‘What?’ he said, rubbing his eyes.
‘Never mind.’
All appeared well, however, and there was no point in making a fuss. And I had offered him my bottle of single malt for lunch, so what did I expect?
Marina was in the bedroom resting her leg as instructed and watching an afternoon game show on the television. A huge basket arrangement of pink and white carnations sat on her dressing table.
‘Lovely flowers,’ I said.
‘Yes, aren’t they? Colleagues at the Institute sent them,’ she said. ‘Rosie probably organised it.’
‘And how do you feel?’ I asked.
‘Bored, but mending,’ she said. ‘Did your plan work well?’
‘Yes,’ I said, and told her all about my little chat with Juliet.
‘So, Peter Enstone shot me,’ Marina said finally.
‘Yes, I think he did. Unless he organised someone else to do it and that’s very unlikely.’
‘And where exactly is the little swine now?’ she asked.
‘According to the Racing Post, he was in Scotland, riding at Kelso races this afternoon. That’s why I was so keen to talk to Juliet today, while he was out of the way. I don’t know where he will go from there. I think he lives in London somewhere.’
Marina shivered. ‘I don’t want him coming here.’
‘He won’t get past Security downstairs, even if he does,’ I said. ‘And I’m not having you left alone anyway.’
‘Sid,’ Charles called from the hallway. He put his head round the door. ‘I think I’ll go back to my club now, if that’s all right.’
I felt guilty for having been angry with him.
‘Of course, Charles,’ I said. ‘And thank you so much for coming over and spending the time with Marina this afternoon.’
‘Humph,’ he muttered. He was not greatly soothed. ‘See you then.’
His head disappeared for a moment but then came back round the door. ‘I forgot,’ he said. ‘Jenny asked me to ask you, Marina, if you would be up to going out for lunch with her tomorrow? If yes, she said that she’d pick you up from here at twelve thirty in the car.’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. I was worried about what reaction the next day’s edition of The Pump might produce.
‘I’d love to,’ said Marina. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t fuss.’
‘OK,’ I said, ‘but I am going to organise a security guard to go with you, and no arguments. He will sit quietly in the corner of the restaurant and not disturb you, but I would be happier.’
‘Fine,’ said Marina. ‘Charles, tell Jenny that would be lovely and I will see her tomorrow at twelve thirty.’
‘Right,’ he said, and disappeared again.
I went out to see him off and make my peace with his wounded pride.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so cross when I found you asleep.’
‘No, it’s all right,’ he said. ‘It is me who should be sorry. During the First World War soldiers in the British Army could be executed for falling asleep on guard duty.’
‘That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?’ I said.
‘Not at all. One dozing sentry could have allowed a surprise attack that might have killed hundreds.’
‘Thankfully, nothing like that happened here.’
We shook hands warmly and I walked him to the lift.
‘I’ll pop round tomorrow,’ said Charles, ‘to see the girls when they get back from lunch.’
‘That would be great,’ I said. ‘But take care. Mount Vesuvius has nothing on the eruption that’s going to occur tomorrow morning when The Pump comes out. Don’t get in the way of the molten lava. It might be dangerous.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ he said. ‘I’ve dodged more than my share of molten metal in my life.’ He had been a junior officer on HMS Amethyst during the Yangtze incident.
I decided that, much as I loved him, I should no longer place Marina’s security in the hands of a septuagenarian retired naval admiral with a penchant for single malt whisky, so I called a fellow private sleuth who worked for a firm that had a bodyguard department and asked for their help.
Certainly, Mr Halley, they said, they would happily provide a bodyguard for Miss Marina van der Meer, starting at eight o’clock the next morning until further notice. Great, I said, and gave them the address.
As I put the phone down, I began to wish I had asked for their help immediately. I could imagine the presses at The Pump busy churning out tomorrow’s copy with its banner headlines. Poking a stick into a hornets’ nest had nothing on this. I shivered. Too late now.
And tomorrow’s newspaper would be available at about eleven this evening, round the corner at Victoria Station. I looked at my watch. Five hours to go.
I spent much of the evening making duplicates of the videotape from my little chat with Juliet. I had made one copy at Kate’s using her video recorder in the sitting room. Chris had taken it with him as he was pretty certain that, without the actual tape, The Pump’s lawyers weren’t going to let him write anything about the Enstones.
‘All your bloody fault,’ he’d said.
‘How come?’
‘You remember that last time when the paper went after you?’ he’d said. ‘You know, all that stuff a few years ago.’
I’d nodded. How could I forget.
‘Well, nothing gets in now unless it’s passed by the libel lawyers and they’re pretty tight after you took us to the cleaners.’
I hadn’t. They had got off lightly.
Now I made six further copies on to VHS tapes between performing my nursing and domestic duties around the flat. I steamed some salmon fillets in the microwave for dinner and Marina and I ate them in front of the television with trays on our laps.
Marina’s salmon remained only half eaten as she watched the tape with growing fascination.
‘I really don’t think I want to meet this Peter,’ she said.
‘You already have,’ I said. ‘He was wearing motorcycle leathers.’
‘Oh, yes. So he was.’ She rubbed her knee.
My phone rang. It was Chris Beecher.
‘It’s all in,’ he said. ‘Front page! They allowed me to do the lot.’ He was very excited.
‘Good,’ I said, ‘you’ve done well.’ It was under seven hours since we had left Lambourn.
‘Where’s Juliet?’ I asked him.
‘Bricking herself in the Donnington Valley Hotel,’ he said. ‘She has tried to call me on my mobile at least fifteen times but I won’t answer. She leaves messages saying she doesn’t want to be named. Bit late now!’ He laughed. ‘If she wanted it off the record, she should have said so at the beginning, not after the event.’
‘Will she stay there?’ I asked.
‘What would you do?’ he said. ‘I don’t reckon she’ll go back to her place. I think we can safely say that young Mr Peter is not going to be best pleased with her in the morning. If I were in her shoes I’d stay put in the hotel and keep my head down.’
In her Jimmy Choo shoes, I thought. Young Mr George is not going to be too pleased with her, either.
‘Right then,’ I said. ‘Now that I know that the story will definitely be in the paper tomorrow, I’ll get these other tapes off to their new homes.’
‘Yes,’ Chris said, ‘and… thanks, Sid. Guess I owe you one.’
‘More than one, you bugger.’
He laughed and hung up. He wasn’t a bad soul, but I still wouldn’t be sharing any of my secrets with him in the future. Not unless I wanted to read them in the paper.
I spent some time packing the six videotapes into large white padded envelopes and then went round to Victoria Station to await the papers. I made sure that the door was properly locked and told Marina not to open it under any circumstances, even if someone shouted that the building was burning down.