the boot and took out a small suitcase.
She climbed out. She shivered in the night air and made a dash for the front door. The driver followed with the suitcase. Heat sensors activated a bright light over the steps.
‘I can manage, thank you,’ she said.
‘Right, miss. Goodnight.’
Rosemary Razzle fished in her clutch bag and took out a small bunch of keys. She unlocked the front door, picked up the case and went in as the Bentley purred quietly away.
She closed the front door. ‘Charles,’ she called. There was no reply. ‘Charles, darling, I’m back. Where are you?’
There was a light in the kitchen. She went down the hall into the room. He wasn’t there. She called again. Then she opened the door to the basement steps to the cellars. The light was on. There were two cellars. One was very small and was empty. The other was sealed off with a steel-covered door with a large combination lock screwed on to it. She tried the door handle but it was locked. Next to the wall was a telephone. She quickly snatched up the receiver and tapped the figure 9 on the dial pad. She could hear it ring out in the earpiece. She let it ring and ring. There was no reply. She knew something dreadful had happened. She put a hand to her chest. Her heart was pounding. Despite the cold, she felt hot. Her face was red and she was perspiring. There was no reply. At length, she pressed the cancel button on the phone and tapped in 999.
She went up the basement steps and into the kitchen. She filled the kettle and switched it on. Then she switched it off and went into the dining room to the drinks cabinet, grabbed a bottle, found a tumbler and poured herself a half-glass of brandy. She turned as if she had heard a noise from the front door. She put the bottle down, dashed into the hall, up to the door, opened it and looked out. There was nobody there. She returned to the dining room, made for the brandy then heard the doorbell ring. She turned back again and answered the door.
As the door opened, the light shone on two uniformed policemen.
Their mouths opened expectantly as they recognized the famous and beautiful Rosemary Razzle. It wasn’t everyday they got close up to a real live celebrity actor.
‘Mrs Razzle.’ They knew who she was from her regular television appearances. ‘I’m PC Donohue and this is PC Elder. We came as soon as we could. What’s the trouble?’
She nodded. ‘Come in, please. It’s my husband. He’s in his workshop. Locked in. Something’s wrong. He doesn’t reply. I’ve banged on the door, and tried to speak to him on the extension phone, but there’s no reply.’
The two young men followed Mrs Razzle down the imposing hall, through the huge kitchen to the basement steps.
She wiped an eye with the back of her hand.
‘He’s in here.’
‘Can’t you open the door, miss?’ Donohue said. ‘Haven’t you a key?’
‘It’s a combination lock. I don’t know the number.’
‘We’ll see if we can break it down, miss.’
When the policemen tapped on the door, they knew they wouldn’t be able to force their way in. It was a heavy steel door with a combination lock in the centre.
PC Elder tried the handle and pulled it. It didn’t shift. He banged loudly on the door with his asp. It made no impression.
‘How do you know your husband is in there, miss?’
‘The light is on. The switch is on the outside and it’s on … he often works long hours in there. Where else would he be at this time of night?’
‘Is there any other way in? Where are the windows?’
‘There are no windows and there is no other way in.’
‘There is a phone in there?’
‘Yes. I phoned him. He didn’t pick up. Please do something. He might have had a heart attack or something.’
Donohue saw a phone on the wall. ‘Does this connect to the phone in there?’
‘Yes.’ She rubbed her long white manicured hand across her brow and said, ‘You just dial 9 and hold on, but I’ve done all that and he
She climbed out. She shivered in the night air and made a dash for the front door. The driver followed with the suitcase. Heat sensors activated a bright light over the steps.
‘I can manage, thank you,’ she said.
‘Right, miss. Goodnight.’
Rosemary Razzle fished in her clutch bag and took out a small bunch of keys. She unlocked the front door, picked up the case and went in as the Bentley purred quietly away.
She closed the front door. ‘Charles,’ she called. There was no reply. ‘Charles, darling, I’m back. Where are you?’
There was a light in the kitchen. She went down the hall into the room. He wasn’t there. She called again. Then she opened the door to the basement steps to the cellars. The light was on. There were two cellars. One was very small and was empty. The other was sealed off with a steel-covered door with a large combination lock screwed on to it. She tried the door handle but it was locked. Next to the wall was a telephone. She quickly snatched up the receiver and tapped the figure 9 on the dial pad. She could hear it ring out in the earpiece. She let it ring and ring. There was no reply. She knew something dreadful had happened. She put a hand to her chest. Her heart was pounding. Despite the cold, she felt hot. Her face was red and she was perspiring. There was no reply. At length, she pressed the cancel button on the phone and tapped in 999.
She went up the basement steps and into the kitchen. She filled the kettle and switched it on. Then she switched it off and went into the dining room to the drinks cabinet, grabbed a bottle, found a tumbler and poured herself a half-glass of brandy. She turned as if she had heard a noise from the front door. She put the bottle down, dashed into the hall, up to the door, opened it and looked out. There was nobody there. She returned to the dining room, made for the brandy then heard the doorbell ring. She turned back again and answered the door.
As the door opened, the light shone on two uniformed policemen.
Their mouths opened expectantly as they recognized the famous and beautiful Rosemary Razzle. It wasn’t everyday they got close up to a real live celebrity actor.
‘Mrs Razzle.’ They knew who she was from her regular television appearances. ‘I’m PC Donohue and this is PC Elder. We came as soon as we could. What’s the trouble?’
She nodded. ‘Come in, please. It’s my husband. He’s in his workshop. Locked in. Something’s wrong. He doesn’t reply. I’ve banged on the door, and tried to speak to him on the extension phone, but there’s no reply.’
The two young men followed Mrs Razzle down the imposing hall, through the huge kitchen to the basement steps.
She wiped an eye with the back of her hand.
‘He’s in here.’
‘Can’t you open the door, miss?’ Donohue said. ‘Haven’t you a key?’
‘It’s a combination lock. I don’t know the number.’
‘We’ll see if we can break it down, miss.’
When the policemen tapped on the door, they knew they wouldn’t be able to force their way in. It was a heavy steel door with a combination lock in the centre.
PC Elder tried the handle and pulled it. It didn’t shift. He banged loudly on the door with his asp. It made no impression.
‘How do you know your husband is in there, miss?’
‘The light is on. The switch is on the outside and it’s on … he often works long hours in there. Where else would he be at this time of night?’
‘Is there any other way in? Where are the windows?’
‘There are no windows and there is no other way in.’
‘There is a phone in there?’
‘Yes. I phoned him. He didn’t pick up. Please do something. He might have had a heart attack or something.’
Donohue saw a phone on the wall. ‘Does this connect to the phone in there?’
‘Yes.’ She rubbed her long white manicured hand across her brow and said, ‘You just dial 9 and hold on, but I’ve done all that and he
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