Contents
PARTONE:MeetNewPeopleandTryNewThings
Chapter1:Joyce
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4:Joyce
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13:Joyce
Chapter14
Chapter15:Joyce
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20:Joyce
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23:Joyce
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26:Joyce
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35:Joyce
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Chapter40
Chapter41
Chapter42
Chapter43:Joyce
Chapter44
Chapter45
Chapter46
Chapter47
Chapter48
Chapter49:Joyce
Chapter50
Chapter51:Joyce
Chapter52
Chapter53
PARTTWO:EveryoneherehasaStorytoTell
Chapter54:Joyce
Chapter55
Chapter56
Chapter57
Chapter58
Chapter59
Chapter60
Chapter61
Chapter62
Chapter63
Chapter64:Joyce
Chapter65
Chapter66
Chapter67
Chapter68
Chapter69
Chapter70
Chapter71
Chapter72:Joyce
Chapter73
Chapter74:Joyce
Chapter75
Chapter76
Chapter77:Joyce
Chapter78
Chapter79:Joyce
Chapter80
Chapter81
Chapter82:Joyce
Chapter83
Chapter84
Chapter85
Chapter86
Chapter87:Joyce
Chapter88
Chapter89
Chapter90:Joyce
Chapter91
Chapter92:Joyce
Chapter93
Chapter94
Chapter95
Chapter96
Chapter97
Chapter98:Joyce
Chapter99
Chapter100
Chapter101
Chapter102
Chapter103:Joyce
Chapter104
Chapter105
Chapter106
Chapter107
Chapter108
Chapter109
Chapter110
Chapter111
Chapter112
Chapter113
Chapter114
Chapter115:Joyce
Acknowledgements
AbouttheAuthor
RichardOsmanisaBritishtelevisionproducerandpresenter.TheThursdayMurderClubishisfirstand,sofar,bestnovel.
Tomymum,‘thelastsurvivingBrenda’,withloveKillingsomeoneiseasy.Hidingthebody,nowthat’susuallythehardpart.That’showyougetcaught.Iwasluckyenoughtostumbleupontherightplace,though.Theperfectplace,really.Icomebackfromtimetotime,justtomakesureeverythingisstillsafeandsound.Italwaysis,andIsupposeitalwayswillbeSometimesI’llhaveacigarette,whichIknowIshouldn’t,butit’smyonlyvice.PartOne
MEETNEWPEOPLEANDTRYNEWTHINGS
1
Joyce
Well,let’sstartwithElizabeth,shallwe?Andseewherethatgetsus?
Iknewwhoshewas,ofcourse;everybodyhereknowsElizabeth.Shehasoneofthethree-bedflatsinLarkinCourt.It’stheoneonthecorner,withthedecking?Also,IwasonceonaquizteamwithStephen,who,foranumberofreasons,isElizabeth’sthirdhusband.
Iwasatlunch,thisistwoorthreemonthsago,anditmusthavebeenaMonday,becauseitwasshepherd’spie.ElizabethsaidshecouldseethatIwaseating,butwantedtoaskmeaquestionaboutknifewounds,ifitwasn’tinconvenient?
Isaid,‘Notatall,ofcourse,please,’orwordstothateffect.Iwon’talwaysremembereverythingexactly,Imightaswelltellyouthatnow.Sosheopenedamanilafolder,andIsawsometypedsheetsandtheedgesofwhatlookedlikeoldphotographs.Thenshewasstraightintoit.
Elizabethaskedmetoimaginethatagirlhadbeenstabbedwithaknife.Iaskedwhatsortofknifeshehadbeenstabbedwith,andElizabethsaidprobablyjustanormalkitchenknife.JohnLewis.Shedidn’tsaythat,butthatwaswhatIpictured.Thensheaskedmetoimaginethisgirlhadbeenstabbed,threeorfourtimes,justunderthebreastbone.Inandout,inandout,verynasty,butwithoutseveringanartery.Shewasfairlyquietaboutthewholething,becausepeoplewereeating,andshedoeshavesomeboundaries.
SothereIwas,imaginingstabwounds,andElizabethaskedmehowlongitwouldtakethegirltobleedtodeath.
Bytheway,IrealizeIshouldhavementionedthatIwasanurseformanyyears,otherwisenoneofthiswillmakesensetoyou.Elizabethwouldhaveknownthatfromsomewhere,becauseElizabethknowseverything.Anyway,that’swhyshewasaskingme.YoumusthavewonderedwhatIwasonabout.Iwillgetthehangofwritingthis,Ipromise.
IrememberdabbingatmymouthbeforeIanswered,likeyouseeontelevisionsometimes.Itmakesyoulookcleverer,tryit.Iaskedwhatthegirlhadweighed.
Elizabethfoundtheinformationinherfolder,followedherfingerandreadoutthatthegirlhadbeenforty-sixkilos.Whichthrewusboth,becauseneitherofuswassurewhatforty-sixkiloswasinrealmoney.InmyheadIwasthinkingitmustbeabouttwenty-threestone?Twotoonewasmythinking.EvenasIthoughtthat,though,IsuspectedIwasgettingmixedupwithinchesandcentimetres.
Elizabethletmeknowthegirldefinitelywasn’ttwenty-threestone,asshehadapictureofhercorpseinthefolder.Shetappedthefolderatme,beforeturningherattentionbacktotheroom,andsaid,‘WillsomebodyaskBernardwhatforty-sixkilosis?’
Bernardalwayssitsbyhimself,ononeofthesmallertablesnearestthepatio.ItisTable8.Youdon’tneedtoknowthat,butIwilltellyouabitaboutBernard.
BernardCottlewasverykindtomewhenIfirstarrivedatCoopersChase.Hebroughtmeaclematiscuttingandexplainedtherecyclingtimetable.Theyhavefourdifferentcolouredbinshere.Four!ThankstoBernard,Iknowthatgreenisforglass,andblueiscardboardandpaper.Asforredandblack,though,yourguessisstillasgoodasmine.I’veseenallsortsasI’vewanderedabout.Someoneonceputafaxmachineinone.
Bernardhadbeenaprofessor,somethinginscience,andhadworkedallaroundtheworld,includinggoingtoDubaibeforeanyonehadheardofit.Truetoform,hewaswearingasuitandtietolunch,butwas,nevertheless,readingtheDailyExpress.MaryfromRuskinCourt,whowasatthenexttable,gothisattentionandaskedhowmuchforty-sixkiloswaswhenitwasathome.
BernardnoddedandcalledovertoElizabeth,‘Sevenstonethreeandabit.’
Andthat’sBernardforyou.
Elizabeththankedhimandsaidthatsoundedaboutright,andBernardreturnedtohiscrossword.Ilookedupcentimetresandinchesafterwards,andatleastIwasrightaboutthat.
Elizabethwentbacktoherquestion.Howlongwouldthegirlstabbedwiththekitchenknifehavetolive?Iguessedthat,unattended,shewouldprobablydieinaroundforty-fiveminutes.
‘Well,quite,Joyce,’shesaid,andthenhadanotherquestion.Whatifthegirlhadhadmedicalassistance?Notadoctor,butsomeonewhocouldpatchupawound.Someonewho’dbeeninthearmy,perhaps.Someonelikethat.
Ihaveseenalotofstabwoundsinmytime.Myjobwasn’tallsprainedankles.SoIsaidthen,well,shewouldn’tdieatall.Whichshewouldn’t.Itwouldn’thavebeenfunforher,butitwouldhavebeeneasytopatchup.
Elizabethwasnoddingaway,andsaidthatwaspreciselywhatshehadtoldIbrahim,althoughIdidn’tknowIbrahimatthattime.AsIsay,thiswasacoupleofmonthsago.
Ithadn’tseemedatallrighttoElizabeth,andherviewwasthattheboyfriendhadkilledher.Iknowthisisstilloftenthecase.Youreadaboutit.
IthinkbeforeImovedinImighthavefoundthiswholeconversationunusual,butitisprettyparforthecourseonceyougettoknoweveryonehere.LastweekImetthemanwhoinventedMintChocChipicecream,orsohetellsit.Idon’treallyhaveanywayofchecking.
IwasgladtohavehelpedElizabethinmysmallway,sodecidedImightaskafavour.IaskediftherewasanywayIcouldtakealookatthepictureofthecorpse.Justoutofprofessionalinterest.
Elizabethbeamed,thewaypeoplearoundherebeamwhenyouasktolookatpicturesoftheirgrandchildrengraduating.SheslippedanA4photocopyoutofherfolder,laidit,facedown,infrontofmeandtoldmetokeepit,astheyallhadcopies.
Itoldherthatwasverykindofher,andshesaidnotatall,butshewonderedifshecouldaskmeonefinalquestion.
‘Ofcourse,’Isaid.
Thenshesaid,‘AreyoueverfreeonThursdays?’
And,that,believeitornot,wasthefirstIhadheardofThursdays.
2
PCDonnaDeFreitaswouldliketohaveagun.Shewouldliketobechasingserialkillersintoabandonedwarehouses,grimlygettingthejobdone,despiteafreshbulletwoundinhershoulder.Perhapsdevelopingatasteforwhiskyandhavinganaffairwithherpartner.
Butfornow,twenty-sixyearsold,andsittingdownforlunchat11.45inthemorning,withfourpensionersshehasonlyjustmet,Donnaunderstandsthatshewillhavetoworkherwayuptoallthat.Andbesides,shehastoadmitthatthelasthourorsohasbeenratherfun.
Donnahasgivenhertalk‘PracticalTipsforHomeSecurity’manytimes.Andtodaytherewastheusualaudienceofolderpeople,blanketsacrossknees,freebiscuits,andafewhappysnoozersattheback.Shegivesthesameadviceeachtime.Theabsolute,paramountimportanceofinstallingwindowlocks,checkingIDcardsandnevergivingoutpersonalinformationtocoldcallers.Morethananything,sheissupposedtobeareassuringpresenceinaterrifyingworld.Donnaunderstandsthat,anditalsogetsheroutofboththestationandpaperwork,soshevolunteers.FairhavenPoliceStationissleepierthanDonnaisusedto.
Today,however,shehadfoundherselfatCoopersChaseRetirementVillage.Itseemedinnocuousenough.Lush,untroubled,sedate,andonherdriveinshehadspottedanicepubforlunchonthewayhome.Sogettingserialkillersinheadlocksonspeedboatswouldhavetowait.
‘Security,’Donnahadbegun,thoughshewasreallythinkingaboutwhethersheshouldgetatattoo.Adolphinonherlowerback?Orwouldthatbetoomuchofacliché?Andwoulditbepainful?Probably,butshewassupposedtobeapoliceofficer,wasn’tshe?‘Whatdowemeanwhenwesaytheword“security”?Well,Ithinkthatwordmeansdifferentthingstodifferent…’
Ahandshotupinthefrontrow.Whichwasnotnormallyhowthiswent,butinforapenny.Animmaculatelydressedwomaninhereightieshadapointtomake.
‘Dear,Ithinkwe’reallhopingthiswon’tbeatalkaboutwindowlocks.’Thewomanlookedaroundher,pickingupmurmuredsupport.
Agentlemanhemmedinbyawalkingframeinthesecondrowwasnext.‘AndnoIDcardsplease,weknowaboutIDcards.AreyoureallyfromtheGasBoard,orareyouaburglar?We’vegotit,Ipromise.’
Afree-for-allhadcommenced.
‘It’snottheGasBoardanymore.It’sCentrica,’saidamaninaverygoodthree-piecesuit.
Themansittingnexttohim,wearingshorts,flip-flopsandaWestHamUnitedshirt,tookthisopportunitytostandupandstabafingerinnoparticulardirection,‘It’sthankstoThatcherthat,Ibrahim.Weusedtoownit.’
‘Ohdositdown,Ron,’thesmartlydressedwomanhadsaid.ThenlookedatDonnaandadded,‘SorryaboutRon,’withaslowshakeofherhead.Thecommentshadcontinuedtofly.
‘Andwhatcriminalwouldn’tbeabletoforgeanIDdocument?’
‘I’vegotcataracts.YoucouldshowmealibrarycardandI’dletyouin.’
‘Theydon’tevencheckthemeternow.It’sallontheweb.’
‘It’sonthecloud,dear.’
‘I’dwelcomeaburglar.Itwouldbenicetohaveavisitor.’
Therehadbeenthebriefestoflulls.Anatonalsymphonyofwhistlesbeganassomehearingaidswereturnedup,whileotherswereswitchedoff.Thewomaninthefrontrowhadtakenchargeagain.
‘So…andI’mElizabeth,bytheway…nowindowlocks,please,andnoIDcards,andnoneedtotelluswemustn’tgiveourPINnumbertoNigeriansoverthephone.IfIamstillallowedtosayNigerians.’
DonnaDeFreitashadregrouped,butwasawareshewasnolongerthinkingaboutpublunchesortattoos–nowshewasthinkingaboutariottrainingcoursebackinthegood,olddaysinsouthLondon.
‘Well,whatshallwetalkaboutthen?’Donnahadasked.‘Ihavetodoatleastforty-fiveminutesorIdon’tgetthetimeoffinlieu.’
‘Institutionalsexisminthepoliceforce?’saidElizabeth.
‘I’dliketotalkabouttheillegalshootingofMarkDuggan,sanctionedbythestateand–’
‘Sitdown,Ron!’
Soitwenton,enjoyablyandagreeably,untilthehourwasup,whereuponDonnahadbeenwarmlythanked,shownpicturesofgrandchildrenandtheninvitedtostayforlunch.
Andsoheresheis,pickingathersalad,inwhatthemenudescribesasa‘contemporaryupscalerestaurant’.Aquartertotwelveisalittleearlyforhertohavelunch,butitwouldn’thavebeenpolitetorefusetheinvitation.Shenotesthatherfourhostsarenotonlytuckingintofulllunches,buthavealsocrackedopenabottleofredwine.
‘Thatreallywaswonderful,Donna’,saysElizabeth.‘Weenjoyedittremendously.’ElizabethlookstoDonnalikethesortofteacherwhoterrifiesyouallyearbutthengetsyouagradeAandcrieswhenyouleave.Perhapsit’sthetweedjacket.
‘Itwasblinding,Donna,’saysRon.‘CanIcallyouDonna,love?’
‘YoucancallmeDonna,butmaybedon’tcallmelove,’saysDonna.
‘Quiteright,darling,’agreesRon.‘Noted.ThatstoryabouttheUkrainianwiththeparkingticketandthechainsaw,though?Youshoulddoafter-dinnerspeaking,there’smoneyinit.Iknowsomeone,ifyou’dlikeanumber?’
Thesaladisdelicious,thinksDonna,andit’snotoftenshethinksthat.
‘Iwouldhavemadeaterrificheroinsmuggler,Ithink.’ThiswasIbrahim,whohadearlierraisedthepointaboutCentrica.‘It’sjustlogistics,isn’tit?There’salltheweighingtoo,whichIwouldenjoy,veryprecise.Andtheyhavemachinestocountmoney.Allthemodcons.Haveyouevercapturedaheroindealer,PCDeFreitas?’
‘No,’admitsDonna.‘It’sonmylist,though.’
‘ButI’mrightthattheyhavemachinestocountmoney?’asksIbrahim.
‘Theydo,yes,’saysDonna.
‘Wonderful,’saysIbrahim,anddownshisglassofwine.
‘Weboreeasily,’addsElizabeth,alsopolishingoffaglass.‘Godsaveusfromwindowlocks,WPCDeFreitas.’
‘It’sjustPCnow,’saysDonna.
‘Isee,’saysElizabeth,lipspursing.‘AndwhathappensifIstillchoosetosayWPC?Willtherebeawarrantformyarrest?’
‘No,butI’llthinkabitlessofyou,’saysDonna.‘Becauseit’sareallysimplethingtodo,andit’smorerespectfultome.’
‘Damn!Checkmate.OK,’saysElizabeth,andunpursesherlips.
‘Thankyou,’saysDonna.
‘GuesshowoldIam?’challengesIbrahim.
Donnahesitates.Ibrahimhasanicesuit,andhehasgreatskin.Hesmellswonderful.Ahandkerchiefisartfullyfoldedinhisbreastpocket.Hairthinning,butstillthere.Nopaunch,andjusttheonechin.Andyetunderneathitall?Hmmm.DonnalooksatIbrahim’shands.Alwaysthegiveaway.
‘Eighty?’sheventures.
SheseesthewinddepartIbrahim’ssails.‘Yes,spoton,butIlookyounger.Ilookaboutseventy-four.Everyoneagrees.ThesecretisPilates.’
‘Andwhat’syourstory,Joyce?’asksDonnatothefourthmemberofthegroup,asmall,white-hairedwomaninalavenderblouseandmauvecardigan.Sheissittingveryhappily,takingitallin.Mouthclosed,buteyesbright.Likeaquietbird,constantlyonthelookoutforsomethingsparklinginthesunshine.
‘Me?’saysJoyce.‘Nostoryatall.Iwasanurse,andthenamum,andthenanurseagain.NothingtoseehereI’mafraid.’
Elizabethgivesashortsnort.‘Don’tbetakeninbyJoyce,PCDeFreitas.Sheisthetypewho“getsthingsdone”.’
‘I’mjustorganized,’saysJoyce.‘It’soutoffashion.IfIsayI’mgoingtoZumba,IgotoZumba.That’sjustme.Mydaughteristheinterestingoneinthefamily.Sherunsahedgefund,ifyouknowwhatoneis?’
‘Notreally,’admitsDonna.
‘No,’agreesJoyce.
‘ZumbaisbeforePilates,’saysIbrahim.‘Idon’tliketodoboth.It’scounter-intuitivetoyourmajormusclegroups.’
AquestionhasbeennaggingatDonnathroughoutlunch.‘So,ifyoudon’tmindmeasking,IknowyouallliveatCoopersChase,buthowdidthefourofyoubecomefriends?’
‘Friends?’Elizabethseemsamused.‘Oh,we’renotfriends,dear.’
Ronischuckling.‘Christ,love,no,we’renotfriends.Doyouneedatop-up,Liz?’
ElizabethnodsandRonpours.Theyareonasecondbottle.Itis12.15.
Ibrahimagrees.‘Idon’tthinkfriendsistheword.Wewouldn’tchoosetosocialize,wehaveverydifferentinterests.IlikeRon,Isuppose,buthecanbeverydifficult.’
Ronnods,‘I’mverydifficult.’
‘AndElizabeth’smannerisoff-putting.’
Elizabethnods,‘ThereitisI’mafraid.I’vealwaysbeenanacquiredtaste.Sinceschool.’
‘IlikeJoyce,Isuppose.IthinkwealllikeJoyce,’saysIbrahim.
RonandElizabethnodtheiragreementagain.
‘Thankyou,I’msure,’saysJoyce,chasingpeasaroundherplate.‘Don’tyouthinksomeoneshouldinventflatpeas?’
Donnatriestoclearupherconfusion.
‘Soifyouaren’tfriends,thenwhatareyou?’
DonnaseesJoycelookupandshakeherheadattheothers,thisunlikelygang.‘Well,’saysJoyce.‘Firstly,wearefriends,ofcourse;thislotarejustalittleslowcatchingon.Andsecondly,ifitdidn’tsayonyourinvitation,PCDeFreitas,thenitwasmyoversight.We’retheThursdayMurderClub.’
Elizabethisgoingglassy-eyedwithredwine,Ronisscratchingata‘WestHam’tattooonhisneckandIbrahimispolishinganalready-polishedcufflink.
Therestaurantisfillinguparoundthem,andDonnaisnotthefirstvisitortoCoopersChasetothinkthiswouldn’tbetheworstplacetolive.Shewouldkillforaglassofwineandanafternoonoff.
‘Also,Iswimeveryday,’concludesIbrahim.‘Itkeepstheskintight.’
Whatisthisplace?
3
IfyouareevermindedtotaketheA21outofFairhaven,andheadintotheheartoftheKentishWeald,youwilleventuallypassanoldphonebox,stillworking,onasharpleft-handbend.Continueforaroundahundredyardsuntilyouseethesignfor‘Whitechurch,AbbotsHatchandLentsHill’,andthentakearight.HeadthroughLentsHill,pasttheBlueDragonandthelittlefarmshopwiththebigeggoutside,untilyoureachthesmallstonebridgeovertheRobertsmere.OfficiallytheRobertsmereisariver,butdon’tgetconfusedandexpectanythinggrand.
Takethesingle-trackrightturnjustpastthebridge.Youwillthinkyouareheadedthewrongway,butthisisquickerthanthewaytheofficialbrochuretakesyou,andalsopicturesqueifyoulikedappledhedgerows.Eventuallytheroadwidensoutand,peekingbetweentalltrees,youwillbegintoseesignsofliferisingonthehillylanduptoyourleft.Upaheadyouwillseeatiny,wood-cladbusstop,alsostillworking,ifonebusineitherdirectionadaycountsasworking.JustbeforeyoureachthebusstopyouwillseetheentrancesignforCoopersChaseonyourleft.
TheybeganworkonCoopersChaseabouttenyearsago,whentheCatholicChurchsoldtheland.Thefirstresidents,Ron,forone,hadmovedinthreeyearslater.Itwasbilledas‘Britain’sFirstLuxuryRetirementVillage’,thoughaccordingtoIbrahim,whohaschecked,itwasactuallytheseventh.Therearecurrentlyaround300residents.Youcan’tmovehereuntilyou’reoversixty-five,andtheWaitrosedeliveryvansclinkwithwineandrepeatprescriptionseverytimetheypassoverthecattlegrid.
TheoldconventdominatesCoopersChase,withthreemodernresidentialdevelopmentsspirallingoutfromthiscentralpoint.Foroverahundredyearstheconventwasahushedbuilding,filledwiththedrybustleofhabitsandthequietcertaintyofprayersofferedandanswered.Tappingalongitsdarkcorridorsyouwouldhavefoundsomewomencomfortableintheirserenity,somewomenfrightenedofaspeedingworld,somewomenhiding,somewomenprovingavague,long-forgottenpointandsomewomentakingjoyinservingahigherpurpose.Youwouldhavefoundsinglebeds,arrangedindorms;long,lowtablesforeating;achapelsodarkandquietyouwouldswearyouheardGodbreathing.Inshort,youwouldfindtheSistersoftheHolyChurch,anarmywhichwouldnevergiveyouup,whichwouldfeedyouandclotheyouandcontinuetoneedandvalueyou.Allitrequiredinreturnwasalifetimeofdevotion,and,giventherewillalwaysbesomeonerequiringthat,therewerealwaysvolunteers.Andthenonedayyouwouldtaketheshorttripupthehill,throughthetunneloftrees,totheGardenofEternalRest–theirongatesandlowstonewallsoftheGardenlookingovertheconventandtheendlessbeautyoftheKentishHighWealdbeyond,yourbodyinanothersinglebed,underasimplestone,alongsidetheSisterMargaretsandSisterMarysofthegenerationsbeforeyou.Ifyouhadoncehaddreamstheycouldnowplayoverthegreenhills,andifyouhadsecretsthentheywerekeptsafeinsidethefourwallsoftheconventforever.
Well,moreaccurately,threewalls,asthewest-facingsideoftheconventisnowentirelyglazedtoaccommodatetheresidents’swimming-poolcomplex.Itlooksoutoverthebowlinggreen,andthenfurtherdowntothevisitors’carpark,thepermitsforwhicharerationedtosuchanextentthattheParkingCommitteeisthesinglemostpowerfulcabalwithinCoopersChase.
Besidetheswimmingpoolisasmall‘arthritistherapypool’,whichlookslikeaJacuzzi,largelyforthereasonthatitisaJacuzzi.Anyonegiventhegrandtourbytheowner,IanVentham,wouldthenbeshownthesauna.Ianwouldalwaysopenthedooracrackandsay,‘Blimey,it’slikeasaunainthere.’ThatwasIan.
Taketheliftuptotherecreationroomsnext.Thegym,andtheexercisestudio,whereresidentscouldhappilyZumbaamongtheghostsofthesinglebeds.Thenthere’stheJigsawRoomforgentleractivitiesandassociations.There’sthelibrary,andtheloungeforthebiggerandmorecontroversialcommitteemeetings,orforfootballontheflat-screenTV.Thendownagaintothegroundfloor,wherethelonglowtablesoftheconventrefectoryarenowthe‘contemporaryupscalerestaurant’.
Attheveryheartofthevillage,attachedtotheconvent,istheoriginalchapel.ItspalecreamstuccoexteriormakesitlookalmostMediterraneanagainstthefierce,Gothicdarknessoftheconvent.Thechapelremainsintactandunchanged,oneofthefewcovenantsinsisteduponbytheexecutorsoftheSistersoftheHolyChurchwhentheyhadsoldouttenyearsago.Theresidentsliketousethechapel.Thisiswheretheghostsare,wherethehabitsstillbustleandwherethewhispershavesunkintothestone.Itisaplacetomakeyoufeelpartofsomethingslowerandsomethinggentler.IanVenthamislookingintocontractualloopholesthatmightallowhimtoredevelopthechapelintoeightmoreflats.
Attachedtotheothersideoftheconvent–theveryreasonfortheconvent–isWillows.Willowsisnowthenursinghomeforthevillage.IthadbeenestablishedbytheSistersin1841asavoluntaryhospital,charitablytendingtothesickandbrokenwhennootheroptionexisted.Inthelatterpartofthelastcenturyithadbecomeacarehome,untillegislationinthe1980sledtothedoorsfinallyclosing.Theconventthensimplybecameawaitingroom,andwhenthelastnunpassedawayin2005,theChurchwastednotimeincashinginandsellingitasajoblot.
