“That won’t be necessary, Dave. I went to St. Paul’s church this morning.
Sunday – “Communion?”
“No – to look in the parish register of course. The vicar found it in a flash. I’ve got it here. His name was Tippen. David Tippen, just like you said, and he gave an address in Guildstone.
“I know the place, I drive through it.”
“You’ll have to go there then,” she said, giving him the address. “I’ve tried directory enquiries and they don’t have a number.”
“Thanks, Daphne – you’re great,” he said and was about to put down the phone when she announced that there was even more good news. Apparently, George, the butcher, had been so impressed by his generosity in buying the taxidermal goat he had personally delivered a joint of sirloin to her, with a request that it should be passed on. “Knowing you haven’t got a place of your own,” she said, “I thought perhaps I could make Sunday dinner, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, say about 7.30 tonight. If you can forgive me by then.”
“I couldn’t, Daphne, really.”
Her voice cracked with pain. “You won’t forgive me.”
“Of course I’ll forgive you – already have. It’s just that I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”
“Oh I see.” But she wouldn’t be beaten. “I’ll cook anyway, and if you’re not here by eight I’ll go ahead and eat on my own. I can always heat yours up later – Bye.”
Putting down the phone, shaking his head at Daphne’s impudence, he suddenly realised why he was still running from a would-be assassin while she had boldly walked through the German lines. She was a woman. Even Mandy’s killer had shown his prejudice – “I wouldn’t shoot no woman – what sort of scum do you think I am?” Why? he wondered. What’s the difference – is it more horrifying for a woman to die than a man. But what if the person in the bank had been Andy instead of Mandy? Would the killer still be trying to exact revenge? At least Andy wouldn’t have been pregnant.
Laying back with his eyes closed, he drifted in thought, realising it was the ethereal nature of the threat that made it so much more frightening – he’d had no problem tackling the killer head-on in the bank, and needed both hands to count the number of armed villains he’d taken down over the years. But he had been able to see them.
“I hope you’re going to pay my phone bill,” said Samantha, bleary eyed, sliding unheard into the room and jumping him out of thoughts.
“Well, I was going to,” he said with a serious face. “But I don’t know if I can afford it now.”
“Why not?” she cried, instantly wide awake.
He kept the straight face. “Well, I’ve just bought a goat.”
“A what?”
“That’s what I said when I found out.”
“Dad, it’s too early to piss about ...” then her face clouded in concern. “Aren’t you taking this country thing a bit far?”
“It’s alright, Luv,” he said, unable to control his mirth, and, sweeping her into his arms, kissed her forehead. “Of course I’ll pay your bill. Although,” he paused and looked to the ceiling as if in deep thought, “perhaps you can help me out with the feed bill.”
“What!”
Daphne, George and the goat were explained with a laugh. “I’ve just one more quick call,” he added as she headed to the kitchen mumbling, “Coffee.”
The brusqueness of the model’s dealer suggested that he had stood to attention to answer the phone. “The Toy Soldier – Sunday – Closed to the public,” he said, though a buzz of background voices suggested otherwise.
“Oh ... I was hoping to have a word ...”
“Call back tomorrow then.”
“It’ll only take a second – I was in your shop earlier in the week …”
“Peter ...” a voice called. “I’ve just taken out your tank, old boy, you’d better pull your socks up.”
“Blast ... Well, what is it? What d’ye want?” he questioned in a tone that said, “Get on with it man.”
“The Royal Horse Artillery gun carriage – you asked me ...”
“Have you got the set?” he demanded, his enthusiasm running away with his mouth.
“Peter ...”
“Not now ... Have you got it?”
These boys are keen, thought Bliss. “Yes, I think so.”
“When can I see it?”
It’s only a toy – not the crown jewels. “Well ...”
“I’m here all day or I can come to you.”
“It’s in Westchester, Hamp ...”
“I know the place – it’s eleven now, I can be there by two, one-thirty at a pinch.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” said Bliss. “There’s no rush. Anyway, I haven’t asked the owner yet ...” then he paused, thinking, who is the owner? Doreen, I suppose.
“I was only calling to let you know – you seemed rather keen ...”
“Look, I must see it ...” the dealer hesitated for a second then seemingly made up his mind. “I’ll give you five hundred pounds if you tell me where it is and keep quiet about it.”
Bliss’s throat tightened to a squeak, “How much?”
“O.K. ... Seven hundred and fifty, as long as it’s genuine and no-one else knows.”
Samantha was back with the coffee and a puzzled frown. “What is it, Dad?”
He clasped his hand over the mouthpiece and took a deep breath. “I’m missing something here – hold on a minute.” Then he spoke questioningly back to the phone. “We are talking about the same thing I hope. The seven hundred and fifty pounds ... that’s not for buying the set?”
“No, no. That’s just for telling me where it is.”
Bliss held his breath and spoke slowly. “Would you consider making that a thousand pounds?”
Chapter Twelve
Captain David Tippen’s house had gone. Even the street had gone – bulldozed into the foundations of a mega-store and a leisure complex. The duty sergeant at Guildstone police station remembered the street, “Crumbly old hovels – good riddance, I said. It were a bloomin’ rat-hole.”
There were only eight Tippens in the phone book, none David or D, but Bliss decided it was worth a few minutes of his time. The first two had left machines in charge of their phones. Three, four and five turned a deaf ear, and number six rang forever. “Hallo,” said a thin voice, just as Bliss had decided to quit.
“Is this Mr. Tippen?”
“You’ll ’ave to speak up.”
“I said ...”
“Yeah. I heard ya. What’ye want?”
“I’m looking for relatives of a David Tippen.”
“Yeah, I knows him,” he replied, with a confusing use of the present tense. “He’s me uncle’s boy.”
“No – I’m looking for a man who was a Captain in the Royal Horse Artillery during the war.”
“Aye, that’d be ’im alright.”
“Unbelievable,” breathed Bliss.