Rosie's Diamond - Chapters 9 to 12

The story so far: Reclusive Rosemary van der Welde has returned from South Africa to the English town of Wulfrum. But thing's aren't running so smoothly at her mansion on the edge of town ...

The story so far: Reclusive Rosemary van der Welde has returned from South Africa to the English town of Wulfrum. But thing's aren't running so smoothly at her mansion on the edge of town ...Chapter Nine

It was the Saturday night after Rosemary's dinner party and any Saturday, regardless of season, was always a reasonably good night in Gerald's two pubs. This Saturday, however, the Rising Moon was by far the busiest of the two. The normal crowd had been boosted by the arrival of a dozen or more bikers who were apparently camping overnight in the area.

Gerald's sister Pru had initially been somewhat apprehensive but had soon realized that they would not be a problem. They weren't youngsters; most of them were over forty, both the men and the women. They had pulled three tables together in the corner and were minding their own business as were all the other drinkers in the bar.

All the bikers had ordered food and Pru and Mike were more than happy about that as the food profits were entirely theirs.

When the demand for food was high she always left the bar and helped the chef to prepare it.

She had been in the kitchen for about twenty minutes when Mike came in.

"Let's hope we don't run out of food. Here's another few orders and it looks like there may be more in a while."

"We're fine Mike, the fridges and freezers are well stocked."

The assurance was given by Kevin, their chef.

Mike looked at Pru.

"Just to cheer you up Pru, the McKay brothers have just come in and I don't think we're their first port of call."

Pru raised her eyebrows heavenward.

"Let's just hope they move on or at least keep quiet."

There was always the possibility that they may move but keeping quiet, they both knew, was very unlikely.

"Just keep an eye on them," she called as Mike went back out to the bar.

Martin and Mark McKay had lived in Wulfrum for only a couple of years. They were both in their early twenties and had moved down from their native Scotland to stay with their father who had moved to the town when he had divorced their mother.

Their mother had let them stay with her, even though they did absolutely nothing for her and did not contribute to the running of the house. After a few years of chasing around after them she had met a construction worker from Glasgow. After the relationship developed into something fairly serious she had sold her house and moved in with him.

Unbeknown to her, he had taken the boys out one night and told them to pack their bags and get the hell out of her life. If they started acting like human beings they could again be a part of her life. Until then — !

He doubted that he would see them again, at least not in the foreseeable future. She had only a suspicion that he had said anything to them. She never voiced that suspicion and if the truth was known she was more than just a little relieved.

They would likely get on better with their father; they were from the same mold.

Neither Martin nor Mark had actually caused any serious trouble in Wulfrum but all the publicans in the town were well aware of them.

No one really wanted them in their pub because when they had a few drinks on them they became loud and obnoxious and other customers had often been seen to drink up and leave. Pru had had a word with them and told them to stop swearing or they would not be allowed in again. She was never sure whether or not she was pleased that her little talk had seemed to do the trick.

It had not been perfect, the odd 'f' word still filtered in occasionally through the general conversation in the bar, but a stern look was always followed by the obligatory giggled apology.

After two years, both Pru and Mike had started to consider that the brothers may just be two loudmouths but basically harmless.

They even left their car in the car park when they had been drinking but then again they knew that the police were watching them. They had been stopped twice before and breathalyzed but had somehow shown up negative.

When Pru eventually finished in the kitchen it was almost a quarter to ten. The bar had thinned out a little but was still busy.

Martin and Mark were still there.

Obviously they are here for the duration thought Pru to herself.

"They've been playing pool with the bikers for the last hour" informed Mike. "They've been fairly quiet so I think the bikers are winning."

"Are they playing for money?"

"I think so."

"Maybe if they lose it will keep them home for a few days."

"Wishful thinking," he said as he moved to the end of the bar to serve a customer.

"Yeah."

All eyes turned to the pool table.

Martin McKay had a huge grin on his face as the black ball disappeared.

The grin froze.

"Shit," he cursed in frustration as he watched the white ball roll ever slowly toward another pocket and with some reluctance fall in.

It fell in so slowly that it appeared to be mocking him.

Almost the whole pub seemed to have a half smile on their lips.

"Double or quits."

The biker shook his head.

Not to refuse the offer but more because of the stupidity of the man before him.