Thedevelopmentsitsintwelveacresofwoodlandandbeautifulopenhillside.Therearetwosmalllakes,onereal,andonecreatedbyIanVentham’sbuilder,TonyCurran,andhisgang.ThemanyducksandgeesethatalsocallCoopersChasehomeseemtomuchprefertheartificialone.Therearestillsheepfarmedattheverytopofthehill,wherethewoodlandbreaks,andinthepasturesbythelakeisaherdoftwentyllamas.IanVenthamhadboughttwotolookquirkyinsalesphotosandithadgotoutofhand,asthesethingsdo.
That,inanutshell,iswhatthisplaceis.
4
Joyce
Ifirstkeptadiarymanyyearsago,butI’velookedbackatit,andIdon’tthinkitwouldbeofanyinteresttoyou.Unlessyou’reinterestedinHaywardsHeathinthe1970s,whichIamgoingtoassumeyou’renot.ThatisnooffencetoeitherHaywardsHeathorthe1970s,bothofwhichIenjoyedatthetime.
Butacoupleofdaysago,aftermeetingElizabeth,IwenttomyfirstevermeetingoftheThursdayMurderClub,andIhavebeenthinkingthatperhapsitmightbeinterestingtowriteabout.LikewhoeverwrotethatdiaryaboutHolmesandWatson?Peopleloveamurder,whatevertheymightsayinpublic,soIwillgiveitago.
IknewtheThursdayMurderClubwasgoingtobeElizabeth,IbrahimArif,wholivesinWordsworth,withawraparoundbalcony,andRonRitchie.Yes,thatRonRitchie.Sothatwassomethingelseexciting.NowIknowhimabitbetter,theshinehaswornoffalittle,butevenso.
PennyGrayalsousedtobepartofit,butsheisnowinWillows,that’sthenursinghome.Thinkingaboutitnow,Ifittedrightin.Isupposetherehadbeenavacancy,andIwasthenewPenny.
Iwasnervousatthetime,though.Irememberthat.Itookalonganicebottleofwine(￡8.99,togiveyouanidea),andasIwalkedin,thethreeofthemwerealreadythereintheJigsawRoom,layingoutphotographsonthetable.
ElizabethhadformedtheThursdayMurderClubwithPenny.PennyhadbeenaninspectorintheKentPoliceformanyyears,andshewouldbringalongthefilesofunsolvedmurdercases.Shewasn’treallysupposedtohavethefiles,butwhowastoknow?Afteracertainage,youcanprettymuchdowhatevertakesyourfancy.Noonetellsyouoff,exceptforyourdoctorsandyourchildren.
I’mnotsupposedtosaywhatElizabethusedtodoforaliving,eventhoughshedoesgoonaboutitherselfattimes.Sufficetosaythough,thatmurdersandinvestigationsandwhathaveyouwouldn’tbeunfamiliarworkforher.
ElizabethandPennywouldgothrougheveryfile,linebyline,studyeveryphotograph,readeverywitnessstatement,justlookingforanythingthathadbeenmissed.Theydidn’tliketothinktherewereguiltypeoplestillhappilygoingabouttheirbusiness.Sittingintheirgardens,doingasudoku,knowingtheyhadgotawaywithmurder.
Also,IthinkthatPennyandElizabethjustthoroughlyenjoyedit.Afewglassesofwineandamystery.Verysocial,butalsogory.Itisgoodfun.
TheywouldmeeteveryThursday(that’showtheycameupwiththename).ItwasThursdaybecausetherewasatwo-hourslotfreeintheJigsawRoom,betweenArtHistoryandConversationalFrench.Itwasbooked,andstillisbooked,underthenameJapaneseOpera–ADiscussion,whichensuredtheywerealwaysleftinpeace.
Therewerecertainfavoursbothofthemcouldcallupon,fordifferentreasons,andallsortsofpeoplehadbeencalledinforafriendlychatovertheyears.Forensicsofficers,accountantsandjudges,treesurgeons,horse-breeders,glass-blowers–they’dallbeentotheJigsawRoom.WhomeverElizabethandPennythoughtmighthelpthemwithsomequeryorother.
Ibrahimhadsoonjoinedthem.HeusedtoplaybridgewithPenny,andhadhelpedthemoutonceortwicewithbitsandbobs.He’sapsychiatrist.Orwasapsychiatrist.Orstillis,I’mnotquitesure.Whenyoufirstmeethimyoucan’tseethatatall,butonceyougettoknowhimitmakesasortofsense.Iwouldneverhavetherapy,becausewhowantstounravelallthatknitting?Notworththerisk,thankyou.Mydaughter,Joanna,hasatherapist,althoughyou’dbehardpushedtoknowwhyifyousawthesizeofherhouse.Eitherway,Ibrahimnolongerplaysbridge,whichIthinkisashame.
Ronhadallbutinvitedhimself,whichwon’tsurpriseyou.Hewasn’tbuyingJapaneseOperaforasecondandwalkedintotheJigsawRoomoneThursday,wantingtoknowwhatwasafoot.ElizabethadmiressuspicionaboveallelseandinvitedRontoflickthroughthefileofascoutmasterfoundburnedtodeathin1982,inwoodlandjustofftheA27.ShesoonspottedRon’skeystrength,namely,heneverbelievesasinglewordanyoneevertellshim.Elizabethnowsaysthatreadingpolicefilesinthecertainknowledgethatthepolicearelyingtoyouissurprisinglyeffective.
ItiscalledtheJigsawRoom,bytheway,becausethisiswherethebiggerjigsawsarecompleted,onagentlyslopingwoodentableinthecentreoftheroom.WhenIfirstwalkedin,therewasa2,000-piecerofWhitstableharbour,missingaletterboxofsky.IoncewenttoWhitstable,justfortheday,butIcouldn’treallyseewhatthefusswasallabout.Onceyou’vedonetheoysters,there’snorealshoppingtospeakof.
Anyway,Ibrahimhadputathickperspexscreenoverthejigsaw,andthisiswherehe,ElizabethandRonwerelayingouttheautopsyphotosofthepoorgirl.TheonewhoElizabeththoughthadbeenkilledbyherboyfriend.Thisparticularboyfriendwasbitteratbeinginvalidedoutfromthearmy,butthere’salwayssomething,isn’tthere?Weallhaveasobstory,butwedon’tallgoaroundkillingpeople.
Elizabethtoldmetoshutthedoorbehindmeandcomeandtakealookatsomepictures.
Ibrahimintroducedhimself,shookmyhandandtoldmetherewerebiscuits.Heexplainedthatthereweretwolayers,buttheytriedtofinishthetoplayerbeforetheystartedthebottomlayer.Itoldhimhewaspreachingtotheconvertedthere.
Rontookmywineandputitbythebiscuits.Henoddedatthelabelandcommentedthatitwasawhite.Hethengavemeakissonthecheek,whichgavemepauseforthought.
Iknowyoumightthinkthatakissonthecheekisnormal,butfrommenintheirseventiesitisn’t.Theonlymenwhokissyouonthecheekaresons-in-laworpeoplelikethat.SoIhadRondownasaquickworkerstraightaway.
IfoundoutthatthefamoustradeunionleaderRonRitchielivedinthevillagewhenheandPenny’shusband,John,nursedaninjuredfoxbacktohealthandcalleditScargill.ThestoryhadfeaturedinthevillagenewsletterwhenIfirstarrived.GiventhatJohnhadbeenavetandRonwas,well,Ron,IsuspectedthatJohnhaddonethenursingandRonhadsimplybeenonnamingduties.
Thenewsletter,bytheway,iscalledCuttotheChase,whichisapun.
Weallcrowdedaroundtheautopsyphotos.Thepoorgirl,andthatwoundthatshouldneverhavekilledher,evenbackinthosedays.TheboyfriendhadboltedfromPenny’ssquadcaronthewaytoapoliceinterviewandhadn’tbeenseensince.HehadgivenPennyabeltforhertroublestoo.Nosurprisesthere.Ifyouhitwomen,youhitwomen.
Evenifhehadn’trunoff,Isupposehewouldhavegotawaywithit.Iknowyoustillreadaboutthesethingsallthetime,butitwasevenworsebackthen.
TheThursdayMurderClubwasn’tabouttomagicallybringhimtojustice;Ithinkeveryoneknewthat.PennyandElizabethhadsolvedallsortsofcasestotheirownsatisfaction,butthatwasasfarastheycouldgo.
SoIsupposeyoucouldsaythatPennyandElizabethneverreallygottheirwish.Allthosemurderersremainedunpunished,allstilloutthere,listeningtotheshippingforecastsomewhere.Theyhadgotawaywithit,assomepeopledo,I’mafraid.Theolderyouget,themoreyouhavetocometotermswiththat.
Anyway,that’sjustmebeingphilosophical,whichwillgetusnowhere.
LastThursdaywasthefirsttimeitwasthefourofus.Elizabeth,Ibrahim,Ronandme.And,asIsay,itseemedverynatural.AsifIwascompletingtheirjigsawagain.
Iwillleavethediarytherefornow.Thereisabigmeetinginthevillagetomorrow.Ihelptoputthechairsoutforthesesortsofthings.Ivolunteer,because(a)itmakesmelookhelpfuland(b)itgivesmefirstdibsattherefreshments.
ThemeetingisaconsultationaboutanewdevelopmentatCoopersChase.IanVentham,thebigboss,iscomingtotalktousaboutit.ItrytobehonestwhereIcan,soIhopeyoudon’tmindmesayingIdon’tlikehim.He’sallthethingsthatcangowrongwithamanifyouleavehimtohisowndevices.
Therehasbeenafearsomehoo-haaboutthenewdevelopment,becausethey’rechoppingdowntreesanduprootingagraveyard,andthere’sarumourofwindturbines.Ronislookingforwardtocausingabitoftrouble,andIamlookingforwardtowatchinghimdothat.
FromnowonIpromisetotrytowritesomethingeveryday.Iwillkeepmyfingerscrossedthatsomethinghappens.
5
TheWaitroseinTunbridgeWellshasacafé.IanVenthamparkshisRangeRoverinthelastemptydisabledbayoutside,notbecausehe’sdisabledbutbecauseit’snearesttothedoor.
Walkingin,hespotsBogdanbythewindow.IanowesBogdan￡4,000.Hehasbeenstallingforawhile,inthehopethatBogdanisthrownoutofthecountry,butthusfar,noluck.Anyway,henowhasarealjobforhim,soit’sallworkedoutOK.HegivesthePoleawaveandapproachesthecounter.Hescansthechalkboard,lookingforacoffee.
‘Isallyourcoffeefairtrade?’
‘Yes,allfairtrade,’smilestheyoungwomanserving.
‘Shame,’saysIan.Hedoesn’twanttopayanextrafifteenpencetohelpsomeonehe’llnevermeetinacountryhe’llnevergoto.‘Cupofteaplease.Almondmilk.’
Bogdanisn’tIan’sbiggestworrythatday.Ifheendsuphavingtopayhim,thensobeit.Ian’sbiggestworryisbeingkilledbyTonyCurran.
Iantakeshisteaovertothetable,spottinganyoneoversixtyashegoes.Oversixty,andwithWaitrosemoney?Givethemtenyears,hethinks.Hewisheshe’dbroughtsomebrochures.
IanwilldealwithTonyCurranasandwhen,butrightnowhehastodealwithBogdan.ThegoodnewsisthatBogdandoesn’twanttokillhim.Iansitsdown.
‘What’sallthisabouttwogrand,Bogdan?’Ianasks.
Bogdanisdrinkingfromatwo-litrebottleofLilthehassmuggledin.‘Fourthousand.Isprettycheaptoretileaswimmingpool.Idon’tknowifyouknowthat?’
‘Onlycheapifyoudoagoodjob,Bogdan,’saysIan.‘Thegrouting’sdiscoloured.Look.Iaskedforcoralwhite.’
Iantakesouthisphone,scrollsthroughtoaphotoofhisnewpoolandshowsittoBogdan.
‘No,thatisfilter,let’stakeofffilter.’Bogdanpressesabuttonandtheimageimmediatelybrightens.‘Coralwhite.Youknowit.’
Iannods.Worthatrythough.Sometimesyouhavetoknowwhentopayup.
Iantakesanenvelopeoutofhispocket.‘Allright,Bogdan,fair’sfair.Here’sthreegrand.Thatdoyou?’
Bogdanlooksweary.‘Threegrand,sure.’
Ianhandsitover‘It’sactuallytwothousandeighthundred,butthat’snearenoughbetweenfriends.Now,Iwantedtoaskyouaboutsomething.’
‘Sure,’saysBogdan,pocketingthemoney.
‘Youseemabrightlad,Bogdan?’
Bogdanshrugs.‘Well,IspeakfluentPolish.’
‘WheneverIaskyoutodosomething,itgetsdone,anditgetsdoneprettywell,andprettycheap,’saysIan.
‘Thankyou,’saysBogdan.
‘SoI’mjustwondering.Youreadyforsomethingbigger,youthink?’
‘Sure,’saysBogdan.
‘Alotbigger,though?’saysIan.
‘Sure,’saysBogdan.‘Bigisthesameassmall.There’sjustmoreofit.’
‘Goodlad,’saysIan,anddrainsthelastofhistea.‘I’monmywaytofireTonyCurran.AndIneedsomeonetostepupandtakehisplace.Youfancythat?’
Bogdangivesalowwhistle.
‘Toomuchforyou?’asksIan.
Bogdanshakeshishead.‘No,nottoomuchforme,Icandothejob.IjustthinkthatifyoufireTony,maybehekillsyou.’
Iannods.‘Iknow.Butyouletmeworryaboutthat.Andtomorrowthejob’sallyours.’
‘Ifyou’realive,sure,’saysBogdan.
Timetogo.IanshakesBogdan’shandandturnshismindtotellingTonyCurranthebadnews.
There’saconsultationmeetingdownatCoopersChase,andhehastolistentowhatalltheoldpeoplehavetosay.Nodpolitely,wearatie,callthembytheirfirstnames.Peoplelapthatsortofthingup.He’sinvitedTonyalong,sohecanfirehimstraightafterwards.Outintheopenair,withwitnessesnearby.
ThereisatenpercentchancethatTonywillkillhimonthespot.Butthatmeansthereisaninetypercentchancethathewon’t,and,givenhowmuchmoneyitwillmakeIan,heiscomfortablewiththoseodds.Riskandreward.
AsIangetsoutside,hehearsbeepingandseesawomanonamobilityscooterfuriouslypointingathisRangeRoverwithacane.
Iwastherefirst,love,thinksIan,ashestepsintothecar.Whatiswrongwithsomepeople?
Ashedrives,IanlistenstoamotivationalaudiobookcalledKillorBeKilled–UsingtheLessonsoftheBattlefieldintheBoardroom.ApparentlyitwaswrittenbysomeoneintheIsraeliSpecialForces,andithadbeenrecommendedtohimbyoneofthepersonaltrainersattheVirginActiveinTunbridgeWells.Ianisn’tcertainifthepersonaltrainerhimselfisIsraeli,buthelookslikehe’sfromthereorthereabouts.
AsthemiddaysunfailstoforceitswaythroughtheillegallytintedwindowsoftheRangeRover,IanstartstothinkaboutTonyCurranagain.They’vebeenverygoodforeachotherovertheyears,IanandTony.Ianwouldbuyuptatteredandtiredoldhouses,bigones.Tonywouldgutthem,dividethemup,putintherampsandthehandrails,andonthey’dgotothenextone.Thecare-homebusinessboomed,andIanbuilthisfortune.Hekeptafew,hesoldafew,heboughtafewmore.
IantakesasmoothiefromtheRangeRover’sicebox.Theiceboxhadnotcomeasstandard.AmechanicinFavershamhadfitteditforhim,whilehewasgold-platingtheglovebox.ItisIan’sregularsmoothie.Apunnetofraspberries,afistfulofspinach,Icelandicyoghurt(Finnish,iftheyareoutofIcelandic),spirulina,wheatgrass,acerolacherrypowder,chlorella,kelp,acaiextract,cocoanibs,zinc,beetrootessence,chiaseeds,mangozestandginger.Itishisowninvention,andhecallsitKeepItSimple.
Hecheckshiswatch.AbouttenminutesuntilhegetstoCoopersChase.Getthemeetingdone,thenbreakthenewstoTony.Thismorninghehadgoogled‘stab-proofvests’,butthesame-daydeliveryoptionhadbeenunavailable.AmazonPrime?Theymustthinkhe’samug.
He’ssureitwillbefine,though.AndgreatnewsthatBogdan’sonboardtotakeover.Aseamlesstransition.Andcheaper,ofcourse,whichisthewholepoint
Ianhadworkedoutveryearlyonthatheneededtotakehisbusinessupmarketifhewantedtomakerealmoney.Theworstthingwaswhenclientsdied.Therewasadmin,roomsleftearningnothingasnewclientswerefoundand,worstofall,you’dhavetodealwiththefamilies.Now,thericheraclientwas,byandlargethelongertheywouldlive.Also,therichertheywere,thelessoftentheirfamilywouldvisit,astheytendedtoliveinLondon,orNewYork,orSantiago.SoIanmovedupmarket,transforminghiscompany,AutumnSunsetCareHomes,intoHomefromHomeIndependentLiving,concentratingonfewer,bigger,properties.TonyCurranhadn’tblinkedaneye.WhatTonydidn’tknowhewouldquicklylearn,andnowetroom,electronickeycardorcommunalbarbecuepitcouldfazehim.Itseemedashametolethimgoreally,butthereitwas.
Ianpassesthewoodenbusstoponhisright,andturnsintotheentrancetoCoopersChase.Assooften,hefollowsadeliveryvanoverthecattlegrid,andisstuckbehinditallthewayupthelongdriveway.Takingintheviewontheway,heshakeshishead.Somanyllamas.Youliveandlearn.
Ianparksupandmakessurehisparkingpermitiscorrectlyandprominentlydisplayed,ontheleft-handsideofhiswindscreen,withpermitnumberandexpirationdateclearlyshowing.Ianhasbeeninallsortsofscrapeswithallsortsofauthoritiesovertheyears,andtheonlytwothathaveevertrulyrattledhimaretheRussianImportTaxInvestigationAuthorityandtheCoopersChaseParkingCommittee.Worthit,though.Whatevermoneyhehadmadebefore,CoopersChasehadbeeninanotherleagueentirely.IanandTonybothknewit.Awaterfallofmoney.Which,ofcourse,wasthesourceoftoday’sproblem.
CoopersChase.Twelveacresofbeautifulcountryside,withpermissiontobuildupto400retirementflats.Nothingtherebutanemptyconvent,andsomeone’ssheepuponthehill.Anoldfriendofhishadboughtthelandoffapriestafewyearsbefore,thensuddenlyneededsomequickcashtofightoffextraditionproceedingsduetoamisunderstanding.Iandidthesumsandrealizedthiswasaleapworthtaking.ButTonyhaddonethesumstoo,anddecidedtomakealeapofhisown.WhichiswhyTonyCurrannowownedtwenty-fivepercentofeverythingthathebuiltatCoopersChase.IanhadfeltcompelledtoagreetothetermsbecauseTonyhadneverbeenanythingbutloyaltohim,andalsobecauseTonyhadmadeitclearhewouldbreakbothofIan’sarmsifherefused.IanhadseenTonybreakpeople’sarmsbefore,andsotheywerenowpartners.
Notforlong,though.SurelyTonyknewitcouldn’tlast?Anyonecanbuildaluxuryapartmentreally–striptothewaist,listentoMagicFM,digoutsomefoundationsorshoutatabricklayer.Easywork.Butnoteveryonehasthevisiontooverseesomeonebuildingluxuryapartments.Withthenewdevelopmentabouttostart,whatbettertimeforTonytolearnhistruevalue?
IanVenthamfeelsemboldened.Killorbekilled.
Iangetsoutofthecar,andasheblinksintothesuddenglareofthesun,hejustcatchestheaftertasteofbeetrootessencethatwasoneofthekeyobstaclestohimlaunchingKeepItSimpleasacommercialproposition.Hecouldleavethebeetrootessenceout,butitwasessentialtopancreatichealth.
Sunglasseson.Andsotobusiness.Ianisnotplanningondyingtoday.
6
RonRitchieis,assooften,havingnoneofit.Heisjabbingapractisedfingeratacopyofhislease.Heknowsitlooksgood,italwaysdoes,butRoncanfeelhisfingershaking,andtheleaseshaking.Hewavestheleaseintheairtohidetheshakes.Hisvoicehaslostnoneofitspower,though.
‘Nowhere’saquote.Andit’syourwords,MrVentham,notmywords.“CoopersChaseHoldingInvestmentsreservestherighttodevelopfurtherresidentialpossibilitiesonthesite,inconsultationwithcurrentresidents”.’
Ron’sbigframehintsatthephysicalpowerhemustoncehavehad.Thechassisisallstillthere,likeabull-nosedtruckrustinginafield.Hisface,wideandopen,isreadyatasecond’snoticetobeoutragedorincredulous,orwhateverelsemightberequired.Whatevermighthelp.
‘That’swhatthisis,’saysIanVentham,asiftalkingtoachild.‘Thisistheconsultationmeeting.You’retheresidents.Consultallyoulike,forthenexttwentyminutes.’
VenthamsitsatatrestletableatthefrontoftheResidents’Lounge.Heisteak-tanned,relaxedandhashissunglassespushedupoverhis1980scatalogue-modelhair.Heiswearinganexpensivepoloshirt,andawatchsolargeitmightaswellbeaclock.Helookslikehesmellsgreat,butyouwouldn’treallywanttogetcloseenoughtofindoutforcertain.
Venthamisflankedbyawomanaroundfifteenyearshisjuniorandatattooedmaninasleevelessvest,scrollingthroughhisphone.Thewomanisthedevelopmentarchitect;thetattooedmanisTonyCurran.RonhasseenCurranaround,hasheardabouthimtoo.Ibrahimiswritingdowneverywordthat’ssaidasRoncontinuestojabinVentham’sdirection.
‘I’mnotfallingforthatoldbull,Ventham.Thisain’taconsultation,it’sanambush.’
Joycedecidestochipin.‘Youtellhim,Ron.’
Ronfullyintendsto.
‘Thanks,Joyce.You’recallingit“TheWoodlands”,eventhoughyou’recuttingdownallthetrees.That’srich,oldson.You’vegotyournicelittlecomputerpictures,alldoneup,sunshining,fluffyclouds,littleducksswimmingonponds.Youcanproveanythingwithcomputers,son;wewantedtoseeaproperscalemodel.Withmodeltreesandlittlepeople.’
Thisgetsarippleofapplause.Alotofpeoplehadwantedtoseeascalemodel,butaccordingtoIanVenthamitwasn’tthedonethingthesedays.Roncontinues.
‘Andyou’vechosen,deliberatelychosen,awomanarchitect,soIwon’tbeallowedtoshout.’
‘Youareshoutingthough,Ron,’saysElizabeth,whoistwoseatsaway,readinganewspaper.
‘Don’tyoutellmewhenI’mshouting,Elizabeth,’shoutsRon.‘Thisgeezer’llknowwhenI’mshouting.Lookathim,dresseduplikeTonyBlair.Whydon’tyoubombtheIraqiswhileyou’reatit,Ventham?’
Goodline,thinksRon,asIbrahimdutifullywritesitdownfortherecord.
Backinthedayswhenhewasinthepapers,theycalledhim‘RedRon’,thougheveryonewas‘Red’somethinginthosedays.Ron’spicturewasrarelyinthepaperswithoutthecaption‘talksbetweenthetwosidescollapsedlatelastnight’.Aveteranofpicketlinesandpolicecells,ofblacklegs,blacklistsandbust-ups,ofslow-downsandsit-ins,ofwildcatsandwalkouts,Ronhadbeenthere,warminghishandsoverabrazier,withtheoldgangatBritishLeyland.Ronhadseen,first-hand,thedemiseofthedockers.RonhadpicketedWappingashewitnessedthevictoryofRupertMurdochandthecollapseoftheprinters.RonhadledtheKentminersuptheA1andhadbeenarrestedatOrgreaveasthefinalresistanceofthecoalindustrywascrushed.Infact,amanlessindefatigablethanRonmighthaveconsideredhimselfajinx.Butthat’sthefateoftheunderdog,andRonsimplylovedtobetheunderdog.Ifheeverfoundhimselfinasituationwherehewasn’ttheunderdog,hewouldtwistandturnandshakethatsituationuntilhehadconvincedeveryonethathewas.ButRonhadalwayspractisedwhathehadpreached.Hehadalwaysquietlyhelpedanyonewhohadneededaleg-up,neededafewextraquidatChristmas,neededasuitorasolicitorforcourt.Anyonewho,foranyreason,hadneededachampion,hadalwaysbeensafeinRon’stattooedarms.
Thetattoosarefadingnow,thehandsareshaking,butthefirestillburns.
‘Youknowwhereyoucanshovethislease,don’tyou,Ventham?’
‘Feelfreetoenlightenme,’saysIanVentham.
RonthenstartstomakeapointaboutDavidCameronandtheEUreferendum,butloseshisthread.Ibrahimplacesahandonhiselbow.Ronnodsthenodofamanwhoseworkhereisdoneandhesits,kneescrackinglikegunshots.
He’shappy.Andhenoticeshisshakeshavestopped,justforthemoment.Backinthefight.Therewasnothinglikeit.
