Rosie's Diamond: Chapters 21 to 25

THE story so far: The gun that killed Mark McKay turns out to be an 1860's U.S. Government percussion revolver but no one can find it.

THE story so far: The gun that killed Mark McKay turns out to be an 1860's U.S. Government percussion revolver but no one can find it.The police, Inspector Groves and Sergeant Bill Allington discover that Rosemarys late husband had one back in South Africa. Unknown to Rosemary her old housekeeper had packed it and it had been shipped to England. Eventually the gun is located in a crate in the basement.

Why had whoever had used it gone down to the basement, taken it out of the crate, shot Mark McKay and then returned to the basement to replace it in the crate before making their escape? It made no sense to Groves and Allington.

Chapter Twenty One

Allington went back to the Manor on his own to bring Rosemary up to date and to find out if she had thought of anything further that could possibly be of help. He doubted it, but there was always that slight chance.

Connie answered the door to him. "Hello Bill, I suppose you want Mrs. Van der Velde?"

Before he could affirm she added "She's just gone up to take a bath. Anyway come on in and I'll put the kettle on while you're waiting."

He sat down in the kitchen and as Connie put the kettle on she said, "I'd better let her know that you're here, she wouldn't be too pleased if she came down in her dressing gown to find a visitor."

She trotted off. A few minutes later she was back.

"She said for me to take care of you and that she will be down shortly," she said as she filled the kettle and set it to boil. "That means at least three quarters of an hour."

"That's fine, I'm just pleased to be out of the office. The phone hasn't stopped all morning."

"Let me make you a sandwich to go with your cup of tea – chicken all right?"

"Yeah, that's fine." He hadn't expected the offer but was glad of it.

She was slicing through the breast of the chicken. It was so big it could have been a turkey.

"Connie?"

"Uh huh?" she did not turn around.

"Have you ever noticed anything strange since you've been here, I mean before the break-in?"

"No, not really."

"Not really?" His years in the police force had given him the knack of turning any statement into a question.

"Well, on one occasion I heard Mrs. Van der Velde talking to someone, yet when I went into the lounge she was alone. She said that it must have been the television but I don't think that it was."

"Well we all do that from time to time."

"I know, but this sounded as if she really was talking to someone. At first I thought she was on the phone, but then I realised that she was nowhere near the phone."

"What was she saying?"

"I don't know, I really couldn't make it out."

"Was that the only time?"

"It was the only time that I heard."

"Anything else?"

"No, nothing."

She turned and put the sandwich in front of him. It was huge. She must have somehow known that he was starving.

The last mouthful was a bit of a struggle but he had just finished it when Rosemary opened the kitchen door.

"Please come through, Sergeant." She held the door for him, letting go when he placed his hand on it. He followed her through to the lounge. Looking back he said "Thanks Connie."

"My pleasure," she smiled as the door closed.

He followed Rosemary into the lounge, knowing that she had made the effort to hurry by the fact that her hair was not yet thoroughly dry.

He had decided not to mention what Connie had told him. After all, it was pretty obvious that she had been talking to herself.

He told her about the laboratory's findings in relation to the gun.

"I'm afraid that this means that we will not be able to return it to you for some time."

"Don't worry about that, Sergeant. As far as I'm concerned I thought I'd left it behind in South Africa. I must say, though, that it if was the murder weapon I cannot understand how it doesn't appear to have been fired recently — that is, apart from the police testing it."

"I'm not able to throw any light on that because it is something we do not understand ourselves, but the lab assured us that their tests match the wound to the McKay boy's head. The whole thing gets stranger as time goes by."

He waited for a response, but seeing that none was about to be offered asked, "I don't suppose anything has come to mind since our last chat that may be of any possible help?"

He knew the answer already, but still felt that he had to ask the question.

"I'm afraid not. I have given the matter a great deal of thought but there is nothing, I'm sorry."