"You gotta give me a chance to get my money back. I should've won that game. How much you got, Mark?"

Mark looked in his pockets and they had a short discussion between themselves.

Martin turned back to the bikers.

"A hundred and fifty quid – all I've lost so far."

"That's a lot of money."

"A lot of bottle."

"OK then, I've got nothing to lose."

Martin enthusiastically set up the table.

Having finished he stood up.

"Toss for break."

The biker flipped a coin in the air and before it landed on the table Martin called "heads."

It was tails.

The biker broke.

It was a good break. Two solid balls dropped and the rest of the balls were well split up.

Both Martin and Mark looked sick.

The biker chalked his cue.

He potted three more balls.

One of the other two solid balls was over the middle pocket. The other one was on the rail on the opposite side.

It was a hard shot.

The whole pub was quiet.

He got down to play the shot. The McKays were frowning and clenching their fists.

Three hundred quid!

The biker made it.

Mike and Pru almost expected the pub to cheer.

The last two balls were a formality.

The McKays were backing up ready to make a run for it until they saw that two of the bikers had moved over to the door.

All thoughts of making a run dissipated.

Martin threw the money on the table and they stormed out without saying a word. Now the rest of the pub applauded and the biker took a bow.

"Give everyone a drink," he called over to Mike.

Chapter Ten

Outside the pub the air was turning blue.

"Those bastards set us up," raged Martin.

"Lucky for them there's a lot of 'em or that one what beat you would 'ave got a good hiding."

"Three hundred frigging quid down the pan. What we gonna do? We ain't got a pot to piss in?"

"No point asking the old man. He couldn't even afford to come out for a few beers tonight."

They walked down the road to a wooden bench outside one of the tearooms and sat in silence for awhile.

Martin kept playing the frame of pool over in his head. Why did that bloody white go down in the game before; it was a brilliant pot on the black. Shouldn't have had to play the last game anyway.

Mark was first to break the silence.

"We gotta get some cash somehow. We'll never manage till next Friday, the old fellow'll drive us mad."

"Got any ideas?"

"Yeah, remember that time in Glasgow when we got that tip that couldn't lose and we lost all our wages on it?"

"Never forget that, but we nicked some money then. We'd never get away with it in a pokey little place like this."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"What you got in mind, Mark?"

"Wulfrum Manor."

"Wulfrum Manor, you're joking. It's got a bloody great wall all round it."

"Yeah, but it's only got one little old biddy inside it and she ain't even got a dog."

Martin nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds easy."

"Too right."

"She's got to have some money in there somewhere."

"We could get in and out without her even knowing. Even if there's no cash we could get some jewellery and sell it in Cheltenham. She's probably got so much money she wouldn't even miss anything."

"So, little brother, what do you reckon?"

"I think, big brother, that we don't really have any choice."

Mark smiled. He knew that Martin would go along with him.

Inside the pub the mood was congenial. The bikers had mixed with the locals and had proved to be a real friendly bunch down from London. They were still playing pool but now with the regulars and not for money.

The one who had beaten Martin was now sitting at the bar chatting with Mike and Pru.

"Sorry about that guvnor. It got a bit out of hand but it was down to him, he kept challenging me. I even let him win that one game just to shut him up, but the idiot went and put the white down as well."

"I know," said Mike, smiling.

The biker looked at him and then at Pru, who was also smiling.

"Am I to take it that no one was too upset that he got his butt kicked?"

"You've got that right. They're both a pain in the ass."

"Uh," he added, as Pru poked him in the ribs.

It was the bikers turn to smile.

Martin and Mark having made up their minds to break into the Manor had walked back up the road past the Rising Moon and on to the Manor.

There was still a light on so they went round to the back to wait.

After what seemed like ages, the light was still on.

"Hey Martin, do you think she's got visitors?"

"I dunno, it could just be a night light."

No sooner had Martin spoken than the light went out.

"We'll give her a good half hour before we go," said Martin.

They smoked two cigarettes each and then decided that it would be safe to climb over the wall

Martin was helping Mark up when Mark cursed, "Shit, there's barbed wire up here."

"Sssh, be careful. The wall's wide enough to step over it."

"I know that now, I just didn't realize that there was barbed wire up here when I first got up." The reply was a lot quieter.

"You okay now?"

"Fine, just scratched the back of my hand."