7
AsFatherMatthewMackieslipsinatthebackofthelounge,alargemaninaWestHamshirtisshoutingaboutTonyBlair.Thereisabigturnout,ashehadhoped.That’suseful,plentyofobjectionstotheWoodlandsdevelopment.TherehadbeennobuffetserviceonthetrainfromBexhill,andsoheisgladtoseetherearebiscuits.
Hegrabsahandfulwhennooneislooking,takesablueplasticseatinthebackrowandsettleshimselfin.Themaninthetightlyfittingfootballtopisrunningoutofsteamnowand,ashesitsdown,otherhandsgoup.Hopefullythiswasawastedtrip,butitisfarbettertobesafethansorry.FatherMackieisawarethatheisnervous.Headjustshisdogcollar,runsahandthroughhisshockofsnowy-whitehairanddipsintohispocketforashortbreadfinger.Ifsomeonedoesn’taskaboutthecemetery,perhapsheshould.Justbebrave.Rememberhehasajobtodo.
Howpeculiartobeinthisroom!Heshivers.Probablyjustthecold.
8
Theconsultationover,RonissittingwithJoycebesidethebowlinggreen,coldbeersglintinginthesunshine.Heiscurrentlybeingdistractedbyaretired,one-armedjewellerfromRuskinCourt,calledDennisEdmonds.
Dennis,towhomRonhasneverspokenbefore,wantstocongratulateRonontheverysalientpointshemadeduringtheconsultationmeeting.‘Thought-provoking,Ron,thought-provoking.Plentytochewonthere.’
RonthanksDennisforhiskindwords,andwaitsforthemovethatheknowsiscoming.Themovethatalwayscomes.
‘Andthismustbeyourson?’saysDennis,turningtowardsJasonRitchie,alsocradlingabeer.‘Thechamp!’
Jasonsmilesandnods,aspoliteasalways.Dennisextendshisarm.‘Dennis.I’mafriendofyourdad’s.’
Jasonshakestheman’shand.‘Jason.Howdoyoudo,Dennis.’
Dennisstaresforabeat,waitingforJasontostartaconversation,thennodsenthusiastically.‘Well,apleasuretomeetyou,I’mahugefan,seenallyourfights.We’llseeyousoonagain,Ihope?’
JasonnodspolitelyagainandDennisamblesoff,forgettingeventopretendtosaygoodbyetoRon.Fatherandson,wellusedtotheseinterruptions,resumetheirconversationwithJoyce.
‘Yeah,it’scalledFamousFamilyTrees,’saysJason.‘They’veresearchedthefamilyhistoryandtheywanttotakemeroundvariousplaces,tellmeabitabout,youknow,familyhistory.Great-granny’saprostituteandallthat.’
‘Iain’tseenit,’saysRon.‘Whatisit,BBC?’
‘It’sITV;it’sreallyverygood,Ron,’saysJoyce.‘Isawonerecently,didyouseeitJason,withtheactor?He’sthedoctorfromHolbyCity,butI’vealsoseenhiminaPoirot.’
‘Ididn’tseeit,Joyce,’saysJason.
‘Itwasveryinteresting.Hisgrandfather,itturnsout,hadmurderedhislover.Agayloveraswell.Hisfacewasapicture.Oh,youshoulddoit,Jason.’Joyceclaps.‘ImagineifRonhadagaygranddad.I’denjoythat.’
Jasonnods.‘They’dwanttotalktoyoutoo,Dad.Oncamera.Theyaskedifyou’dbeupforit,andItoldthemgoodluckshuttingyouup.’
Ronlaughs.‘ButareyoureallydoingthatCelebrityIceDancethingaswell?’
‘Ithoughtitmightbefun.’
‘Oh,Iagree,’saysJoyce,finishingherbeerandreachingforanother.
‘You’redoingalotatthemoment,Son,’saysRon.‘JoycesaysshesawyouonMasterChef.’
Jasonshrugs.‘You’reright,Dad.Ishouldgobacktoboxing.’
‘Ican’tbelieveyou’dnevermadeamacaroonbefore,Jason,’saysJoyce.
Ronknocksbacksomeofhisbeer,thenmotionsovertohisleftwiththebottle.
‘OverbytheBMW,Jase–don’tlooknow–that’sVentham,theoneIwastellingyouabout.Iranringsaroundhim,didn’tI,Joyce?’
‘Hedidn’tknowifhewascomingorgoing,Ron,’agreesJoyce.
Jasonleansbackandstretches,acasuallooktohisleftashedoesso.Joycemovesherchairtogetabetterview.
‘Yeah,niceandsubtle,Joyce,’saysRon.‘That’sCurranwithhim,Jase,thebuilder.Youevercomeacrosshimintown?’
‘Onceortwice,’saysJason.
Ronlooksoveragain.Theconversationbetweenthemenlookstense.Talkingfastandlow,handsaggressiveanddefensive,butcontained.
‘Theyhavingalittlebarney,youthink?’heasks.
Jasonsipshisbeerandscansacrosstothecarparkagain,takingthemenin.
‘They’relikeacoupleoutonadate,pretendingthey’renothavinganargument,’saysJoyce.‘InaPizzaExpress.’
‘You’venaileditthere,Joyce,’agreesJason,turningbacktohisdadandfinishinghisbeer.
‘Gameofsnookerthisafternoon,Son?’saysRon.‘Orareyoushootingoff?’
‘Loveto,Dad,butI’vegotalittleerrand.’
‘AnythingIcanhelpwith?’
Jasonshakeshishead.‘Boringone,won’ttakelong.’Hestandsandstretches.‘Youhaven’thadanyjournalistsringingyouuptoday,haveyou?’
‘ShouldIhave?’asksRon.‘Somethingup?’
‘Nah,youknowjournalists.Butnocalls,nomailoranything?’
‘Ihadacatalogueforwalk-inbaths,’saysRon.‘Youwanttotellmewhyyou’reasking?’
‘Youknowme,Dad,they’realwaysaftersomething.’
‘Howexciting!’saysJoyce.
‘Seeyouboth,’saysJason.‘Don’tgetdrunkandsmashtheplaceup.’
Jasonleaves.Joyceturnsherfaceuptothesunandcloseshereyes.‘Well,isn’tthislovely,Ron?IneverknewIlikedbeer.ImagineifI’ddiedatseventy?Ineverwouldhaveknown.’
‘Cheerstothat,Joyce,’saysRon,andpolishesoffhisdrink.‘Whatdoyoureckon’supwithJason?’
‘Probablyawoman,’saysJoyce.‘Youknowwhatwe’relike.’
Ronnods.‘Probably,yeah.’
Hewatcheshissondepartintothedistance.He’sworried.Butthenthere’sneverbeenadaywithJason,whetherinthering,orout,whenRonhasn’tworried
9
Theconsultationwentwell.IanVenthamisnolongerworriedaboutTheWoodlands;it’sadonedeal.Theloudguyfromthemeeting?He’dmethistypebefore.Lethimblowhimselfout.He’dalsoseenapriestatthebackoftheroom.Whatwasthat?Thecemetery,heguessed,butitwasallaboveboard,hehadallthepermits.Letthemtryandstophim
AndsackingTonyCurran?Well,hehadn’tbeenhappy,buthehadn’tkilledhimeither.AdvantageIan.
So,IanVenthamisalreadythinkingahead.AfterTheWoodlandsisupandrunningtherewillbeanother,finalphaseofthedevelopment,Hillcrest.HehasdriventhefiveminutesuparoughtrackfromCoopersChaseandisnowsittinginthecountrykitchenofKarenPlayfair.Herfather,Gordon,ownsthefarmlandatthetopofthehill,adjoiningCoopersChase,andheseemsinnomoodtosell.Nomatter,Ianhashisways.
‘I’mafraidnothinghaschanged,Ian,’saysKarenPlayfair.‘Mydadwon’tsell,andIcan’tmakehim.’
‘Ihearyou,’saysIan.‘Moremoney.’
‘No,Ithink–’saysKaren,‘andIthinkyouknowthisalready–Ithinkhejustdoesn’tlikeyou.’
GordonPlayfairhadtakenonelookatIanVenthamanddisappearedupstairs.Iancouldhearhimstompingabout,provingwhateverpointhewasproving.Whocared?Sometimespeopledidn’tlikeIan.Hehasneverquiteworkedoutwhy,butovertheyearshaslearnedtolivewithit.Certainly,itwastheirproblem.GordonPlayfairwasjustanotherinalonglineofpeoplewhodidn’tgethim.
‘Butlisten,leaveitwithme,’saysKaren.‘I’llfindaway.It’llworkforeveryone.’
KarenPlayfairgetshim.Hehasbeentalkingherthroughthesortofmoneyshecouldexpectifshepersuadesherdadtosellup.Hersisterandbrother-in-lawhavetheirownbusiness,organicraisinsinBrighton,andIanhasalreadytriedthislineonthem,andfailed.KarenPlayfairisamuchbetterbet.ShelivesaloneinacottageonthelandandsheworksinIT,whichyoucantelljustbylookingather.Sheiswearingmake-up,butinasubtle,understatedwaythatIanhonestlycan’tseethepointof.
IanwondersexactlywhenKarenhadgivenuponlifeandstartedwearingtrainersandlong,baggyjumpers.Andyou’dthink,giventhatsheworksinIT,shecouldhavegoogled‘Botox’.Shemustbefifty,Ianthinks,sameageashim.Differentforwomen,though.
Ianisonalotofdatingapps,andsetsastrictupperagelimitoftwenty-five.Hefindsthedatingappsuseful,becauseitcanbehardtomeetexactlytherightkindofwomenthesedays.Theyneedtounderstandthathistimeislimitedandhisworkdemanding,andthatcommitmentishardforhim.Womenovertwenty-fivedon’tseemtogetthat,inhisexperience.Whathappenstothem,hewonders.HetriestoimaginewhysomeonewouldchoosetodateKarenPlayfair,butdrawsablank.Conversation?Thatrunsoutsoonenough,doesn’tit?She’llberichsoon,ofcourse,whenIanbuystheland.Thatwillhelpher.
Hillcrestwillbeareallife-changerforIan,too.ItwilleventuallydoublethesizeofCoopersChase,andsodoubleIan’sprofits.ProfitshewillnolongerhavetosharewithTonyCurran.Ifthatmeanthavingtoflirtwithafifty-year-oldforacoupleofweeksthensobeit.
Ondates,Ianhashistried-and-testedmaterial.He’llimpressyoungwomenwithpicturesofhispool,andthetimehewasinterviewedonKentTonight.HehadalreadyshownKarenapictureofhispool,becauseyouneverknew,butshehadsimplysmiledpolitelyandnodded.Nowondershewassingle.
Hecoulddobusinesswithher,though.Sheknewtheupsideshere,andsheknewtheobstacles,andtheyendtheirconversationwithahandshakeandaplanofaction.AsheshakesKaren’shand,Ianthinksthatusingabitofhandcreameverynowandagainwouldn’tkillher.Fifty!Hewouldn’twishitonanyone.
ThethoughtbrieflyoccurstoIanthattheonlywomanovertwenty-fivehespendsanytimewithatallishiswife.
Ohwell,timetogo.Thingstodo.
10
TonyCurranhasmadeuphismind.HebringshisBMWX7toahaltonhisheateddriveway.Thereisagunburiedunderthesycamoreinthebackgarden.Orisitunderthebeech?It’soneortheother,butthat’ssomethinghecanthinkaboutwithanicecupoftea.Andhecantrytorememberwherehisspadeis,whilehe’satit.
TonyCurranisgoingtokillIanVentham,that’sagivennow.SurelyIanknowsittoo?Youcanonlytakesomanylibertiesbeforeeventhemostcalmandrationalmansnaps.
Tonywhistlesatunefromanadvertandheadsindoors.
Hemovedinabouteighteenmonthsago,onthefirstrealprofitsfromCoopersChase.Itwasthetypeofhousehehadalwaysdreamedof.Ahousebuiltonhardwork,onmakingtherightchoices,cuttingtherightcornersandbackinghisowntalent.Amonumenttowhathehadachieved,inbrick,glassandtemperedwalnut.
Tonyletshimselfinandsetstoworkswitchingoffthealarm.Venthamhadgotsomeofhisgangtofititlastweek.Polish,thelotofthem,butthenwhoisn’tthesedays?Tonygetsthefour-digitcoderightonthethirdattempt.Anewrecord.
TonyCurranhasalwaystakenhissecurityveryseriously.FormanyyearsTony’sbuildingcompanyhadreallyjustbeenafrontforhisdrugsbusiness.Awaytoexplainawayhisincome.Awaytowashhisdirtymoney.Butitslowlygotbigger,tookupmoreofhistime,broughtinmoreandmoremoney.Ifyou’dtoldyoungTonyhewouldenduplivinginthishouse,hewouldn’thavebeenatallsurprised.Ifyou’dtoldhimhe’dbebuyingitwithmoneyearnedlegally,he’dhavekeeledoverthereandthen.
Hiswife,Debbie,isnotback,butthatsuitshimfinefornow.Giveshimtimetoconcentrate,reallythinkitallthrough.
TonyrewindstotherowwithIanVentham,andhisfuryrisesagain.
IanwascuttinghimoutofTheWoodlands?Justlikethat?Aconversationonthewaytohiscar?Outdoors,justincaseTonyfeltlikeswingingapunch.Hewouldlovetohavesmackedhimthereandthen,butthatwastheoldTony.Sothey’dhadalittlerow,niceandquiet.Noonecouldpossiblyhavenoticed,andthat’sgoodforTony.WhenVenthamturnsupdead,noonecansaytheysawTonyCurranandIanVenthamhavingading-dong.Keepsitclean.
Tonysitsonabarstool,pullsituptotheislandinhisvastkitchenandslidesopenadrawer.Heneedstogetaplandownonpaper.
Tonyisnotabelieverinluck,he’sabelieverinhardwork.Ifyoufailtoprepare,youpreparetofail.AnoldEnglishteacherofTony’shadoncetoldhimthat,andhe’dneverforgottenit.Thenextyearhehadtorchedthesameteacher’scar,followinganargumentaboutafootball,butTonystillhadtohandittotheguy.Ifyoufailtoprepare,youpreparetofail.
Asitturnsout,thereisnopaperinthedrawer,soTonydecidestoworkouttheplaninhisheadinstead.
Nothingneedstobedonetonight.Lettheworldcontinueforawhile,letthebirdskeepsinginginthegarden,letVenthamthinkhehaswon.Andthenstrike.WhydidpeopleevermesswithTonyCurran?Whenhadthateverworkedoutforanyone?
Tonyhearsthenoiseasecondtoolate.Heturnstoseethespannerasitswingstowardshim.Abigonetoo,realold-schoolstuff.There’snowayofavoidingtheswingand,inthebriefmomentofrealizationhehas,TonyCurrangetsit.Youcan’twin’emall,Tony.That’sfairenough,hethinks,that’sfairenough.
TheblowcatchesTonyonthelefttempleandhecollapsestothemarblefloor.Thebirdsinthegardenstopsingingforthebriefestofmomentsandthencontinuetheirmerrytune.Highupinthesycamoretree.Orisitthebeech?
Thekillerplacesaphotographontheworktop,asTonyCurran’sfreshbloodbeginstoformamoataroundhiswalnutkitchenisland.
11
CoopersChasealwayswakesearly.Asthefoxesfinishtheirnightlyroundsandthebirdsbegintheirroll-call,thefirstkettleswhistleandlowlampsstarttoappearincurtainedwindows.Morningjointscreakintolife.
Nobodyhereisgrabbingtoastbeforeanearlytraintotheoffice,orpackingalunchboxbeforewakingthekids,butthereismuchtodononetheless.Manyyearsago,everybodyherewouldwakeearlybecausetherewasalottodoandonlysomanyhoursintheday.Nowtheywakeearlybecausethereisalottodoandonlysomanydaysleft.
Ibrahimisalwaysupbysix.Theswimmingpooldoesn’topenuntilseven,forhealth-and-safetyreasons.Hehasargued,unsuccessfully,thattheriskofdrowningwhileswimmingunsupervisedisdwarfedbytheriskofdyingfromcardio-vasculardiseaseorrespiratoryorcirculatoryillnessduetolackofregularexercise.Heevenproducedanalgorithmprovingthatkeepingthepoolopentwenty-fourhoursaday,wouldmakeresidentsthirty-onepointsevenpercentsaferthanclosingitovernight.TheLeisure&RecreationAmenitiesCommitteeremainedunmoved.Ibrahimcouldseethattheirhandsweretiedbyvariousdirectivesandsoheldnogrudge.Thealgorithmwasneatlyfiledaway,shoulditeverbeneededagain.Therewasalwaysalottodo.
‘Ihaveajobforyou,Ibrahim,’saysElizabeth,sippingaminttea.‘Well,ajobforyouandRon,butI’mputtingyouincharge.’
‘Verywise,’saysIbrahim,nodding.‘IfImightsay?’
ElizabethhadrunghimthenightbeforewiththenewsaboutTonyCurran.ShehadheardfromRon,whohadhearditfromJason,whohadhearditfromasourceyettobedocumented.Deadinhiskitchen,bluntforcetraumatothehead,foundbyhiswife.
Ibrahimusuallylikestospendthishourlookingthrougholdcasenotesandsometimesevennewones.Hestillhasafewclientsand,iftheyareeverinneed,theywillmakethetripouttoCoopersChaseandsitinthebatteredchairunderthepaintingofthesailingboat,bothofwhichhavefollowedhimaroundfornearlyfortyyearsnow.Yesterday,Ibrahimhadbeenreadingthenotesofanoldclientofhis,aMidlandBankmanagerfromGodalmingwhotookinstraydogsandkilledhimselfoneChristmasDay.Nosuchluckthismorning,Ibrahimthinks.Elizabethhadarrivedwiththesunrise.Heisfindingthebreakinhisroutinechallenging.
‘AllIneedyoutodoistolietoaseniorpoliceofficer,’saysElizabeth.‘CanItrustyouwiththat?’
‘Whencanyounottrustme,Elizabeth?’saysIbrahim.‘WhenhaveIletyoudown?’
‘Well,never,Ibrahim,’agreesElizabeth.‘That’swhyIliketokeepyouaround.Also,youmakeverygoodtea.’
Ibrahimknowsheisasafepairofhands.Overtheyearshehassavedlivesandsavedsouls.Hewasgoodatwhathedid,andthat’swhy,evennow,somepeoplewilldriveformiles,pasttheoldphoneboxandthefarmshop,turningrightjustafterthebridgeandleftbythewoodenbusstop,justtospeaktoaneighty-year-oldpsychiatrist,longretired.
Sometimeshefails–whodoesn’t,inthisworld?–andthosearethefilesthatIbrahimwillreachforinthoseearlymornings.Thebankmanagerwhosatinthebatteredchairandcriedandcriedandcouldnotbesaved.
Butthismorningtherearedifferentpriorities,heunderstandsthat.ThismorningtheThursdayMurderClubhasareal-lifecase.Notjustyellowingpagesofsmudgedtypefromanotherage.Arealcase,arealcorpseand,somewhereoutthere,arealkiller.
ThismorningIbrahimisneeded.Whichiswhathelivesfor.
12
PCDonnaDeFreitascarriesatrayofteasintotheincidentroom.Alocalbuilder,Tonysomething,hasbeenmurdered,andjudgingbythesizeoftheassembledteamit’sabigdeal.Donnawonderswhy.Ifshetakeshertimewiththeteas,maybeshecanfindout.
DCIChrisHudsonisaddressingtheteam.Healwaysseemsniceenough.Heonceopenedsomedoubledoorsforherwithoutlookinglikehewantedamedalforit.
‘Therearecamerasattheproperty,andplentyofthem.Getthefootage.TonyCurranleftCoopersChaseat2p.m.andhediedat3.32,accordingtohisFitbit.That’sonlyasmallwindowtosearch.’
Donnahasplacedtheteatrayonadeskwhileshestoopstotiehershoelace.ShehearsCoopersChasementioned,whichisinteresting.
‘TherearealsocamerasontheA214,around400metressouthofCurran’shome,andhalfamilenorth,solet’sgetholdofthatfootagetoo.Youknowthetimeframe.’ChrisstopsforamomentandlooksoveratwhereDonnaDeFreitasiscrouching.
‘Everythingallright,Constable?’heasks.
Donnastraightensup.‘Yes,sir,justtyingmyshoelaces.Wouldn’twanttotripwithatrayoftea.’
‘Verywise,’agreesChris.‘Thankyouforthetea.We’llletyougetonnow.’
‘Thankyou,sir,’saysDonna,andwalkstowardsthedoor.
SherealizesthatChris–adetectiveofcourse–hasprobablyspottedthathershoeshavenolaces.Butsurelyhewouldn’tblameayoungconstableforabitofhealthycuriosity?
AssheopensthedoortoleaveshehearsChrisHudsoncontinue.
‘Untilwegetallthat,thebiggestleadisthephotographthekillerleftbythebody.Let’stakealook.’
Donnacan’tresistturningandsees,projectedontothewall,anoldphotograph,threemeninapub,laughinganddrinking.Theirtableiscoveredinbanknotes.Sheonlyhasamoment,butsherecognizesoneofthemenimmediately.
ThingswouldbeverydifferentwhenDonnawaspartofamurdersquad;verydifferent.Nomorevisitingprimaryschoolstowriteserialnumbersonbikesininvisibleink.Nomorepolitelyremindinglocalshopkeepersthatoverflowingbinswereactuallyacriminaloff–
‘Constable?’saysChris,snappingDonnafromhertrainofthought.DonnatakeshereyesoffthephotoandlooksatChris.Firmly,butkindly,hemotionsthatsheisfreetoleave.DonnasmilesatChrisandnods.‘Daydreaming.Sorry,sir.’
Sheopensthedoor,walksthrough,backtotheboredom.Shestrainstoheareverylastwordbeforethedoorfinallyswingsshut.
‘So,threemen,allofwhomweobviouslyknowverywell.Shallwetakethemonebyone?’
Thedoorclunksshut.Donnasighs.
13
Joyce
Ihopeyouwillforgiveamorningdiaryentry,butTonyCurranisdead.
TonyCurranisthebuilderwhoputthisplaceup.Perhapsheevenlaidthebricksinmyfireplace?Whoknows?Imean,probablynot.Heprobablyhadsomeoneelsetodothatforhim,didn’the?Andalltheplasteringandwhathaveyou.Hewouldhavejustoverseenthings,Isuppose.ButIbethisfingerprintsareheresomewhere.Whichisquiteathrill.
Elizabethrangmelastnightwiththenews.IwouldneverdescribeElizabethasbreathless,but,honestly,shewasn’tfaroff.
TonyCurranwasbludgeoned,ofallthings,byhand,orhands,unknown.ItoldherwhatI’dseenwithRonandJason,therowbetweenCurranandIanVentham.Shetoldmeshealreadyknew,soshemusthavespokentoRonbeforeshespoketome,butshewaspoliteenoughtolistenasIgavemyviewofit.Iaskedherifshewastakingnotesandshesaidshewouldrememberit.
Anyway,Elizabethseemstohavesomesortofplan.ShesaidsheisseeingIbrahimthismorning.
IaskedheriftherewasanywayImightbeabletohelpandshesaidthattherewas.SoIaskedherwhatthatwaymightbeandshesaidifIheldmyhorses,Iwouldfindoutsoonenough.
SoIsupposeIsitandwaitforinstructions?I’mgoingtotaketheminibusintoFairhavenlater,butIshallkeepmymobileonjustincase.
Ihavebecomesomeonewhohastokeeptheirmobileon.
14
‘SowhokilledTonyCurran,andhowdowecatchhim?’asksElizabeth.‘Orcatch“himorher”,IknowIshouldsay,butit’sprobably“him”.Whatkindofwomanwouldbludgeonsomeone?ARussianwoman,butthat’saboutit.’
AftergivingIbrahimhisinstructionsfortheday,Elizabethhadheadedstraightoverforthischat.Sheisinherusualchair.
‘Heabsolutelyseemsthetypetohavehadenemies.Sleevelessvest,bighouse,moretattoosthanRon,soonandsoforth.Thepolicewillbemakingalistofsuspectsrightnowandwe’llhavetogetourhandsonit.Intheabsenceoftheirlist,though,whydon’twelookatwhetherIanVenthamkilledTonyCurran?YourememberIanVentham?Withtheafter-shave?VenthamandTonyCurranhadalittlefight.Ronsawthem,ofcourse–whendoesheevermissathing?AndJoycesaidsomethingaboutPizzaExpress,butIknewwhatshemeant.’
ElizabethtriestomentionJoycemoreoftenthesedays,becausewhydenyit?
‘Shallwemakesomereasonableassumptions?Let’ssaythatVenthamisunhappywithCurran,orCurranisunhappywithVentham?Itdoesn’tmuchmatterwhich.Theyhavesomethingtodiscuss,andyettheymeetinpublic,whichispeculiar.’
Elizabethchecksherwatch.Sheissubtleaboutit,despiteeverything.
‘So,let’ssaystraightaftertheconsultationmeeting,Venthamhasbadnewstobreak.HefearsCurran’sreactionsomuchthathemeetshiminpublicview.Hehopestoplacatehim.ButinRon’sviewhewas“unsuccessful”.I’mparaphrasingRonthere.’
Thereisasmallspongecubeonasticknexttothebed.ElizabethplacesitinajugofwaterandwetsPenny’sdrylips.ThemetallicchirpofPenny’sheartmonitorfillsthesilence.
‘SohowwouldVenthamreact,inthatscenario,Penny?FacingCurranwithagrudge?SwitchtoplanB?FollowCurrantohishouse?“Letmein,let’sjusttalkaboutthis,perhapsI’vebeentoohasty?”Andthen,wallop!,assimpleasthat,don’tyouthink?HekillsCurranbeforeCurrankillshim?’
