“There’s a fine restaurant in a small hotel a short drive from here,” Jimmy said. “I have a car parked nearby. Shall we?”
Judith and Renie looked at each other. “Well…” Judith began, “I’m not sure. How do we know you don’t intend to harm us?”
Jimmy’s exasperation returned. “Why would I? For God’s sake, I’m already in enough trouble for eluding the police when I tried to leave for Paris. You and one or two others are the only ones who know my whereabouts. I wouldn’t be talking to you if I didn’t feel you’re at risk.”
Judith was unconvinced. “A good reason to dump us over a cliff.”
Jimmy made a face. “Then why don’t one of you drive? Preferably the one who can see. It’s a rental, a simple Honda.”
“How about this?” Judith suggested. “I drive us down to the beach where we can talk. The tide’s going out and there can’t be many people strolling along the shore, so we’ll have privacy.”
“Fair enough,” Jimmy agreed. “The Honda’s parked near Morton’s garage, only a short walk from here.”
He led the way, stopping to make sure the street was empty. It wasn’t. Archie Morton and the blonde were coming out of the pub, arm in arm. Jimmy held out a hand to keep the cousins back in the shadows. Archie and his conquest went in the other direction.
“This way,” Jimmy murmured, heading down to the coast road.
They reached the High Street’s dead end where the mist was blowing more heavily in from the sea. Judith’s face felt damp by the time they crossed over to the side of the street where the car repair was located. Jimmy pointed out a dumpster not far from Archie’s office. “The Honda’s behind that,” he said quietly.
As they headed in the direction he’d indicated, Judith heard the sound of a car driving on the coast road. She looked behind her to make sure they were out of the way of any oncoming traffic. Due to the poor visibility, the car was creeping along.
They were some ten yards off of the verge when a voice called out: “James Blackwell, stop where you are! This is the police!”
Jimmy swore under his breath and paused for only an instant. Then, before Judith could see who had spoken, Jimmy ran off into the swirling mist.
18
Jimmy Blackwell had disappeared in the vicinity of the dumpster, a few feet away.
Malcolm Ogilvie and his superior, DCI Alpin MacRae, emerged from the gray cloud of fog. “Where’d he go?” Ogilvie asked.
Judith pointed to the dumpster that was almost concealed by mist. “Over there.”
“Go to our car!” MacRae shouted as the policemen gave chase.
The cousins hurried to the unmarked vehicle. “Who gave Jimmy up?” Renie asked after they’d gotten in the car.
“Archie?” Judith suggested, trying to settle into the backseat and ease her tired hip. “Maybe somebody else recognized Jimmy’s disguise.”
Renie had left the door open on her side, but her efforts to see anything were futile. “I thought I heard a car, but I can’t tell where the sound’s coming from. Say,” she said, brightening. “The cops left the keys in the ignition. Why don’t we steal this one?”
“Coz!” Judith looked horrified. “That is a crime!”
Renie’s expression was ingenuous. “Not if you make up a really good fib about why we did it.”
“I’d never do such a thing,” Judith asserted indignantly. “For heaven’s sake, I’m married to a retired policeman! What would Joe say?”
“Why does Joe have to find out?”
“Stop it,” Judith snapped. “Besides, even I couldn’t come up with a story that would keep us out of big trouble. We could be charged with aiding and abetting a fleeing criminal.” She grew silent. “Then again, maybe we should try to find the cops. We could…um…drive,” she added in an uncertain voice. “I mean, I could drive.”
“Okay.” Renie got out of the car and went to the front seat.
Trying to quiet her conscience, Judith also made the switch to the front seat. “I’m serious,” she said. “Jimmy had a car. MacRae and Ogilvie are on foot. We’ll find them and turn the car over.”
Renie stared at the windshield. “Of course we will.”
Demonstrating her good intentions, Judith started the car and backed up slowly along the verge until she could see a patchy grass and dirt surface she thought would lead them to the dumpster.
“Where are we?” Renie asked.
“I think we’re just a few yards from where Jimmy left the Honda.”
There was no car. There were no people, not Jimmy, not the two cops. “Jimmy must have driven off,” Judith speculated. “But where did MacRae and Ogilvie go? They don’t know St. Fergna like Jimmy does. He’d be able to use all sorts of escape routes.”
“It’s been less than ten minutes,” Renie pointed out. “Maybe the cops are lost in the fog.”
“That’s possible.” Judith glanced at her watch. “It’s dark as well as misty. I don’t know where to search.”
“You might try driving on a road,” Renie suggested. “The left-hand side, okay?”
“You’re holding out your right arm.”
“Huh? Oh!” Renie was chagrined. “I can’t see which is which.”
Judith turned the car around to head back to the coast road. “No cops,” she pointed out as they joined the road almost at the same spot where they’d started. “No backup in sight. I’m nervous. We can get into serious trouble for this stunt.”
“You prefer sitting in the mist on a dark night with a murderer loose and we’ve been warned several times that we’re in danger?” Renie shook her head. “It’s harder to catch a moving target. Keep driving.”
“Okay, we’ll keep moving. By the way, I gather Jimmy didn’t know about Chuckie or he’d have mentioned it. On the other hand, he was probably in the area when Chuckie was—” She jumped as a female voice came over the car’s radio. “This is Control. MacRae, please come in.” Judith eased the car to a stop. “MacRae, please come in,” the voice repeated as Judith and Renie stared stupidly at each other.
“DCI MacRae,” the woman said, slightly louder. “Are you there?”
Renie held up her hand for silence and poked several buttons on the radio. “Yes?” she said in her deepest voice, which even normally was a cross between Tallulah Bankhead and a bullfrog.
“Mrs. Marie Fleming of the Priory on Monk Road has reported her husband, Will Fleming, Blackwell Petroleum’s chief financial officer, as missing. Please contact her as soon as possible.”
The radio went silent.
“You just impersonated a police officer!” Judith exclaimed in horror. “We’re going to prison!”
“I didn’t claim to be MacRae,” Renie argued. “All I said was ‘yes.’”
Fingers clasping and unclasping the steering wheel, Judith shuddered. “I can’t believe we’re doing this! What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with me?” She took a deep breath and sat up straight. “And where’s Monk Road?”
Renie clicked open the glove compartment. “Let’s see if there’s a map. This isn’t MacRae and Ogilvie’s usual territory. Turn on the overhead light. Ah,” she said softly, “here it is. You have two eyes,” she added, handing the map to Judith. “You look.”
“It’s west a couple of miles,” Judith said after a brief pause. “It’s not on the water. We go through St. Fergna and then hook left twice.” She handed the map back to Renie. “We aren’t going there, are we?”
Renie shook her head. “Of course not.”
The cousins exchanged rueful glances.
“This is so wrong,” Judith said as she turned onto the deserted High Street. “But it’s possible that somehow MacRae and Ogilvie are at the Priory already. Maybe Marie Fleming came looking for them.”
Renie smirked. “As ever, coz, sound logic.”