Parting of the Waves Page 8

  “So does he think there’s a connection with the bear and Sheila’s disappearance?”

  “I think he’s hedging his bets at the moment while he looks more closely at the break-ins. He was working in Whytecliffe at the time so he wasn’t involved with the case. Apparently there were a spate of burglaries which are still unsolved so there’s a lot of paperwork to go through.”

  “I expect he’s going to need to ask Malcolm Cresswell exactly how and where Sheila got hold of the bear.”

  “Yes but he’s going to have to tread very carefully as from what I understand, he’s being treated as a witness, not a suspect.”

  “Yes but Mark’s an experienced copper, I’m sure he’ll know how to play it. So Bridget Honeyman, looks like you’ve cracked the case again.”

  “Hardly. I may have provided a lead but there’s a long way to go yet. I just hope Mark’s boss gives him more time to solve it. I think he’s going to need it.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mark Addison rang Gil and Bridget two days later to tell them that Malcolm Cresswell had disappeared. He had been staying with a former work colleague and his wife at their home in one of Dover’s suburbs. Officers had called at the address the previous morning to bring him in for questioning about the bear but were told by the owner they hadn’t seen him for three days. He’d told his friend he wanted to spend some time alone. Not striking them as being in the least unusual, given what he had been through, the friend hadn’t questioned it nor had he asked for a forwarding address. CID officers had immediately contacted Rachel Cresswell and her brother Jamie but neither had seen their father for almost a week. Coincidentally, Malcolm Cresswell had telephoned both of his children on the morning he left his friends’ home but had made no mention of his plans to either of them.

  When asked if their father had any other relatives or friends he might have gone to, both Rachel and Jamie mentioned their mother’s sister Shirley, a widow, who lived just outside York. However Rachel added that Shirley was on a three month visit to her daughter in Vancouver. Her aunt had of course wanted to return home as soon as she heard about what had happened to Sheila but she fallen and hurt her back and was in traction in hospital. Neither Rachel nor her brother knew of any other friends that their father might have turned to. Besides, as Rachel pointed out, if her father said he wanted to be alone, he was more than likely staying in an out-of-the-way B&B somewhere.

  York CID had called on Shirley Wheeler’s home and having got no reply, spoke to neighbours who confirmed what Rachel had said about her aunt being in Canada. Mark Addison had had no choice but to issue an arrest warrant for Malcolm Cresswell in connection with the disappearance of his wife. Rachel and Jamie had both taken the news very badly and did their best to assure the Chief Inspector that their father had been devoted to their mother and would never harm her in a million years.

  “Well I guess that’s it then until they find him or he gives himself up” Gil said as he and Bridget were enjoying coffee and biscuits in the kitchen.

  “What a stupid man, if he’s innocent of course, running away like this can’t do him any good. If he’s guilty though I suppose you can’t blame him for trying to avoid arrest. I still think that bear has something to do with it but for the life of me I can’t figure out what.”

  “Me neither. Do you remember what I said a few days ago about the bear’s owner tracking Sheila down after he’d seen her with it in that photo? We both thought it a bit far-fetched at the time but now that Malcolm Cresswell had gone missing, maybe we weren’t so far off the mark after all.”

  “If the bear had been one of those very valuable ones I can see how that might drive the owner to seek revenge, but it wasn’t. Ok, £1,000 isn’t to be sneezed at but I can’t see someone killing for it. That makes no sense at all.”

  “Unless the owners undervalued it when they insured it. Maybe it was one of the expensive makes and they didn’t realise what they had.”

  “Yes but when I googled them, the Steiff bears all have buttons in their ears. Sheila’s definitely had a tag with a serial number so I don’t think that’s the case at all. But what we’ve forgotten Gil” Bridget said after a pause to open a new packet of biscuits, “even if it was one of the expensive bears, it doesn’t explain why Malcolm Cresswell was trying to pass an imposter off as his wife on that ferry.”