"That's what I suspected. The whole thing, at best, is weird. We're sure it started off as nothing more than a burglary. From speaking to the brother we know that they were aware that you were alone and had hoped to get in and out quickly, preferably with cash. What happened then we have no idea. You were the only person in the house who could have shot him."

He saw the look of horror come to her face and continued quickly in a louder voice in order quell her protestations, "But" the 'but' was very loud and designed to stop her from interrupting. It worked. "But," he said again, just a little softer, "we are absolutely certain that you did not do it. Having spoken to you, that is plainly obvious. Apart from that, you showed no signs of powder residue when our forensic boys tested you".

She still looked a little apprehensive.

"Don't worry." His voice was back to normal as he added to his assurance. "No one even thought it for a second. I only said that to you because this is such a strange case. I was just hoping that by saying that, that something might occur to one of us. I suppose that I was clutching at straws. Please forgive me if I upset you in any way."

"No, I fully understand. You have my sympathy as far as finding out what happened. I don't envy you and the Inspector one little bit."

He stood up. "I'll leave you alone now and we'll try not to bother you any more than is necessary. Of course if, and it's a big if, we do come up with anything, we'll let you know."

"Thank you, Sergeant, I'll do the same and believe me, my if is every bit as big as yours."

They shook hands and he showed himself out.

Noises from the kitchen showed that Connie was still working away. He had no further reason to interrupt her.

Chapter Twenty Two

Back at the police station Allington confirmed with Groves that nothing new had come up with Rosemary and then sat down to call the police in Johannesburg. Earlier he had called the South African embassy in Trafalgar Square to get the required number.

He dialed it. A recorded message was his only reply, informing him that he had dialed incorrectly and should check his number before calling again. He called his local operator who transferred him to the international operator, who told him that he was dialing a digit that was not required.

He called again and a female voice with a South African twang answered. Twang was the only word he could think of that would, in his opinion, aptly describe the accent. It sounded good – even sexy.

The accent both pleased and amused him so much that he didn't answer her quick enough. "Hello?" she said for the second time, this time impatiently.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was listening to your accent." He was suddenly aware that she probably didn't think that she had an accent. After all, she was expecting all callers to be South African, not British.

"I'm English," he stammered out. It sounded like a schoolboy's excuse.

He knew by the tone of her voice when she replied that she was smiling. "Your apology is accepted."

"Thank you," he said, fully aware that he had got himself into something he was not about to win.

"What can I do for you?"

He told her as briefly as possible who he was and what he wanted.

"I think you're in luck. The man I would recommend that you talk to came in about ten minutes ago. His name is Charlie Randle, he's a superintendent, but he's really down to earth and everyone calls him Charlie.

"Is he Oriental?

"Oriental, no, why do you ask?"

"You said his name was . . . oh, Char-lee."

"You do have a problem with accents, don't you?"

Again, he knew she was smiling.

"Hold on a minute and I'll put you through. Nice talking to you."

Before he could reply she was gone.

"Charlie Randle."

"Hello, sir, I'm…"

"Charlie is fine."

"Ok, er, Charlie, I'm Bill Allington. I'm calling you from England."

"Yes, I know, Jennie told me. She said we may need an interpreter."

Now Bill was smiling. He had taken an instant liking to this girl at the other end of the phone line.

He quictly told Charlie about the happenings in Wulfrum and that he was interested in anything he could tell him about Roderick Van der Velde.

"Roderick, eh?" mused Charlie. "How long have you got?"

"That bad?"

"Worse. He was a real nasty piece of work, but by God he was clever. We knew what he was up to but we never could get any proof. He was a master at covering his tracks. We got plenty of his crew, but none of them would talk. They knew what would happen to them if they did. They also knew that Rod would provide the very best legal aid that money could buy and in many cases they were acquitted. Also, there were never any witnesses."

"No one ever saw anything?"

"Oh, yes, many people saw what went on but there were never any witnesses. The fear factor meant that the only witnesses were the fabled three monkeys."