Elizabethlooksaroundforherbag.Sheplacesherhandsonthearmsofthechair,readytoleave.
‘Butwhy?That’sthequestionIknowyou’dask.I’mgoingtotryandtakealookattheirfinancialrelationship.Chasethemoney.There’samaninGenevawhoowesmeafavour,soweshouldbeabletogetVentham’sfinancialrecordsbythisevening.Eitherway,itsoundslikefun,doesn’tit?Anadventure.AndIthinkwe’llhaveafewtricksthatthepolicewon’t.I’msurethey’dappreciateabitofhelp,andthat’smytaskforthismorning.’
Elizabethgetsoutofherchairandwalkstothesideofthebed.
‘Arealmurdertoinvestigate,Penny.IpromiseIwon’tletyoumissathing.’
Shekissesherbestfriendontheforehead.Sheturnstothechairontheothersideofthebedandgivesasmallsmile.
‘Howareyou,John?’
Penny’shusbandputsdownhisbookandlooksup.
‘Oh,youknow.’
‘Idoknow.YoualwaysknowwhereIam,John.’
ThenursessayPennyGraycanhearnothing,butwhoistosay?JohnneverspeakstoPennywhileElizabethisintheroom.HecomesintoWillowsatseveneachmorningandheleavesatnineeachevening,backtotheflatthatheandPennyhadlivedintogether.BacktotheholidaytrinketsandtheoldphotosandthememoriesthatheandPennysharedforfiftyyears.SheknowsthathetalkstoPennywhensheisnotthere.Andeverytimeshewalksin,alwaysafterknocking,shenoticesthefadingwhiteprintsofJohn’shandonPenny’s.Hishandbackonhisbook,thoughhealwaysseemstobeonthesamepage.
Elizabethleavestheloverstogether.
15
Joyce
EveryWednesdayItaketheresidents’minibusintoFairhaventodoaspotofshopping.OnMondaysitgoestoTunbridgeWells,halfanhourintheotherdirection,butIliketheyoungerfeelofFairhaven.IliketoseewhatpeoplearewearingandIliketoheartheseagulls.Thedriver’snameisCarlitoandheisgenerallyunderstoodtobeSpanish,butIhavechattedtohimanumberoftimesnowanditturnsoutheisPortuguese.Heisverygoodaboutitthough.
Thereisavegancafé,justofftheseafront,thatIfoundafewmonthsagoandIamalreadylookingforwardtoanicemintteaandanalmond-flourbrownie.Iamnotaveganandhavenointentionofeverbecomingone,butIstillfeellikeit’ssomethingthatshouldbeencouraged.Ireadthatifmankinddoesn’tstopeatingmeat,therewillbemassstarvationby2050.Withrespect,Iamnearlyeightyandsothiswon’tbemyproblem,butIdohopetheysortitout.MydaughterJoannaisvegetarianandonedayIwilltakeherthere.We’lljustdropin,asifmevisitingavegancaféisthemostnaturalthingintheworld.
Theusualcrowdarealwaysonthebus.Therearetheregulars,PeterandCarol,anicecouplefromRuskin,whotaketheminibusdowntovisittheirdaughterwholivesonthefront.Iknowtherearenograndkids,butnonethelesssheseemstobeathomeduringtheday.Therewillbeastorythere.There’sSirNicholas,whojustgoesforamoochnowtheywon’tlethimdriveanymore.There’sNaomiwithherhipthattheycan’tgettothebottomofandawomanfromWordsworthwhosenameIhaveneverquitecaughtandamnowtooembarrassedtoask.Sheisfriendlyenoughthough.(Elaine?)
IknowthatBernardwillbeinhiscustomarypositionattheback.IalwaysfeellikeIwouldliketositnexttohim,heisjollycompanywhenheturnshismindtoit.ButIknowhevisitsFairhavenforhislatewife,soIleavehiminpeace.That’swheretheymetandthat’swheretheylivedbeforetheymovedinhere.HetoldmethatsinceshediedhewouldgototheAdelphiHotelwheresheusedtoworkandpolishoffacoupleofglassesofwine,overlookingthesea.That’showIfirstfoundoutabouttheminibus,ifI’mhonest,sosilverlinings.TheyturnedtheAdelphiintoaTravelodgelastyear,sonowBernardsitsonthepier.Thatislessdesolatethanitsounds,astheyrecentlyrevampeditandithaswonanumberofawards.
PerhapsIwilljustsitnexttohimatthebackofthebusoneday,whatamIwaitingfor?
I’mlookingforwardtomyteaandbrownie,butI’malsolookingforwardtoabitofpeaceandquiet.ThewholeofCoopersChaseisstillgossipingaboutpoorTonyCurran.Wearearounddeathalothere,butevenso.Noteveryoneisbludgeoned,arethey?
Right,that’sme.Ifanythinghappens,Iwillreportback.
16
Astheminibusisabouttoleave,thedoorsslideopenforafinaltimeandElizabethstepsin.ShetakestheseatnexttoJoyce.
‘Goodmorning,Joyce,’shesays,smiling.
‘Well,thisisafirst,’saysJoyce.‘Howlovely!’
‘I’vebroughtabook,ifyoudon’twanttotalkonthejourney,’saysElizabeth.
‘Oohno,let’stalk,’saysJoyce.
Carlitopullsawaywithhiscustomarycare.
‘Splendid!’saysElizabeth.‘Ihaven’treallybroughtabook.’
ElizabethandJoycesettleintoconversation.TheyareverycarefulnottotalkabouttheTonyCurrancase.OneofthefirstthingsyoulearnatCoopersChaseisthatsomepeoplecanstillactuallyhear.Instead,ElizabethtellsJoyceaboutthelasttimeshewenttoFairhaven,whichwassometimeinthe1960sandwhosepurposeconcernedapieceofequipmentthathadwasheduponthebeach.Elizabethrefusestobedrawnintodetails,buttellsJoyceitwasalmostcertainlynowamatterofpublicrecordandshecouldpresumablylookitupsomewhereifshewasinterested.Thejourneypassesverypleasantly.Thesunisup,theskiesareblueandmurderisintheair.
Asalways,CarlitostopstheminibusoutsideRyman’s.Everyoneknowstomeetbackhereinthreehours’time.Carlitohasdonethisjobfortwoyearsnowandnotasinglepersonhaseverbeenlate.ExceptforMalcolmWeekes,who,asitturnedout,haddiedinthelightbulbaisleinRobertDyas.
JoyceandElizabethlettheothersoutfirst,allowingtheirassaultcourseoframpsandsticksandframestodisperse.Bernarddoffshishattotheladiesasheexitsandtheywatchasheshufflestowardstheseafront,hisDailyExpresstuckedunderhisarm.
AstheystepdownfromthebusandElizabeththanksCarlitoforhisconsideratedrivinginperfectPortuguese,JoycethinkstoaskforthefirsttimewhatElizabethisplanningtodoinFairhaven.
‘Sameasyou,dear.Shallwe?’ElizabethstartswalkingawayfromtheseafrontandJoycechoosestofollow,keenforadventure,butstillhopefulshemighthavetimeforherteaandbrownie.
AshortwalkawayisWesternRoadandthebroadstonestepsofFairhavenPoliceStation.ElizabethturnsbacktoJoyce,astheautomaticdoorsopeninfrontofher.
‘Here’sthewayIseeit,Joyce.Ifwearegoingtoinvestigatethismurder…’
‘We’regoingtoinvestigatethemurder?’asksJoyce.
‘Ofcourseweare,Joyce,’saysElizabeth.‘Whobetterthanus?Butwehavenoaccesstoanycasefiles,anywitnessstatements,anyforensics,andwearegoingtohavetochangethat.Whichiswhywe’rehere.IknowIdon’tneedtosaythis,Joyce,butjustbackmeup,whateverhappens.’
Joycenods,ofcourse,ofcourse.Theywalkin.
Onceinside,thetwoladiesarebuzzedthroughasecuritydoorintoapublicreceptionarea.Joycehasneverbeeninsideapolicestationbefore,thoughhaswatchedeveryITVdocumentarygoingandisdisappointedthatnooneisbeingwrestledtothegroundanddraggedtoacell,theirobscenitiesthrillinglybleepedout.Insteadthereisjustayoungdesksergeant,pretendingheisn’tplayingpatienceonhisHomeOfficecomputer.
‘HowcanIhelpyou,ladies?’heasks.
Elizabethstartstocry.Joycemanagestocontrolherdouble-take.
‘Someonejuststolemybag.OutsideHolland&Barrett,’weepsElizabeth.
Sothat’swhyshedidn’thaveabagwithher,thinksJoyce.Thathadbeenbuggingherintheminibus.Joyceputsherarmaroundherfriend’sshoulders.‘Itwasawful.’
‘Letmegetanofficertotakeastatementfromyouandwe’llseewhatwecando.’Thedesksergeantpressesabuzzeronthewalltohisleftandwithinsecondsayoungconstableentersthroughafurthersecuritydoorbehindhim.
‘Mark,thisladyhasjusthadherhandbagstolenonQueensRoad.Canyoutakeastatement?I’llmakeacuppaforeveryone.’
‘Certainly.Madam,ifyou’llfollowme?’
Elizabethstandshergroundandrefusestomove.Sheisshakingherhead,cheekswetwithtearsnow.
‘Iwanttotalktoafemalepoliceconstable.’
‘I’msureMarkcansortthisoutforyou,’saysthedesksergeant.
‘Please!’criesElizabeth.
Joycedecidesthetimehascometohelpherfriendout.
‘Myfriendisanun,Sergeant.’
‘Anun?’saysthedesksergeant.
‘Yes,anun,’saysJoyce.‘AndI’msureIdon’tneedtotellyouwhatthatentails?’
Thedesksergeantseesthatthisisadiscussionthatcouldendbadlyinsomanywaysandchoosesaneasylife.
‘Ifyou’llgivemeamoment,madam,Iwillfindsomeoneforyou.’
HefollowsMarkbackthroughthesecuritydoorandElizabethandJoycearealoneforaminute.ElizabethstopsthewaterworksandlooksoveratJoyce.
‘Anun?Thatwasverygood.’
‘Ididn’thavemuchtimetothink,’saysJoyce.
‘Ifpushed,Iwasgoingtosaysomeonehadtouchedme,’saysElizabeth.‘Youknowhowhottheyareonthatthesedays.Butanunismuchmorefun.’
‘Whydoyouwanttoseeafemaleofficer?’Joycehasanumberofotherquestionsnow,butthisisfirstinthequeue.‘AndwelldoneonnotsayingWPC,bytheway.I’mproudofyou.’
‘Thankyou,Joyce.Ijustthoughtthat,asthebuswasgoingintoFairhavenanyway,weshouldpopinandseePCDeFreitas.’
Joycenodsslowly.InElizabeth’sworldthatisabsolutelythesortofthingthatmakessense.‘Butwhatifshe’snotonshift?Orwhatifsheis,butthereareotherfemaleconstables?’
‘WouldIhavebroughtyouhereifIhadn’talreadycheckedthat,Joyce?’
‘Howdidyoucheckth—’
ThesecuritydooropensandDonnaDeFreitasstepsthrough.‘Now,ladies,howcanI–’Donnaregisterswhoisinfrontofher.ShelooksfromElizabethtoJoyceandbackagain,‘–helpyou?’
17
DCIChrisHudsonhasbeengivenafileonTonyCurransothickitmakesapleasingthudifyoudropitonadesk.Whichiswhathehasjustdone.
ChristakesaswigofDietCoke.Hesometimesworriesheisaddictedtoit.HehadreadaheadlineaboutDietCokeonce,whichwassoworryinghehadchosennottoreadthearticle.
Heopensthefile.MostofTonyCurran’sdealingswithKentPolicewerefrombeforeChris’stimeinFairhaven.Chargesforassaultinhistwenties,minordrugconvictions,dangerousdriving,dangerousdog,possessionofanillegalweapon.Ataxdiscmisdemeanour.Publicurination.
Thencomestherealstory.Chrisopensanindeterminatesandwichfromthegarage.TherearetranscriptsofanumberofinterviewsheldwithTonyCurranovertheyears,withthelastonebeingafterashootingintheBlackBridgepub,whichleftayoungdrugdealerdead.AwitnessrecognizedTonyCurranasfiringthefatalshotandFairhavenCIDcalledCurraninforquestioning.
TonyCurranhadbeeninthemiddleofeverythingbackthen.Askaroundandanyonewouldtellyou.TonyranthedrugstradeinFairhaven,andplentymorebesides.Madealotofmoney.
Chrisreadsthedepressinglyfamiliarstreamof‘nocomments’ontheBlackBridgetranscript.Hereadsthatthewitness,alocaltaxidriver,haddisappearedsoonafter.Scaredaway,orworse.TonyCurran,localbuilder,walkedawayscot-free.
Sowhatwasthat?Onedeath?Two?ThedrugdealershotattheBlackBridgeand,perhaps,thepoortaxidriverwhowitnessedit?
Since2000though,nothing.Aspeedingticket,promptlypaid,in2009.
Helooksatthephotographthekillerhadleftbythebody.Threemen.TonyCurran,nowdead.WithhisarmaroundTonywasalocaldealerfrombackintheday,BobbyTanner.Hiredasmuscle.Whereaboutscurrentlyunknown,buttheywouldtrackhimdownsoonenough.Andthethirdman,whereaboutsverymuchknown.Theex-boxerJasonRitchie.Chriswonderswhatthenewspaperswouldpayforthisphoto.Hehasheardofofficersdoingthis.Thelowestofthelow,asfarasChrisisconcerned.Helooksatthesmiles,thebanknotesandthebeers.Itwasprobablysometimearound2000,whentheboywasshotintheBlackBridge.Funnytothinkoftheyear2000asancienthistory.
ChrisopensaTwixashestudiesthephoto.HehashisannualmedicalintwomonthsandeveryMondayheconvinceshimselfthatthisisfinallytheweekhegetsbackintoshape,finallyshiftsthestoneorsothatholdshimback.Thestoneorsothatgiveshimcramp.Thestoneorsothatstopshimbuyingnewclothes,justincase,andthatstopshimdating,becausewhowouldwantthis?Thestoneorsothatstandsbetweenhimandtheworld.Twostoneifhe’sreallyhonest.
ThoseMondaysareusuallygood.Chrisdoesn’ttaketheliftonMondays.ChrisbringsfoodfromhomeonMondays.Chrisdoessit-upsinbedonMondays.ButbyTuesday,or,inagoodweek,Wednesday,theworldcreepsbackin,thestairsseemtoodauntingandChrislosesfaithintheproject.He’sawarethattheprojectishimself,andthatdragshimfurtherdownstill.Sooutcomethepastiesandthecrisps,thepetrol-stationlunch,thequickdrinkafterwork,thetakeawayonthewayhomefromwork,thechocolateonthewayhomefromthetakeaway.Theeating,thenumbing,therelease,theshameandthenrepeat.
ButtherewasalwaysnextMondayandoneoftheseMondaystherewouldbesalvation.Thatstonewoulddropoff,followedbytheotherstonethatwaslurking.He’dbarelybreaksweatatthemedical,he’dbetheathletehealwayssecretlyknewhewas.Textathumbs-uptothenewgirlfriendhe’dhavemetonline.
HefinishestheTwixandlooksaroundforhiscrisps.
ChrisHudsonguessesthattheBlackBridgeshootingwasthewake-upcallthatTonyCurranhadneeded.Thatwascertainlyhowitlooked.HehadstartedworkingwithalocalpropertydevelopercalledIanVenthamaroundthistime,andperhapshedecidedlifewouldbesimplerifheturnedlegit.Therewasgoodmoneyinit,evenifitwasnotwhathehadgrownusedto.Tonymusthaveknownhecouldn’tkeepridinghisluck.
Chrisopenshiscrispsandlooksathiswatch.Hehasanappointmentandheshouldprobablyheadoff.SomeonesawTonyCurranhavingarowjustbeforehedied,andthatsomeoneisinsistingontalkingtohimpersonally.It’snotalongtrip.TheretirementcommunityCurranhadbeenworkingat.
Chrislooksatthephotoagain.Thethreemen,thathappygang.TonyCurranandBobbyTanner,armsaroundeachother.And,offtotheside,abottleinhishandandthathandsomebrokennose,maybeacoupleofyearspasttheheightofhispowers,JasonRitchie.
Threefriends,drinkingbeer,atatablecoveredwithmoney.Whyleavethephotobythebody?AwarningfromBobbyTannerorJasonRitchie?Awarningtothem?You’renext?Morelikelyaredherring,oramisdirect.Noonewouldbesostupid.
Eitherway,ChriswillneedtohaveachatwithJasonRitchie.And,hopefully,histeamwillfindtheirmissingman,BobbyTanner.
Actually,theirmissingmen,thinksChris,tippingthelastofhiscrispsintohismouth.
Because,whotookthephotographinthefirstplace?
18
Donnamotionsforhertwovisitorstosit.TheyareinInterviewSuiteB,aboxy,windowlessroom,withawoodentableboltedtothefloor.Joycelooksaroundherwiththeexcitementofatourist.Elizabethlooksathome.Donnahashereyesontheheavydoor,waitingforittoswingshut.ThemomentitclicksintoplaceshelooksstraightatElizabeth.
‘Soyou’reanunnow,Elizabeth?’
Elizabethnodsquickly,raisingafingertoacknowledgethatthisisagoodquestion.‘Donna,likeanymodernwoman,Iamanynumberofthings,asandwhentheneedarises.Wehavetobechameleons,don’twe?’Shetakesanotepadandpenfromaninsidecoatpocketandplacesthemonthetable.‘ButJoycetakesthecreditforthatone.’
Joyceisstillstaringaroundtheroom.‘Thisisexactlylikeyouseeontelevision,PCDeFreitas.Howwonderful!Itmustbesomuchfuntoworkhere.’
Donnaisnotsharinginthesenseofawe.‘So,Elizabeth.Haveyouhadabagstolen?’
‘No,dear,’saysElizabeth.‘Goodlucktoanyonetryingtostealmybag.Canyouimagine?’
‘ThencanIaskwhatthetwoofyouaredoinghere?Ihaveworkthatneedsfinishing.’
Elizabethnods.‘Ofcourse,that’sveryreasonable.Well,I’mherebecauseIwantedtotalktoyouaboutsomething.AndJoycewashereforshopping,Ipresume.Joyce?IrealizeIhaven’tasked.’
‘IliketogotoAnythingwithaPulse,thevegancafé,ifyouknowit?’
Donnalooksatherwatch,thenleansforward.‘Well,hereIam.Ifyouwanttotalk,goahead.I’llgiveyoutwominutesbeforeIgobacktocatchingcriminals.’
Elizabethgivesalightclapofthehands.‘Excellent!Well,firstIwillsaythis.Stoppretendingyouarenotpleasedtoseeusagain,becauseIknowthatyouare.Andwe’repleasedtoseeyouagain.Thiswillbesomuchmorefunifwecanalljustacceptthat.’
Donnadoesnotreply.Joyceleansintothetaperecordersittingonthetable.‘Forthepurposesofthetape,PCDeFreitasrefusestoanswer,butisattemptingtohideaslightsmile.’
‘Secondly,butconnectedtothat,’continuesElizabeth,‘whateveritiswearekeepingyoufrom,Iknowonethingforcertain,itisn’tcatchingcriminals.Itissomethingboring.’
‘Nocomment,’deadpansDonna.
‘Whereareyoufrom,Donna?MayIcallyouDonna?’
‘Youmay.I’mfromsouthLondon.’
‘TransferredfromtheMet?’
Donnanods.Elizabethmakesanoteinherbook.
‘You’retakingnotes?’asksDonna.
Elizabethnods.‘Whyso?AndwhytoFairhaven?’
‘That’sastoryforanotherday.YouhaveonemorequestionbeforeIleavetheroom.Funthoughthisis.’
‘Ofcourse,’repliesElizabeth.Sheshutshernotebookandadjustsherglasses.‘Well,Ihaveastatementreally,butIpromiseitendswithaquestion.’
Donnaturnsupherpalms,invitingElizabethtocontinue.
‘ThisiswhatIsee,andIknowyou’llstopmeifImisspeak.Youareinyourmidtwenties,yougivetheimpressionofbeingcleverandintuitive.Youalsogivetheimpressionofbeingverykind,yetveryhandyshouldafighterupt.Forreasonswewillgettothebottomof,almostcertainlyadoomedrelationship,youhaveleftLondon,whereIwouldhavethoughtthelifeandtheworkwouldhavesuitedyoutoaT.Youfindyourselfhere,inFairhaven,wherethecrimeisminorandthecriminalsarepetty.Andyouarepoundingthestreets.Maybeajunkiestealsabicycle,Donna;maybesomeonedrivesofffromapetrolstationwithoutpaying,ormaybethere’safight,overagirl,inapub.Goodnessme,whatabore.Forreasonsthatarenotofimportance,IonceworkedinabarintheformerYugoslaviaforthreemonthsandmybrainwasscreamingoutforexcitement,forstimulation,forsomethingextraordinarytohappen.Doesthatsoundfamiliar?Youaresingle,youarelivinginarentedflat,youhavenotfounditeasytomakefriendsinthetown.Mostofyourcolleaguesinthestationareabitoldforyou.I’msurethatyoungPC,Mark,hasaskedyouout,butthere’snowayhecouldhandleasouthLondongirl,soyouhadtosayno.Youbothstillfinditawkward.Thatpoorboy.Yourpridewon’tallowyoutogobacktotheMetforagoodwhileandsoyou’restuckhereforthetimebeing.You’restillthenewgirl,sopromotionisaprettydistantprospect,addedtothefactyou’renotallthatpopularbecause,deepdown,everyonecantellyou’vemadeamistakeandyouresentbeinghere.Youcan’tevenquit.Whythrowawaytheseyearsontheforce,thetoughyears,justbecauseofawrongturn?Soyoustrapontheuniformandyouturnup,shiftaftershift,teethgritted,justwaitingforsomethingextraordinarytohappen.Like,perhaps,awomanwhoisn’tanun,pretendingherbaghasbeenstolen.’
ElizabethraisesaneyebrowatDonna,lookingforaresponse.Donnaisutterlyimpassive,utterlyunimpressed.‘I’mstillwaitingforthequestion,Elizabeth.’
Elizabethnods,andopenshernotebookagain.‘Myquestionisthis.Wouldn’tyouliketobeinvestigatingtheTonyCurranmurder?’
ThereissilenceasDonnaslowlyweavesherhandstogetherandrestsherchinonthem.SheconsidersElizabethverycarefullybeforespeaking.
‘ThereisalreadyateaminvestigatingtheTonyCurranmurder,Elizabeth.Ahighlyqualifiedmurdersquad.Irecentlydeliveredteatoit.Theydon’treallyhaveavacancyforaPCwhotutseverytimeshegetsaskedtodothephotocopying.Haveyoueverthoughtit’spossibleyoudon’treallyunderstandhowthepoliceworks?’
Elizabethnotesthisdownandtalksasshewrites.‘Mmm,thatispossible.Howcomplicateditallmustbe.Butalotoffun,Iimagine?’
‘Iimaginetoo,’agreesDonna.
‘Theysayhewasbludgeoned,’saysElizabeth.‘Withalargespanner.Couldyouconfirmthat?’
‘Nocomment,Elizabeth,’saysDonna.
Elizabethstopswritingandlooksupagain.‘Wouldn’tyouliketobepartofit,Donna?’
Donnastartstodrumherfingersonthedesk.‘OK.Let’sjustsupposeIwouldliketobeinvolvedinthemurderinvestigation…’
‘Yes,quite,let’ssupposethat.Let’sstartthereandseewherewegetto.’
‘YoudounderstandhowCIDworks,Elizabeth?Ican’tsimplyasktobeassignedtoaparticularinvestigation.’
Elizabethsmiles.‘Ohgoodness,don’tyouworryaboutthat,Donna;wecantakecareofitall.’
‘Youcantakecareofit?’
‘Ishouldhavethoughtso,yes.’
‘How?’asksDonna.
‘Well,there’salwaysaway,isn’tthere?Butyouwouldbeinterested?Ifwecouldmakeithappen?’
Donnalooksbacktotheheavydoor,safelyshut.‘Whencouldyoumakethathappen,Elizabeth?’
Elizabethlooksatherwatchandgivesasmallshrug.‘Anhour,perhaps?’
‘Andthisconversationneverleavesthisroom?’
Elizabethputsafingertoherlips.
‘ThenIwould.Yes,please.’Donnaholdsupherhands,openandhonest.‘Iwouldreally,reallyliketochasemurderers.’
Elizabethsmilesandputshernotebookbackinherpocket.‘Well,thisissmashing.IthoughtIhadreadthesituationcorrectly.’
‘What’sinitforyou?’asksDonna.
‘Nothing,otherthanafavourtoanewfriend.Andwemighthavetheoddquestionhereorthere,abouttheinvestigation.Justtosatisfyourcuriosity.’
‘YouknowIcouldn’ttellyouanythingconfidential?That’snotadealIcanagreeto.’
‘Nothingunprofessional,Ipromiseyou.’Elizabethcrossesherself.‘AsawomanofGod.’
‘Andinanhouryousay?’
Elizabethlooksatherwatch.‘I’dsayaboutanhour.Dependingonthetraffic.’
Donnanods,asifthismakescompletesense.‘Aboutyourlittlespeech,though,Elizabeth.Idon’tknowifitwasdesignedtoimpressme,ortoshowoffinfrontofJoyce,butitwasprettyobviousstuff.’
