The Carlswick Affair (The Carlswick Mysteries Book 1) Page 19

  “Shit.” The seriousness of the situation suddenly hit James. “I can see why you don’t trust me,” he said. He paused thinking. “So it was you guys who came to my house last night.”

  DI Marks nodded.

  “Was it the Van Gogh you were after or is there something else?” James asked.

  “We are not at liberty to reveal any details at this stage,” DI Marks said eyeing James suspiciously. “Is there something else that we should be looking for?”

  “Stephanie,” James said, getting annoyed. “We are wasting time talking about me, when you guys need to be out there looking for her.”

  “That’s happening as we speak, but you can help us too. Is it possible that your brother has her?” DI Marks asked, calmly.

  James went to say, no, but paused, the word dying on his lips.

  “Alex had me trying to stop Stephanie looking into our family. He said she was drawing attention to him and he had a big deal on that he didn’t want jeopardised,” he said eventually.

  He received a number of disbelieving looks.

  “Ok. I know it looks suspicious, but if he wants to keep attention off himself, surely kidnapping Steph isn’t the way to do that?” James said.

  “Regardless, we need to establish Stephanie’s whereabouts today. Can you work with Vince,” Marks asked. James nodded as Vince beckoned to him. Together they spent the next ten minutes writing a time line on a whiteboard that had been wheeled in from the conference room.

  “I spoke to her on the phone at around 4:30,” Ellie came up behind Vince and James. She reached for James’ hand and gave it a squeeze. He looked at her surprised and smiled tentatively in return. She gave his hand a tug and pulled him to one side.

  “I thought it wise, given the circumstances, not to tell Max that you spent the night here last night,” she said quietly giving him a knowing look.

  James’ surprise was taken to a whole other level. “How?” he asked.

  Ellie smiled. “I may be old, but I see everything that goes on around here. If it’s any consolation – I believe you,” she said. “I trust Stephanie’s judgement and she has obviously put her faith in you.”

  “Thanks. Remind me not to ever underestimate you,” he replied.

  Max Cooper’s mobile phone rang loudly and the room instantly quietened. He answered it listening carefully. DI Marks raised his eyebrows at him questioningly. Max shook his head.

  “I’m in Carlswick. Family matter. No, I won’t be back up to London for a few days. Can you cover until then?” Max spoke into the phone. “I’m sorry, but Stephanie’s missing, so my priority is finding her. The client will have to wait,” he said.

  He spoke for another minute or so and ended the call frowning. “Peter, my business partner,” he said by way of explanation.

  Flashing lights and the sound of tyres crunching on the gravel outside signalled the arrival of the local police. Ellie showed them in. One was carrying a brick in a plastic evidence bag. Andy was right behind then and James rushed over to greet his friend. Andy introduced himself to Max and Ellie, who both knew his father and asked after him.

  “Thank God you are here,” James whispered to him. “I think they were about to lynch me.” He quickly brought Andy up to speed.

  “Mr Cooper. Has anyone contacted Anna – Stephanie was staying with her over the weekend? Maybe she’s heard from her,” Andy suggested.

  “Good idea Andy,” Max replied. “Do you have her number?”

  “I do, as it happens,” he said pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping a quick text.

  DI Marks broke away from the huddle of people around the dining table.

  “Ok boys,” he said. “I think we have a job for you.” He pointed his finger at James. “I am going out on a limb here and trusting you. If I find that trust to be misplaced, by God – you will go sky high.”

  James and Andy exchanged glances. James raised his chin defiantly and straightening himself up, looked Marks directly in the eye and said, “Ok – what do you want us to do?”

  James and Andy were dispatched to the Manor with instructions to provide an immediate update on Alex’s movements.

  As they were leaving, James’ mobile rang.

  “Have you found her?” Michael asked in a quiet voice. “They just told me that Steph was missing.”

  “No. How are you feeling mate?” James asked.

