With resignation, James abandoned his search and folded his hands in front of his face. "Of course it's Leo," he said with surprising firmness. "You really must understand that, Mark. You're a godsend to him because your reactions are so predictable. You panic every time he shifts his position, instead of holding your nerve and forcing him to declare himself."
Mark stared at the window and the darkness outside, and his face in reflection had the same hunted look that James had worn for two days. Whoever this man was he had been in the house and knew what Nancy looked like, was probably watching them now. "Perhaps it's you who're the godsend, James," he murmured. "At least consider that your reaction to your son is also entirely predictable."
"Meaning what?"
"Leo is the first person you accuse in any situation."
19
Prue's face, too, looked hunted when she answered the hammering on her front door. A peek through her curtains had shown her the gleam of a pale car in the drive, and she assumed immediately that the police had come for her. She would have pretended she wasn't at home if a voice hadn't shouted: "Come on, Mrs. Weldon. We know you're in there."
She attached the chain and opened the door a couple of inches, peering at the two shadowy figures standing on the doorstep. "Who are you? What do you want?" she asked in a terrified voice.
"It's James Lockyer-Fox and Mark Ankerton," said Mark, jamming his shoe into the gap. "Switch on your porch light and you'll be able to see us."
She pressed her finger to the button, and a little courage returned with recognition. "If this is about serving a writ, I'm not going to accept it. I'm not accepting anything from you," she said rather wildly.
Mark gave an angry snort. "You certainly will. You'll accept the truth. Now let us in, please. We want to talk to you."
"No." She put her shoulder to the door and tried to close it.
"I'm not taking my foot away until you agree, Mrs. Weldon. Where's your husband? This will go a lot faster if we can talk to him as well." He raised his voice. "Mr. Weldon! Will you come to the door, please! James Lockyer-Fox would like to speak with you!"
"He's not here," hissed Prue, leaning her considerable weight against the insubstantial leather of Mark's loafer. "I'm on my own and you're frightening me. I'm going to give you one chance to take your foot away, and if you don't I'll slam the door so hard it'll really hurt you."
She relaxed the pressure briefly and watched the shoe vanish. "Now, go away!" she shouted, shoving against the panels and turning the mortise lock. "I'll call the police if you don't."
"Good idea," said Mark's voice from the other side. "We'll be calling them ourselves if you refuse to speak to us. What do you think your husband will feel about that? He was pretty unhappy when I spoke to him this morning. As far as I could make out, he didn't know about your malicious calls… the whole idea shocked him rigid."
She was breathing heavily from fear and exertion. "The police will be on my side," she panted, bending forward to bring her heaving chest under control. "You're not allowed to terrorize people like this."
"Yes, well, it's a pity you didn't remember that when you started your campaign against James. Or perhaps you think the law doesn't apply to you?" His voice took on a conversational tone. "Tell me… would you have been so vindictive if Ailsa hadn't run away every time she saw you? Isn't that what this is about? You wanted to boast about your chum at the Manor… and Ailsa made it plain she couldn't stand your poisonous tongue." He gave a small laugh. "No, I'm putting the cart before the horse. You were always poisonous… you can't help yourself… you'd have made these calls eventually whether Ailsa lived or died-if only to get your own back for being called Staggerbush behind your back-"
He broke off when he heard Prue's squeal of shock, immediately followed by the rattle of the chain and the mortise turning. "I think I've given her a heart attack," said James, opening the door. "Look at the silly creature. She'll break that chair if she's not careful."
Mark stepped inside and looked critically at Prue who was gasping for air on a delicate wicker seat. "What did you do?" He kicked the door closed with his heel and handed his briefcase to James.
"Touched her on the shoulder. I've never seen anyone jump so high."
Mark stooped to put a hand under her elbow. "Come on, Mrs. Weldon," he said, heaving her to her feet and supporting her with his other arm around her back. "Let's get you onto something more solid. Where's your sitting room?"
"This looks like it," said James, entering a room on the left. "Do you want to put her on the sofa, and I'll see if I can find some brandy?"
"Water might be better." He lowered her onto the padded seat while James returned to the kitchen in search of a glass. "You shouldn't leave your back door unlocked," he told her unsympathetically, hiding his relief as color came into her cheeks. "In these parts it's an invitation to enter."
She tried to say something but her mouth was too dry. Instead she took a swipe at him. She was a long way from dying, he thought, as he stepped out of reach. "You're allowed to use reasonable force only, Mrs. Weldon. You've already broken my foot because you're so damn fat. If you hurt me anywhere else I might just decide to prosecute."
She glared at him before taking the glass James handed her and drinking the water greedily. "Dick'll be so angry about this," she said, as soon as her tongue was loosened. "He'll… he'll…" Her vocabulary deserted her.
"What?"
"Sue you!"
"Is that right?" said Mark. "Let's find out. Does he have a mobile? Can we call him?"
"I'm not telling you."
"His son's number will be in the book," said James, lowering himself into an armchair. "I believe his name's Jack. As far as I recall, the other arm of the business is based in Compton Newton, and the house is on site. He'll know Dick's mobile."
Prue snatched up the phone beside the sofa and smothered it with her arms. "You're not ringing from here."
"Well, I am… but at my expense," said Mark, taking his mobile from his pocket and dialing Directory Inquiries. "Yes, please. Cornpton Newton… surname Weldon…initial J… thank you." He cut the line and redialed.
Prue took another slash at him, trying to knock the phone from his hand.
Grinning, Mark moved farther away. "Yes… hello. Is that Mrs. Weldon? I'm sorry… Belinda. Totally understood… Mrs. Weldon is your mother-in-law-" he lifted an eyebrow at Prue-"and you don't want to be confused with her. I wouldn't either. Yes, my name's Mark Ankerton. I'm a solicitor, representing Colonel Lockyer-Fox. I need to contact your father-in-law as a matter of urgency. Would you know where he is… or if he has a mobile number?" He watched Prue with amusement. "He's with you. Excellent. May I speak to him? Yes, tell him it relates to what we discussed this morning. The Colonel and I are in his house… we came to speak to Mrs. Weldon… but she assures us that her husband will take action if we don't leave. I'd appreciate confirmation of that as it will affect our decision on whether to involve the police."
He tapped his foot on the carpet while he waited. A second or two later he held the phone away from his ear as Dick's voice roared down the line. He made one or two attempts to halt the angry tirade, but it was only when Dick ran out of steam that he was able to jump in. "Thank you, Mr. Weldon. I think I got the gist all right… no, I'd rather you told your wife yourself. Do you want to speak to her now? Right… goodbye." He touched end and dropped the mobile into his pocket. "Dear, dear, dear! You seem to have upset everyone, Mrs. Weldon. There's not much support there, I'm afraid!"