Elizabethconcedesthepoint.‘Obvious,butright,dear.’
‘Almostright,butyou’renotquite,MissMarple.Isshe,Joyce?’
Joycepipesup.‘Ohyes,thatboyMarkisgay,Elizabeth.You’dhavetobefairlyblindtomissthat.’
Donnasmiles.‘Luckyyouhaveyourfriendwithyou,Sister.’ShelikesthatElizabethisattemptingtohideasmileofherown.
‘I’llneedyourmobilenumber,bytheway,Donna,’saysElizabeth.‘Idon’treallywanttofakeacrimeeverytimeIneedtoseeyou.’
Donnaslidesacardoverthetable.
‘Ihopethat’sapersonalnumberandnotanofficialone,’saysElizabeth.‘Itwouldbenicetohavesomeprivacy.’
DonnalooksatElizabeth,shakesherheadandsighs.Shewritesdownanothernumberonthecard.
‘Lovely,’saysElizabeth.‘IsuspectbetweenuswecanfindwhoeverkilledTonyCurran.Itcan’tbebeyondthewitofman.Orratherwoman.’
Donnastands.‘ShouldIaskhowyoucangetmeontheinvestigatingteam,Elizabeth,ordon’tIwanttoknow?’
Elizabethchecksherwatch.‘Nothingyouneedtoconcernyourselfwith.RonandIbrahimshouldbetakingcareofitaboutnow.’
JoycewaitsforElizabethtostandtoo,thenleansintothetaperecorderonceagain.‘Interviewterminated,12.47p.m.’
19
DCIChrisHudsonswingshisFordFocusontothelong,broaddrivewayleadinguptoCoopersChase.Thetraffichasn’tbeenatallbadandheishopingthiswon’ttaketoolong.
Ashechecksouthissurroundings,Chriswonderswhythisplaceneedsquitesomanyllamas.Therearenospacesinthevisitors’carpark,soheeasestheFocusontoavergeandstepsoutintotheKentsun.
Chrishasbeentoretirementcommunitiesbeforeandthisisnotatallwhathehadbeenexpecting.Thisisawholevillage.Hewanderspastabowlsmatch,winechillingincoolersateachend.Oneoftheplayersisanextremelyelderlywomansmokingapipe.HefollowsameanderingpaththroughaperfectEnglishgarden,flankedbythreestoreysofflats.Therearepeoplegossipingonpatiosandbalconies,enjoyingthesunshine.Friendssitonbenches,beesbuzzroundbushes,lightbreezesplaytuneswithicecubes.Chrisfindsthewholethingdeeplyinfuriating.He’sawind-and-rainguy,aturn-up-the-collar-on-your-overcoatman.IfChrishadhiswayhewouldhibernateforthesummer.Hehasnotwornshortssince1987.
Chriscrossesaresidents’carpark,pastaredpostboxlookingpicture-bookperfect,annoyinghimfurther,andfindsWordsworthCourt.
Heringsthebuzzerforflat11:MrIbrahimArif
Afterbeingbuzzedupandwalkingacrossalushlycarpetedhallwayandupalushlycarpetedstaircaseandknockingonasolidoakdoor,ChrisfindshimselfinthatflatofIbrahimArif,sittingoppositethemanhimselfandalsooppositeRonRitchie.
RonRitchie.Well,wasn’tthatquitethething?Chrishadbeentakenabackthemomenttheyhadbeenintroduced.ThefatherofamanChriswasinvestigating–whatwasthat?Luck?Somethingmoresinister?Chrisdecideshewilljustletitplayout.Hetruststhat,ifthereisanangle,hewillspotit.
Strangethatthisiswhere‘RedRon’endedup,though.Thescourgeofthebosses,theBeastofBritishLeyland,andBritishSteel,andBritishwhateverelseyou’dcaretomention?AmidstthehoneysuckleandAudisofCoopersChase?Chriswouldhavebarelyrecognizedhim,tobehonest.RonRitchieiswearingmismatchedpyjamas,anunzippedtracksuittopanddressshoes.Heislookingaroundvacantly,mouthopen.HeisamessandChrisfeelsawkward,asifheisimposingonaprivatescene.
IbrahimisexplainingthesituationtoDCIChrisHudson.
‘Itcanbeverystressfulforelderlypeopletotalktopoliceofficers.Youmustn’tthinkthat’syourfault.ThisiswhyIsuggestedyouconducttheinterviewhere.’
Chrisnodsgently,becausehehasdonethetraining.‘IcanassureyouthatMrRitchieisnotintrouble,butif,asyousay,hehasinformation,Iwillneedtoaskhimacoupleofquestions.’
IbrahimturnstoRon.
‘Ron,hejustwantstoaskyouabouttheargumentyousaw.Remember,wetalkedaboutit?’IbrahimlooksbacktoChris.‘Heforgetsthings.He’sveryold,DetectiveChiefInspector.Avery,veryoldman.’
‘Allright,Ibrahim,’saysRon.
IbrahimpatsRon’shandandspeakstohimslowly.
‘Ithinkit’squitesafe,Ron.We’veseenthisgentleman’swarrantcard.Irangthenumberonit,thenIgoogledhim.Remember?’
‘Ijust…Ijustdon’tthinkIcan,’saysRon.‘Idon’twanttogetintoanytrouble.’
‘Therewon’tbeanytrouble,MrRitchie,’saysChris.‘Iguaranteeit.It’sjustthatyoumighthaveimportantinformation.’‘RedRon’isashadowofhisformerselfandChrisisveryawarethathemustplaythiscarefully.Certainlydon’tmentionJasonyet.Thepossibilityofapublunchisalsorapidlyvanishing.‘MrArifisright,youcantellmeanything.’
RonlooksatChris,thenbacktoIbrahimforsignsofreassurance.Ibrahimsqueezeshisfriend’sarmandRonlooksatChrisagain,thenleansforward.
‘IthinkI’dbehappiertalkingtothelady.’
ChrisistakinghisfirstsipofthemintteaIbrahimhasmadeforhim.‘Thelady?’HelooksatRonandthenatIbrahim.Ibrahimhelpshimout.
‘Whichlady,Ron?’
‘Thelady,Ib.Theonewhocomesandtalkstous.Thewomancopper.’
‘Ohyes!’saysIbrahim.‘PCDeFreitas!Sheoftencomestotalktous,DetectiveChiefInspector.Windowlocks.Doyouknowher?’
‘Ofcourse.Yes,sheisoneofmyteam.’ChrisistryingtorememberiftheyoungPCwiththenon-existentshoelaceswasDonnaDeFreitas.Hewasfairlysureshewas.She’dcomefromtheMetandnooneknewwhy.‘Weworkverycloselytogether.’
‘Sosheispartoftheinvestigation?Thisisexcellentnews.’Ibrahimbeams.‘WelovePCDeFreitashere.’
‘Well,she’snotofficiallypartoftheinvestigationteam,MrArif,’saysChris.‘She’sonotherimportantduties.Catchingcriminalsand…soon.’
RonandIbrahimdon’tsayaword,theyjustlookexpectantlyatChris.
‘Butitisaterrificidea.Iwouldlovehertobeontheteam,’saysChris,tryingtoworkoutwhohewouldneedtospeakto.Surelysomeoneowedhimafavour?
‘Sheisafineofficer,’saysIbrahim.‘Shedoesyoucredit.’
IbrahimbecomesseriousagainandturnstoRon.
‘So,ifthehandsomedetectivehereandourfriendPCDeFreitascametotalktoyoutogether?Wouldyoubehappy,Ron?’
Rontakeshisfirstsipoftea.
‘That’dbeperfect,Ib.I’dlikethat.I’lltalktoJasontoo.’
‘Jason?’asksChris,onalert.
‘Doyoulikeboxing,son?’asksRon.
Chrisnods.‘Verymuch,MrRitchie.’
‘Myboyisaboxer.Jason.’
‘Iknow,sir,’saysChris.‘Youmustbeveryproud.’
‘Only,hewaswithme,soheshouldbehere.Hesawtherowtoo.’
Chrisnods.Well,thatwasveryinteresting.Thetriphasnotbeenwasted.‘Well,I’msureIcancomebackandtalktoyouboth.’
‘Andyou’llbringPCDeFreitaswithyou?Howwonderful!’saysIbrahim.
‘Ofcourse,’saysChris.‘Whatevergetsustothetruth.’
20
Joyce
Soitseemsweareinvestigatingamurder.And,betterstill,Ihavebeeninapoliceinterviewroom.Thisdiaryisbringingmeluck.
ItwasinterestingwatchingElizabethinaction.Sheisveryimpressive.Verycalm.Iwonderifwewouldhavegotalongifwe’dmetthirtyyearsago?Probablynot,wearefromdifferentworlds.Butthisplacebringspeopletogether.
IdohopeI’llbeofsomehelptoElizabethintheinvestigation.HelptocatchTonyCurran’skiller.PerhapsIwill,inmyownway.
IthinkthatifIhaveaspecialskill,itisthatIamoftenoverlooked.Isthattheword?Underestimatedperhaps?
CoopersChaseisfullofthegreatandthegood,peoplewhohavedonesomethingorotherwiththeirlives.It’sreallyalotoffun.There’ssomeonewhohelpeddesigntheChannelTunnel,someonewhohasadiseasenamedafterthemandsomeonewhowastheambassadortoParaguayorUruguay.Youknowthetype.
Andme?JoyceMeadowcroft?Whatdotheymakeofme,Iwonder.Harmless,certainly.Chatty?Guilty,I’mafraid.ButIthinktheyknow,deepdown,thatI’mnotoneofthem.Anurse,notadoctor,notthatanyonewouldsaythattomyface.TheyknowthatJoannaboughtmyflathere.Joannaisoneofthem.Me,notsomuch
Andyet,ifthere’sarowatCateringCommittee,orifthere’saproblemwiththelakepumps,orif,ashappenedveryrecently,oneresident’sdogimpregnatesanotherandallhellbreaksloose,thenwhoistheretofixit?JoyceMeadowcroft.
Iamveryhappytolistentothegrandstanding,watchthechestspuffingout,hearthefuriousthreatsoflegalactionandwaitforthemtoblowthemselvesout.ThenIstepinandsuggestthatmaybethere’sawaythrough,andperhapsthereisacompromisetobereached,andperhapsdogswillbedogs.Nobodyherefeelsthreatenedbyme,nobodyseesmeasarival,I’mjustJoyce,gentle,chattyJoyce,alwayshashernoseineverything.
Soeveryonecalmsdownthroughme.Quiet,sensible,Joyce.Thereisnomoreshoutingandtheproblemisfixed,moreoftenthannotinawaythatadvantagesme.Whichissomethingnooneeverseemstonotice.
SoIamveryhappytobeoverlookedandalwayshavebeen.AndIdothinkperhapsthatwillbehelpfulinthisinvestigation.EveryonecanlookatElizabethandI’lljustgetonwithbeingme.
The‘Meadowcroft’,bytheway,isfrommylatehusband,Gerry,andIhavealwayslikedit.IhadmanyreasonstomarryGerryandhissurnamewasanothertoaddtoalonglist.AfriendofminefromnursingmarriedaBumstead.BarbaraBumstead.IthinkImighthavefoundanexcuseandcalleditoff.
Whataday!IthinkI’llwatchanoldPrimeSuspectandthenbed.
WhateverElizabethneedsmetodonext,I’llbeready.
21
Itisanotherbeautifulmorning.
BogdanJankowskiissittingonaswingchaironIanVentham’spatioandistakingsometimetothinkthingsthrough.
TonyCurranhasbeenmurdered.Someonebrokeintohishomeandkilledhim.TherewereplentyofsuspectsandBogdanisgoingoverafewoftheminhishead.ThinkingaboutreasonstheymighthaveforwantingTonyCurrandead.
EveryoneseemsshockedbyTony’sdeath,butnothingsurprisesBogdan.Peoplediedallthetimeofallsortsofthings.Hisfatherhadfallenfromadam,nearKrakow,whenBogdanwasachild.Orjumped,orwaspushed,itdidn’tmatter.Itdidn’tchangethefactthathehaddied.Somethingwillalwaysgetyouintheend.
Ian’sgardenisnottoBogdan’staste.Thelawn,whichstretchesdowntoalineoftreesinthefardistance,isorderlyandEnglishandstriped.Downtowardsthetrees,offtotheleft,thereisapond.IanVenthamcallsitalake,butBogdanknowslakes.Ithasasmallwoodenbridgecrossingitsfarendasitnarrows.Childrenwouldloveit,butBogdanhasneverseenchildreninthisgarden.
Ianhadboughtafamilyofducks,butfoxeskilledtheducksandthenaguyBogdanknewfromthepubhadkilledthefoxes.Iandidn’tbuyanymoreducksafterthat,becausewhatwouldbethepoint?Therewillalwaysbefoxes.Sometimeswildducksstillvisited.Goodlucktothem,wasBogdan’sview.
TheswimmingpoolisdirectlyonBogdan’sright.Youcouldtakeafewstepsdownfromthepatioanddivestraightin.Bogdanhadtiledtheswimmingpool.Bogdanhadpaintedthelittlebridgeduck-eggblueandBogdanhadlaidthepatiohewassittingon.
IanhadcomegoodonhisofferandhadaskedhimtooverseethebuildingoftheWoodlandsdevelopment.SohewastakingoverfromTony,whichsomepeoplemightnowseeasbadluck,ajinxperhaps.ButtoBogdanitwasjustsomethingthatwashappening,andhewoulddoitaswellashewasable.Goodmoney.Themoneydoesn’treallyinterestBogdan,butthechallengedoes.Andhelikesbeingaroundthevillage,helikesthepeople.
Bogdanhadseenalltheplansnow,studiedeverything.Theywerecomplicatedatfirstbut,onceyou’dseenthepatterns,simpleenough.BogdanhadenjoyedworkingonsmallerjobsforIanVentham,hehadlikedtheorderofit,butheunderstandsthatthingschangeandthatheneedstostepup.
Bogdan’smotherhaddiedwhenhewasnineteen.ShehadcomeintosomemoneywhenBogdan’sfatherhaddied.Fromsomewhere,ithadn’tbeenatimefordetails.ThemoneypaidforBogdantotakeupaplaceattheTechnicalUniversityinKrakow,tostudyengineering.Andthat’swherehehadbeenwhenhismothersufferedastrokeandcollapsedathome.Ifhehadstillbeenathomethenhewouldhavesavedher,buthewasn’t,andsohedidn’t.
Bogdancamehome,buriedhismotherandleftforEnglandthenextday.Nearlytwentyyearslaterheislookingatastupidlawn.
Bogdanisthinkingthathewillmaybeclosehiseyesforamomentwhen,fromtheothersideofthehouse,comesthedeepsoundofthefront-doorchimes.Ararevisitortothisbig,quiethouse,andthereasonIanhasaskedBogdantobeheretoday.Ianslidesbackthepatiodoorofhisstudy.
‘Bogdan.Door.’
‘Yes,ofcourse.’Bogdangetstohisfeet.Hegoesinviatheconservatoryhedesigned,throughthemusicroomhe’dsoundproofedandintothehallwayhehadoncesandedinhisunderpantsonthehottestdayoftheyear.
Whateveryouneededhimtodo.
FatherMatthewMackieisregrettingaskinghiscabbietodrophimatthebottomofthedrive.Ithadbeenquitethewalkfromthefrontgatestothefrontdoor.Hefanshimselfalittlewithhisfile,then,quicklyusingthecameraonhisphonetocheckhisdogcollarisstraight,ringsthebell.Heisrelievedtohearnoisesfromwithinthehouse,becauseyouneverknow,evenwhenyou’vemadearrangements.Hewashappytomeethere,itmakesthingseasierallround.
Hehearsfootstepsonawoodenfloorandthedoorisopenedbyabroad,shaven-headedman.Hewearsatight,whiteT-shirtandhehasacrosstattooedononeforearmandthreenamesontheother.
‘Father,’saystheman.Goodnews,aCatholic.And,judgingbytheaccent,Polish.
‘Dzieńdobry,’saysFatherMackie.
Themansmilesback,‘Dzieńdobry,dzieńdobry.’
‘IhaveanappointmenttoseeMrVentham.MatthewMackie.’
Themantakeshishandandshakesit.‘BogdanJankowski.Comeinplease,Father.’
‘Weunderstand,believeme,thatyouhavenolegalimperativetohelpus,’saysFatherMatthewMackie.‘Wedisagreewiththecouncil’sruling,ofcourse,butwemustacceptit.’
MikeGriffinfromthePlanningCommitteehaddonehisjobwell,thinksIan.Feelfreetodigupthegraveyard,Ian,he’dsaid,beourguest.MikeGriffinisaddictedtoonlinecasinosandlongmaythatcontinue.
‘However,IdothinkyouhaveamoralobligationtoleavetheGardenofEternalRest,thegraveyard,exactlywhereitis,’continuesFatherMackie.‘AndIwantedtomeetyoufacetoface,mantomanandseeifwecancometoacompromise.’
IanVenthamlistensclosely,but,inhonesty,isreallythinkingabouthowcleverheis.Heisthecleverestpersonheknows,that’sforcertain.That’showhegetswhathewants.Itfeelsalmostunfairsometimes.He’snotevenonestepaheadofyou,he’sonanentirelydifferentpath.
KarenPlayfairhadbeenaneasyone.Ifhecan’tpersuadeGordonPlayfairtosellhisland,thenheknowsshewill.Dadsanddaughters.Andshe’dseeachunkofthemoney,surely?Anoldmancanonlyturndownaseven-figuresumforabighillforsolong.Ianwouldalwaysfindaway.
ButFatherMackieistrickierthanKarenPlayfair,heseesthat.Priestsweren’tlikedivorceesintheirearlyfiftieswhocouldstandtoloseafewpounds,werethey?Youhadtopretendtohavesomerespect,andmaybeyouactuallyshouldhavesomerespect.Afterall,whatiftheywereright?Openmind.Whichwasanotherexampleofclevernessbeinguseful.
That’swhyIanhasaskedBogdantojointhem.Heknowsthislotliketosticktogether,andquiteright,whodoesn’t?Herealizesheshouldprobablyspeak.
‘We’reonlymovingthebodies,Father,’saysIan.‘Itwillbedonewiththegreatestofcareandthegreatestofrespect.’
Ianknowsthatthisisnotstrictlytrue.Legallyhehadhadtoputthejoboutforpublictender.Threebidshadcomein.OnewasfromtheUniversityofKentForensicAnthropologyDepartment,whowouldcertainlydothejobwiththegreatestcareandrespect.Onewasfromafirmof‘CemeterySpecialists’inRye,whohadrecentlymovedthirtygravesfromthesiteofanewPetsatHomeandincludedpicturesofsolemnmenandwomenindarkblueoveralls,diggingoutgravesbyhand.ThelastwasfromacompanysetuptwomonthsagobyIanhimself,withafuneraldirectorfromBrightonhehadmetplayinggolfandSueBanburyfromIan’svillage,whorentedoutdiggers.Thatfinalpitchwasextremelycompetitiveandhadwonthebusiness.Ianhadlookedintotheexcavationofcemeteriesonlineanditwasn’trocketscience.
‘Someofthesegravesarenearlyonehundredandfiftyyearsold,MrVentham,’saysFatherMackie.
‘CallmeIan,’saysIan.
Ianhadn’tstrictlyneededtohavethismeeting,buthefeelsit’sbettertobesafethansorry.Alotoftheresidentscangetquite‘churchy’whenitsuitsthemandhewouldn’twantFatherMackiestirringuptrouble.Peoplegetfunnyaboutcorpses.Sohearthemanout,reassurehim,sendhimhappilyonhisway.Donatetosomething?There’sathoughttokeepinthebackpocket.
‘Thecompanyyou’veemployedtorelocatethecemetery,’Mackielooksathisfile,‘AngelsinTransit–theCremovalSpecialists,theyknowwhatthey’regoingtofind,Ihope?Therewon’tbemanyintactcoffins,Ian,justbones.Andnotskeletons;loosebones,brokendown,scattered,half-rotted,sunkthroughtheearth.Andeverysinglefragmentofeverybone,ineverysinglegrave,needstobefound,needstobedocumentedandneedstoberespected.That’sbasicdecency,butdon’tforgetthatitisalsothelaw.’
Iannods,thoughheisactuallywonderingifitispossibletopaintadiggerblack.Suewillknow.
‘Iamheretoday,’continuesFatherMackie,‘toaskyoutothinkagain,toleavetheseladieswheretheyare,toleavetheminpeace.Mantoman.Idon’tknowwhatitwouldcostyoutodothat,that’syourbusiness.Butyouhavetounderstand,asamanofGod,thatit’smybusinesstoo.Idon’twantthesewomenmoved.’
‘Matthew,Iappreciateyoucomingtoseeus,’saysIan.‘AndIseewhatyou’resayingaboutangels.Soulsintormentetcetera,ifI’mreadingyouright?Butyousaidityourself,allwe’llfindnowisbones.That’sallthereis.Andyoucanchoosetobesuperstitious,orreligiousinyourcase,Iseethat,butIcanchoosenottobe.Now,we’lltakecareofthebones,andI’mhappyforyoutobethereandwatchthelotifthat’swhatfloatsyourboat.ButIwanttomovethecemetery,I’mallowedtomovethecemeteryandI’mgoingtomovethecemetery.IfthatmakesmewhateverIamthensobeit.Bonesdon’tmindwheretheyare.’
‘IfIcan’tchangeyourmindthenIwillmakethisasdifficultasIpossiblycanforyou.Ineedyoutoknowthat,’saysFatherMackie.
‘Jointhequeue,Father,’saysIan.‘I’vegottheRSPCAupinarmsaboutbadgers.I’vegottheKentForestrySomethingbangingonaboutprotectedtrees.Withyou,it’snuns.I’vegottocomplywithEUregulationsonheatemissions,onlightpollution,onbathroomfittingsandahundredotherthings,eventhoughIseemtorememberwevotedtoleave.I’vegotresidentsbleatingaboutbenches,I’vegotEnglishHeritagetellingmemybricksdon’tqualifyassustainableandthecheapestcementguyintheentiresouthofEnglandhasjustgonetoprisonforVATfraud.Youarenotmybiggestproblem,Father,notevenclose.’
Ianfinallydrawsbreath.
‘Also,Tonydied,soisdifficulttimeforeveryone,’addsBogdan,crossinghimself.
‘Yeah,yep.Also,Tonydied.Difficulttime,’agreesIan.
FatherMackieturnstoBogdan,nowhehasbrokenhissilence.
‘Andwhatdoyouthink,myson?AboutmovingtheGardenofEternalRest?Youdon’tthinkwe’redisturbingsouls?Youdon’tthinktherewillbepenanceforthis?’
‘Father,IthinkGodwatchesovereverythingandjudgeseverything,’saysBogdan.‘ButIthinkbonesisbones.’
22
Joyceishavingherhaircut.
AnthonycomesineveryThursdayandFridayandappointmentsathismobilesalonarelikegolddust.Joycealwaysbooksthefirstappointment,becausethat’swhenyougetthebeststories.
Elizabethknowsthisandsoissittingoutsidebytheopendoorway.Waitingandlistening.Shecouldjustwalkin,butwaitingandlisteningareoldhabitsshecan’tbreak.Inalifetimeoflisteningyoupickupallsorts.Shelooksatherwatch.IfJoyceisn’toutinfiveminutesshewillmakeherpresenceknown.
‘OnedayI’mjustgoingtodyethewholething,Joyce,’saysAnthony.‘Sendyououtofherebrightpink.’
Joycegiggles.
‘You’dlooklikeNickiMinaj.YouknowNickiMinaj,Joyce?’
‘No,butIlikethesoundofher,’saysJoyce.
‘Whatdowethinkaboutthisfellatheykilled?’asksAnthony.‘Curran?I’veseenhimroundhere.’
‘Well,it’sverysad,obviously,’saysJoyce.
‘Theyshothim,that’swhatIheard,’saysAnthony.‘Iwonderwhathe’ddone?’
‘Ithinkhewasbludgeonedtodeath,Anthony,’saysJoyce.
‘Bludgeoned,washe?Youreallydohavelovelyhair,Joyce.Youhavetopromiseyou’llleaveittomeinyourwill.’
Outside,Elizabethrollshereyes.
‘Iheardtheygunnedhimdownontheseafront,’saysAnthony.‘Threeguysonmotorbikes.’
‘No,justbludgeonedinhiskitchen,apparently,’saysJoyce.‘Nomotorbikes.’
‘Who’ddothat?’saysAnthony.‘Bludgeonsomeoneintheirkitchen?’
Whoindeed?thinksElizabeth,andlooksatherwatchagain.
‘Ibethehadalovelykitchentoo,’saysAnthony.‘Whatashame.Ialwayshadabitofathingforhim.Likeyoucouldtellhewasawrong’un,butyoustillwould?’
‘Well,we’reagreedthere,Anthony,’saysJoyce.
‘Ihopetheycatchwhoeverdidit.’
‘I’msuretheywill,’saysJoyce,andtakesasipofhertea.
Elizabethdecidesenoughisenough,standsandwalksintotheroom.Anthonyturnsandseesher.
‘Ooh,heresheis.DustySpringfield.’
‘Goodmorning,Anthony.I’mafraidyou’regoingtohavetoreleaseJoyce.Ineedher.’
Joyceclapsherhands.
23
Joyce
SothatwasadayIwasn’texpectingwhenIwashavingmymueslithismorning.Firstthenunbusinessandnowthis.