"Ok, give me a hand up."

Mark reached down for Martin's hand. No sooner had he grasped it than he let go of it again.

"Martin, the grass is on fire. We didn't put the bloody fags out."

Martin started to dance on the grass to put the fire out.

"Jeez," he said, "that could have screwed us."

"Come on," Mark said and stretched his hand out again.

As Martin got to the top of the wall he had one last look back to make sure the cigarettes were out and then jumped down to join Mark.

"Keep on the grass," he said, "don't leave any footprints in the garden."

They slowly made their way over to the house. Nearing the house, Martin tapped Mark on the arm.

"Get down and crawl very slowly. I think she's fitted the place up with movement lights."

"Ok."

Very slowly they inched their way forward. No lights came on.

Reaching the wall they stood up.

"You go that way," Martin instructed Mark. "Check the windows just in case."

Mark nodded but then realized that Martin could not see him.

They moved off in opposite directions.

Ten minutes later they were back together again.

"Find anything?" Martin asked.

"Might be a small window just round the side that's not locked. Seems to be a gap at the top, but I'll have to go up on your shoulders."

Martin didn't argue. He was a good bit heavier than Mark, so it made sense.

"Let's go," he whispered.

"Is it open?" The voice was strained.

"Yeah."

"Can you get up?"

"I think so. I can get hold of the drain pipe."

"Be careful. If anything happens I'll give an owl hoot."

After a few scrapings of toes and a few grunts, Mark was gone.

Martin wished he had gone with him but that would have meant breaking a window and at this time of night, sound really carried. Mark had a torch so he would be able to find his way around.

Martin was beginning to worry. It seemed that Mark had been in the house forever. He didn't even dare light a cigarette for his nerves in case the glow would be seen. He was pacing up and down, constantly looking up at the open window, each time expecting Mark's face to appear.

What bit of light there had been had now gone as the moon had crept behind a cloud. It was pitch black and he was scared.

"For shits sake, Mark, get out of there." He had only muttered it, but the words seemed to echo all round the house and back to him.

He had stopped pacing and was standing still beneath the window. The silence was as total as the dark.

Bang.

It was loud and came through the open window. It was so sudden it scared him stiff. He jumped and cracked his elbow on the wall he had been leaning on. His heart was thumping and racing.

It was a few seconds before he realized that it was a gunshot.

"Mark?" He turned looking upwards.

He jumped upwards, not quite reaching the window sill. Taking a few steps back he ran forward and tried again. He reached the stone sill this time and hung on. Struggling he managed to pull himself up a few inches and get his right hand through the window and hooked on to the wooden window frame.

He managed to get hold with his other hand and was pulling himself up when the window smashed down with such force on to his hands that all his fingers were broken.

The pain was intense.

He screamed. He could not help it.

He continued screaming.

The screaming could be heard through the stillness of the night through the town.

He had no more thoughts about Mark. Not only had the window smashed down but it was now solid and would not budge.

Martin was left hanging there as the pain intensified. He was crying like a baby.

Next door at the Manor, Gerald had been startled into consciousness. He had almost woken a few minutes earlier when he thought that he had heard a car backfire. The scream was no thought, though. It was real. It was loud and it was frightening. Worse than that, it almost definitely came from the Manor. He jumped up and looked out of the window. Through the trees he could see that Rosemary had turned on several lights.

He picked up the phone. The police told him that a car was already on the way and would get to the scene even quicker now that they knew exactly where to go. They asked him if he would wait up and that as soon as the officers had been to the Manor, could they call round to see him? He confirmed that he would wait up for them and then got dressed to wait. The main reason for dressing was that he wanted to be available should Rosemary need him.

Within minutes he saw flashing lights at the Manor's gates. Obviously they were not open, as the car stopped, but they were opened before anyone had to get out of the car and it didn't take long for the police car to speed up the drive. He heard the tyres skid on the gravel as the driver over zealously applied the brakes. The noise was quickly followed by the sound of two car doors being slammed.

He wished those bloody trees weren't there and was tempted to go round. He probably would have done so had the police not asked him to wait for them. A few minutes later he had changed his mind and was heading downstairs to the front door when he saw an ambulance and more police cars turn into Rosemary's drive. He had got to the front door when a single police car pulled up in front of him.