  “Like someone hit me around the head with a baseball bat. I am guessing that she brought you up to speed. Have you read David’s memoir?” Michael said.

  “No, but Steph read some the original at the library yesterday,” James told him.

  “I can’t remember much of what I read, I’m afraid, but he was investigating your family. There was something about the Manor…” Michael trailed off.

  “Don’t worry – we’ll find her. Text me if you think of anything else,” James said.

  “Ok,” Michael frowned, desperately trying to grasp an elusive piece of information that stayed tantalisingly out of his reach.

  Chapter 29

  Stephanie woke suddenly. She flicked her eyes open and gasped. She was lying uncomfortably on her side and when she tried to move, she found that her feet were bound and her hands were tied behind her. Where was she? Some vague image teased at the edge of her memory, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. She struggled to sit up, but was overcome by a wave of nausea. She flopped back down on the hard canvas bed and looked around her. She was in a dark, damp windowless room. Her memory came back in flashes – car headlights too close, forced to stop, something clamped over her nose and mouth. She shivered; she was cold and very frightened. Slowly the fog in her brain cleared.

  “Hello,” she called. Her voice came out as a crackle. She swallowed and licked her dry lips. She was really thirsty. “Hello,” she tried again. This time her voice was a little stronger.

  There was no answer. The room was partly lit by a single hanging light bulb, which gave off a dim yellowish glow. But she could only see a little way. She peered into the gloom of the far end of the room, but couldn’t make out any shapes or movement.

  She tried sitting up again and as the nausea hit her hard this time, she leaned over the edge of the bed and vomited onto the floor.

  “Ugh,” she spat and lay back down. Her wrists behind her back were sore and each time she moved, she could feel the binds cutting into her skin.

  She took a few deep breaths as the remaining nausea subsided. Think Stephanie, she urged herself.

  She froze as she heard a rustling movement at the edge of the light. A soft pitter patter sounded. Shit – not rats. She forced herself upright, fighting the next wave of nausea and stood up stamping her feet on the ground, careful to avoid the sickly puddle beside the bed.

  Where am I? It looks like a storage room. She looked down at her feet. Her ankles were bound with blue plastic computer cable ties. She scanned the room. It seemed long and was really cold and smelled damp and musty. Along the wall from the foot of the bed was a heavy wooden door. It had an old fashioned round metal door knob and below that an empty key hole.

  She blinked a few times. Her eyes were sore and her contact lenses felt dry. She swallowed trying desperately to calm the panic that was rising, threatening to swamp her.

  I have to get my hands free, she thought frantically. A sudden thought came to her. She looked at the bed. It was an old canvas camping bed with a thin grey blanket on one end. Stephanie sat down carefully on the edge, sliding her hands and wrists under her bottom. She kicked her feet up onto the bed and spent the next few minutes wriggling and struggling to curl her legs up and slide her hands down behind them and under her feet. Feeling her calves cramping painfully, she finally succeeded and flopped down exhausted. At least the exertion meant that she was no longer cold and her hands, although still tied, were in front of her. She lifted them to her face and rubbed at her eyes, which only made them feel worse. Her wrists were also tied with blue plastic cables. The sharp edges had cut in
to her skin and there were little trails of blood running down her arms.

  She forced herself to sit up. Waves of nausea struck again. What is making me sick? She thought desperately, gulping in large breaths of air, waiting for the feeling to subside.

  She looked around. Taking a deep breath she stood and shuffled toward the darkened part of the room. Blinking her eyes to adjust to the gloom, she could make out rows and rows of floor to ceiling shelves that stretched out further than she could see. She shuffled to the first shelf and reached out both hands. Realisation hit her. They weren’t shelves, they were racks. She was in a wine cellar. On the edge of each row of racks were nails, some holding cards. To record the names of the wines, she supposed. She looked down the plastic ties – a nail was exactly what she needed to cut through them. Turning her body side on to the first rack, she began rubbing the plastic tie around her wrists back and forward on the edge of one of the nails. After a minute or so, the plastic made a popping sound. She rubbed harder and the tie began to fray and split. Come on! She urged frantically, and giving a final push, it snapped and her hands came free.