  “You’re right Bridge. We’ve got too fixated on that blasted bear and have taken our eyes off what started all this.”

  “Do you know Gil, I really think we need to leave this to Mark and his team. You know I love delving into a mystery but for some reason I don’t want to get involved in this one. I can’t help feeling there’s something going on here that frightens me and I’d rather just steer clear and leave it to the professionals. What do you think?”

  “Well you know me, I’ve always gone along with these er, I suppose adventures you might call them, that we’ve been involved with because you have usually been quite keen to play Miss Marple. But if you want to hang up your pipe and deerstalker, that’s more than fine with me. Anything for an easy life.”

  “I don’t quite see Miss Marple as a smoker and I think she probably preferred a neat little cloche hat to a deerstalker, but I get your point” Bridget said with a smile.

  “I don’t suppose we’ll hear much more from Mark now, not until they find Malcolm Cresswell maybe. After all, he’s gone out on a limb to involve us, which we know is against all the rules, and as we’ve done our bit, I guess that’s us out of the picture for now. There’s a couple of things I need to go through with Mick so a bit of time to ourselves suits me fine. What are you going to do with yourself, any plans?”

  “Not really. I need to reorganize my recipe file and I thought I’d make a batch of loaves for the freezer, but apart from that, it’s back to the old routine.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Bridget lied. She did have a plan, it had been simmering away on the back burner for a while now, waiting for an opportune moment. Now that their involvement in the Cresswell investigation had come to an unexpected lull, it seemed as good a time as any to execute it.

  Bridget’s inability to drive had been praying on her mind since they returned from France. Even before their last trip, it had been nagging away at her. Eighteen months ago when in France, Gil had suffered from a particularly painful bad back episode that would have made the long drive to the UK impossible. Bridget had panicked that they would be “stuck” until he had recovered enough to get behind the wheel again. Whilst not being unduly worried about an enforced stay, it wasn’t as if either of them had a boss champing at the bit for their return, it got Bridget thinking. What if something more serious happened to Gil while they were in France? What if he were hospitalised, or worse? Then she would truly be stuck. Of course they had friends in St Rémy who would rally round but how would she get home?

  As Gil had thankfully recovered, she put it to the back of her mind once more, promising herself she would think about it “one day”. There would be plenty of time to get behind the wheel, she told herself. Then, as with many things in life, it got pushed aside and eventually slipped off her radar together. Until now.

  Bridget didn’t believe in coincidences. So when that morning’s Coastal Courier fell open at a page with an article about a new intensive driving school that had recently opened just outside Whytecliffe, Bridget pounced on it with relish. She read how students would take the theory test, followed by five days of lessons and then take their practical driving test on the last afternoon. Bridget had no doubt that this was “a sign” that she should bite the bullet and book herself in.

  However Bridget was not at all convinced that even with an intensive course of lessons, that she would pass her test at the first attempt. After all, it had taken Gil three goes and he had practically “lived” cars from early childhood. She would much prefer to keep her lessons secret (which ruled out attending the driving school in Whytecliffe), so if she didn’t pass, she wouldn’t be face
d with the shame of failure, or with Gil’s teasing. Well not exactly teasing but she knew he would tell her in no uncertain terms that she had left it “far too late” or that she wasn’t “cut out” to be a driver. Worst of all though would be his telling she had been very “brave’ when he really meant “foolish”. She couldn’t face that and when an idea popped into her head, she headed for the study and fired up the computer.

  When Gil arrived home just before lunch, after a few hours at the garage, Bridget told him she had a surprise for him. Their cousin Jane had rung and invited them both to stay for a few days. Jane Harrison, her Australian husband Neil and twins Tabitha and Toby had only recently come into their lives. As such, they were still feeling their way with their new-found family and relished any opportunity to get to know each other better. Bridget knew very well however that Gil’s diary for the week she had in mind was unusually full with a couple of trade fairs in the north of the country that he wouldn’t want to miss on any account.