He stopped and waited, the door still ajar. Two policemen got out and came up to him.

"Hello sir, I believe you called in earlier?" said one of them.

"Yes, I did. Please come inside," he added as they came closer to him.

He pushed the door to behind him.

"Is Mrs. Van der Velde all right?" he asked, the concern in his voice was obvious.

The policeman picked up on it.

"Yes, sir, she is." He tried to make it as reassuring as he could.

Gerald was relieved but also realized that, as yet, he would get no further information.

"How may I help you?"

"Well, first of all, tell us why you called us."

"It was the screams. They woke me. Initially I thought that it was Mrs. Van der Velde but then I realized that it was a male voice. I would have gone round myself but your people asked me not to."

"Was that all you heard?"

"Yes, it woke me up." "Oh…"

"Yes sir?"

"I sort of thought that a couple of minutes earlier I had heard a car backfiring."

"A car backfiring," mused the officer. "Don't be alarmed but could it have been a gunshot?"

He could see the change of expression on Gerald's face.

"A shot?" he repeated. Then after a few seconds thought, "Yes, I suppose it could have been." You did say that Mrs. Van der Velde was all right?"

"Yes sir, she is fine," the officer reiterated.

"Could I call round to see her?"

"It would be best if you waited until we are through. Give me your telephone number and I will call you when you can come over. In the meantime my inspector will probably want to talk to you. However, knowing him, he will likely wait until later on and daylight. Thank you for your help sir, I'll call you as soon as possible."

As the police car drove away it left Gerald standing alone feeling very impotent. He went back inside and sat down. There would be no point in going back to bed.

Chapter Eleven

The police car pulled up outside the Manor. The call had sounded like yet another domestic violence call, but when they saw where they were it seemed less than likely. These kind of people knew how to behave themselves and had other ways of handling their problems without the need to resort to violence. This kind of violence seldom happened within the educated upper classes; their breeding did not allow for it.

The front door was open and the lights were on.

At first they could not see anyone but on pushing the door open they saw a woman, probably in her early to mid-forties, in a dressing gown, sitting on a chair in the hallway with her head buried in her hands. She was not crying but the evidence showed that she had been.

One policeman walked down the hallway looking in every room. The second one bent down beside Rosemary and placed one hand sympathetically on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, but I have to ask you some questions," he said quickly.

He could feel her shaking a little and as she did not respond he patted her gently on the shoulder again.

"I'm sorry, but I really must talk to you."

Rosemary lowered her hands and looked at him. The other policeman had now joined them. "I'm sorry," she said, so softly that they barely heard her.

"He's upstairs, outside my bedroom. I heard him trying the door. I was terrified. I thought I was about to be attacked, maybe worse," she paused as she successfully fought to hold back more tears. "Then I heard the shot and a thud as he fell to the floor. Then I heard terrible screams, not from outside the bedroom door but from further away. I heard nothing more outside in the corridor. I froze – I just couldn't move.

I knew I had to get out of the bed and look. I opened the door and saw him lying there. He wasn't moving and blood was all around his head. I stepped over him. I could still hear the screams. They seemed to be coming from the rear bathroom. I didn't go to see what it was. The next thing I remember was you patting me on the shoulder. Thank God you're here. How did you know? Just what did happen?"

The first officer then helped her up and walked with her to the lounge where he guided her into an armchair.

"May I sit down too?"

Her nod was almost indiscernible.

Sitting down he asked, "Would you like a cup of tea?" He thought that this would give her time to regain some composure.

This time the nod was clear.

"Where is the kitchen?"

She moved as if to get up.

"No, no, you stay there and rest. I'll go and make it."

He didn't ask again where the kitchen was. It wouldn't be hard to find.

"Milk and sugar?" he asked, leaving the room.

"Two sugars, no milk, thank you." The voice was a little stronger now.

Fifteen minutes later he returned. He had been upstairs and seen the body and then been out and helped his colleague release Martin McKay and lower him quivering to the ground. They had both come back into the house together, he to make the tea and talk to Rosemary, he had put the kettle on before going outside, and the other one to get a blanket to cover Mark until the ambulance arrived.

"Here's your tea."

She reached and took it. She held the cup tightly with both hands as if she was gaining some measure of comfort from the heat. He could see by the tea cup that the shaking had not completely stopped.