"I see."

"Listen Bill, let me send you all I have on Roderick and his dealings and after you've read through it, call me back and I'll fill in any blanks."

"Sounds good to me Charlie. Give my regards to Jennie."

"I sure will."

About three hours after he had spoken to Charlie Randle the fax machine spewed out thirteen pages about Rod Van der Velde. As he read through them Allington could see that Rod's activities knew no limit. He was nothing like Rosemary had portrayed. The man was evil – the devil incarnate even.

It was difficult to fathom what a sensitive softly spoken woman like Rosemary Van der Velde could possibly have seen in him. If the man was as bad as this it would have been damned difficult to hide it from anyone. Yet Rosemary had always spoken of him as a quietly spoken, caring man. Could she have been so much in love that she only saw the good side? The old saying was 'that there's none as blind as those who don't want to see.' Perhaps that was the case here.

Or, maybe he really was to her the way she said. But the fax showed him to be so bad that she must have had suspicions, surely she must have had suspicions. There must have been times when she thought 'that's odd, there's something wrong here.' It could be that she just did not want to see anything bad in the man she loved – no, more than that, adored – that she just didn't see it.

No, he thought, she is intelligent and articulate. Certainly, he could believe that at first she could see no wrong, but as time went by and Rod's empire grew, then there must have been times. He determined to ask her. If she got upset over it, it was something she would get over. First he would ask Dr. Curzon. He was an old friend and even knew her before she met Rod. If there was anyone, apart from her, who would know anything it would be him.

As he read on he became aware just how frightening this man had been. It was easy to see why there were never any witnesses, or at least none who were ever prepared to testify. It was obvious that for him to have got away with some of the things he had got away with that some police complicity was involved.

There were always people who could not manage on their earnings and had the need for extra money to finance their lifestyles. Sadly, he reflected, this included policemen, even here in England. He had heard of several instances. It was always difficult to catch them and no one could ever be sure that they were all caught, in fact he very much doubted that they were.

The money Rod Van der Velde was dealing with could have bought all the police he wanted had he been able to find the ones who were susceptible to such corruption. Apparently he had found them, or else he would definitely have spent a lot of years in prison. He didn't know what the law in South Africa was governing capital punishment, but if it was in effect there then Van der Velde would probably have been subjected to it.

God, how do these people get started? Then he realised that he already knew the answer. Absolute fear. You do enough bad things to enough people and the rest will usually go along with whatever you want. If you weren't scared of him yourself then you had to consider your family's safety and from what he could see from the fax, the man would have done anything to get what he wanted.

Everything was there – drugs, gambling, prostitution, protection – the man had no boundaries. There were beatings, killings, none of which were directly attributable to him but were carried out by known associates. Admittedly there had been successful prosecutions but the percentage figures were certainly well tilted towards cases that were dismissed through lack of evidence. The legal costs that were quoted would have fed an African nation for years. Just how much wealth did this man have? When he died he had left Rosemary several million rand. Ok, the government had taken their share, but the remainder had left her a very wealthy woman. The suspicion was that this was only a small part of his wealth and that the rest was so well hidden around the world, especially Switzerland, that it would probably never be known.

He had read each page word for word but it was so incredulous that he actually sat and read through it all again.

It didn't get any better the second time.

He sat back in his chair, small beads of sweat running down his forehead. He shook his head slowly in total amazement. "She had to know something, she had to."

"Who did?"

He had been so enthralled that he hadn't even noticed Groves come in.

"Uh," he looked up, "how long have you been here?"

"A few minutes, I did speak but you were too engrossed to notice."

"So would you be, it's a fax from the South African police giving details about Rod Van der Velde."

"And?"

"I couldn't begin to tell you. You'd better read it for yourself," he said, getting up and taking it over to Groves. "I'm going up for a coffee, I think I need the caffeine."

"It can't be that bad surely?"

"Read it and then you tell me."