  “Sorry Bridge, but I can’t make that week. But there’s no reason why you can’t go on your own. You and Jane can have a few girly days together, especially as you said Neil would be in New York for the week.” Neil was a wizard in the field of software design and trips to the United States were a regular occurrence for him.

  Bridget winced. She’d never had “girly” days even when she had still been a girl and had no intention of starting now. But still, it meant Gil hadn’t been suspicious, but then again, why on earth should he be, she thought to herself. “Ok, if you’re sure, I’ll call Jane back and ask if she could pick me up from the station on Sunday evening” she said, trying to hide a smile.

  *

  Nine days later as arranged, Gil picked Bridget up from Whytecliffe West station. Unbelievably for a relatively small town, there was also a “North” and a “Central”.

  “So how was Devon?” Gil asked as he put Bridget’s bag in the boot. “Sorry I didn’t have much time to chat when you were away, but you know how things were this week.”

  “That’s ok, I was pretty busy all week too actually. Devon was wonderful, as usual, although the weather could have been a bit better. Oh and Jane sends her love of course and hopes she’ll get to see you soon.”

  Gil took Bridget’s bag upstairs when they got home, leaving her to unpack while he made a pot of tea. “I bought a Madeira cake yesterday, there’s still some left if you fancy a slice” he said as Bridget joined him in the living-room later.

  “No thanks, I had quite a big lunch.” But truthfully it wasn’t a big lunch that had stifled Bridget’s appetite, in fact there hadn’t been a lunch at all, she’d been far too nervous to face food and now she was far too excited to eat. “Gil, I’ve got something to tell you” but seeing a look of horror creep over her brother’s face she quickly added “don’t worry, it’s good news, or at least I think it is.”

  Gil looked incredulously at his sister as she told him that, yes, she had stayed with Jane every evening but no, she hadn’t spent her stay doing “girly” things. Instead she had spent every day undergoing an intensive driving course. Earlier that day, she had sat, and passed, her driving test. At the first attempt.

  Bridget watched as Gil’s mouth almost dropped to the floor with shock. In his haste to ask her a million questions, he forgot to congratulate her. Bridget didn’t really take offence, she was used to her brother’s insensitivities, but instead put it down to his feeling a teensy bit narked that she’d done it at her first attempt.

  “Have you got anything on tomorrow?” Bridget asked, after Gil recovered his composure.

  “Not really, I was just going to give the lawn a bit of a trim. Why?”

  “Because I want to buy a car.”

  “A car? But you’ve just passed your test!”

  “Exactly, give the man a coconut. What do you think I was going to do with my little bit of paper? Frame it and hang it on the wall? Of course I want to buy a car and I would like to do it tomorrow.”

  “Ok, fine, I just thought you might… Oh never mind, I’ll give Ian a call.”

  Ian King, son of Dave of “Dave King Motors” fame was Gil’s ex-brother-in-law. Gil had started a Saturday job at the glossy showroom and workshop when he was still in school. Recognising his natural talent, Dave had no hesitation in offering Gil an apprenticeship when he left school. Gil not only found a life-long career at Dave King’s, he found a wife too. Gil’s marriage to Dave’s only daughter Pamela had been disastrous but mercifully short. Although Gil’s marriage ended a long time ago, Gil and Ian, whilst never close friends, had never lost the mutual respect they had for each other’s professionalism.

  Dave King had long since passed on to the great showroom in the sky but not before handing the business over to Ian. Dave had the reputation for being a rare breed in his field, an honest and charming second-hand car salesman. Thankfully, Ian had inherited much of his father’s charisma and honesty, but mercifully not his looks. Ian owed his chiselled features to his beloved mother Joanie, who, although now in her late eighties, still kept a keen, watchful eye on how her son was running things.

  “Gil, lovely to hear from you. It’s been a while, everything ok?” Ian asked cheerfully.

