New Directions Part15

https://www.abctales.com/story/ed-crane/new-directions-14 ....

15

It didn’t take long to wind up the meeting. Christine summarised our discussions and agreed to open a file on Celia’s place in the customer data base for completion when Dev returned with the necessary paperwork.

Dev fussed around making sure he had all the forms and references to change Celia’s house over to Daniels. I thought he was prevaricating, but soon realised he was a stickler for detail, which kind of surprised me considering the laxity regarding Celia’s property.

Bored with waiting for Dev, I went out to the reception. I wanted to speak to Maggs. I started with a smile, ‘Margaret, could I have a word?’

After a sideways wince she nodded, ‘What d’you want?’

‘Christine and Julian told me how hard you worked with them to find this piece of crap. I want to thank you, and bury the hatchet so to speak. We don’t have to like each other, but you deserve my respect for what you’ve done to help.’ I smiled again, ‘From now on it’ll be Margaret and no more snide remarks, I promise.’

She took my waiting hand like she was picking up something that smelled bad. ‘If you find him and give him what he deserves you’ll get my respect.’ She actually smiled. I couldn’t help noticing her teeth were film star white. She had a strong grip.

‘I will . . . and he will.’

Dev came out to reception with a new folder in his hand. He wore a black woollen mid-length jacket – the sort of thing people used to call a car coat when I was a kid, ‘Are you ready Terence?’

We decided I would drive since I was familiar with the route. When we finished the visit to the cottage I would drop Dev back in Tring to finalise the changeover.

I needed Dev to know about my suspicions about the robbery and how he’d react to the news. If he decided to go to the law that was my cue to butt out. I had an idea. ‘It’s just gone eleven,’ I said when we got in my car, ‘it’ll be lunchtime by the time we get there. Why don’t we stop somewhere near Celia’s village and have something to eat? I noticed a couple of decent looking pubs around there yesterday. It might be better to talk over a meal rather than trying to have a serious conversation while I’m driving.’

‘What do you mean serious, Terence?’

‘Well it is pretty important. I don’t really want to discuss it while I’m driving.’

‘Why didn’t you mention this in the office?’

‘You should know first. Anyway I wouldn’t think your colleagues need to know . . . probably better they didn’t really.’

‘I can’t think of anything they shouldn’t know after what we’ve done today.’

‘I guess. . . . Well you can decide after we’ve had lunch, Dev.’

‘I’m not really hungry, Terence. Let’s get this thing with Miss Bowes sorted out first then we can grab sandwich on the way back. I want to return to the office as soon as we can.’

I said, ‘OK we talk later,’ and put a little extra pressure on the pedal under my right foot. The g-force pinned Dev to his seat for a few seconds – conversation over.

The rest of the journey was quicker than I’d intended, not macho, but quite exhilarating. It quelled my pissed-off-ness. I rarely use the V6 power my car’s motor has on offer. I like to stay just a touch over the speed limit, it doesn’t raise the curiosity of those boys in Battenberg Beemers – I call it the Goldilocks speed.

When we arrived in Maplebury I parked in the same place as before hardly believing it’d only been just over 24hours ago. More unbelievable was the scruffy long wheelbase Merc. van hastily marked Umuve Ltd parked outside Celia’s cottage. Word had gone out faster than I thought possible. Barry Stokes had just made the kind of enemy no one wants.

‘Wait in the car, this ain’t good.’ Dev was still getting his bearings after the drive, he looked as though he waking from a dream. His mouth flapped open in a silent question like a goldfish. ‘Wait here, Dev.’

I jumped out the car collecting the antique police truncheon lying in the door pocket on the way. I found it in a charity shop years ago. I’d meant to stop taking it everywhere I went, but old habits and all that. . . .