Dropping the fax on to Grove's desk he left the office without another word. Groves picked it up and started to read. After a couple of pages the phone rang. He ignored it and continued reading.

Bill Allington paid for his coffee and a doughnut and sat down on his own. He suddenly felt drained. He was hoping, even praying, that the events at the manor had no connection to any of Van der Velde's associates. There really was nothing to suggest that they had, but having read what he had just read he could discount nothing. Bloody hell, he thought, even I'm getting scared of him now and he's been dead for years. If I feel this way here I can only imagine just what a legacy he must have left in his homeland.

He finished his coffee, but left half of the doughnut and then just sat quietly for a while. He really could not come to terms with the fact that Rosemary was so unaware of her husband's activities. He found it unbelievable.

After another few minutes he went back down. Groves was still reading. He looked up as Allington entered.

"I've read it Bill, but I didn't really believe it so I'm reading it again."

Allington left him to it and went to his desk and sat down to wait for him to finish.

"It didn't get any better the second time Bill."

"My sentiments exactly."

"Not the kind of guy you'd like to meet in a dark alley."

"Personally I wouldn't want to meet him at all."

"Mmm, I can't figure out why his wife spoke so highly of him," said Groves, replicating Bill's thoughts.

"You took the words right out of my mouth. Wouldn't you think that she must have known something?" he posed the same question that he had already asked himself several times.

"She's such a nice woman Bill that I feel that we should give her the benefit of the doubt. I really can't see her being happy with any of this stuff." He waved the fax pages in the air.

"It is just possible that he managed to hide it from her. He must have known that she wouldn't accept it. Even if she did suspect anything she likely found it so inconceivable that she refused to believe it."

"I can see that to a certain extent, well at least I could until I read the fax. It's just that there's so much bad stuff in it that makes it hard to accept that she was not at least suspicious. Until I read that I would have had no problem in accepting that she didn't know. I would not, however, come straight out and say she knew because, having met her, I found her very credible and truthful. It's just that the man was such an asshole. How could anyone not have known, love really must be blind?"

"Don't beat yourself up Bill. Are her guests still with her?"

"Yeah, I think so." He still had a worried look on his face and was still intermittently shaking his head.

"You've got to give it up Bill, it'll only lead you to an early grave. I was thinking that you could give her doctor friend a call and see if he could help. If she did know anything it's more than likely that he would be the one she would have confided in."

"I was thinking that myself."

"No time like the present. Give him a call."

Chapter Twenty Three

It was still raining. It was still dark.

There had been no other cars. He doubted that, because he was as wet as he was, that any car going his way would have stopped for his pleading thumb anyway. All he could do was to keep plodding onwards. Surely there couldn't be much rain left to fall or much further to walk.

Chapter Twenty Four

Rosemary was at the window looking across towards The Gables. She felt a bit like a teenager with a crush. At first Gerald had been just the kindly next door neighbour, but for some time now she had felt her feelings changing from friendship to affection. She had always sworn that this would never happen, that there would never be anyone but Rod. The sudden ring of the phone jumped her back into the present.

Michael and Ruth were looking knowingly at her but the ringing telephone forestalled any comments.

"Hello, yes he's here. May I say who is calling?"

She listened quietly for a moment. "Michael?" He was already on his feet.

He took the phone and put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Who is it?"

"He wouldn't say apart from that he was a colleague."

She hadn't said anything but had thought that she had recognized Bill Allington's voice.

"Michael Curzon." Michael listened for a couple of minutes. "Yes, that will be fine." He replaced the receiver. The two women looked at him inquisitively. He knew that he had to say something.

"Just someone needing to clear up something."

He wasn't exactly lying to them, but he was pleased that neither woman pursued the point. He would tell Ruth later, but felt that there was no need to worry Rosemary unduly.

He had agreed to meet Allington at three o'clock that afternoon and as he and Ruth had already told Rosemary that they would be going into town that afternoon he felt sure that Rosemary's suspicions would not be aroused. He had tried to persuade her to come with them, but was now pleased that she had declined.