IfyouthinkIhavemueslieverymorningyou’vegotthewrongidea,butthismorningIdidand,asthingsturnedout,Iwasgladoftheenergy.Ithasgone10p.m.nowandIhaveonlyjustputmythingsdown.AtleastIhadasnoozeonthetrainhome.
Iwashavingmyhaircutthismorning,withAnthony.WewerenearlydoneandwerejusthavingalovelygossipwhenwhoshouldarrivebutElizabeth.Withatotebagandaflask,bothofwhichwereoutofcharacter.Shetoldmeataxiwasonitswayandtogetreadyforadayout.IhavelearnedtobespontaneoussinceImovedtoCoopersChase,soIdidn’tbataneyelid.Iaskedherwhereweweregoing,soIwouldhaveanideaabouttheweatheretc.,andshesaidLondon,whichsurprisedme,butexplainedtheflask.IknowexactlyhowcoldLondoncanbe,soIpoppedhomeandputonanicecoat.AndthankgoodnessIdid!
WestillusetheRobertsbridgetaxis,eventhoughtheyoncetookRon’sgranddaughtertothewrongstation,andtotheircredittheyhavegotbetter.Thedriver,Hamed,wasSomalian,andSomaliasoundsverybeautiful.Surprise,surprise,Elizabethhasbeenthereandtheyhadarightoldchat.HamedhassixchildrenandtheeldestisaGPinChislehurst,ifyouknowit?Ioncewenttoacarbootthere,sowasatleastabletochipin.
AllthistimeElizabethwaswaitingformetoaskwhereweweregoing,butIdidn’tcrack.Shelikestobeinchargeand,don’tgetmewrong,Ilikehertobeinchargetoo,butitdoesn’tharmtomakeyourpresencefelteverynowandagain.Ithinksherubsoffonme,andinagoodway.IhaveneverreallythoughtthatIwasapushover,butthemoretimeIspendwithElizabeth,themoreIthinkIprobablyam.MaybeifI’dhadElizabeth’sspiritthenIwouldhavebeentoSomaliatoo?That’sjustanexampleofwhatImean.
WegotonthetrainatRobertsbridge(the9.51stopper)andshe’dcrackedbyTunbridgeWellsandletmeinonit.WewereofftoseeJoanna.
Joanna!Mylittlegirl!Youcanimaginemyquestions.Elizabethhadmebackexactlywhereshewantedme.
SowhywerewegoingtoseeJoanna?Well,thisiswhatitseemshadtranspired.
Elizabethexplained,inthatwayshehasthatmakeseverythingsoundsoreasonable,thatweknewasmuchasthepolicedidaboutmanythingsinthiscase,whichwasagoodthingforeveryone.However,itwouldalsobegoodiftherewereareaswhereweknewmorethanthepolice.Incaseweneededto‘trade’atanypoint.Thismightbeuseful,accordingtoElizabeth,becauseDonnais,unfortunately,abittoocannytotelluseverything.Afterall,whoarewe?
Thebiggap,thewayElizabethwouldhaveit,wasthefinancialrecordsofIanVentham’scompanies.MighttherebeausefulconnectionbetweenVenthamandTonyCurranthere?Areasonfortheirrow?Amotiveformurder?Itwasimportantwefoundout.
Tothisend,Elizabethhad,ofcourse,acquireddetailedfinancialrecordsofIanVentham’scompanies.Byhookor,morelikely,bycrook.Itwasallinabig,bluefile,hencethetotebag,whichsheputontheemptyseatbesideher.Ihaven’tmentionedityet,butweweretravellingFirstClass.Ikepthopingsomeonewouldasktoseemyticket,butnoonedid.
Elizabethhadtakenalookthroughallthefinancialbumfandcouldn’tmakeheadortailofit.Sheneededsomeonetotakealookandtellherwhatwaswhat.Wasthereanythingoutoftheordinary?Anythingwemightpokeournosesintowhenwehadasparemoment?Hiddenintherecordswouldbeleads,ofthatElizabethwassure.Buthiddenwhere?
Iaskedifthesamepersonwhohadfoundhertherecordsinthefirstplacemightbethemanforthejob.Elizabethhadsaidthatunfortunatelythispersonhadowedheronefavour,nottwo.ShealsosaidshewassurprisedIhadsaid‘man’forthejob,givenmypolitics.Shewasright,itwasnotbestpractice,butItoldherthatIbetitwasamanallthesameandsheconfirmedthatitwas.
SomewherearoundOrpingtonIinturncrackedandaskedwhyJoanna?Well,Elizabethgaveherreasons.Weneededsomeoneuptospeedonmodernbusinessaccountingandwhoknowshowtovaluecompanies,bothofwhichJoanna,apparently,is.WasVenthamintrouble?Didheowemoney?Arethereanyfurtherpropertydevelopmentsonthehorizon?Aretheyfunded?WeneededsomeonewecouldtrustabsolutelyandElizabethwasspotonaboutJoannahere.Joannaismanythings,butshewon’tletyoudownoverasecret.Finally,weneededsomeonewecouldhavequickaccesstoandwhoowedusafavour.IaskedElizabethwhatfavourJoannaowedusandshesaidtheuniversalguiltofachildwhodoesn’tseetheirmumoftenenough.ShehadJoannapeggedtheretoo.
Itboileddown,Elizabethsaid,toneedingsomeone‘forensic,loyalandnearby’.
Anyway,shehademailedJoannaandnottakennoforananswer.ShetoldJoannanottodiscussitwithme,soitwouldbeanicesurprise,andherewewere.
Thisalllooksconvincingwrittendown,butthenElizabethalwayshastheknackofsoundingconvincing.Ididn’tbuyitforamoment,though.Idon’tdoubtshecouldhavefoundmanybetterpeopleforthejob.Youwantthetruth?IthinkElizabethjustwantedtomeetJoanna.
Which,bytheway,wasfinebyme.ItwasachancetoseeJoannaandachancetoshowherofftoElizabeth.Andallwithouttheembarrassmentoftryingtoarrangeitmyself.Onewayoranother,ifIarrangeit,IalwaysgetsomethingwrongandJoannagetsexasperated.
Also,todayIwouldn’tbetalkingtoJoannaaboutherjob,orhernewboyfriendorthenewhouse(inPutney;Ihaven’tbeen,butshe’ssentmepicturesandthereistalkofChristmas).Iwouldbetalkingaboutamurder.Tryactinglikeacoolteenagerwhensomeonehasbeenmurdered.Goodluck,darling,astheysay.
WearrivedatCharingCrossfourteenminuteslatedueto‘theslowrunningofthisservice’,whichElizabethhadagoodmutterabout.Ididn’tneedthelooonthetrain,whichwasablessing.LasttimeIhadbeeninLondonwasforJerseyBoyswiththegang,whichwasawhileagonow.Weusedtogothreeorfourtimesayearifwecould.Therewerefourofus.Wewoulddoamatineeandbebackonthetrainbeforerushhour.InMarkstheydoaginandtonicinacan,ifyou’veeverhadit?Wewoulddrinkthemonthetrainhomeandgiggleourselvessilly.Theganghasallgonenow.Twocancersandastroke.Wehadn’tknownthatJerseyBoyswouldbeourlasttrip.Youalwaysknowwhenit’syourfirsttime,don’tyou?Butyourarelyknowwhenit’syourfinaltime.Anyway,IwishIhadkepttheprogramme.
Wetookablackcab(whatelse?)andoffwesettoMayfair.WhenwewereonCurzonStreet,Elizabethpointedoutanofficewheresheusedtowork.Ithadbeencloseddowninthe1980sforefficiencies.
IhavebeentoJoanna’sofficesbefore,whentheyfirstmovedin,buttheyhaveredecoratedsincethen.Thereisatabletennistableandyoucanjusthelpyourselftodrinks.Thereisalsoaliftwhereyoujustsaythenumber,insteadofpressingabutton.Notforme,butveryswishallthesame.
IknowIsometimesgoonabouther,butreally,itwassolovelytoseeJoanna.Sheevengavemeaproperhug,becausewewereincompany.Elizabeththenexcusedherselftousethebathroom(IhadgoneatCharingCross,incaseyouwerethinkingIwassuperhuman).Thesecondshewasoutofearshot,Joannabeamed.
‘Mum!Amurder?’shesaid.Orwordstothateffect.ShelookedlikethechildIrememberedfromlongago.
‘Hewasbludgeoned,JoJo.Ofallthings,’Ireplied.TheseweremyexactwordsandIthinkthefactshedidn’timmediatelyscrewupherfaceandtellmenottocallher‘JoJo’speaksvolumes.(Onasidenote,Icouldfeelandseethatshewasabittoothin,soIdon’tthinkhernewmanisgoodforher.Ialmosttookadvantageandsaidsomething,butIthought,don’tpushyourluck,Joyce.)
Wewereinaboardroomandthetablewasmadeoutofthewingofanaeroplane.IknewnottomakeathingofitinfrontofJoanna,butitwasreallysomething.IsatthereasifIsawaeroplanetableseverydayoftheweek.
ElizabethhademailedallthefilesoverandJoannahadgiventhemalltoCornelius,whoworksforher.CorneliusisAmerican,bytheway,incaseyouwerewonderingabouthisname.HeaskedElizabethwhereshehadgotallthedocumentsandshesaid‘CompaniesHouse’,andhesaidthesearenotthesortofdocumentsyoucangetatCompaniesHouseandshesaidthat,well,shewouldn’tknowaboutthatsortofthing,shewasjustaseventy-six-year-oldwoman.
I’vegoneontoolong.ThelongandshortwasthatVentham’scompanieswereinverygoodshape.Heknewwhathewasdoing.ThoughCorneliushadfoundouttwoveryinterestingthings,whichwe’llbetellingthepoliceaboutwhentheycomeandvisit.They’veaddeditalltoElizabeth’sbigbluefile.
JoannawasfunnyandbrightandengagingandallthethingsIhadworriedthatshe’dlost.Theretheyallwere.Perhapsshehadjustlostthemwithme?
IhavetalkedtoElizabethaboutJoannabefore.HowIfeelwe’renotascloseasweshouldbe,asothermothersanddaughtersseemtobe.Elizabethhasawayofmakingyouwanttotellthetruth.SheknewIhadbeenabitsad.Ihadn’tthoughtaboutituntilnow,butIwonderifthewholetriphadn’tbeenformybenefit.Really,anawfullotofpeoplecouldhavetolduswhatCorneliustoldus.So,perhaps?Idon’tknow.
Asweleft,Joannasaidshewouldhavetocomedownnextweekendforapropergossip.ItoldherIwouldlikethatverymuchandthatwecoulddoatripintoFairhaven,whichshesaidshewouldlove.Iaskedifthenewmanmightcomedownwithherandshegavealittlelaughandsaidno.That’smygirl.
Wecouldhavegotanotherblackcabstraightbacktothestation,butElizabethwantedtohaveastrollandsowedid.Idon’tknowifyouknowMayfair–therearenoshopsyouwouldactuallybuyanythingin,butitwasverypleasant.WestoppedforcoffeeinaCosta.Itwasinabeautifulbuilding,whichElizabethsaidusedtobeapubwheresheandalotofhercolleagueswoulddrink.Westayedthereforawhileandtalkedaboutwhatwe’dlearned.
Iftodaywasanythingtogoby,thiswholemurderinvestigationisgoingtobethemostenormousfun.Ithasbeenalongday,andwhetherithasgotusanyclosertocatchingTonyCurran’skiller,I’llletyoudecide.
IthinkJoannasawadifferentsidetometoday.OrmaybeIsawadifferentsidetomyselfthroughhereyes.Eitherway,itwasverypleasant.Also,nexttimeI’lltellyouaboutCornelius,whoweliked.
Thevillageisnearlydarknow.Inlifeyouhavetolearntocountthegooddays.Youhavetotucktheminyourpocketandcarrythemaroundwithyou.SoI’mputtingtodayinmypocketandI’mofftobed.
Iwilljustfinishbysayingthat,backatCharingCross,InippedintoMarksandboughtacoupleofginandtonicsinacan.ElizabethandIdrankthemonthetrainhome.
24
Withthelightsofthevillageturningout,Elizabethopensupherappointmentsdiaryandattemptstoday’squestion.
‘WHATWASTHEREGISTRATIONNUMBEROFGWENTALBOT’SDAUGHTER-IN-LAW’SNEWCAR?’
Sheapprovesofthisquestion.Notthemakeofthecar,thatwastooeasy.Notthecolour,thatcouldbeguessed,andguessingprovednothing,buttheregistrationnumber.Somethingthatrequiredgenuinerecall.
Asshehasdonesooftenbefore,inadifferentlife,usuallyinadifferentcountryandadifferentcentury,Elizabethshutshereyesandzoomsin.Sheseesitimmediately,ordoesshehearit?Itisboth,herbrainistellingherwhatshesees.
JL17BCH
Shetracesafingerdownthepageandreadsthecorrectanswer.Sheisspoton.Elizabethshutsthediary.She’llwritethenextquestionlater,shealreadyhasaniceidea.
Fortherecord,thecarwasablueLexus,GwenTalbot’sdaughter-in-lawhavingdonewellforherselfinbespokeyachtinsurance.Asforthedaughter-in-law’sname,well,thatremainedamystery.Elizabethhadonlybeenintroducedtoheronceandhadnotquitecaughtit.Shewasconfidentthatitwasjustahearingissueandnotamemoryissue.
MemorywasthebogeymanthatstalkedCoopersChase.Forgetfulness,absent-mindedness,muddlingupnames.
WhatdidIcomeinherefor?Thegrandchildrenwouldgiggleatyou.Thesonsanddaughterswouldjoketoo,butkeepawatchfuleye.Everysooftenyouwouldwakeatnightincolddread.Ofallthethingstolose,toloseone’smind?Letthemtakealegoralung,letthemtakeanythingbeforetheytakethat.Beforeyoubecame‘PoorRosemary’,or‘PoorFrank’,catchingthelastglimpsesofthesunandseeingthemforwhattheywere.Beforetherewerenomoretrips,nomoregames,nomoreMurderClubs.Beforetherewasnomoreyou.
Almostcertainlyyoumixedupyourdaughter’sandgranddaughter’snamesbecauseyouwerethinkingaboutthepotatoes,butwhoknows?Thatwasthetightrope.
SoeverydayElizabethopensherdiarytoadatetwoweeksaheadandwritesherselfaquestion.Andeverydaysheanswersaquestionshesetherselftwoweeksago.Thisisherearlywarningsystem.Thisisherteamofscientistsporingoverseismologygraphs.Ifthereisgoingtobeanearthquake,Elizabethwillbethefirsttoknowaboutit.
Elizabethwalksintothelivingroom.Anumberplate,fromafortnightago,isarealtestandsheispleasedwithherself.Stephenisonthesofa,lostinconcentration.Thismorning,beforehertriptoLondonwithJoyce,theyhadbeentalkingaboutStephen’sdaughter,Emily.Stephenisworriedaboutherandthinkssheisgettingtoothin.Elizabethdisagreed,but,allthesame,StephenwishedEmilywouldvisitmoreoften,justsotheycouldkeepaneyeonher.Elizabethagreedthatwasreasonableandsaidshe’dtalktoEmily.
However,EmilyisnotStephen’sdaughter.Stephenhasnochildren.EmilywasStephen’sfirstwifeandhaddiednearlytwenty-fiveyearsago.
StephenisanexpertinMiddle-EasternArt.PerhapstheexpertifyouweretalkingaboutBritishacademics.HehadlivedinTehranandBeirutinthesixtiesandseventiesandmanyyearslaterwouldgoback,totrackdownlootedmasterpiecesforonce-wealthywest-Londonexiles.ElizabethhadbrieflybeeninBeirutintheearlyseventies,buttheirpathshadnotactuallycrosseduntil2004,whenStephenhadpickedupagloveshehaddroppedoutsideabookshopinChippingNorton.Sixmonthslatertheyweremarried.
Elizabethknocksthekettleon.Stephenstillwriteseveryday,sometimesforhours.HehasanacademicagentinLondon,whomhesayshemustgetuptoseesoon.Stephenkeepshisworksafelylockedup,but,ofcourse,nothingissafelylockedupfromElizabethandshereadsitfromtimetotime.Sometimesitisjustapiececopiedfromhisnewspaper,repeatedoverandover,butmostoftenitisstoriesaboutEmily,orforEmily.Allinthemostbeautifulhandwriting.
TherewillbenomoretrainsuptoLondonforStephen,tohavelunchwithhisagentortoseeexhibitions,orjustlookupalittlesomethingattheBritishLibrary.Stephenisonthebrink.Heisoverthebrink,ifElizabethishonestwithherself.Sheischoosingtomanagethesituation.Shemedicateshimasbestshecan.Sedation,tobetruthful.Withherpillsandhis,Stephenneverwakesinthenight.
Thekettlenowboiled,Elizabethmakestwocupsoftea.PCDeFreitasandherDCIarecomingtoseethemsoon.Thathadallworkedoutverynicely,butshestillhassomethinkingtodo.Aftertoday’stripwithJoyce,shenowhassomeinformationtohandtothepoliceandshewouldliketheirinformationinreturn.TheyarereallygoingtohavetodoanumberonDonnaandherboss,though.Shehasafewthoughts.
Stephennevercooks,soElizabethknowstheplacewon’tburndownwhileshe’sout.Henevergoestotheshop,ortherestaurant,orthepool,sotherewon’tbeanincident.Sometimesshewillcomehometoevidenceofapoorlyconcealedfloodandsometimesthereisemergencywashing,butnomatter.
ElizabethiskeepingStephentoherselfforaslongasshecan.Atsomepointhewillhaveafall,orcoughupblood,andhewillbeexposedtoadoctorwhowon’tbefooled,andthatwillbethat,andoffhewillgo.
ElizabethgrindsthetemazepamintoStephen’stea.Thenaddsmilk.Hermotherwouldhavehadrulesontheetiquetteofthat.Temazepambeforemilk,ormilkbeforetemazepam?Shesmiles,thisisajokeStephenwouldhaveenjoyed.WouldIbrahimlikeit?Joyce?Shesupposednoonewould.
Sometimestheystillplaychess.ElizabethoncespentamonthinasafehousesomewherenearthePolish–WestGermanborder,babysittingtheRussianchessgrandmasterandlaterdefector,YuriTsetovich.Sheremembershimcryingtearsofjoywhenhesawhowwellsheplayed.Elizabethhadlostnoneofherskill,butStephenbeatshereverytime,andwithanelegancethatmakesherswoon.Thoughtheyareplayinglessandlessnowsherealizes.Perhapstheyhaveplayedtheirlastgame?HasStephencapturedhislastking?Please,no.
ElizabethgivesStephenhisteaandkisseshimontheforehead.Hethanksher.
Elizabethreturnstohernotebookandflicksforwardtwoweekstowritetoday’squestion,afactshelearnedfromJoannaandCorneliustoday.
HOWMUCHMONEYDIDIANVENTHAMMAKEFROMTHEDEATHOFTONYCURRAN?
Shewritestheanswerfurtherdownthepage,￡12.25MILLION,andclosesherappointmentsdiaryforanotherday.
25
PCDonnaDeFreitashadgotthenewsthepreviousmorning.ReporttoCID.Elizabethwasaquickworker.
ShehadbeenassignedtotheTonyCurrancaseasChrisHudson’s‘shadow’.AnewKentPoliceinitiative.Somethingtodowithinclusivity,ormentoring,ordiversity,orwhatevertheguyfromHRinMaidstonehadsaidwhenherangher.Whateveritwas,itmeantshewassittingonabench,overlookingtheEnglishChannel,whileDCIChrisHudsonateanicecream.
ChrishadgivenhertheTonyCurranfiletogetheruptospeed.Shecouldn’tbelieveherluck.Donnahadenjoyedthefileagreatdealatfirst.Itfeltlikesomeproperpolicework.ItbroughtbackallthethingsshelovedaboutsouthLondon.Murder,drugs,someonewhocarriedoffa‘nocomment’withabitofpanache.Assheread,shefeltsureshewouldstumbleacrossatinycluethatwouldcrackopensomedecades-oldcase.Shehadrole-playeditinherhead.‘Sir,Ididsomedigginganditturnsoutthat29May1997wasabankholiday,whichratherblowsTonyCurran’salibidon’tyouthink?’ChrisHudsonwouldlookdubious,nowayhasthisrookiecrackedthecaseandshewouldraiseaneyebrowandsay‘Iranhishandwritingthroughforensics,sir,andguesswhat?’Chriswouldfeignalackofinterest,butshewouldknowshehadhim.‘ItturnsoutthatTonyCurranwasactuallyleft-handedallalong.’Chriswouldblowouthischeeks.Hewouldhavetohandittoher.
Noneofthishappened.DonnasimplyreadexactlywhatChrishadread,apottedhistoryofamangettingawaywithmurderandthenbeingmurderedinhisturn.Nosmokingguns,noinconsistencies,nothingtopeelback.Butshehadenjoyeditnonetheless.
‘That’ssomethingyoudon’tgetinsouthLondon,eh?’saysChris,pointingtotheseawithhisicecreamcone.
‘Thesea?’asksDonna,makingsure.
‘Thesea,’agreesChris.
‘Well,you’rerightthere,sir.There’sStreathamponds,butit’snotthesame.’
ChrisHudsonistreatingherwithakindnessshesensesisgenuineandwitharespectthatcouldonlycomewithbeinggoodathisjob.IfshewasevertoworkforChrispermanently,shewouldhavetodosomethingaboutthewayhedressed,butthatwasabridgethatcouldbecrossedingoodtime.Hereallytooktheexpression‘plainclothes’seriously.Wheredoessomeoneevenbuyshoeslikethat?Wasthereacatalogue?
‘FancyatripouttoseeIanVentham?’saysChrisnow.‘HavealittlechatabouthisargumentwithTonyCurran?’
Elizabethhadcomegoodagain.ShehadrungDonnaandgivenafewmoredetailsabouttherowthatRon,JoyceandJasonhadwitnessed.Theywouldstillhavetogoandvisitinperson,butitwassomethingtobegoingonwith.
‘Yesplease,’saysDonna.‘Isituncooltosay“please”inCID?’
Chrisshrugs.‘I’mnotreallythepersontoaskwhethersomethingiscool,PCDeFreitas.’
‘CanwefastforwardtothebitwhereyoustartcallingmeDonna,’saysDonna.
Chrislooksather,thennods.‘OK,I’lltry,butIcan’tpromiseanything.’
‘WhatarewelookingforwithVentham?’asksDonna.‘Motive?’
‘Exactly.Hewon’tgiveittousonaplate,butifwejustwatchandlisten,we’llpickacoupleofthingsup.Letmeaskthequestionsthough.’
‘Ofcourse,’saysDonna.
Chrisfinishesoffhiscone.‘Unlessyoureallywanttoaskaquestion.’
‘OK,’saysDonna,nodding.‘Iprobablywillwanttoaskone.Justtowarnyou.’
‘Fairenough.’Chrisnods,thenstands.‘Shallwe?’
26
Joyce
‘Nothingventured,nothinggained.’That’swhattheysayisn’tit?That’swhyIinvitedBernardforlunch.
Icookedlambwithrice.ThelambwasWaitrose,butthericewasLidl.That’sthewayIdoit,youhonestlydon’tnoticethedifferencewiththebasics.YouseemoreandmoreLidlvansherethesedaysaspeoplecatchon.
Bernard’snotthesorttonoticethedifferenceanyway.Iknowheeatsintherestauranteveryday.WhathehasforbreakfastIdon’tknow,butwhoreallyknowswhatanyonehasforbreakfast?Iusuallyhaveteaandtoastwiththelocalradio.Iknowsomepeoplehavefruit,don’tthey?Idon’tknowwhenthatcameintobeing,butit’snotforme.
Itwasn’tadatewithBernard,don’tthinkthat,butIaskedElizabethnottotellRonandIbrahimanyway,becausetheywouldhaveafieldday.Ifithadbeenadate,whichitwasn’t,Iwillsaythis.Thisisamanwholikestotalkabouthislatewifealot.Idon’tmindthat,andIdounderstandit,butI’dgonetoquiteaneffort.Anyway,notsomethingIshouldcomplainabout,Iknow.
PerhapsIfeelguiltybecauseIdon’treallytalkaboutGerry.Isupposeit’sjustnothowIdealwiththings.IkeepGerryinatightlittleballjustforme.IthinkifIlethimloosehere,itwouldoverwhelmme,andIworryhemightjustblowaway.Idoknowthat’ssilly.GerrywouldhaveenjoyedCoopersChase.Allthecommittees.Itfeelsunfairthathemissedout.
Anyway,thisisexactlymypoint,Ifeelthetearsprickling,andthisisn’tthetimeortheplace.I’msupposedtobewriting.
Bernard’swifewasIndian,whichmusthavebeenveryunusualbackthen,andtheyweremarriedforforty-sevenyears.Theymovedinheretogether,butshehadastrokeandwasinWillowswithinsixmonths.Shediedabouteighteenmonthsago,beforeI’darrived.Fromthesoundofher,IdowishI’dmether.
Theyhaveonedaughter,calledSufi.NotSophie.ShelivesinVancouverwithherpartnerandtheycomeoveracoupleoftimesayear.IwonderwhatwouldhappenifJoannamovedtoVancouver.Iabsolutelywouldn’tputitpasther.
