Читать книгу Double Entry - Margaret McKinlay - Страница 10

CHAPTER 4

He was only half conscious when strong arms lifted him into a vehicle up on the road.

‘Watch it, Tim, we don’t know if he’s broken anything.’

‘Can’t help that. He’ll die of cold if we don’t get him back to the pub soon.’

The next John knew, he was lying on a hard sofa that smelled of wet dogs and stale beer and a fat lady was wrapping him in blankets he was aware of other people in the background and the heat coming from a fire but most of all he was glad he was still alive.

‘Thank you,’ he said and then a tall man in a tweed jacket bent over him, smelling of whisky and tobacco.

‘I’m Patrick Robertson. I’m a vet but I could do some stitches in that cut if you like … stitching’s the same for man or beast. Can you move all your bits?’

John flexed his arms and legs and although he ached as if he’d been badly beaten, nothing seemed to be broken.

‘I think my bits are all right,’ he said. There was a general sigh of relief from the spectators standing in the doorway with pints of their hands and they stayed on to watch the surgery.

‘You won’t need a local—you’re still in shock, shouldn’t feel a thing.’

But he did. Not only did he feel every stab of the curved needle but also the skin of his forehead being pulled together as the knots were tied, and all the time the vet gave a commentary about how lucky he’d been.

‘If that tree hadn’t hooked your car as neatly as a salmon on a gaff you’d have gone fifty feet over the drop right into the river. Fellow did that last year. It didn’t kill him outright, but he drowned—isn’t that right, Betty?’ The fat lady made a face behind the vet’s back as he cleaned away dried blood with a swab and then pressed on a dressing. ‘Now then,’ the man went on. ‘How many fingers do you see?’ And he held up two in a rude gesture. John grinned and told him exactly what he saw. ‘And do you know who you are?’

‘John Leith.’

‘He’ll do. You can bring him a Scotch and top up my glass as well.’

The fat lady pushed him aside. ‘I’ll do no such thing. He’ll have soup.’

And she sat down on the edge of the sofa and reached to help him sit up in stages, so that he found his head resting on her bosom which was as soft as a cushion and that allowed him to swing his legs to the floor. He pushed aside the blankets because the fire was sending out a fierce heat and saw that he’d lost his shoes and his jeans and sweater were torn and bloodstained. The crowd in the doorway drifted off now that the interesting business of stitching was over and soon he heard the thud of darts hitting a dart board.

The vet had moved to stand with his back to the fire, with one hand holding a glass of Scotch and the other spread behind him to catch the heat of the fire. He had sandy hair that was receding, a ruddy complexion, and the bluest eyes that John had ever seen.

‘No point in calling out a doctor tonight but you should have a proper check done tomorrow. No double vision, I suppose.’

John shook his head and that was a mistake. A wave of pain gripped his head in a vice and he shut his eyes until it eased. When he opened them the vet was wincing in sympathy.

‘I’ll leave you a couple of painkillers. Betty will give you a bed for the night.’

‘Where am I—I don’t know this area, and what time is it?’ John asked.

‘Altford and it’s just after ten.’

Rees would be worried … and he’d promised to phone Gwen.

‘Can I use the phone?’

‘Soup first,’ Betty said at his elbow.

He didn’t argue. And it was wonderfully hot and full of vegetables, the best he’d ever tasted although it stung his swollen lip. ‘How did anyone know I was down there?’ he asked when she took the bowl away.

‘Ian from the farm was across the river. He saw the headlights as your car went over but it took him some time to get back here to raise the alarm. Luckily our Tim is daft on climbing so he has the ropes and things.’

So he’d been lucky not to have been trapped in the car all night.

‘I’m very grateful to them,’ he said quietly. Words weren’t really enough.

‘Now you can phone your friends,’ Betty said with a smile. She wanted to take his arm as they walked to the private rooms down the hall and he was surprised at how shaky he felt. Then he remembered promising the Chinese doctor that he’d have a quiet weekend and he felt a smile stretch his cut lip. Betty left him alone as he dialled Rees’s number.

‘I slid off the road, Rees,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m all right, just bruised.’

‘We guessed that something had happened,’ his uncle said. His voice boomed down the phone. ‘Gwen phoned but I’ll call her back. Ice, was it?’

John hesitated. He didn’t want to go into detail on the phone about the other car, but Rees had to know some time. ‘Not exactly. There was another car involved and I ended up going off the road—it wasn’t … Look, let’s leave the explanations until I see you.’

Rees hadn’t interrupted and when John finished speaking there was silence for a long moment. And when Rees did speak it was with deliberation. ‘Are you saying it wasn’t an accident? A skid?’

John sighed. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure what it was. The driver of the other car rammed me when I wouldn’t pull over. I don’t think he meant it to develop the way it did, but on the other hand he doesn’t seem to have stopped to report what happened.’

‘Were there any witnesses?’