"Why didn't you want Rosemary to know who that call was from?" Ruth asked the second they got into the car.

He knew that she had been dying to ask from the moment he had put the phone down, but had realised that he wanted to keep it form Rosemary.

"You know me too well." He said nothing further, fully aware that Ruth was burning up with curiosity.

"Well," she said loudly, punching him on the arm. He screwed his face up with mock pain.

"It was the police, hold on a second," he said while he turned out of the driveway. "He wanted to ask me a few questions about Rod. He suggested three o'clock and I told him that that would be fine."

"What does he want to know?"

"I don't know for sure, probably about Rod's background. I didn't want to say too much at the time with Rosie being there. Depending on what the Sergeant wants, I may or may not tell her later."

Michael arrived at the police station ten minutes before three. Ruth had decided to do some clothes shopping and he wanted no part of it. They had arranged to meet at Luigi's coffee and cappuccino bar, which was about equidistant between the shops and the police station.

He approached the front desk. "Good afternoon, I have a three o'clock appointment with Sergeant Allington."

"Just one moment sir." The constable picked up the phone and dialed just three numbers.

"Bill, Dr. Curzon is here." Michael looked at him.

"No I'm not psychic, sir, the Sergeant rang down and told me that you were coming. Please take a seat, he'll be down in a minute."

As he sat down the thought went through his head that how much easier the policeman's job would be if he was psychic. He heard a click as the door to the right of the front desk was unlocked and opened.

"Dr. Curzon, please come through."

Michael shook hands with the sergeant as he went through and the heavy door slammed to behind them. "Let's go up to the canteen, it's less formal," he said, leading the way up a flight of stairs.

At the top he turned to the left and walked to the end of the corridor where two swing doors faced them. As they got there an attractive police woman came out and held one of the doors open for them.

"Hi, Lisa, how are things?"

"Pretty good Bill" she said, simultaneously nodding a silent greeting to Michael.

They stopped just inside the canteen. There were about twenty tables of which less than half were occupied. Allington looked around.

"Let's go over there," he said, pointing to the area with the most empty tables. Without waiting for a reply he walked over. Michael followed.

"Let me get you a cup of police coffee." He made it sound as if drinking police coffee was somewhat of an ordeal. Out of politeness Michael accepted.

Allington brought the coffee back. It didn't look too bad.

"I'm sorry to drag you out here Doctor, but I really wanted to speak to you without Mrs. Van der Velde being present."

"Yes, I pretty much assumed that that was the case. Don't worry though, you did not drag me down here. My wife and I had already arranged to come into town and, if anything, you have done me a favour by giving me an excuse to let my wife shop on her own. I hate shopping. Why can women never make up their minds about what they want? My only worry is leaving her alone with a credit card. She somehow has the idea that by using a credit card she is not spending real money, but I digress. Tell me Sergeant, how can I be of help to you?"

"I'm not completely sure that you can, but I think that you can give me some background information that could possibly be helpful. I know that you are a long-standing family friend."

"Not exactly," Michael broke the Sergeant's flow. "I'm a long-standing friend of Mrs. Van der Velde. I didn't know her husband very well and to be honest, what I did know I didn't like."

That's what I thought you would say, Allington thought to himself, but only said "Really?" leaving the doctor to elaborate.

"I first met him many years ago before they were married. He seemed personable enough but I always felt that there was more to him than met the eye. I could never put my finger on what it was, but there was something. Ruth felt it too, but Rosemary saw nothing wrong. Of that I am certain. It might not be the right analogy, but it was something like the sixth sense a cat gets when it senses something bad about a person. It won't go near that person. I didn't like Rod and I didn't know why, yet I didn't want to fall out with Rosemary. I decided to say nothing to her but to make myself available if, and at the time I thought when, things went wrong and Rosemary needed me."

