FIVE
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'I'm sorry but what're we
looking for and what does it have to do with Liz not letting me go to
my own house?'
Alison and Frank were in
his living room, her stood over him, leaning forward, hands on knees
while she watched him rummage in the third of three low cupboards.
She'd never met anyone with cupboards as cluttered as his.
'Gotcha!' In a shoe box
stuffed with papers, he found whatever it was he was after. He took
it from the box, stood up, turned to face her and said, 'This is what
it has to do with all that stuff.'
Whatever it was, he
handed it to her. She studied it, but all the object produced from
her was a frown. 'What is it?' she said.
'An address and phone
number.'
'I can see that but
whose?'
'Liz's boss. She gave it
me in case of emergencies. You've failed with her? Tough. Get
upstairs and pick out your best clothes.'
'Why?'
'Because, first thing
tomorrow, you've got a job interview.'
*
Now Joe was gone, Liz
climbed off her bed and headed for the door. She shut it and turned
the key. She grabbed her laptop from among her luggage and climbed
onto the bed with it.
She planted the laptop
before her, opened it and called up the files Lou'd sent her before
she'd left home. They told her all she needed to know about Tom
Radcliffe, an accountant from Edinburgh; Daniel Robinson, an
architect from Cornwall; and Dr Seevers, the man who'd put her on
this course in the first place.
None of them had a black
mark against his name, any track record of infamy or involvement in
the Dark Arts. Nor did the recently deceased seem to have had any
known enemies.
As for Valentyne Delgado,
he'd had enemies all right. That was half the problem. He'd had so
many that finding his killer had been like trying to find a twig in a
forest.
According to his murder
file, his death had happened just like she'd always heard it had. He
was stabbed to death in the entrance hall downstairs, in his
ceremonial robes and mask. His killer was never caught and the murder
weapon never recovered, The file contained a list of his associates
and enemies but none of it got her anywhere. Nor did it tell her why
whoever'd killed him would want to kill his successors.
Right now, she had other
things to do - the main one being to attract an attempt on her life.
She'd made her first stab at that by placing an announcement of her
arrival in the local paper. That should alert any would-be killers to
her presence but that wouldn't appear till the next day, and ideally
she wanted results tonight.
For that, there was only
one course of action.
She was going to have to
get noticed.
*
Liz pulled her van to a
halt outside a general store and climbed out. She was in Hangerton,
the village you had to pass through to get to Delgado Manor. Because
the few people she saw looked to her urban eyes like refugees from
The
Shadow Over Innsmouth,
she switched her van's alarm on then looked for a likely venue.
That didn't take much
doing. The Moulting Ferret was an old-style pub on the corner, with a
tree stood opposite and a cracked sign that either suggested near
dereliction or a surplus of character.
When she walked in, it
was hardly what you could call jumping but there were enough people
in it to make sure she could get noticed. Though, by the way all
heads had swivelled towards her when she'd entered, getting noticed
was going to be the least of her concerns.
She stood there a moment,
the subject of universal scrutiny then shut the door behind her and -
watched all the way - she headed for the centre of the room.
There, she grabbed a
spare stool from by a table occupied by three men, planted it in the
open and climbed up to stand on it. 'Ladies and gentlemen...' Herself
aside, there were no women in the place except the barmaid. '...can I
have your attention please?'
She already had it.
'My name's Alison Parker.
I'm twenty two-'
The barmaid snorted at
that claim.
'-And, from my dress
sense, you may have noticed I'm what people in cities call a
bohemian. I believe in free love, expensive cars, New Labour and
banning all forms of hunting. I'm also your new neighbour because
I've just moved into the big house on the hill. Delgado Manor I
believe it's called. I'm just here to announce that, from now on, as
mistress of the house, I'll be staying there.
'I'm also a big-shot film
producer and'll be making a horror movie there just as soon as I'm
settled. That means I'm asking you to tell all your friends and
family that I'll be auditioning for zombies within the month. So if
anyone fancies Hollywood stardom, I'm the woman to deliver. Thanks
for your time and enjoy your drinks.' She jumped down off the stool,
put it back where she'd got it from, gave the three men at its table
a wink and headed for the door. If telling the whole village that the
new owner of Delgado Manor was a free-loving, Blairite who was making
a horror movie didn't get tongues wagging then nothing would.
*
When it came to farming,
Liz Sanford didn't know her arse from her elbow. She knew even less
about Dranton Farm. It might have been a dairy farm or a sheep farm.
It might have been a horse farm if there were such things. Maybe it
grew wheat or corn or barley. Maybe it did none of the above.
All she knew was it was
round the back of Delgado Manor - just on from the base of its stark
black slopes. That made its owners her neighbours and that meant she
was at its farmhouse door, pressing the bell.
A few moments later, the
door opened, answered by a chunky looking woman in her mid-forties.
Liz took one look at her.
'Mrs Dranton?'
'Yes?'
'My name's Alison Parker.
I'm your new neighbour - and I do LSD.'
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