Wetalkedaboutotherthingstoo,Idon’twanttogiveyouthewrongimpression.WediscussedpoorTonyCurran.ItoldBernardhowexcitedIwasthatTonyCurranhadbeenmurdered.Helookedatmeaskance,inawaythatremindedmeIcan’ttalktoeveryoneinthesamewayItalktoElizabeth,IbrahimandRon.But,betweenyouandmeandthegatepost,Bernardlooksratherhandsomewithanaskancelookonhisface.
Hetalkedalittleabouthiswork,thoughIamstillnonethewiser,tobehonest.Ifyouknowwhatachemicalengineeris,thenyouareabetterwomanthanme.Don’tgetmewrong,IknowwhatanengineerisandIknowwhatchemicalsare,butIcan’tjointhedots.Italkedalittlebitaboutmyworkandtoldsomefunnystoriesaboutpatients.Helaughedand,whenItoldastoryaboutajuniordoctorwho’dgothisbitstrappedinahoovernozzle,Isawalittletwinkleinhiseye,whichgavemecauseforoptimism.Itwasnice,Iwouldn’tgofurtherthanthat,butIsensedtherewasmoretolearnaboutBernard,agapthatneedstobecrossed.Iknowthedifferencebetweenaloneandlonely,andBernardislonely.Thereisacureforthat.
Iamdrawntostrays.Gerrywasastray;IknewitfromthemomentImethim.Alwaysjoking,alwaysclever,butalwaysastray,needingahome.WhichiswhatIgavehimandhegavemebacksomuchmoreinreturn.Oh,Joyce,thisplacewouldhavesuitedthatlovelymandowntotheground.
I’mbangingonlikeBernard,aren’tI?Doshutup,Joyce.Therearesilly,propertearsnow.I’llletthemfall.Ifyoudon’tcrysometimes,you’llendupcryingallthetime.
ElizabethisinvitingDonnaandherDCItocometoseeuslater.SheisplanningtogivethemtheinformationwefoundoutfromJoannaandCorneliusandtoseewhatwemightgetinreturn.
Becauseitisn’tThursday,Elizabethaskedifwecanusemyfrontroomtomeetthem.Itoldheritwouldbetoosmallforallofusandshesaidthatwasperfectforherpurposes.MaketheDCIuncomfortableandmaybehe’llgivesomethingaway.That’sherplan.Shesaysit’sanoldworktrickofhers,thoughshenolongerhasaccesstoalltheequipmentthatsheusedtohave.Herexpressinstructionwas:‘Nooneleavestheroomuntilwe’vemadeDCIHudsontellussomethingwecanuse.’
Shehasaskedmetobake.Iamdoingalemondrizzle,butalsoacoffeeandwalnut,becauseyouneverknow.IhaveusedalmondflourbecausetheyaresogoodwithitatAnythingwithaPulseandIhavebeenlookingforanopportunity.IcantellthatIbrahimistemptedbytheideaofbeinggluten-intolerantandthiswillheadhimoffatthepass.
IwonderifIshouldhaveanap?Itis3.15andmycut-offpointforanapisusually3p.m.,otherwiseIstruggletosleeplater.Butithasbeenabusyfewdays,soperhapsIhaveearnedabitofrule-breaking?
Eitherway,IwilljustaddthatcoffeeandwalnutisBernard’sfavourite,butyoumustn’treadanythingintothat.
27
DonnalooksoutofthewindowoftheFordFocus.Whatdopeopleseeintrees?Therearejustsomanyofthem.Trunk,branches,leaves,trunk,branches,leaves,wegetit.Hermindwanders.
Chrishasshownherthephotographleftbythebody.Surelyit’saredherringthough?Itmustbe.Ifyou’reJasonRitchie,orBobbyTanner,orwhoevertookthephoto,it’saskingfortoomuchtrouble.Itwouldbeidiocyforanyofthementohaveleftthephotographbythebody.AhundreddifferentpeoplemighthavemurderedTonyCurran;whydothepolice’sjobforthemandnarrowitdowntothree?
Sosomeoneelsemusthavegotholdofacopyofthephotograph?Buthow?
PerhapsTonyCurranhadhadacopy?Thatwouldmakesense.AndperhapsIanVenthamhadseenitoneday?Tonyshowingoff?Ianhadclockeditandtuckeditawayforfutureuse?Abitofmisdirectiontoconfusethebunglingcops?FromwhatDonnahasread,heseemsthetypewhomighttrytodothat.
Theyarepassingthroughavillage,whichisarespitefromthetrees,butthereisstillnotenoughconcreteforDonna.Maybeshe’llgrowtoloveit?MaybetherewasmoretolifethansouthLondon?
‘Whatareyouthinking?’asksChris,eyesofftotheleft,tryingtofindtherightroadsign.
‘I’mthinkingofAtlantaFriedChickenonBalhamHighRoad.AndI’mthinkingweshouldshowthephototoIanVentham,’saysDonna.‘Askhimifhe’severseenitbefore.’
‘Lookhimintheeyewhenhetellsushehasn’t?’saysChris,indicatesleftandturnsontoanarrowcountryroad.‘Goodplan.’
‘I’malsothinking,whydon’tyoueverironyourshirts?’saysDonna.
‘Sothisiswhatit’sliketohaveashadow?’saysChris.‘Well,Iusedtoironjustthefrontbit,becausetherestwasalwaysunderajacket.AndthenIthought,wellI’mwearingatietoo,sowhybotheratall?Doesanyonereallynotice?’
‘Ofcoursetheynotice,’saysDonna.‘Inotice.’
‘Well,you’reapoliceofficer,Donna,’saysChris.‘I’llstartironingshirtswhenIgetagirlfriend.’
‘Youwon’tgetagirlfrienduntilyoustartironingyourshirts,’saysDonna.
‘It’sarealCatch22forsure,’saysChrisandturnsontoalongdriveway.‘Anyway,I’vealwaysfoundthatshirtssortofironthemselveswhileyou’rewearingthem.’
‘Haveyounow?’saysDonna,astheypullupinfrontofIanVentham’shouse.
28
‘Youcanholdyourbreathforthreeminutesifyoureallyputyourmindtoit,’saysIanVentham.‘It’sallaboutcontrollingyourdiaphragm.Thebodydoesn’tneedasmuchoxygenastheysay.Lookatmountaingoats,ifyouneedproof.’
‘Thatmakessense,MrVentham,’saysChris.‘Butperhapswecangetbacktothephotograph?’
IanVenthamlooksatthephotographagain,andshakeshisheadagain.‘No,I’mcertain,I’veneverseenit.IrecognizeTony,ofcourse,Godresthissoul,andthat’stheboxer,isn’tit?’
‘JasonRitchie,’saysChris.
‘MyboxingtrainersaysIcouldhaveturnedpro,’saysIan.‘Physiqueplusmentality.There’ssomestuffyoucan’tteach.’
Chrisnodsagain.DonnalooksaroundIanVentham’slivingroom.Oneofthemoreextraordinaryroomsshehaseverseen.Thereisabrightredgrandpiano,withgoldenkeys.Thepianostoolisebonyandzebra-skin.
‘Idon’tsupposeyouandTonyhadafallingout,MrVentham?’saysChris.‘Beforehedied?’
‘Afallingout?’asksIan.
‘Mmm,’saysChris.
‘MeandTony?’asksIan.
‘Mmm,’repeatsChris.
‘Weneverargued,’saysIan.‘Arguingisverybadforyourwellbeing.Youlookatthescienceofit,itthinstheblood.Thinnerblood,lessenergy.Lessenergy,slipperyslope.’
Donnaislisteningtoeveryword,justtakingitallin,buthereyescontinuetoscantheroom.Thereisalargeoilpaintinginahugegoldframeabovethefireplace.ItisapaintingofIan,carryingasword.Thereisastuffedeagleinfrontofit.Wingsoutstretched.
‘Well,wecanallagreewiththat,’saysChris.‘ButwhatifItoldyouI’vegotthreewitnesseswhosawthetwoofyouarguingbeforehewaskilled?’
DonnawatchesasIanleansforwardslowly,putshiselbowsonhisthighsandrestshischinonhisclaspedhands.Heisgivingeveryimpressionofpretendingtothink.
‘Well,listen,’saysIan,takinghiselbowsoffhisthighsandspreadinghishands.‘Wehadanargument,sure,sometimesyouhaveto,don’tyou?Justtoreleasethetoxins.Iguessthatwouldexplainwhattheysaw.’
‘OK,yes,thatwouldexplainit,’agreesChris.‘ButIwonderifIcouldaskwhattheargumentwasabout?’
‘Ofcourse,sure,’saysIan.‘It’savalidquestionandIappreciateyouaskingit,because,whenall’ssaidanddone,Tonydied.’
‘Tonywasmurdered,actually.Shortlyaftertheargument,’saysDonna,lookingatanemerald-encrustedskullandgettingboredofbeingquiet.
Iannodsather.‘Accurate,yep,hewas.Youhaveabrightfuture.Well,listen,howmuchdoyouknowaboutautomaticsprinklersystems?’
‘Asmuchasthenextman,’saysChris.
‘Iwanttofitthemtoallthenewflats;Tonydidn’twanttheexpense.Tome–andlisten,thisisjustme,justhowIdobusiness–thesafetyofmyclientsisparamount.AndImeanparamount.SoIsaidthistoTony,andhe’smorelaissez-faireaboutthewholething,notmystyleandwe,I’mnotgoingtosay“argued”,I’mgoingtosaywe“bickered”.’
‘Andthatwasthat?’asksChris.
‘Andthatwasthat,’saysIan.‘Justsprinklers.Ifyouwanttofindmeguiltyofsomething,findmeguiltyofgoingaboveandbeyondasregardsbuildingsafety.’
Chrisnods,thenturnstoDonna.‘Ithinkthat’susdonefornow,MrVentham.Unlessmycolleaguehasanyquestions?’
DonnawantstoaskwhyVenthamislyingabouttherow,butthat’sprobablyabitmuch.Whatshouldsheask?WhatwouldChriswanthertoask?
‘Justonequestion,Ian,’saysDonna.Shedoesn’twanttocallhimMrVentham.‘WheredidyougowhenyouleftCoopersChasethatday?Didyoucomehome?PerhapsyouvisitedTonyCurran?Tocontinuediscussingthesprinklers?’
‘Ididneither,’saysIan,andseemsonsolidground.‘IdroveupthehillandmetwithKarenandGordonPlayfair,theyownthelandupthere.They’llvouchforme,I’msure.AtleastKarenwill.’
Chrislooksatherandnods.HerquestionwasOK.
‘You’reverybeautiful,bytheway,’saysIantoDonna.‘Forapoliceofficer.’
‘You’llseehowbeautifulIamifIeverhavetoarrestyou,’saysDonna,remembering,amomenttoolate,thatrollinghereyeswasprobablyunprofessional.
‘Well,notbeautiful,’addsIan.‘Butattractiveenoughforroundhere.’
‘Thankyouforyourtime,MrVentham,’saysChris,standing.‘Ifthere’sanythingelsewe’llbeintouch.AndifyoueverneedtotellmethatI’mbeautiful,youhavemynumber.’
AsDonnastands,shetakesafinallookaroundtheroom.ThelastthingshenoticesisIanVentham’saquarium.AtthebottomofthetankisanexactscalereplicaofIanVentham’shouse.AclownfishemergesfromanupstairswindowasDonnaandChrismaketheirwayout.
Donna’sphonepingsassheandChrisreachthecar.
AtextfromElizabeth.Whichdoesn’tseemrighttoDonnaatall.SurelyamessagefromElizabethshouldbedeliveredinMorsecode,orbyanintricateseriesofflags?
Donnasmilestoherselfandopensthetext.‘TheThursdayMurderClub,askingifwecouldcomeovertoCoopersChase,sir?Theyhavesomeinformation.’
‘TheThursdayMurderClub?’asksChris.
‘That’swhattheycallthemselves.There’sfourofthem,alittlegang.’
Chrisnods.‘I’vemetIbrahimandpooroldRonRitchie.Aretheyinthisgang?’
Donnanods.Shehasnoideawhyhesaid‘poor’RonRitchie,butnodoubtElizabethwillbebehindthat,somehow.‘Shallwegoandseethem?ElizabethsaysJasonRitchiewillbethere.’
‘Elizabeth?’saysChris.
‘She’stheir…’Donnathinks.‘Idon’tknowwhatyou’dsay.WhateverMarlonBrandowasinTheGodfather.’
‘LasttimeIwenttoCoopersChasesomeoneclampedtheFordFocus,’saysChris.‘Iwascharged￡150toreleaseit,byapensionerwithahigh-visjacketandanadjustablespanner.YoureplytoElizabethandyoutellherwe’llvisitwhenwedecide,notwhenshedecides.We’rethepolice.’
‘I’mnotsurethatElizabethwilltakenoforananswer,’saysDonna.
‘Well,she’sgoingtohaveto,Donna,’saysChris.‘I’vebeeninthisjobfornearlythirtyyearsandI’mnotgoingtobepushedaroundbyfourpensioners.’
‘OK,’saysDonna.‘I’llletherknow.’
29
ItturnedoutthatChrishadbeenwrongandDonnahadbeenright.
ChrisHudsonfindshimselfjammeduncomfortablyonasofa,withIbrahim,whomhehasmetbefore,ononeside,andtiny,chirpy,white-hairedJoyceontheother.Itisclearlyatwo-and-a-half-seatersofaandwhenChrishadbeenshowntoit,hisassumptionwasthathewouldbesharingitwithonlyoneotherperson.Then,withagraceandswiftnesshehadn’texpectedfromtwopeopledeepintotheirpensionableyears,IbrahimandJoycehadslidinoneeithersideofhimandsoherehewas.Ifhehadknown,hewouldhavedeclinedtheinvitationandtakenoneofthearmchairs,nowoccupiedbyRonRitchie,lookingsprightlierthanwhentheylastmet,andtheterrifyingElizabeth.Whoreallydoesn’ttakenoforananswer.
Moretothepoint,hecouldhavetakenthatcosy-lookingIKEAreclinerthatDonnaisvirtuallycurledupin,feettuckedunderneathher,withoutacareintheworld.
Couldhemove?Thereisanotherseat,ahard-backedchair,butJoyceandIbrahimwouldsurelytakeoffence?Theyseemoblivioustohisdiscomfortandthelastthinghewantstodoisseemchurlish.Heissittingwhereheissittingbecauseoftheirkindnessandbecauseheistobethecentreofattention.Heunderstandsandappreciatesthat.Thereisapsychologytoseatingarrangementsthatanygoodpoliceofficerpicksupovertheyears.Heknowstheyhavetriedtheirbesttomakehimfeelimportantandtheywouldbehorrifiedtoknowthattheeffectisactuallythecompleteopposite.
Chrishasjustbeengivenacupofteaonasaucer,yetheissohemmedinthathefearsanyattempttodrinkitmightbephysicallyimpossible.Sohereheis,stuck,butlikeaprofessional,hewillmakethebestofit.LookatDonnathough,she’sevengotasidetableforhertea.Unbelievable.Theycouldn’thavemadethismoreawkwardforhimifthey’dtried.Still,stayprofessional.
‘Shallwebegin?’saysChris.Heattemptstoshifthisweightforward,but,withoutrealizingit,IbrahimhashiselbownestlingagainstChris’shipandChrisisforcedtosettlebackagain.Histeacupistoofulltosafelyholdinonehandandtoohottosip.Hewouldfeelannoyance,butthekindly,attentivelooksonthefacesofthefourresidentsmakeannoyanceimpossible.
‘Asyouknow,myselfandPCDeFreitas,overthereinthechair,makingherselfcomfortable,areinvestigatingthemurderofTonyCurran.He’samanIbelieveyouallhavesomeknowledgeof,alocalbuilderandpropertydeveloper.Asyoualsoknow,MrCurrantragicallypassedawaylastweek,andwehavecertainquestionspertainingtothisevent.’
Chrislooksathisaudience.Theyarenoddingwithsuchinnocence,takingitallin.Itmakeshimgladhe’sadoptedaslightlymoreformalwayofspeaking.Saying‘pertaining’hadbeenagoodcall.Heattemptsasipatthetea,butitisstillscaldinghotandanyblowingwouldsendawaveoverthebrim.Itwouldalsosuggesttowhoevermadetheteathathewouldhavepreferredittobelessscalding,whichwouldlookrude.
Joycehasmorebadnewsforhim.‘Wehaveforgottenourmanners,DetectiveChiefInspector.Wehaven’tofferedyouanycake.’Sheproducesalemondrizzle,alreadycutintoslicesandoffersitacross.
Chris,unabletoraiseahandtosaynothankyou,says‘Iwon’t,Ihadabiglunch.’Nosuchluck.
‘Justtryaslice.Imadeitspecially,’saysJoyce,inavoicesoproudthatChrishasnochoice.
‘Goonthen,’hesays,andJoycebalancesasliceofthecakeonhissaucer.
‘Soperhapsyouhaveasuspectbynow?’asksElizabeth.‘OrareyouonlylookingatVentham?’
‘Ibrahimsaysit’sbetterthanM&Slemondrizzle,’saysJoyce.
‘Hewillhaveanumberofsuspects,’saysIbrahim.‘IfIknowDCIHudson.Heisverythorough.’
‘Ifyounoticeanythingunusual,that’sthealmondflour,’saysJoyce.
‘Isthatright,son?Yougotanysuspects?’RonasksChris.
‘Well,itwouldn’tbe…’
‘Narrowingitalldown.Betyougotforensics?’saysRonRitchie.‘IalwayswatchCSIwithJason.He’llloveallthis.Whatyougot?Fingerprints?DNA?’
ChrisremembersRonasbeingmoreconfusedthanthistheotherday.‘Well,that’swhyI’mhere,asyouknow.IknowyouandJoycewerehavingadrinkwithyourson,MrRitchie,andIthinkhemaybejoiningus?Itwouldbegoodtotalktohimtoo.’
‘Hejusttexted,’saysRon.‘He’llbetenminutes.’
‘Ibethe’dlovetoknowthecircumstances,’saysElizabeth.
‘He’dlovethat,’confirmsRon.
‘Well,again,it’snotreallyinmy…’saysChris.
‘M&Slemondrizzlecakeisoversugared,Inspector,that’smyopinion,’interruptsIbrahim.‘Notjustmyopinioneither,ifyoulookatthediscussionboards.’
Chrisisstrugglingfurthernow,becausethesliceofcakeisslightlytoobigforthegapbetweenthebottomofthecupandtheedgeofthesauceranditistakingallhiseffortstokeepitbalanced.Still,hehashadacareerofinterviewingkillers,psychopaths,conartistsandliarsofeverysort,soheploughson.
‘WereallyjustneedtotalktoMrRitchieandhisson–andJoyce,Ithinkyoualsosaw…’
‘CSIistooAmericanforme,’interruptsJoyce.‘Lewisismyfavourite.It’sITV3.I’vegotthembackinguponmySkyPlus.IthinkI’mtheonlyoneinthevillagewhocanworkSkyPlus.’
‘IliketheRebusbooks,’addsIbrahim.‘Ifyouknowthem?RebusisfromScotlandand,goodnessme,hehasaterribletimeofit.’
‘PatriciaHighsmithforme,’saysElizabeth.
‘They’llnevertopTheSweeneythoughandI’vereadalltheMarkBillinghams,’saysRonRitchie,againwithmoreconfidencethanChrisremembers.
Elizabeth,meanwhile,hasopenedabottleofwineandfillsuptheglassesthathavesuddenlyappearedinherfriends’hands.
Chriscannotevenattempttosiphisteanow,asliftingittohislipswouldunbalancethecakeandliftingthecupoffthesaucerwouldtipthecakeinthesaucer’scentreandmakeitimpossibletoputthecupbackdownagain.Hefeelssweatstarttotrickledownhisback,remindinghimofthetimeheinterviewedatwenty-five-stoneHell’sAngelsenforcerwith‘IKILLCOPPERS’tattooedaroundhisneck.
Fortunately,Elizabethisonhandtohelphimout.‘Youlookalittlehemmed-inonthatsofa,DetectiveChiefInspector.’
‘WenormallymeetintheJigsawRoom,yousee,’saysJoyce.‘Butit’snotThursdayandtheJigsawRoomisbeingusedbyChatandCrochet.’
‘ChatandCrochetisafairlynewgroup,DetectiveChiefInspector,’saysIbrahim.‘FormedbymemberswhohadbecomedisillusionedwithKnitandNatter.Toomuchnatteringandnotenoughknitting,apparently.’
‘Andthemainloungeisofflimits,’saysRon.‘TheBowlsClubhavegotadisciplinaryhearing.’
‘TodowithColinClemenceandhisdefenceofmedicinalmarijuana,’saysJoyce
‘Sowhydon’twesityouontheupright,’saysElizabeth,‘andyoucantalkusthroughthewholething?’
‘Oohyes,’saysJoyce.‘Talkslowlybecauseit’snotreallyourarea,butthatwouldbelovely.Andthere’ssomecoffeeandwalnutwherethelemondrizzlecamefrom.’
ChrislooksoveratDonna.Shesimplyshrugsandholdsoutherpalms.
30
FatherMatthewMackiewalksslowlyupthehill,throughtheavenueoftrees.
HehadhopedTonyCurran’sdeathmightbetheendofallthis.Noneedforanyfurtheractiononhisbehalf.ButhehadvisitedIanVenthamtoputhiscaseandhehadbeendisappointed.TheWoodlandswascontinuingasplanned.Thecemeterywastogo.
TimetoconjureupaplanB.Andquickly.
Asthepathcurvestotheleft,thenstraightens,theGardenofEternalRestcomesintoview,furtherandhigherupthepath.FromhereFatherMackiecanseetheirongates,wideenoughforavehicle,setintothered-brickwall.Thegateslookold,thewalllooksnew.Infrontofthegatesisaturningcircle,onceforhearsesandnowformaintenancevehicles.
Hereachesthegatesandpushesthemopen.Thereisacentralpath,leadingtoalargestatueofChristonthecrossattheveryfarend.HewalkssilentlytowardsChrist,throughtheseaofsouls.Beyondthestatue,beyondtheGarden,aretallbeechtrees,reachingfurtherupthehilltotheopenfarmland.FatherMackiecrosseshimself,bytheplinthatChrist’sfeet.Nokneelingforhimthesedaysthough,arthritisandCatholicismbeinganuneasymix.
MatthewMackieturnsandlooksbackacrosstheGarden,squintingintothesun.Eithersideofthepatharethegravestones,neat,ordered,symmetrical,stretchingforwardintimetowardstheirongates.TheoldestgravesarenearesttoChrist,withthenewestjoiningthelinewhentheirtimehadcome.Therearearound200bodieshighonthehill,aspotsobeautiful,sopeaceful,soperfect,MackiethinksitcouldalmostmakehimbelieveinGod.
Thefirstgraveisdated1874,aSisterMargaretBernadetteandthisiswhereMackieeventuallyturnsandstartshisslowwalkback.
Theoldergravestonesaremoreornate,moreshowy.Thedatesofdeathflickslowlyforwardashewalks.TherearetheVictoriansallneatlyinaline,probablyfuriousaboutPalmerstonortheBoers.Thenit’sthewomenwhosatintheconventandheardabouttheWrightbrothersforthefirsttime.Thenthewomenwhonursedtheblindandthebrokenwhofloodedthroughtheirgates,astheyprayedforbrotherstoreturnsafelyfromEurope.Thenthereweredoctorsandvotersanddrivers,womenwhohadseenbothwarsandstillkeptthefaith,theinscriptionsgettingeasiertoreadnow.Thentelevision,rockandroll,supermarkets,motorwaysandmoonlandings.FatherMackiestepsoffthepathsometimearoundthe1970s,theheadstonesclearandsimplenow.Hewalksalongtherow,lookingatthenames.Theworldwaschanginginthemostextraordinaryways,buttherowsarestillneatandorderlyandthenamesarestillthesame.HereachesthesidewalloftheGarden,waistheightandmucholderthanthewallatthefront.Hetakesintheviewthathasn’tchangedsince1874.Trees,fields,birds,thingsthatwerepermanentandunbroken.Hewalksbacktothepath,clearingaleafoffoneoftheheadstonesashepasses.
FatherMackiecontinuestowalk,untilhereachesthefinalgravestone.SisterMaryByrne,dated14July2005.WhatalotMaryByrnecouldtellSisterMargaretBernadette,justahundredyardsupthepath.Somuchhadchanged,yet,hereatleast,somuchhadstayedthesame.
BehindSisterMaryByrnethereisroomformanymoregraves,buttheyhadnotbeenneeded.SisterMarywasthelastoftheline.Soheretheyalllay,thissisterhood,withthewallsstillaroundthem,theblueskiesabovethemandtheleavesstillfallingontheheadstones.
Whatcouldhedo?
Exitingthroughthegates,Mackieturnsbackforafinallook.Hethenbeginsthewalkdownhill,backthroughtheavenueoftreestowardsCoopersChase.
Amaninasuitandtieissittingonabenchsetjustoffthepath,enjoyingthesameviewthatFatherMackiehadbeenenjoying.Theviewthatneverchanged.Throughwarsanddeathsandcarsandplanes,toWi-Fiandwhateverwasinthepapersthismorning.Therewassomethingtobesaidforit.
‘Father,’acknowledgestheman,afoldedcopyoftheDailyExpressbyhisside.MatthewMackienodsback,keepswalkingandkeepsthinking.
31
ChrishashisownchairandhisownsidetableandhenowfeelsliketheKingoftheWorld.Hesometimesforgetstheimpactapoliceofficercanhaveonmembersofthepublic.Theganginfrontofhimarelookingathimwithsomethingapproachingawe.It’snicetobetakenseriouslyonceinawhileandheishappilygivingthemthebenefitofhiswisdom.