"Did she?"

"No, not really, although there were a couple of occasions when she became concerned. On both occasions other men showed interest in her and both men died in mysterious accidents shortly afterwards. Rosemary's concern over the incidents diminished when the police dropped their investigations and both cases were considered accidental deaths. At the time she was worried enough to call me about them but after the police investigations and Rod's assurances she rang me back and told me that she had been worried over nothing. I was never sure whether she actually believed him or whether she wanted to so much that in the end she did."

"That would have been, I think, the tennis pro and the pilot?"

Michael looked surprised. "You know that?"

"The police in South Africa faxed me with all they have on Rod Van der Velde. I've read it several times and, from what you have said, those are the two disappearances that seem to fit."

"The thing is, Sergeant, I had a friend over there who did some checking for me and he came back and told me that the South African police dropped the cases a little too quickly, as if someone had ordered it."

"Actually Doctor, that's what I was told and I was told by a senior police officer."

"Do you think that Mrs. Van der Velde was aware of her husband's activities?"

Michael's answer came quickly. "No, I'm sure she wasn't. At least not back then. She was always convinced that Rod operated a totally legitimate diamond business, as did I initially. There was just that hidden something about him that worried me."

"When did you first start to doubt the legitimacy of his business?"

"That time she called about the two men who disappeared. That's when I made my inquiries and that's when I found out what that hidden something was. Believe me, though, I got no satisfaction out of being right. Again I said nothing to her. I felt sure that she was in no danger from him; I was just worried in case she somehow got dragged into the abyss. I just did what I had always done, stood back ready to help her if she needed me."

"You said that Mrs. Van der Velde had no doubts about her husband – 'back then;' what did you mean by that?

Michael drew in a breath and exhaled it with a sigh.

"Since all this happened up at the Manor it brought back to me all the bad things I thought about Rod, and now that he has been gone these years I thought that there would be no more of an opportune time to talk to Rosemary about it. She told me that Rod had had many business meetings at home, none of which she was privy to, and that she had often heard raised voices – no, that's not right. She had often heard Rod's voice above the others and after some of these meetings she had seen him come out of them with looks of such thunderous anger on his face, even hatred. However she said that as soon as he saw her the looks vanished instantly and he became the gentle soft-spoken man that she had always considered him to be.

It was not until after his death, and then not straight away, that she started to read between the lines, and I think that now she now has grave doubts that Rod was in fact this gentle, softly-spoken man that was portrayed to her. If the main purpose of my coming here is for you to ask me whether I think that Rosemary knew what her husband really did, then my answer would have to be a very categorical 'no.'

Notwithstanding, today I think that she is aware of more than she is prepared to say. Remember that this woman was completely and utterly in love with this man and despite all his hoodlum activity he treated her like a queen and she, to this day, despite all she now knows, still has a sense of loyalty to him. Sergeant, she is a very good person and I would ask you that, if you really have to speak to her about these things, you will treat her with compassion."

"Of course, Doctor, but at this moment in time I can see no reason to upset her unnecessarily. You have pretty much answered all the questions I had. If the need arises to talk to her about this, then perhaps it would be easier if I called you and you were present."

"Yes, I think that would be helpful but, hopefully, as you just said, it may not come to that. However," he reached for his wallet, "here is my card with my home and cell number."

The serious business now over, Bill looked at the Doctor's cup. "I see you share my opinion of police coffee."

Michael pulled a wry face. "It wasn't the best I've tasted."

"I'm grateful to you Doctor, you've given me some good background information. Unfortunately it doesn't get us any closer to solving the case. Let me show you out."

As the heavy door closed behind him again, it didn't seem so final this time with him being on the outside.

Allington was feeling nothing but frustration. In a way he had been hoping that Rosemary could have, in some way, been involved in Rod's shady businesses. At least that way he would have felt that they were making a little progress. The fact that she wasn't was also pleasing to him.

