Patrick laughed. She heard him release the bolts on the heavy door. ‘They didn’t come through here anyway,’ he said.
‘Good to know.’ She found the kettle, filled it. ‘We’ll need extra mugs. Second cupboard on the right. No, your other right. So, Marcus?’
She heard him open the cupboard and remove china, placing it on the counter with extra care. ‘I don’t really know,’ he said. ‘It’s just a feeling. I don’t think he’s actually lying and I really do think he’s cut up about Rupert dying and he’s genuinely afraid that it was foul play …’
‘But?’
‘But. Big but …’ Patrick paused as though thinking it through.
He was good at reading people, Naomi thought. He wasn’t so good at taking notice of what he read, but there was nothing wrong with his actual perception.
‘I don’t think he’s saying everything. I think he knows … knew about those men before Rupert died and that’s really what made him suspicious, what scared him. And I think he’s very scared, Naomi. I think he’s trying very hard to hide it but I think if he thought he could get away with it he’d have skipped the country well before now.’
‘Skipped the country?’ She was amused by his choice of phrase. Then more seriously she asked, ‘So, what’s stopping him, I wonder?’
‘You agree with me?’ He sounded surprised.
‘I think I do. Question is, why he is hiding what he knows.’
‘He’s more scared of them than he is of you.’
‘Fair enough. Except he’s never encountered Alec, not when he’s got the bit between his teeth. Next question is, did he get Rupert involved with them or was Rupert the link?’
‘Rupert,’ Patrick said with confidence. ‘Bet you a fiver.’
She nodded. Much as she disliked the thought of damaging Alec’s rosy memories of his uncle, she felt pretty sure that Patrick was right.
The day passed slowly and inconclusively. It would have helped, Patrick observed, if they had any idea what they were looking for.
By the time Marcus had left it was after four. SOCO had been and gone, their promptness leading Alec to comment that either Reg Fine had pulled a lot of strings or that this must be an amazingly crime-free county. Patrick and Naomi had joined the search, Patrick describing what he found, Naomi telling him whether to return it to where he’d found it, or to keep it to add to the growing stack of documents and notebooks Alec had gathered on the kitchen table.
Harry and Naomi cooked while Alec and Patrick sorted through what they had recovered.
‘Diaries,’ Patrick said. ‘Going back to 1983. I don’t think he threw anything away. A couple of old address books from the study and the one from by the telephone in the hall.’
‘More notes for his book,’ Alec went on. ‘More names to add to the list of interviewees. Plans for volume two of his Fen Tigers thing. Bank statements, credit card statements, usual stuff. It’s going to take weeks to check up on all this.’
‘Then we prioritize,’ Naomi said. ‘Look for unusual transactions on the statements or anything regular that isn’t a utility or named. Cash withdrawals, that sort of thing.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Patrick volunteered.
‘Feel free,’ Alec told him. ‘I’ll go through the phone bills and cross-reference with the address books. Harry, could you give Patrick a hand after dinner? There’s miles of the financial stuff and an accountant’s eye …’
‘Be glad to. You didn’t say, was there anything of interest on the computer disks?’
‘Of interest, yes. Relevance, not that I could see. The stick drive had a back-up of his book. It looked to be about ninety percent complete.’
‘How can you tell?’ Naomi wondered. ‘Harry, how do you want your steak?’ She prodded it with a finger. ‘It feels medium rare.’
‘How do you work that out without seeing it?’ Harry wanted to know.
‘Oh, there was this chef on television. He said if you pressed the base of your thumb then what that felt like, when you prodded steak, was medium. The ball of your thumb felt like well done.’
‘Presumably if it felt like the knuckle it meant you’d burned it,’ Alec mocked. ‘You must have asbestos fingers. I’d like to find that laptop. And, as to how I know the book was ninety percent done, he’s already got a table of contents. Twenty-five chapters and most already written.’
‘Um. Right. There might not be anything more on the laptop, you know,’ Naomi pointed out. ‘He might just have used it for his writing.’
‘Perhaps so, but it would be nice to be certain. So far there’s nothing that remotely links Uncle Rupert to Samuel Kinnear, or anyone else of his ilk.’
He paused. ‘I have a very vague memory that Rupe lived in London for a short time but …’
‘Your dad would remember?’
‘Probably. Naomi, I’m going to have to leave for a couple of days. Will you be all right?’
‘Leave? For where?’
‘London. Follow up on some of the information Fine gave me.’
‘You’re not fit enough for that. Can’t you call?’
‘No, I can’t do this over the phone. I’ll be OK. Harry and Patrick are here or I’d insist you went home.’
‘Like to see you try.’
‘Who are you looking for?’ Patrick wanted to know.
‘I have a few contacts there but I also want to go to Colindale.’
‘Colindale?’
‘Newspaper archive. Sometimes it helps to look beyond the official records. Fine’s given me some directions to look and a couple of names.’
‘It all sounds a bit vague,’ Naomi objected, not happy about Alec going anywhere, especially while he was still so obviously in pain. She couldn’t see him wince when he stretched or pulled the damaged ribs, but she had slept in the same bed last night. Or rather, lain awake while he tried to find a position in which he could comfortably sleep.
‘It’s all vague,’ Alec confirmed irritably, but nothing they could say could dissuade him from leaving the next morning.
Later, Patrick and Naomi wandered into the garden and through the gate in the back wall that led to what Alec had called the meadow.
‘What’s it like?’ she asked.
‘Um, I don’t know. Rough grass, little trees and a hedge with bigger trees growing in it.’ He turned, scanning the boundary. ‘It’s big,’ he said. ‘Big for a garden, looks more like a field.’
‘Any way anyone could get through the hedge?’
He left her side, Napoleon bounding after him. Naomi stood, listening to his commentary. Patrick was very good at remembering to tell her what was going on.
‘The hedge is taller than me,’ he said. ‘It’s mixed, which means it’s old. There’s thorn and elderberry and what I think might be wild roses. There’s rose hips. Nettles like you wouldn’t believe and a couple of ash trees.’
‘So, quite a barrier.’
‘Yes, that is. Ah, maybe not.’
‘Oh, what do you see?’
‘Hang on a minute, I’m trying to find a way past the blasted nettles.’
‘Be careful.’
‘OK. There’s … well, it’s not exactly a gap. There’s a fence just here. A bit rotten looking but low and climbable.’
‘Look as if anyone’s climbed it lately?’
‘Hard to say. No obvious scuff marks or mud on the rails, but, Naomi, it’s pretty low. Easy.’
‘What can you see over the fence?’
‘I’m getting to that. It’s a field with cows. No, bullocks, not cows. After that there’s a farm. House, barn, couple of other buildings. Hedge all round the field, but I can see a gate across the other side and a car’s just gone by so that must be the road. It sort of loops round. But if someone did come across here they’d have to come all the way across the field and then over the wall.’
‘No, the gate wasn’t locked, remember. Just latched. I’ll get Harry to put a bolt on it, I think.’