New Directions (30) continued

As I walked back to the station I watched the cloud bank muscle in. By the time I reached the station it was after 4pm and getting prematurely dark, the car park flood-lights already on. Too late to avoid going-home traffic I saw no point rushing up the A34 to join the queue to get on the M40. I pulled into Cheiveley services next to the M4 to fill the gap left by the lunch I missed. I chose a Burger King where I could call Dev in the comfort of their hard wooden seats and flashy adverts for Whoppers © while I ate. I was the only customer at this quiet time but it began to fill up while I chewed the meal I ordered on a vast interactive screen.

‘Celia is a little better, but the bruising is still quite bad,’ Dev replied to my question, ‘I had a problem getting to see her like you warned me. Fortunately the nurse you saw wrote my name on the day log. Celia is still having trouble speaking because of pain medicine. I didn’t stay long, but as I was leaving  Gerald arrived.’

‘The duke? What’s he up to?’ 

‘He said he had an appointment with Celia’s doctor. As soon as she’s fit enough he wants to move her to a private clinic his family use where she’ll get personal care. Rather good of him I thought.’

I agreed it sounded ideal, but questions formed in my head, ‘did he say where this place is?’

‘In Wiltshire somewhere. When he gets the OK he’ll to let me know the address.’

‘Call me as soon as you have it, I’ll check it out.’ 

Using the excuse my meal had arrived I cut the call promising to call Dev when I got home. Maybe  paranoid, but at far as I could see the duke stood to gain the most from Celia’s death. Having her tucked away in some rural nowhere where the staff would never dare question him it’d be easy to have her quietly bumped off. Christie couldn’t have done it better. Information on Celia’s trust fund and the duke’s finances could highlight reasons for wanting her out of way. It shouldn’t be too difficult providing my ex-CO, Guido played ball. 

Then there was this Mercer/David creep. I didn’t mention him to Stokes in case the police hadn’t got around to making a connection to the attack. In our statement we said we there to see Celia because of her being scammed. It wasn’t my job to provide the law with info, besides I wanted to get my hands on him to squeeze out names. Might be risky, but could pay off if I could convince him his name wouldn’t come up in any police investigations.

A few minutes after seven I eventually arrived at my front door. The weather front had arrived, squally sleet cost me an extra twenty minutes in ever slowing traffic. Shivering I unloaded the walking gear I’d dumped in the back of the car wearing a thin jacket and jeans. Carrying it bundled under one arm I fought the wind while juggling my keys as I attempted to turn the lock. I almost fell flat on my face when the door caught a gust and blew open. 

After shaking myself down and hanging everything up to dry I snaffled a beer from the fridge and tried to relax. With the burger and fries still being digested told myself I’d make a sandwich later and called Dev. After two rings I changed my mind and cut off. 

My PC took a while to get going, it’d been asleep for a week. Hoping he still had his farming business connected to WhatsApp I called Guido.

‘Bonjour, c'est, la ferme des saules, nous ne pouvons pas répondre à votre appel pour le moment, veuilllaisser un message.’

‘Willows farm. Nice one Guido, can you call me.’ I rang off and waited.

I counted to five before the call came,’ Monsieur Jaques, how are you?’ Guido chuckled.’it’s good to hear from you . . . I hope.’

‘I would like some professional advice: L’accord.’ I waited for a reply. As I expected it was a long time coming. I heard a click.

’Twenty-two, twenty-five EST.’ the line went dead. I checked the time, I had two hours and four minutes.