Where would the world be if a woman like that was involved in any of the things he had read in the fax? As it was, they were no further on than they were when the shooting had occurred. All they knew was that Rod Van der Velde had been a career criminal but again that didn't help the present situation.

He had no idea where to go with it and there was no point in discussing it any further with Gavin because he was just as void of ideas. The only thing he had left was to ring Charlie Randle and go through it in more detail with him. Something of relevance might just surface. Who knows, and in any case Jennie might answer the phone. Even if he got nowhere with Charlie, at least talking to her would momentarily cheer him up.

When Michael got to Luigi's he looked around for Ruth. She wasn't there. That worried him, not because he was concerned for her safety but because she was probably still spending. He ordered a latte but decided not to snack anything in case Ruth wanted to eat when she arrived. She didn't like eating alone when she was out. He finished his latte and had just picked up one of Luigi's complementary newspapers when she walked in. She had no shopping bags, not a one. He was amazed. As she walked over to him she saw the huge smile on his face.

"Don't smile too soon – I've just dropped all the bags off in the car."

"All?"

"Just a figure of speech. I didn't go too mad. Anyway, I only used the credit card." He rolled his eyes heavenwards. She either didn't see or chose to ignore the fact that it was still money.

"What would you like?"

"Er, a cappuccino and a slice of carrot cake would go down nicely."

Michael caught the waitress' eye and placed Ruth's order while ordering himself another latte and a slice of lemon cheesecake.

"Well, did you help the police solve everything?"

"No, he wanted to know all about Rod."

"Don't you think that they are barking a little bit up the wrong tree? The man's been long dead, in fact he's probably fertilized his own tree by now."

"I really don't think that that is what they are implying. It's more likely that they are considering the possibility that one of his henchmen could have some involvement. Perhaps somebody over there is worried that Rosemary may know something that could incriminate them. Who knows?"

"Is that it then?"

"Just about. They have been in touch with the police in South Africa and from information received from them it appears that our worst fears about Rod were more than realised. It turns out that he was far worse than we could ever have imagined. Let's put it this way, all the films you've ever seen about the ruthlessness of the Mafia brings you to somewhere near how bad Rod was."

"Poor Rosemary."

It was just like Ruth to put her thoughts for other people first.

"Are you going to tell her?"

"I certainly don't think I'll tell her everything that the Sergeant told me. Recently she has had a few suspicions, but I know for certain that she doesn't suspect anything of this magnitude."

The waitress returned with the order and after she had left Michael continued.

"I don't think that the police have any idea what's happening and that they are clutching at straws. The Sergeant assured me that he didn't think it necessary to bring this up with Rosie and I feel that we should steer her away from it. It won't serve any purpose and would only upset her."

"Yes, you're more than likely right."

They finished off and went to the car to return to the Manor. Before they got to the car he could see the shopping bags on the back seat sticking up above the front seats. 'Didn't go mad,' he thought to himself, and then said aloud "I keep telling you to put things in the boot. One day somebody's going to break the window and take everything."

"I couldn't put them in the boot – the boot's full."

He stopped abruptly. "What?" he glowered at her.

A huge grin split her face. "Just kidding. God, you're so easy."

Chapter Twenty Five

Dawn was breaking. The rain had stopped a while ago but he was still wet and cold. It had turned five, he knew that as he could just about see his watch. He had been walking for about six and a half hours. He had known that it was just over twenty miles from where the bus had dropped him. He hadn't expected the walk to take so long and the forecast had not threatened rain.

Had it not rained he could have been there an hour ago. The only problem then would be what to do. He couldn't knock anyone up at that time of the morning, certainly not after all these years. Yeah, he really should have waited until today and got the bus all the way. Doing it this way was stupid but he felt that he had to be doing something, he couldn't just sit on his own and worry and he definitely would not have slept. Anyway, he was nearly there now.

To his right the sky was becoming brighter as the sun was approaching the horizon. It put a slight spring into his step.

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