"Do you feel up to answering a few questions?"

She felt better now. The presence of the police had restored her feeling of security and the tea had also had a calming effect on her. She was still totally bewildered about what had happened and felt that her home had been desecrated, but her strength of will was returning and she felt that she could now at least cope with the situation.

"Yes, officer. I feel a lot better now."

"First, I shall need your name."

"Rosemary Van der Velde."

"Thank you Mrs. Van der Velde. I'm Bernie Matthews by the way. Please call me Bernie." He hoped that by being more personal she would be able to relax more.

She nodded.

"Do you live here alone?"

Again she nodded.

"And no one else was here last night?"

This time she shook her head.

"From what you said earlier I take it that you were not witness to any of the events that happened outside of your bedroom door."

"No, thankfully I was not."

"All you heard was the shot and the scream?"

"That's right."

"Could you tell me how soon the scream followed the shot?"

She didn't look too sure.

"Was it immediately afterwards?" he added to try to help her memory. It seemed to work.

"No, actually there was a gap of," she paused as she tried to recollect, "of perhaps two or three minutes."

"Did you hear anything else?"

"No, nothing. I then opened the door, more out of fear than anything else. I felt that I had to get downstairs, that somehow I would be safe down there. The next thing I was aware of was of you being with me."

"Did you call the police?"

"No, I don't think so. I wasn't being too rational. As I said, the only thought in my head was to get downstairs, nothing else occurred to me."

"I can relate to that," he said, "I need only ask you a couple more questions at this time."

She looked at him, wondering just what was coming as his tone had changed slightly.

"Do you own a gun?"

"Yes, I do. I have a license for it," she added quickly.

"What kind of gun is it?"

"It's only a small Smith & Wesson. It's quite old."

"Where do you keep it?"

"In the safe, behind the picture over there."

She pointed over his left shoulder.

"May I see it?"

She stood up and walked over to it. Pulling the picture away from the wall she revealed a small safe. She turned the combination lock several times and opened the door. He was watching over her shoulder. There were several papers and maybe two thousand pounds in cash. She moved the papers and the gun appeared. She reached for it.

"Please don't touch it. Our forensics people will need to check it first."

She looked inquiringly at him.

"Just to rule it out," he assured her. "It was locked in the safe, I saw that, but as it is a weapon that was at a crime scene it has to be checked out, just to eliminate it from our inquiries … a matter of procedure."

"Yes, I understand, but I've never even fired it since I bought it."

"Would you mind leaving the safe open? My officers will need to see everything when they arrive."

She looked doubtful.

"You needn't worry. They will look at nothing except the gun."

He thought that she still seemed reluctant, but she did agree.

They were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock and a shouted "hello" from the hallway. Neither of them had heard the car arrive.

Bernie went out into the hallway and was surprised to find Inspector Gavin Groves and Sergeant Bill Allington had turned up so soon.

"What's happened here, Bernie?" was the only greeting he received from the Inspector. The Sergeant aimed a friendly, though curt, nod at him accompanied by a half smile.

Bernie ushered them back towards the open front door, away from the lounge and Rosemary.

"Mrs. Van der Velde is in the lounge," he explained quietly.

He then went over everything he knew and everything that Rosemary had told him. "It appears initially to me, sir, that it looks like a robbery gone wrong, yet how or why the shooting occurred mystifies me. The one thing that did come across though is that the lady was not involved in any way."

"Well on first impressions Bernie I tend to agree with your summation," said Groves. "I take it that nothing has been touched?"

"No, sir, apart from freeing Martin McKay."

At that point more flashing lights came down the driveway as a second ambulance arrived.

Gerald was becoming more concerned as the minutes slowly passed. He knew that he could not yet go round or even telephone. He would go round the minute the activity died down and he saw headlights heading away from the Manor. He now considered himself and Rosemary to be friends and as a friend he felt that it was his place to offer comfort regardless of what had occurred. In any case he had to know what had happened for his own peace of mind.

As Mark McKay's body was being stretchered out to the second ambulance, Groves turned to Bernie, "Better introduce me to Mrs. Van der Velde Bernie, so that we can get this over with and leave her in peace for the rest of the night."

Bernie led Groves and Bill Allington into the lounge. Rosemary was sitting in the chair that Bernie had helped her into earlier.

