Free Cherringham--The Secret of Combe Castle by Neil Richards Page A

do what I want.”
    “I’m sure you do,” said Jack, watching Billy return with his pint.
    “One for yourself, Billy?” said Jack putting a ten-pound note on the bar.
    “Cheers Jack, don’t mind if I do,” said Billy.
    When Billy brought back his change, Odysseus asked for a pack of cigarette papers.
    Jack watched the stoner pay slowly, counting out his coins, then put the papers in his pocket and head out of the pub without a word.
    When he’d gone, Jack and Billy nodded.
    “You see much of him?” said Jack.
    “Not if I can help it,” said Billy. “He has a pint now and then if he’s up from London. I don’t ask what he does out there, in the car park. Alan should really be on that .”
    “How about recently?” said Jack. “He been around?”
    Billy looked away. Then: “Yeah. Friday night he was in with a couple of mates. And he had quite a few pints, now I think on it.”
    Friday, thought Jack. The night of the vandals …
    “Terry Hamblyn one of those mates?” said Jack.
    “He was.”
    “Don’t suppose you remember what time he left?”
    “Round nine, I reckon. Couldn’t have been early enough for me. Drunk and loud — not the sort for a good Friday night crowd.”
    Billy was called to the other end of the bar.
    So Jack picked up a copy of the local paper and went and sat by the fire with his pint to wait for Sarah.
    Thinking: Nine o’clock. Just enough time to get home and vandalise Oswald’s little museum?
    *
    Sarah pushed her empty plate to one side and took a sip of lager to wash her dinner down.
    “Remind me,” she said. “Diet in the New Year.”
    “Not before?” said Jack, still finishing his shepherd’s pie.
    “Well that would be just pointless, Jack. And no fun at all.”
    “We having another drink?”
    “Maybe one more.”
    “My round,” he said, and she watched him pick up the plates and glasses and head for the bar.
    When he came back he put the beers on the table. She saw him take a sip then casually look around to make sure nobody was in earshot.
    “You look disappointed,” he said.
    “I am. I went to a lot of effort to get that password. You would have been proud of me.”
    “Mrs. Axelhoff, huh?
    “Ms., please.”
    “What is that — some kind of play on Axelrod and Hasselhoff?”
    “You criticising my cover name?” she said, mock seriously.
    “It’s a great name. I want to use it.”
    “Don’t you dare,” she said. “I won’t be able to keep a straight face.”
    She watched him laugh and immediately felt better.
    “Seriously though, Jack, I thought I’d get more from their site, from the emails. The identity of the buyer, at least.”
    “Well, that would have been a big deal. But you know — you got a lot more than you’re giving yourself credit for.”
    “Such as?”
    “For starters, we know the mystery buyer is worried enough about their identity to keep it concealed.”
    “I suppose so …”
    “Also, we know the survey was key to the whole deal.”
    “Laser survey, too. The buyer specified laser. It had to be accurate.”
    “Exactly. So — the buyer’s more interested in the dimensions of the house than the purchase. Which — based on your great research today — makes it sound to me like it’s the elusive treasure they’re after.”
    “How does that follow? Maybe it’s like Anjii said — they want to do a lot of building work.”
    “Without looking round the place in person first?” said Jack. “I don’t buy that.”
    “Hmm, maybe you’re right.”
    “I think our buyer believes the treasure’s been hidden at the house, and that it’s somewhere that’s not shown on the plans.”“But Jack — how does that fit with the hate mail and the attack on the museum?” she said.
    “Hmm, good question,” said Jack. “That doesn’t make sense — yet.”
    “The buyer might be genuine. Don’t forget — there’s no shortage of people who want the FitzHenrys out …”
    “You’re right. There’s Pelham. The brother,