Minette Walters: Fox Evil

Yours sincerely,

Gareth Hockley

Gareth Hockley

EARLY NOVEMBER 2002

Nancy parked by the Lodge and walked up through the vegetable garden. It was very different from the last time she'd been there, nearly a year ago, when Bovington had released her to recuperate at home in Herefordshire. She had expected to return in the summer, but it hadn't happened. Instead she had been posted back to Kosovo.

The beds had been dug and a polytunnel was sheltering winter greens from frost and wind. She opened the gate into Ailsa's Italian courtyard. The tubs had been planted with chrysanthemums, Michaelmas daisies, and everlasting pansies, and someone had swept the cobbled ground and painted the scullery door and windows. Children's bicycles leaned against the wall and she could hear music coming from the kitchen.

She opened the door into the impeccable scullery and tiptoed through to where Bella was setting out trays of glasses and canape's. She looked no different from the last time Nancy had seen her, still swathed in purple, still as wide as a house, still with cropped peroxided hair. "Hello, Bella," she said from the doorway.

The woman gave a whoop of pleasure and ran forward to clasp her arms around Nancy's waist in a massive bear hug. "I knew you'd come. Mark thought you'd duck it at the last minute but I said, no chance."

Nancy laughed. "I might have done if you hadn't clogged my phone with messages." She allowed herself to be drawn into the kitchen. "Wow!" she said, staring about the newly decorated walls. "It looks great, Bella… smells good, too."

"It's a labour of love, darlin'. Poor old Manor. It never did no one no harm, but it's sure seen some trials and tribulations. I've got most of the downstairs rooms up and running… new decor… bloody tasteful. The Colonel reckons it's an improvement… wouldn't let me use purple, though." She cupped Nancy's face in her hands. "What's with coming to the back? You're the guest of honor. I oiled the front door specially so it wouldn't squeak."

Nancy smiled. "I thought it'd be easier to sneak down the corridor and mingle a bit before anyone noticed me."

"Fat chance! Mark's been mooching around like a bear with a sore head, and the Colonel's been watching the clock since yesterday afternoon." Bella turned away to fill a glass with champagne. "Here, have a little Dutch courage. You look great, darlin'. Didn't know you had legs."

Nancy smoothed her skirt self-consciously. "How's James?"

"Good. Has the odd down day, but he perks up again when your letters arrive. He worries about you. Keeps scouring the newspapers to make sure there's been no enemy action in your sector. He's always on the blower to your mum 'n' dad, wanting news. Did they tell you they came down for a visit?"

She nodded. "I gather my mother gave Zadie and Gray a crash course in pruning."

" And persuaded the Colonel to sign 'em on for a day a week at an agricultural college down the road. They're picking it up pretty quick, as a matter of fact. We had our own veggies in the summer." She squeezed Nancy's hand. "Did she tell you Wolfie was here? The social lets him come on a visit once a month. He's doing great… got a grand home… coming on a treat at school… grown about six inches. He's always asking about you, wants to be in the army when he grows up."

Nancy took a sip of the champagne. "Is he here today?"

"Sure is… along with his foster mum 'n' dad."

"Does he talk about what happened?"

"Sometimes. He wasn't fazed about Fox dying. Told me it was a good thing if it meant none of us would have to go to court. I guess it's what we all feel one way or another."

"Yes," agreed Nancy.

Bella went back to arranging her canapes. "Did Mark tell you Julian Bartlett got sent down a couple of weeks ago?"

Another nod. "Said he changed his plea out of the blue and claimed personal problems in mitigation."

"Yeah, like trying to run a wife and a mistress at the same time." Bella chuckled. "He's been doing it for years, apparently… got cold feet when the cops unearthed a couple of ex-bimbos in London and some swindle he'd been operating against his old company."

Nancy was amused. "Did Eleanor know?"

"Probably not. She lied about how much he earned, but Martin reckons she was just trying to keep her end up. Your granddad has no sympathy for her. He says the more she lied about how much Julian was worth, the more attractive she made him to encroaching females."

Nancy laughed. "I expect she's regretting it now."

"Must be. Stuck in the great big house on her own. She don't come out much, that's for sure… far too embarrassed. The biter bit, that's what I say. Serves her right."

"What about the Weldons? Are they still together?"

"Just about. Dick's a nice bloke. He came and apologized after you'd gone, said he didn't expect the Colonel to forgive Prue but hoped he could accept she was completely ignorant about what was going on. There's no doubt she was shocked rigid when it all came out. Hardly opens her mouth these days for fear of saying the wrong thing."

Nancy shook her head. "I still don't understand how Julian thought he'd get away with it."

"Martin says he tried to put a stop to it by phoning Vera when he found out Mark was here. There was a record of the call on his mobile, but either Vera didn't pass the message on or Fox wasn't playing."

"Why didn't he phone Fox?"

"Never did, apparently. Knew enough about mobiles to keep Fox's number well out of it." She opened the oven and took out some warmed sausage rolls. "He's a stupid bugger. He did okay out of Ailsa's jewelry and the bits and pieces Vera nicked from the rooms the Colonel never went into… then he got greedy. You know what Martin reckons? He says it's because Julian wasn't punished for the swindle… instead his firm paid him off to keep it quiet. Bad lesson. He gets the idea nicking's easy… skedaddles down here, meets up with the likes of Bob Dawson, and Dick Weldon, and reckons Dorset folk have sawdust between their ears. He keeps his nose clean till his money starts running out… then he bumps into Fox in the woods one day and thinks: 'Bingo! I recognize this bad penny.' "

"Surely he must have guessed Fox had something to do with Ailsa's death?"

Bella sighed. "Martin says he wouldn't have cared once the coroner accepted natural causes. In any case, it gave him a lever. Vera rabbits on endlessly about how Mr. Bartlett said he'd go to the cops if her boy didn't steal for him. Poor old Colonel. He was a sitting duck… all on his own… didn't talk to his kids… no neighbors… senile cleaner… bolshy gardener… solicitor in London. Easy-bloody-peasy to clean him out behind his back. That's what they reckon the encampment was about. Fox was gonna strip the place, then do a runner and leave us in the firing line."

Nancy nodded. Mark had told her most of this. "I wonder which of them thought of it."

"Who knows? One thing's for sure: you and Mark weren't supposed to be here. They wanted the Colonel alone and thinking Leo was behind it. Martin reckons Fox was gonna kill the old boy, anyway, so there wouldn't have been a witness."

"What did Julian say?"

Bella grinned. "Nothing. Just shat himself when Monroe told him how many people they think Fox murdered. The reporters don't know the half of it, Nance. The tally's up to thirty so far… and rising. Fox was one sadistic bastard. The cops reckon every sodding brush in his bus represented a person as well as a fox. It makes you think, don't it?"

Nancy took another sip of Dutch courage. "Do you see Vera?"

"No, but everyone who visits the nursing home hears what she has to say." She reached over to take Nancy's hand again. "There's something else she's saying, darlin', and I'd rather you heard it from me than on the grapevine. I know Mark's told you about the photos the police found in the Lodge, the ones of Fox and Elizabeth when they were in their teens. Seems like he hooked up with the travelers that came to mend Mr. Squires's fences. It don't mean nothing as far as you're concerned… but Vera talks about you being Fox's daughter quite a lot."