  She leaned against the rack, feeling sick again after the exertion and gently rubbed her sore wrists. Footsteps sounded outside the door. Stricken, she bent and picked up the torn tie and a broken nail lying beside it and quickly shuffled back to the bed and lay down, putting her hands behind her back. She had just closed her eyes when the key turned in the lock and the door was flung open. Heavy footsteps entered the room.

  Sensing someone looking over at her, she resisted the strong urge to open an eye and peek. Instead she strained to listen. It sounded like just one person. He smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and sweat and his breathing was slightly laboured, as though he had been running.

  Obviously satisfied that she was still unconscious, the footsteps retreated and the door closed, key turning to lock it again.

  She lay quietly for another few minutes, gathering her energy and courage to get up again. She thought about her father and wondered if he knew she was missing. Her mother wouldn’t, that was for certain, and probably just as well. Toby – her heart ached. That sparked another thought – I wonder how long I have been here? James. He would be looking for me. The thought gave her strength. She allowed herself a couple of minutes to think about him – the way his lips curled into a smile after he kissed her, the strength in his arms, the passion with which he played his guitar. She tried to remember the song he had written for her, but her head was too foggy to recall any of it. Her heart tightened. There had been so much anger and suspicion between them; she hadn’t had a chance to tell him how she really felt. She had to get out of here and see him again.

  She eased herself up, this time grateful that her arms were free to help. She pulled her feet up on the bed and started sawing at the tie around her ankles with the nail.

  Finally it snapped and her feet were free. Rubbing her throbbing ankles she left the tie on the bed in case she needed to pretend to be unconscious again and crept over to the door. She put her ear to it listening for any sound outside. There was silence, apart from the occasional scratching sound from the wine cellar behind her. After several seconds she put her hand gingerly on the door knob. The metal was cold to her touch. Carefully she turned it. It wouldn’t budge – locked. Crouching down she peered into the keyhole – there was a large key in the lock from the outside.

  Stephanie groaned.

  She sat back down on the edge of the bed to think. In the distance a strange thumping noise sounded. It felt like it was coming from above and below at the same time.

  She took a deep breath.

  Think Stephanie!

  A wine cellar as extensive as this would have to have more than one entrance – I am going to have to go down the row closest to the wall and see if I can find another door, she decided eventually. She shuddered and gathered the courage to walk into the darkness and join the rats.

  Chapter 30

  The Manor was still very quiet when Andy and James arrived. James called out “Hi,” as they walked in through the front door, but was answered only by silence. He tried Alex’s study door – locked. They walked under the stairs and through the passage way to the kitchen. It was in darkness – Grace had clearly finished for the night.

  James flicked his mobile phone open and called Alex again. The call went to straight to voicemail – the phone was either switched off or out of range. Next he called Grace. She answered sounding sleepy.

  “Sorry to disturb you – I know it’s late,” he said, “but you haven’t seen Alex?”

  “No dear, not since this morning,” Grace answered. “You could ask your grandfather except he’s taken a sleeping tablet, so you won’t get much out of him tonight. Can I help with anything?”

  “Stephanie is missing,” James heard his voice catch. He quickly cleared his throat. “You haven’t seen her this evening have you?”

  “No dear,” Gracie said sounding surprised. James could hear her moving in the background. “But I will come right over now.”

  “There’s really no need, Andy’s here with me,” James said, but he knew she would come up from the gatehouse where she lived with her husband, anyway.

  The boys checked the library. There was still an empty dusty square on the wall behind the desk where the Van Gogh had hung.