"Mrs. Van der Velde …"

She turned and looked at him.

"This is Inspector Groves and Sergeant Allington."

Groves moved towards her, hand extended. As she took his hand he said "I'm sorry to keep you up, but we have to ask you a few questions."

"That's all right Inspector, I fully understand. Please, sit down," she again extended her arm, this time towards the other chairs.

They both sat down in unison, almost as if they had rehearsed it. Groves re-iterated his apologies for keeping her up and then asked her to repeat what she had told Bernie.

"You heard nothing before the noise outside your bedroom door? I mean, no sound of anyone breaking in?"

"No, nothing."

"After the shot, did you hear anything further?"

Again he tried to prompt an answer. "Did you hear anyone running away, any doors banging, footsteps on the stairs, or anything of that nature?"

"No, all I heard was a thump, which I presumed was the man falling down after he had been shot."

"I see," but he didn't really. "May I take a look at your gun?"

"It's in the safe," she said, simultaneously pointing to the safe.

"Sergeant… "

Allington got up and went over to the safe. As he was doing so, Groves remained seated.

"We have to take it away with us to have it checked for fingerprints and to ascertain whether it was the," he paused, not wanting to us the word murder, as he could see that she was still very distressed, "weapon used on the victim." It wasn't the best, but it was all he could come up with.

Bill Allington had placed the gun in a plastic bag and was now sitting back down with them.

Groves had taken only a fleeting glance at it.

"Having seen the wound I can say with relative certainty that it was not caused by this gun, but we still have to take it. I'll return it to you in a couple of days."

She merely gave a slight nod of acceptance.

"I really do not want to impose further, but we really should take a look around."

"Go ahead, Inspector, I don't feel that I shall get any more sleep tonight anyway."

They stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door to behind them.

"You and Ted may as well shoot off now, Bernie. Thanks for your efforts, we'll compare notes tomorrow."

The two uniformed men headed for the door. "Oh," Groves said, causing them both to stop in their tracks, "drop this off at the lab for us will you?" he said taking the gun from the sergeant. "Tell them I'm pretty sure that it's not the murder weapon."

"I think you're right, sir. The wound was much too big for a small calibre weapon like this one."

Groves turned to his sergeant. "Ok Bill, let's see if we can find anything."

They went up to the toilet where Mark had gained entry and where Martin had been trapped. There was blood all over both the inside and outside of the window sill. There were also several streams running down the wallpaper beneath the window, some of which had reached the floor. All the others had dried out at various distances from the floor.

The window was open.

Bill Allington pulled it down.

"Hey Guv, look at this."

"What have you found?"

"This window, it works perfectly. It slides up and down as it should."

"So I see." said Groves, as he watched the demonstration.

"My point is, they found Martin McKay trapped between the bottom of the window and the sill. He couldn't free himself, the window was stuck solid, yet now it's in good working order. There's no way it should have slammed down on his fingers and there's no way he shouldn't have been able to free himself when it did."

"You know Bill, I don't like the way this one's going. The woman was on her own, Mark McKay was shot by someone else while his brother was outside, and now this. I'm beginning to get a bad feeling. Either we're missing something or there's something very, very odd going on. Let's have another word with Mrs. Van der Velde and then we'll leave it till the light of day."

Groves knocked on the lounge door and opened it without waiting for a reply. Rosemary was where they had left her, but they knew she had moved because the safe was now closed.

"We can do nothing more tonight so we will leave you alone until tomorrow. We may find something in daylight. In the meantime could I ask you, not right now obviously, to check whether anything is missing or not."

He could see that Rosemary was about to question him.

"If anything is missing it would show that the McKay brothers were not alone. I think they were but I would prefer that you check."

"I will," she said, rising. "Let me see you out and then I can lock the door behind you."

She led the way down the hallway and opened the front door for them. They were a couple of yards behind her and were surprised when, as she opened the door, she recoiled.

Allington leapt by her and grabbed hold of the man. It took her a few seconds to realise that it was Gerald.

"It's okay Sergeant, it's my neighbour."

"I'm sorry, sir," he apologised as he released Gerald.

Gerald brushed himself down. Both policemen and Rosemary looked inquiringly at him.

