Frankie's Letter - By Dolores Gordon-Smith Page 0,98

was a fine quality tweed, a lady’s coat. He could see the rough patch on the sleeve where the threads had been pulled.

There was the sound of hobnailed boots and Kindred came into the stables. ‘Afternoon, sir,’ he said placidly. ‘Were you wanting a horse?’

‘No thanks,’ said Anthony. ‘Kindred, who does this jacket belong to?’

Kindred peered at the jacket. ‘That’s an old one of Miss Tara’s, sir. She keeps it here to be handy, so to speak. She often takes one of the horses out first thing and she dresses very workmanlike, knowing that she’s going to be all alone, as you might say. It wouldn’t do for some ladies but Miss Tara’s got a fine, independent spirit. She’d rather ride by herself than in company. She knows the country for miles around like the back of her hand. You’ve only just missed her, sir. She’s going out this afternoon. I’ve just been getting Moondancer in from the paddock for her.’

Anthony put the jacket back on the peg. Tara had been in Ticker’s Wood. It was Tara who had left the thread on the brambles, Tara who had so convincingly been near to fainting when they had found the body, Tara who had so cleverly carried the war into the enemy’s camp by accusing him of murdering her mother. His stomach twisted.

Tara had got him to tell her about James Smith.

A blistering anger filled him. Tara had lied about the photograph and she had lied about her mother. He should have remembered Veronica was Tara’s mother. Now she was off to hunt Josette. He had a suspicion that she’d know exactly where to find her. And he’d told Tara O’Bryan exactly who he was and what he was doing. He nodded to Kindred, not wanting to trust his voice and walked swiftly round to the trees edging the garden.

His first thought had been to wait for Tara, but what then? He couldn’t restrain her by force and one word from her would bring the servants to her aid. What he wanted to do was get to Smith. Tara, he decided, could wait. However, what he could do was warn Cooke.

He stood by the line of trees and called softly. This time there was no answer. Anthony tried again, but the only sounds were those of the wind in the trees. He skirted round the trees, whistling. There was no response. With a little knot of anxiety in his stomach, Anthony walked round the bulk of the house towards the gates. Sticking out from the bushes was a shoe. Anthony walked forward softly, fearing a trap.

In a few minutes he pulled Bedford’s body out from under the bushes. Thank God, he was still alive, but he had a huge lump on the side of his head and he’d obviously been in a fight. Anthony tried to get him to wake up but he was out cold. He’d been coshed.

Anthony’s lips set in a grim line. There was only one man he’d come across recently who used a cosh and that was the chauffeur. He crouched beside Bedford and looked among the trees. There was another grey bundle in the wood about a hundred yards away. It was Cooke. He, too, had been coshed.

Anthony knelt by Cooke’s body. It was one thing to calmly wait for Smith, knowing that Cooke and Bedford were watching his every move. It was quite another to put himself at the mercy of a ruthless killer when he was alone. The chauffeur must be close by.

As quietly as he could, he made his way through the trees to the high brick wall of Starhanger. Choosing a likely-looking tree, he swung himself up into the branches and stealthily climbed high enough to look over the wall.

He pulled back into the shelter of the branches. Not more than ten yards away stood a big green car, a tourer with its hood raised. The chauffeur and a second man were leaning against the car, smoking cigarettes. The second man wasn’t Smith but a dark-haired man in a brown suit, someone he had never seen before.

Their voices were low and Anthony inched himself along the branch, trying to get close enough to overhear. He caught the word ‘woman’, and the chauffeur laughed. The branch had grown out over the wall, part of it resting on the brick coping stones. Again Anthony pulled himself forward. From his vantage point above their heads, he saw the man in the brown suit look at