  James slipped down the hallway to his grandfather’s room. He knocked quietly, and when there was no answer, he turned the door knob and let himself in. The old man was sound asleep. James backed quickly out of the room, so as not to disturb him.

  “Let’s check his study,” James suggested. It wasn’t locked and as the door swung open, he gasped. Along the walls were a number of empty picture hooks and the dusty outlines of where paintings had been hung. Cupboards in the room and drawers on the desk were open and several books had spilled from the bookshelves.

  “Is he always this untidy or have you been burgled?” Andy asked.

  “I don’t know,” James said slowly, “But I would really like to know where the hell Alex is – this doesn’t look good, does it?” He turned to his friend uncertainly.

  “No dude, it doesn’t,” Andy had to concede.

  They closed the door on the mess in the study and went upstairs to James’ bedroom. James called Alex again. And again it went straight to voicemail. This time he left a message: Alex can you give me a call? It’s urgent.

  His next call was to DI Marks to check in. There was still no sign of Stephanie and anxiety levels were rising as time passed. The police had been methodically going through every angle of Stephanie’s disappearance, although the discovery of her blood stained car had put an extra urgency into the search. A team had been dispatched to search the area surrounding the vehicle. It appeared as if she had vanished into thin air.

  James and Andy sprawled on the sofas in James’ bedroom and discussed everything that had happened over the previous few days.

  “I just feel so helpless,” James said jumping up and pacing the room.

  “I know dude, you and me both,” Andy agreed.

  “Everything keeps coming back to Alex, but it could be something else entirely. I mean, her father is reasonably wealthy, so maybe she’s been kidnapped for ransom or maybe it’s just some random event,” James said.

  “That’s looking increasingly unlikely,” Andy said. “Especially with Mike in hospital after a hit and run – two seemingly random events is too much of a coincidence in a small village like this.”

  Grace knocked on the bedroom door a short while later and came in carrying a tray laden with toasted sandwiches, slices of banana cake and a pot of tea. Despite not realising that they were hungry, James and Andy devoured the food, while updating Grace on Stephanie’s disappearance. They left out their suspicions regarding Alex.

  “Do you know if grandfather has been changing things around in his study?” James asked. “It’s awfully messy, which is unusual for him.”

  “No dear – although Alex w
as in there earlier today looking for something,” Grace replied frowning.

  “Do you know what?” James said.

  “No – but if he’s made a mess I’ll have a few words to say to him. You know how your grandfather likes everything to be in its place,” Grace said as she gathered their plates. “Let me know as soon as you have news on Stephanie.”

  Shortly after she had left, the boys heard the crunch of tyres on the driveway outside. Andy jumped up and looked out James’ window. It was dark outside, but the light from the downstairs windows spilled across the driveway, casting ghostly shadows. Andy saw two dark cars pull up, their headlights switching off as they came to a stop in front of the house. The driver and front seat passenger, tall, heavy set men indistinguishable in their dark clothing, leapt out as soon as the car had stopped and opened the rear doors of the vehicle to allow the backseat passengers to alight.

  Andy beckoned for James to join him at the window. Four men got out of the second car. Two took up positions either side of the front entrance and two walked away from the house to the edge of the garden. The boys ducked behind the curtains out of sight as the men donned night vision goggles and scanned the house.

  “What the hell is going on?” James said confused. “I don’t recognise any of them from Steph’s place.”

  Movement at the first car drew their attention. The two backseat passengers, one carrying a briefcase, were walking towards the front door. It was difficult to see in the shadowy driveway, but they were both wearing suits and from his walk one appeared older than the other who followed slightly behind, nervously looking about him.

  “Come on,” James whispered to Andy. “Let’s see who it is.” They sprinted along the passage from James’ room to the top of the main staircase just in time to see Alex ushering the two suited men into his office.

  “Where did he come from?” Andy asked quietly. James shrugged, equally perplexed.

  The second man turned his head slightly looking back into the foyer, just before Alex closed the door. James gasped. It was Sam.