The Knapthorne Conspiracy Malcolm Ballard (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📖

had happened in such a short space of time to make her feel so different? For there was no doubt in her mind as she stood on the pavement with pedestrians passing on either side of her and the roar of the traffic in her ears that her outlook had changed. As much as she was looking forward to going out tonight and to meeting up with friends tomorrow, for a lunchtime drink, she couldn’t wait to get back to Knapthorne and Willow Cottage. It was something that previously she would have considered highly improbable and, right at that moment, was at a loss to explain.

After only two days away, it was hard for Bella to believe she was so glad to be back. Granted, Ubix had greeted her as though she’d returned from a three month mission to Mars but the cat’s performance was probably more motivated by hunger than anything else, she conceded. She had treated Ubix to a machine which dispensed a regulated amount of biscuits on demand but the sprinkling of feathers and other detritus on the kitchen floor indicated that Ubix had settled for takeaways. Feeling pleasantly tired after her non-stop weekend, Bella’s thoughts turned to the open bottle of Chardonnay in the fridge and she had only just sat down at he kitchen table, in the act of pouring the wine, when  her phone rang. She glanced at her watch. Seven twenty-five on Sunday evening. Who could it be?

“Bella Foxton?” She felt the urge to yawn and sipped at her wine, instead.

“Bella, it’s Kyle.” Her heart skipped a beat. The last person she’d expected to hear from. Tiredness fell away like a cloak slipping from her shoulders. “Where have you been?” It sounded like an accusation.

“What do you mean? I’ve just got back from London. I’ve been away for the weekend, that’s all.”

“I’ve been trying to ring you since Friday!”

“What about my mobile? Did you try that?” He sighed so loudly she couldn’t miss it.

“Of course I tried it! All I got was the usual message telling me that you were out of range or the phone was switched off.” Bella clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. Her mobile was, indeed, switched off and upstairs on her dressing table where she had left it on Friday. She had just remembered.

“Bella?” She took another quick swig from the glass.

“Sorry! Just had to have a little cough. So why the panic to get hold of me?” Curiosity kicked in now, excitement flushing through her.

“I’ve had a bit of a result…”

“Kyle, what does that mean?” she asked, impatient now. “You sound like something from a second-rate police drama.”

“From my enquiries…about Alfie?”

“What sort of a result. What do you mean?” It was impossible to keep the urgency from her voice.

“I’ve searched back through all the newspapers around the time of his supposed accident…”

“Supposed accident?” Bella interjected. “Why do you say that?” “Just wait!” Kyle said, a little more firmly than she thought necessary. “And you’ll find out.” He continued quickly before she could say anything else.

“There’s no reports in any of the papers about an accident.” She wanted to say that wasn’t a great surprise as it was hardly the sort of thing that made the headlines, except in a truly local paper, but she bit her tongue. “But, and here’s where it gets interesting. There’s absolutely no evidence of an Alfred Flint having been admitted to hospital in Dorchester. Ever.” He let the words sink in and it was some moments before she replied.

“Ok,” she said thoughtfully. “But that doesn’t mean to say that some records might have been lost or destroyed. Don’t forget, Kyle, we’re only going on a hunch here.”

“That’s true, I grant you, but you haven’t heard it all yet.” He sounded smug and suddenly her excitement was tinged with apprehension. She shivered, as if she had seen a ghost.

“Go on, then, clever dick, what have you found out?”

“An Alfred Flint was admitted to the Sunnyside Psychiatric Hospital in the mid-sixties. He was released after a month then re-admitted a couple of months later.” There was complete silence from Bella’s end of the line. “What do you make of that then?”

The truth was, she didn’t know what to make of it. Seeing Alfie now it was not so remarkable to find out that he had been in an institution earlier in his life, when such places were common. But it could have been the after-effects of his accident. If so, then why no record of him having been a patient in Dorchester hospital, or any other local hospital for that matter? Not surprisingly, Kyle had used a contact in health service administration to access the files. Bella had no wish to discuss the proprieties of such a thing, content to know as little as possible about Kyle’s methods. If he wanted information, she felt certain he would try and get it by fair means or foul. Was he like that with other objectives in his life, she wondered. His call had not so much left her unsettled but convinced her more than ever that her intuition was right. But right about what was another matter entirely. Kyle had rung off promising to get to Willow Cottage as early as possible on Friday evening, saying that he thought she might have appreciated learning what he had discovered and that’s why he had called. Earlier he had asked if they might possibly go to The Lamb, over the weekend, so he could see Alfie, just to satisfy his own curiosity. Bella had told him that she’d think about it but now, pouring herself another glass of wine, she was forced to reflect on whether it would have been wiser never to have mentioned anything to him in the first place. She had an uneasy feeling that somehow it may well have been better to have left things as they were.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The week got off to a bad