"I was worried. I heard screams earlier and what could have been a shot. The police came round to me so I knew that you were all right," he looked at Rosemary, "but I was sitting over there imagining all kinds of things. In the end I just had to come round to see if I could help in any way."

"Thank you Gerald. Please come in for awhile and I'll put the kettle on."

The policemen stood hesitantly.

"It's all right gentlemen, Mr. Arding is not only a neighbour but also a friend. At this moment I value his company."

"Very good, we'll see you tomorrow," said Groves. "C'mon Bill there's nothing more we can do at the moment."

It wasn't long before dawn, but she knew what he meant.

"Would you like tea or coffee, Gerald?" she asked as she led him into the kitchen.

He noticed that she looked pale and only just resisted asking her there and then what had happened, but decided to wait until they were sitting down.

"I'd prefer a cup of tea."

"Sit down, please, it won't take long."

He sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar while she turned on the kettle and got the cups ready. It only took a couple of minutes to boil. It must have been half warm already he thought as she quietly made the tea, adding the milk and sugar as she asked Gerald how he took it.

She handed him his cup but did not sit down herself. "Let's go into the lounge, shall we?" Without waiting for a reply she made her way out of the kitchen.

Gerald followed.

She sat down slowly ensuring that she remained well wrapped in her dressing gown.

As he sat down he saw that she was even more shaken up than he had at first thought.

"Well, Gerald, I suppose you must have heard the noise and seen the activity?"

"Yes, I did, but I came round because I was worried about you."

She looked at him for a few seconds, realising that his concern was genuine.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

He didn't ask anything. He merely waited for her to tell him. He could see that whatever it was would not be easy for her.

As she slowly recounted the night's events he saw that she was close to tears. He felt he should go over and put an arm around her, but didn't. Although he considered them to be friends he was of the opinion that the relationship had not yet reached the point where any physical contact would be prudent especially as she wasn't even dressed.

He continued to listen intently, his face showing increased amazement as her story progressed. When she finished he was speechless, just sitting shaking his head. As his head cleared, thoughts came flooding to him.

"There must have been somebody else in the house."

"I thought so too, but the police so far can find no evidence to show that."

I've got to stop shaking my head he thought as he realised he was doing it again.

"But he didn't shoot himself and even if he had, there would have been a gun by the body."

"I know."

"Did the police search the house thoroughly?"

"Yes, they assured me that there was no chance of anyone else being here. They checked all the outhouses and the garage."

He couldn't help shaking his head again.

"Did they come up with any theory?"

"Not really, all they said was that the two brothers were obviously here to rob me, but apart from that they appear to be totally perplexed. They are coming back in the daylight just in case they missed anything, but they didn't sound hopeful."

He looked at his watch. "It's going to be daylight soon. You try to get some rest. I'll sit with you until the police come back. I don't think that you should be on your own yet."

"Thank you. I don't feel that I will get any rest, but I could certainly do with the company."

She tried to smile but didn't quite succeed.

"Here, let me get more tea," he said, suddenly noticing that neither one of them had taken even a sip from the now tepid drinks.

She did not protest so he picked up both cups. In the kitchen he threw the contents of both cups in the sink and quickly rinsed them with hot water.

This time he knew that the water in the kettle was almost hot. It took less than a minute to boil. He poured water into both cups, adding tea bags and sugar to both and milk to his.

As the milk hit the tea it lingered on the surface for a moment. Gerald picked up the teaspoon to stir it and as he looked at it, the milk seemed to spell out vaguely the word 'go.'

For a moment he felt nervous but then he dismissed it. It was just his nerves after what Rosemary had just told him. In any case the milk always made shapes when it's first added.

He took the tea back to the lounge. He smiled when he saw that Rosemary was asleep.

She really needs that he thought as he sat back down to wait with her.

Chapter Twelve

Rosemary had catnapped and had eventually given up trying to sleep at just gone eight. She had then gone upstairs, showered and dressed, by which time Connie had arrived.

She had heard nothing of the previous night's events and Rosemary had asked her if she would be good enough to cook breakfast for her and Gerald and then she could have the rest of the day off, with full pay of course.

Connie didn't argue. She realized that something was amiss but didn't ask as she knew that Rosemary would tell her in due course.

It didn't take long for her to find out that it was something serious.

She had cleared away after breakfast, which had been a very quiet affair, and was leaving to go home just before ten when she met Inspector Groves and Bill Allington at the front door.

