen while Julian, looking little better, paced his study behind closed curtains. Every attempt he'd made to contact Gemma on her mobile had been diverted to voicemail, as had his attempts to raise Dick Weldon. Both mobiles were switched off, and the landlines to Shenstead Farm and the Squires's farm were permanently engaged, suggesting they, too, had been disconnected. His only email contact with Gemma was at her office, which was closed until after the New Year, and his frustration grew with his inability to find out what was going on.

There was no one else to phone except the police, and in the end that's what Julian did, asking to speak to DS Monroe. "We need help," he told him. "I'm worried sick that these bastards are going to learn about my wife's phone calls, and then what are we going to do?"

"There's no reason why they should."

"Are you expecting me to take your word for that?" demanded Julian. "No one's telling us what's going on. Who's this man you've arrested? What's he saying?"

Monroe broke off to talk to someone in the background. "I'll be coming out to talk to you later, sir, but in the meantime I suggest you and Mrs. Bartlett stay out of sight. Now, if you'll excuse-"

"You can't just leave it at that," Julian broke in angrily.

"What else do you want to know, sir?"

Julian ran an irritable hand up the back of his neck. "These reporters are saying the Colonel's granddaughter was attacked as well. Is that true?" There were more voices at the other end, and it stoked his ire to be relegated to second place. "Are you listening?" he barked.

"Sorry, sir. Yes, her arm was broken, I'm afraid, but she's on the mend now. Look, my best advice is to keep your head down and stay quiet."

"Bugger that!" said Julian aggressively. "We're effectively imprisoned by these bastards. They're trying to photograph us through the windows."

"Everyone's in the same boat, sir. You'll have to be patient."

"I'm not prepared to be patient," he snapped. "I want this scum removed from my doorstep and I want to know what's going on. All we were told last night was that a man had been arrested… but from the questions being shouted through the letterbox, he's one of the travelers."

"That's correct. We've already confirmed it with the press."

"Then why didn't you tell us ?"

"I would have done when I came out to see you. Why is it so important?"

"Oh, for God's sake! You said last night that Prue thought Darth Vader was one of the travelers. Can't you see how vulnerable it makes us if Ellie's connection with this man gets out?"

There was another break for muted conversation. "I'm sorry, sir," Monroe said again, "we're very busy here, as you can appreciate. What makes you think the murder of Robert Dawson has anything to do with your wife's phone calls to the Colonel?"

"I don't ," Julian countered crossly, "but you seemed convinced of a connection between Ellie and the travelers when you were questioning her."

"I was repeating what Mrs. Weldon said… but it wasn't a serious suggestion, sir. Mrs. Weldon was hysterical about the intruder at Shenstead Farm. It led her to some rather bizarre conclusions. At the moment we have no reason to link the events of last night with the nuisance calls that your wife has been making."

"Right," Julian growled, "then perhaps you'd like to send a car to deal with these reporters outside my window. I'm an innocent party to all of this and I'm being treated like a criminal."

"We're very stretched, sir," said Monroe apologetically. "If it's any consolation, Captain Smith's having a far worse time of it."