  “Yes we’re fine thanks. Listen Ian, Bridget has just passed her driving test and is looking for a little run-around. Nothing fancy, just something she can use to get to the shops and back.” If Bridget had overheard any of this conversation, it’s unlikely that Gil would still be drawing breath. “She’s pretty keen to get on the road so we thought we’d call in at the showroom tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s great, please pass on my congratulations. I’d love to see you both but I won’t be around I’m afraid Gil. It’s Annabel’s fortieth and we’re having a bash at the golf-club. Pop in later if you get chance, it’s a buffet so there’ll be plenty of food. Annabel always thinks she’s feeding the five thousand. You know what she’s like.”

  Gil did indeed know what Annabel was like. At twelve years younger than Ian, the critics had been all too quick to brand the blonde ex-model a “trophy wife”. But fifteen years and three children later, the couple seemed as blissfully happy together as they had been on their wedding day.

  “Not to worry, I know the sort of thing we’re looking for, and thanks for the invite. Well pop in if we get chances but if not, wish Annabel a happy birthday from us both.”

  “Thanks Gil, I’ll pass that on. Gordon Collingwood will be the senior salesman on duty tomorrow so I’ll give him a heads up and tell him to expect you.”

  *

  Bridget couldn’t sleep with excitement at the thought of getting her very own car. She had no idea what she wanted, Gil would advise her on that, but she hoped she would know when she saw it. She wanted to fall in love.

  Gil and Bridget arrived at the showroom just after ten. “Let’s look around outside first Bridge, before we speak to Gordon, so we can give him an idea of what it is you’re looking for.”

  “Ok, that makes sense” Bridget replied as she cast her eye over row upon row of cars of all shapes, sizes and colours. As she wandered between the rows she felt she couldn’t see the wood for the trees. Nothing leapt out at her. So when Gil shouted out “over here” she was relieved that he seemed to be having more luck.

  “What do you think Bridge?” he asked as he beckoned her over to have a look at a little dark blue hatchback. “I was thinking you don’t want anything too big, something that’s not too difficult to park. This one has less than 10,000 on the clock and it’s a good price too.”

  Bridget’s face was impassive. “It’s ok I suppose, very practical as you say, but it doesn’t grab me.”

  “What do you mean “grab you” it’s a car, you’re not marrying the damn thing!”

  “Don’t be so tetchy Gil. This will be the first car I’ve ever owned and I want to feel an emotional attachment. Let’s carry on looking.”

  After another twenty minutes of “looking”, Gil was growing impatient. �
��To be honest Bridge, I haven’t seen anything better than the first car we looked at. You could so a lot worse you know. Why don’t we find Gordon and see if he can do us a deal on the price.”

  Disappointed that she hadn’t fallen in love, Bridget reluctantly agreed. Maybe expecting to feel emotional over a pile of metal was asking too much.

  As they entered the showroom, Gil spotted Gordon Collingwood with a customer. He held up the fingers of both hands to indicate he would be ten minutes. Gil sat down in the very smart waiting area and picked up a magazine while Bridget announced she would have a browse around.

  That’s when she saw it. Almost hidden by a fake palm tree in the far corner, Bridget raced to the spot. This is the one, she said to herself, her heart beating as fast as a love-struck teenager at the sight of her handsome beau.

  “Gil, over here” she called excitedly. “I’ve found it, come and look!”

  Gil put down his magazine and the coffee that he’d just bought from the machine and wandered over to where Bridget was now waving frantically.

  As he neared, his face was a picture as he watched her tenderly stroking the paintwork of a very red, and no doubt very fast, open-top sports car.

  “You’re joking aren’t you? You can’t buy this, you’ve only just passed your flipping test” he spluttered.

  “Oh I know all that, but she’s a beauty, you have to admit. Can you go and find that sales chappie. I want to take her out for a spin.”

  Gil was almost lost for words. “Bridget, even I would baulk at driving this thing. Do you know how fast it can go?”

  “I do actually. 0-60 in less than six seconds, according to the brochure on the front seat.”