She knew who they were immediately as Bill Allington attended the same church as she and her family.

"Good morning, Mrs. Burtone," he greeted her, realising that she was leaving as had her coat on and her handbag on her arm.

"Mr. Allington."

"Good morning," Groves added his greeting as he walked on and rapped on the front door.

"It's Connie, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"I'm Bill. Do you think I could ask you a few questions before you go?"

She was in no hurry so readily agreed, hopeful that it would shed a little light on what was going on.

At the door, Groves' rapping was answered by Gerald, who ushered him in, leaving Connie outside with Bill Allington.

"Mrs. Van der Velde tells me that you have been with her for quite some time."

She didn't have time to reply.

"So I guess you know her as well as anyone."

It was both a statement and question.

This time she was able to reply.

"Yes."

"Have you noticed anything strange lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"Has she been herself? Has anyone been hanging around? Anything whatsoever, no matter how insignificant it may appear."

She didn't hesitate.

"No, nothing, at least not until this morning. Even though I don't have any idea what it is, I know that something is wrong, isn't it?"

He wasn't forthcoming.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything at the moment. All I can do is assure you that Mrs. Van der Velde is fine and that you should continue exactly as before. She will probably explain it all to you herself. Well, that's all I need to know right now. You have a well-earned day off."

With that he smiled at her and turned and followed Groves into the house. He followed the sound of voices down the hallway and subsequently to the lounge.

Groves was sitting in the chair that Rosemary had been sitting on, on their previous visit. Rosemary and Gerald were on one of the sofas facing him. Groves was talking as he went in.

". . . look around ourselves before the crime scene people get here. They won't be long and they have special equipment that may well pick up something that Sergeant Allington and I may miss."

"Feel free to go where you wish Inspector."

"Thank you Mrs. Van der Velde. We won't be long and I promise you we will not make a mess."

"I'm sure you won't."

"Let's have a look outside Bill," he said when they got into the hallway. "I don't think we'll find anything inside and now at least we can see outside."

They walked round to the window where Martin McKay had been found.

"Look at that," Groves pointed up to the window.

"More blood?"

"No, not that." Look at the window sill. The edge is badly splintered. That window must have come down with some force. It couldn't have come down that hard without someone, and I mean someone strong, shoving it down. That rules out Rosemary Van der Velde."

"So you now think that there was someone else involved?"

"I don't know what to think, Bill. To be honest I really don't have a clue."

"Let's just hope crime scene can find something."

They heard tyres on the gravel. "And that is more than likely them. Come on, let's go and fill them in."

They told the crime scene officers all they knew and then returned to Rosemary and Gerald. Gerald was using the telephone in the hallway and they picked up enough of the conversation to realise that he was telling someone what had happened.

They left him to it.

Rosemary had not moved. "Did you notice whether anything was missing, ma'am?"

"I did check, Inspector, but as far as I could see nothing has even been moved. However I really wasn't very thorough, I just did not feel like doing anything."

"That's very understandable. If you do find anything please give myself or Sergeant Allington a call. You have our number?"

"I do," she replied as they both stood up.

"There's nothing else for us to do until the crime scene officers have finished, so until we get their report we will leave you in peace."

They left the room and nodded their farewells to Gerald who was still on the telephone.

They had been gone for several minutes before Gerald replaced the receiver and rejoined Rosemary.

"Michael and Ruth are coming down tonight," he said, "they were very concerned and will stay with you as long as necessary."

"But Michael has patients to see."

"He said that none of his appointments were so serious that they could not be re-scheduled."

"That's so good of him."

"Yes it is, but by talking to him I could tell that nothing was going to stop them from coming anyway."

"You've been very kind too, Gerald. I'm so pleased that you stayed with me. I would have been so afraid on my own."

That pleased him. He smiled as broadly as he deemed appropriate. "Any time I can be of help, you only have to ask."

She changed the subject and, looking at her watch said, "would you like to stay for lunch?"

"I'd love to, but only if I can help you to prepare it."

The crime scene investigators were at the Manor for nearly three hours. They had been very fastidious but had found nothing more than Groves and Allington had found. They had a few samples to take back to the lab but felt that they would come to nothing. They were in agreement with Groves and Allington that it was one of the strangest cases they had ever encountered.

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