‘I don’t think so. No one here has mentioned seeing the other car.’

‘Good. I’ll send someone to fetch you and I’d rather you didn’t mention the other car if anyone should ask.’

John wanted to ask Rees why the secrecy, but he was not inclined to argue. He would report it when he got to Edinburgh, but he certainly didn’t want to face making statements tonight. ‘OK, but don’t send a car tonight. I’m in a pub in Altford and the landlady has got a bed for me. To be honest, I’d like to fall into it very soon.’

‘You sure you’re all right?’ Rees asked sharply.

‘I’m sure. Send a car in the morning.’ John put the phone down and sat in the quiet room for a few more moments, thinking about the intruder in his office and now the events of this day. What on earth was going on?

Betty was back, her round face beaming. She looked the type to make an excellent landlady. ‘Finished?’ She came right in then and looked apologetic. ‘There’s a policeman would like a word … he’s not official, he just lives here, but he says that it will save you giving a statement in the morning if he has a chat with you now.’

John thought about the waiting bed and then got up stiffly.

‘OK.’

He followed her back to the lounge where a man in his late forties was sitting in one of the comfortable armchairs beside the fire. He had neatly cut dark hair, heavy dark eyebrows and was wearing a cream roll-necked sweater over brown cords. A black Labrador sat beside his chair and he was fondling its ears.

‘Mr Leith? … Robert Jamieson,’ he said, holding out his hand.

John sat opposite him and asked Betty if he could have a small Scotch. And while she was fetching it, the two men studied each other. Jamieson didn’t look like a village bobby, and remembering what Rees had said, John wondered how he could answer this man’s questions without mentioning the other car. Couldn’t policemen tell when two cars collided from the marks left on the road? He decided he was too tired to care.

‘I expect you feel like a soak in the tub to ease your aches, so I won’t keep you long. I was once in a minor accident myself so I can guess how you’re feeling.’ He was brisk and friendly but his eyes had an intelligent gleam that warned John to be careful about what he said, although he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to withhold part of his story. No doubt Rees had his reasons.

‘I came along that way tonight,’ the policeman said. ‘The trees give the road quite a bit of shelter but the blizzard was bad around the time you went over the edge—you hadn’t been drinking, Mr Leith?’

John hadn’t been expecting that. ‘No,’ he said vehemently.

The policeman smiled. ‘I’m not on duty and I’ll take your word. But I’m puzzled and I’ll admit it. This road is hardly well used unless by the local residents—so where were you going?’

‘I know the main road well because I visit my sister regularly—in Biggar.’ He’d fallen into a trap and now he had to explain why he left the main road. ‘I didn’t feel too good so I came off the road for a break. I hurt my head the other day and I must still be suffering from the after-effects.’ He was getting in deeper.

‘Another accident?’ Jamieson said with a hint of amusement.

‘A bump on the head, nothing serious,’ John said shortly. Now he knew how the police got their information out of people; they just sat back and let fools babble on.

Jamieson let it rest. ‘So you were visiting your sister. Then heading for Edinburgh, I presume?’

‘That’s right.’

The dog lifted its head and stared up at his master every time he spoke and the policeman was still stroking its head. It was a beautiful dog, with a well-groomed coat that gleamed.

John took a sip of whisky and rolled it around his tongue before swallowing it and then he felt the heat of it spread through his body. He sipped again. Jamieson seemed to relax, took out a pipe and lit it and then sank back deeper into his chair.

‘I like Edinburgh but I prefer to live here. Do you live in the city, Mr Leith?’

‘I’ve a flat in Stockbridge.’ Now the man would ask if he was married, but instead the policeman shifted direction and asked where John worked. ‘I’m an accountant.’ That was safe enough. ‘I have an office in the West End.’ He was getting tired of the probing questions, for he was aware that was what Jamieson was doing. Did he already suspect that John was holding something back?

‘I think I’d like to get to bed now,’ he said, starting to rise.

‘Of course. Is there anyone I can contact for you?’

‘No, I’ve already phoned my uncle,’ John said. ‘Rees Kramer. He’s got a business in the High Street.’

John didn’t know why he added that last piece of information, except that usually it forestalled having to explain that yes, it was the Rees Kramer of Kramer Property, but it certainly had an effect on the policeman who was now standing. He was several inches short of John’s six feet two but the man had a presence that made him seem equal in height.

‘I know Mr Kramer,’ he said, his eyes alert now, and there was something else that looked like suspicion. ‘It changes things a bit, doesn’t it? The people who work for your uncle seem to be prone to accidents,’ and he emphasized the last word.

‘Perhaps you’ll tell him that we met,’ he went on abruptly. ‘Tell him Chief Inspector Robert Jamieson sends his regards—I think he’ll be interested.’

And with a snap of his fingers to the dog the policeman left the room.

‘Now what the hell was that about?’ John muttered. It was as if the man automatically disbelieved his story—only when he mentioned the name of Kramer.