‘Thewholehouseiswiredupwithcameras,prettystate-of-the-artstufftoo,butwegotnothing.Ontheblink.Theyoftenare.’
Elizabethisnoddingwithinterest.‘Anyoneyouwereexpectingtosee,though?Anysuspects?’asksElizabeth.
‘Well,listen,that’snotsomethingIcanreallyshare,’saysChris.
‘Soyoudohaveasuspect?Howwonderful!Whatdoyoumakeofthecoffeeandwalnut?’saysJoyce.
Chrisliftsasliceofcoffee-and-walnutcaketohismouthandtakesabite.AlsobetterthanM&S.Joyce,youwizard!Also,itwasawellknownfactthattherewerenocaloriesinhome-madecakes.
‘It’sdelicious,andlook,Ididn’tsaywehadasuspect,butwehavepersonsofinterestandthat’snormal.’
‘“Personsofinterest”,’saysJoyce.‘Iloveitwhentheysaythat.’
‘Morethanone,then?’asksElizabeth.‘SonotjustIanVentham?Isupposeyoucouldn’tpossiblysay?’
‘Hecouldn’tsay,you’requiteright,’saysDonna,decidingenoughisenough.‘Nowleavethepoormanalone,Elizabeth.’
Chrislaughs.‘Idon’tthinkIneedprotectinghere,Donna.’
IbrahimturnstoDonna.‘DCIHudsonisafineinvestigator,PCDeFreitas.Youareluckytohavesuchagoodboss.’
‘Oh,he’sapro,’agreesDonna.
Elizabethclapsherhands.‘Well,itfeelslikethismeetinghasbeenallgiveandnotake.You’vebeenverykind,Chris.IfIcancallyouChris?’
‘Well,I’vepossiblysharedmorethanIwasintending,butI’mgladit’sbeeninteresting,’saysChris.
‘Ithas.AndIthinkweoweyouafavourinreturn.Youmightliketotakealookatthis.’ElizabethhandsChrisabrightbluebinderaboutafootthick.‘It’safewfinancialsonIanVentham.Detailsofthisplace,detailsofhisrelationshipwithTonyCurran.Probablyallnonsense,butI’llletyoubethejudge.’
ThereisabuzzonJoyce’sintercomandsheheadsofftoanswerit,whileChrisweighsupthebinder.
‘Well,wecancertainlytakealookthroughthis…’
‘I’lllookthroughit,don’tpanic,’saysDonna,andgivesElizabethareassuringlook.
ThedoorswingsopenandJoycewalksinwithJasonRitchiehimself.Thetattoos,thatnose,thoseforearms.
‘MrRitchie,’saysChris.‘Wemeetatlast.’
32
ChrishadaskedJasonifhewouldn’tmindsteppingoutsideforaphotograph,tomakeuseofthenaturallight.
Donnaistakingthephoto.Thetwomenaresmilinghappily,armsaroundeachother’sshoulders,leaningagainstadecorativefountainshapedlikeadolphin.
PoorChris,theyhadreallydoneanumberonhim.DonnawondersifChristrulyunderstandsthathe’soneofthegangnow.
Ithadbeenusefulthough.TheyhadtalkedtoRonandJason,andtoJoyce,aboutwhattheysaw.Ithadbeenarow,thatmuchwasclear.Noneofthemcouldshedalightonwhattherowwasabout,buttheyhadallthoughtitsignificant,andasRonandJasonwerefightingmen,ChrisandDonnahadlistened.
Ronwasveryproudofhisboy,thatmuchwasclear.Itwasnatural,ofcourse,butsomethingtobecarefulabout.Justincasethephotoleftbythebodyhadn’tbeenaredherring.
DonnatellsChristomovetohisleftalittle.
‘Thisisverykindofyou,Jason,youmusthavetodoitalot,’Chrissays,movingtohisleftalittle.
‘Priceofwhassname,innit?’agreesJason.
DonnahasbeendoingherhomeworkonJasonRitchie.Hadn’tneededmuch,tobehonest,herdadhadbeenaboxingfan.
Jasonhasbeenfamoussincethelateeightiesandwouldnow,itseemed,befamousforever.Hehadbeenthehero,sometimesthevillain,ofaseriesoficonicfightsthatcaptivatedthewholecountry.NigelBenn,ChrisEubank,MichaelWatson,SteveCollinsandJasonRitchie.Itwasboxingassoapopera.SometimesJasonwasJ.R.EwingandothertimeshewasBobby.
ThepubliclovedJasonRitchie.Thebrawler,thebruiser,tattoosrunningupanddowneacharm,longbeforethatwasamandatoryrequirementforaprofessionalsportsman.Hewascharming,hewasconventionallyhandsome,becomingmoreandmoreunconventionallyhandsomeashiscareertookitstoll.And,ofcourse,hehadhisfamousfirebranddad,‘RedRon’,alwaysgoodforaquote.ThechatshowslovedJasontoo.HeaccidentallyknockedoutTerryWoganwhileshowinghimhowhe’dknockedoutSteveCollins.Donnahadreadthatthatclipstillbroughthiminsteadyroyalties.
ItnevergotbetterthanthethirdBennvRitchiefight.Thebodyslowedalittle,thereflexesdulled.Thisdidn’tmatterwhilehewasstillfightingtheguyswhowereageingalongsidehim,butonebyonetheystartedretiring.Jasonhadfoundout,manyyearslater,thathe’dmadelessmoneythanthelotofthem.Problemswithhismanager.Tothisday,alotofhismoneywasinEstonia.Theopponentsgotyounger,thepaydayssmallerandthetrainingharder,untilanAtlanticCitynightin1998,fightingalast-minuteVenezuelanstand-in,JasonRitchiehitthecanvasforthefinaltime.
Afewyearsinthewildernessfollowed.AfewyearsthatwerenevermentionedintheprofilesDonnahadreadinthepapers.AfewyearswhereJasonmadehismoneyinaverydifferentway.WhenhewasbeingphotographedwithTonyCurranandBobbyTanner.TheyearsthatDonnaandChriswereinterestedin.
Thewildernessyearsdidn’tlast,though.Asanewcenturydawned,therewasalmostendlessdemandforamanwhoexudedmenaceandcharminequalparts.Fromtheladmagstothemockneyfilmdirectorstotherealityshowsandtheadvertsforgamblingcompanies,Jasonstartedmakingmoremoneythanheeverhadinthering.HecamethirdinI’maCelebrity,hedatedAliceWattsfromEastEnders,hestarredinafilmalongsideJohnTravoltaasawashed-upfighterandonealongsideScarlettJohansson,alsoasawashed-upfighter.
Thisnewcareerfairlyquicklyfollowedthesametrajectoryashisboxingcareer,however.Youonlyhadsomanydaystopofthebill.Thesedaystherewerenofilms,feweradverts,andyou’dseehimturninguponallsortsofthings.
Butnomatter,JasonRitchiewasnowfamousforeverandheappearstobegratefultoo.Hissmile,infrontofthefountainshapedlikeadolphin,seems,toDonna,entirelygenuine.
DonnaputsdownthebigbluefileElizabethhasgivenherandholdsupherphoneforthephoto.‘Saycheese,orwhatevertwomenarecomfortablesaying.’
Jasonstarts,‘IduckandIdive,’andthenChrisjoinshimfortheshouted,‘andIalwayssurvive!’
ThetwomenbothinstinctivelypunchtheairwiththeirfreearmandDonnatakesthephoto.
‘Thatwashiscatchphrase,’ChrisexplainstoDonna.‘IduckandIdiveandIalwayssurvive!’
Donnapocketsherphone.‘Everyonealwayssurvivesuntiltheydie.It’smeaningless.’ShethoughtofaddingthatRodolfoMendozahadknockedJasonoutinthethirdroundontheEastCoast,sohehadn’texactlysurvivedthen.Butwhyupsettwomiddle-agedmenunnecessarily?
‘They’lllovethatatFairhaven,Jason;thanks,mate.’
‘Noproblem.Hopetheoldmanwasuseful.’
DonnaknowsChriswillnevershowthephototoanyofhiscolleagues.HealreadyhasamuchmoreinterestingphotographofJasonRitchie.
‘Veryuseful,’saysChris.‘Anyway,what’syourthinking,Jason?AboutTonyCurran?Youmusthaveknownhimabit,fromaroundFairhaven?’
‘Abit,yeah.Iknewofhim.Notreally,though.Hehadplentyofenemies.’
Chrisnods,thenstealsaglanceatDonna.DonnastepsupandoffersJasonherhand.
‘Thankyousomuch,MrRitchie,’shesays.
JasonshakesDonna’shand,‘Mypleasure.Couldyousendmeacopyofthephoto?Itlookedaniceone.’JasonwritesdownhisnumberforDonna.‘I’llheadbackupandseePops.’
‘Beforeyouheadup,’saysDonna,takingJason’snumber.‘YouknewTonyCurranalittlebetterthanyou’vesuggested,didn’tyou,Jason?’
‘TonyCurran?Nah.Seenhiminthepub,knowpeoplewhoknowhim.Heardgossip.’
‘YoueverdrinkintheBlackBridge,Jason?’asksChris.
Jasonmissesjusttheslightestbeat,asifapunchhasslippedthrough,butwon’tagain.
‘Nearthestation?Onceortwice.Yearsago.’
‘Twenty-oddyears,I’mguessing,’saysDonna.
‘Maybe,’nodsJason.‘Whoremembers,though?’
‘YouhadnodealingswithTonyCurranbackthen?’asksChris.
Jasonshrugs,‘IfIremembersomethingI’lltellyou.I’llgetuptoDad;nicetomeetyouboth.’
‘Isawaphotorecently,Jason,’saysChris.‘GroupoffriendsintheBlackBridge.BobbyTanner,TonyCurran.Niceoneofyou.Allveryfriendly.’
‘Lotofweirdosaskmeforphotos,mate,’saysJason.‘Nooffence.’
‘You’drecognizeit.Tablecoveredinmoney.Youdon’thaveacopyofit,byanychance?’asksChris.
Jasonsmiles.‘Neverseenit.’
‘Youwouldn’tknowwhotookit?’asksDonna.
‘AphotoI’veneverseen?Nope.’
‘Andwe’rehavingtroubletrackingdownBobbyTanner,Jason,’saysChris.‘Idon’tsupposeyouknowwhereheisthesedays?’
JasonRitchiepurseshislipsforthebriefestofmoments,thenshakeshishead,turnsandwavesoverhisshoulderashegoesbackinsidetojoinhisdad.ChrisandDonnawatchastheautomaticdoorsslideshutbehindhim.Chrislooksathiswatchthenmotionstowardsthecar.HewalksandDonnawalksalongsidehim,asmileonherlips.
‘ThatentireconversationwasthemostCockneyI’veeverheardyousound,sir.’
‘Guilty,’admitsChris,finallypronouncinga‘t’.‘WhydoesJasonwantacopyofthatphotoofus?What’sthat?Toblackmailmeifheeverneedsto?’
‘Simplerthanthat,sir,’saysDonna.‘It’stogetmynumber.Classicmove.’
‘Eitherway,’saysChris.
‘Don’tworry,’saysDonna.‘Hewon’tbegettingthephoto,ormynumber.’
‘Good-lookingfella,’saysChris.
‘He’slikeforty-sixorsomething,’saysDonna.‘Nothanks.’
Chrisnods.‘Heavenforbid!You’dhavetosayhedidn’tlooktooworried,though.Buthe’sdefinitelylyingaboutnotknowingTonyCurran.’
‘Couldbelotsofreasons,’saysDonna.
‘Couldbe,’agreesChris.
Hearingfootstepsbehindthem,theyturntoseeElizabethandJoycehurryingafterthem.JoycehasaTupperwarecontainerwithher.
‘Iforgottogiveyouthis,’saysJoyce,handingoverherTupperware.‘It’sthelastofthelemondrizzle.I’mafraidthecoffeeandwalnutalreadyhassomeoneelse’snameonit.’
Christakesthecake.‘Thankyou,Joyce,thatwillgotoagoodhome.’
‘AndDonna,’saysElizabeth,gesturingtothebluefile.‘Docallmeifyourbedtimereadinggetscomplicated.’
‘Thankyou,Elizabeth,’saysDonna.‘I’msureI’llstrugglethrough.’
‘Here,youshouldprobablyhavemynumbertoo,’saysElizabeth,andhandsChrishercard.‘We’llhavelotstochataboutintheweeksahead.Thankyouforcomingtoseeus,wedolovevisitors.’
DonnasmilesasChrisvirtuallybowstoElizabethandJoyce.
‘Itreallywasaneducation,’saysJoyce,withasmile.‘AndyoushouldprobablyletDonnadrive,DCIHudson.Therewasanawfullotofvodkainthosecakes.’
33
ElizabethhadcomestraightovertoWillowsaftermeetingwiththepolice.ShemakessurethatPennyhasawashandasetonceaweek.Anthony,thehairdresser,comestoWillowsattheendofhisappointmentsandalwaysinsistsondoingitforfree.
Oneday,ifAnthonyevergetsintoanysortoftrouble,oreverneedshelp,hewilldiscoverhowgratefulElizabethisforthiskindness.
‘Mafia,Iheard,’saysAnthony,gentlyrunningasoapedspongethroughPenny’shair.‘TonyCurranowedthemmoney,sotheycutoffhisfingersandkilledhim.’
‘That’saninterestingtheory,’saysElizabeth.ShehasahandcuppedunderPenny’sneckandliftsherhead.‘AndhowdidtheMafiagetintothehouse?’
‘Shottheirwayin,Isuppose,’saysAnthony.
‘Withoutleavingbulletholes?’asksElizabeth.Penny’sshampoosmellsofroseandjasmineandElizabethbuysitattheshoponsite.Theystoppedsellingitforawhile,butElizabethpaidthemavisitandtheychangedtheirmind.
‘Well,that’stheMafiaforyou,Elizabeth,’saysAnthony.
‘Andwithouttrippinganyalarms,Anthony?’saysJohnGray,fromhisusualchair.
‘HaveyouseenGoodfellas,John?’saysAnthony.
‘Ifthat’safilmthenIwon’thave,’saysJohn.
‘Thereyouarethen,’saysAnthony.HeisnowcombingPenny’shair.‘You’regoingtoneedalittletrimnextweek,Pennydarling.Getyoudisco-ready.’
‘Nobulletholes,Anthony,’saysElizabeth.‘Noalarms,nothingbroken,nosignofastruggle.Whatdoesthatsuggesttoyou?’
‘Triads?’Anthonyisunplugginghiscurlingtongs.‘OneofthesedaysI’mgoingtounplugyoubymistake,Penny.’
‘AsPennywouldbethefirsttotellyou,’saysElizabeth.‘Itsuggeststhathelethiskillerin.Soitmusthavebeensomeoneheknew.’
‘OhIlovethat,’saysAnthony.‘Someoneheknew.Ofcourse.Youeverkilledsomeone,Elizabeth?’
Elizabethshrugs.
‘Icanjustpictureit,’saysAnthony,puttingonhisjacket.‘Thereyougo,Penny.I’dkissyou,butnotwithJohnintheroom.Lookatthoseforearms.’
Elizabethstandsandhugshim.‘Thankyou,darling.’
‘Shelooksgorgeous,’saysAnthony.‘IfIsaysomyself.Seeyounextweek,Elizabeth.Bye,Penny;bye,handsomeJohn.’
‘Obliged,Anthony,’saysJohn.
AsAnthonyleaves,ElizabethsitsbyPennyagain.‘Here’sanotherthingthough,Pen.TheytookyoungJasonoutforaphotoafterwards.Iknowhegetsthatalot,butsomethingdidn’tseemright.Itfeltoff.Whygooutside?Joycehasoneofthosebigpicturewindows.Youknow,theonesinWordsworth?Thatwouldbealovelyphoto.’
MentioningJoyceagain.Easiereverytime.
‘DoyouthinktheywereaskingJasonaboutsomething?Arewemissingsomething?Wepassedhimonthestairscomingbackupandhewashisusualcharmingself,butwhoknows?’
Elizabethsipssomewaterandfeelsgrateful.Thenfeelsguiltyforfeelinggrateful.Thenfeelsweakforfeelingguilty.SoshecarriesontalkingtoPenny.ToPenny,ortoherself?Whoknew?
‘Perhapsitwasn’tVenthamatall?Perhapswe’rejustbeingblindedbywhat’sinthatfile?Bythetwelvemillion.Imean,wherewashewhenCurranwaskilled?Doweevenknow?Couldhehavedoneit?Dothetimingswork?’
‘Elizabeth,forgiveme,’saysJohn.‘ButhaveyoueverwatchedEscapetotheCountry?’
ElizabethisstillnotreallyusedtoJohnspeaking,buthedoesseemtobecomingoutofhisshellrecently.‘Idon’tbelieveIhave,John,no.’
Johnisfidgetingalittle.Somethingisclearlyonhismind.‘Imean,it’srathergood.I’msureit’snonsense,butevenso.Therewillbeacoupleonandtheywillbelookingforanewhome.’
‘Inthecountry,John?’
‘Inthecountry,asyousay.Andachap,wellsometimesit’sawoman,willshowthemaroundsomehouses.Iwatchitwiththesounddown,becauseit’snotreallyPenny’ssortofthing.Youcanreallyseeintheeyesofthecouplewhichonewantstomoveandwhichoneisjustgoingalongwithit.Foraquietlife,youknow?’
‘John,’saysElizabeth,leaningforwardandstaringstraightintohiseyes.‘I’veneverknownyouutterasentencewithoutareason.Whereisthisheading?’
‘Well,it’sonlyheadinghere,Isuppose,’saysJohn.‘IwaswatchingEscapetotheCountry,yousee,onthedaythatCurranwaskilledandthey’djustgottotheend,wheretheydecidewhethertobuythehouseornot.Theyneverdo,butthat’shalfthefun.IgotupandwanderedouttogetaLucozadeSportfromthemachineandIlookedoutofthewindow,theoneatthefront,andsawVentham’scardrivingoff.’
‘TheRangeRover?’asksElizabeth.
‘Yes,theRangeRover,’saysJohn.‘Comingdownthetrackfromthetopofthehill.AndIjustthoughtIwouldmentionittoyou,asEscapetotheCountryisonstraightafterDoctorsanditfinishesatthreeonthedot.’
‘Isee,’saysElizabeth.
‘AndIthoughtthatperhapsifyouknewexactlywhenVenthamleftCoopersChaseandyouknewexactlywhenCurranhadbeenkilled,itmightbeuseful?Fortheinvestigation?’
‘Threep.m.?’asksElizabeth.
‘Mmm.Onthedot.’
‘Thankyou,John.IthinkIneedtosendatextmessage.’Elizabethtakesoutherphone.
‘Idon’tthinkyou’resupposedtouseyourmobiletelephoneinhere,Elizabeth,’saysJohn.
Elizabethgivesakindlyshrug.‘Well,imagineifweonlyeverdidwhatweweresupposedto,John?’
‘Youhaveapointthere,Elizabeth,’agreesJohn,andgoesbacktohisbook.
34
Donnaisgettingreadytogooutwhenherphonepings.AmessagefromElizabeth.Sheonlyleftherafewhoursago.Itwillbetrouble,forsure,butshelikesseeingthenamepopup.
WhattimewasTonyCurrankilled?
Well,thatwasshortandtothepoint.Donnasmilesandcomposesareply.
MaybeaskhowIam,shareabitofgossip,beforeaskingforafavour?Andsignoffwithakiss.Softenmeupabitx
Donnaseesthespeechbubble,showingthatElizabethisreplying.Sheistakinghertime,sowhatwillitbe?Alecture?AreminderofwhyDonnaisinvestigatingamurder,insteadofmeasuringthedepthoftyretreadsinthecarparkatHalfords,whichiswhatMarkwasdoingtoday?PerhapsitwouldbesomethinginLatin?Thereisaping.
HowareyouDonna?MaryLennoxhasjusthadanewgreatgranddaughter,butsheisworriedthathergranddaughterhasbeenhavinganaffair,becausethehusbandhasaveryprominentchinanditisnowheretobeseen.WhattimewasTonyCurrankilled?X
Donnaischoosingbetweenlipsticks.Shewantssomethingthatdoesn’tlooktooobvious,whileatthesametimelookingobvious.Shereplies.
Ican’ttellyouthat.I’maprofessional.
Thereisanimmediatepingback.
LOL!
LOL?WherehadElizabethgotthatfrom?Twocanplayatthatgame.
WTF?
ThishasclearlyfoxedElizabethandDonnahastimetolookinthemirrorandcheckherinterestedface,herlaughingfaceandherquietlyseductivefacebeforethenextping.
I’mafraidIdon’tknowWTF.IonlydiscoveredLOLfromJoycelastweek.I’mgoingtoassumethatitdoesn’trefertotheWarsawTransitFacility,asthatwasshutdownin1981whentheRussianscamesniffing.
DonnasendsbackanemojiofbigeyesandanemojioftheRussianflagandthenstartstofloss.Eventhoughtheysayyoudon’tneedtoflossanymore.Ping!
That’stheChineseflag,Donna.Justletmeknowthetimeofdeath.Youknowwewon’ttellasoulandyoualsoknowwemightjustcomeupwithsomethinguseful.
Donnasmiles.Whatharmcoulditdo,really?
3.32.HisFitbitbrokewhenhefell.
Thereisanotherping.
Well,Idon’tknowwhataFitbitiseither,butthankyou.X35
Joyce
ThepolicecameovertodayandatfirstIhadtofeelsorryforDCIHudson,butIthinkheratherenjoyedhimselfbytheend.Anyway,ElizabethgavehimandDonnathefile,sowe’llseewhattheymakeofit.Joanna’snameisnotonthefileanywhere,whichElizabethreassuredmehelpswith‘plausibledeniability’justincaseanythingwe’redoingisagainstthelaw.WhichIassumeitis.
IaskedElizabethtorepeatthephrase‘plausibledeniability’andIwroteitdown.SheaskedmewhyIwaswritingitdownandIsaiditwasbecauseI’mwritingadiaryandsherolledhereyes.ThoughshethenaskedifshewasinthediaryandIsaidofcourseshewasandshethenaskedifIwasusingherrealname.WhichIsaidIwas,thoughI’vethoughtaboutitsinceandwhoknowswithElizabeth?Perhapsshe’sreallyaJacqueline?Wetendtoacceptwhatpeopletellusthey’recalled.Noquestionsasked.
ButI’vebeenthinking.YoumustthinkI’mmurderobsessed,it’sallI’vewrittenaboutsinceIstartedthisdiary.SoperhapsIshouldtellyousomeotherthings.Let’stalkaboutafewthingsthataren’tmurder.WhatcanItellyou?
WhenIwasputtingthehooverroundafterthepolicehadgone,ElizabethsaidshethoughtIwouldgetonwithaDyson.ButIsaidIdidn’tthinkso,notatmyage.ButperhapsIshouldtaketheplunge?
Andafterthehooveringwehadaglassofwine.Itwasascrewtop,butyoudon’tnoticethesedays,doyou?It’sjustasgood.
WhenElizabethwenthome,IaskedhertogivemylovetoStephenandshesaidshewould.ThenIsaidtheyshouldbothcometodinneronenightandshesaidthatwouldbelovely.Butallisnotright,there.Shewilltellmewhenshe’sready.
Whatelsethatisn’tmurder?
MaryLennox’sgranddaughterhasjusthadababy.He’scalledRiver,whichhasraisedafeweyebrows,butIratherlikeit.Thewomanwhoworksintheshopisgettingdivorcedandthey’vestartedstockingchocolatedigestives.KarenPlayfair,fromuponthehill,iscomingtogiveusa‘CoopersChaseBreakfastMasterclass’talkoncomputers.Thelastnewslettersaidshe’scomingtogiveatalkabouttabletsandthatcausedsomeconfusion,sotheyhadtoprintanexplanationthisweek.
Apartfromthat,andthemurder,allispeaceandquiet.
Anyway,Iseethatit’sgettinglate,soIwillwishyouagoodnight.WhileIhavebeenwriting,Elizabethhassentmeamessage.Weareoffonaroadtriptomorrow.Noideawhenandnoideawhy,butIshalllookforwardtoitverymuch.
36
Donnacan’tbelievesheisalreadyinbedat9.45.Shehadgoneonthedatebecause,frankly,itwasabouttime.AmancalledGregorhadtakenhertoZizzi’s,wherehehadnibbledatasaladandtalkedherthroughhisprotein-shakeregimeforninetyminutes.
AtonepointDonnahadaskedhimwhohisfavouriteauthorwas.ForDonnaanacceptableanswerwouldbeHarlanCoben,KurtVonnegut,oranywoman.Gregorhadsagelyrepliedthathe‘didn’tbelieveinbooks’andthat‘youonlylearninthislifethroughhavingexperiencesandkeepingyourmindopen’.Whenshethenraisedthethornyphilosophicaldilemmaofwhetheryoucouldboth‘keepyourmindopen’and‘notbelieveinbooks’hehadreplied,‘Well,Ithinkyouratherprovemypointthere,Diana,’andsippedhiswaterinamannerthatsuggestedgreatwisdom.
Closetotearsthroughboredom,DonnahadwonderedwhereCarlwasthisevening.DonnahasrecentlytakentoscrollingthroughtheInstagramfeedofherex-boyfriendandtheInstagramfeedofhisnewgirlfriend,whoappearedtobecalledToyota.Ithasbecomesuchahabitnow,shewillsortofmissitwhenCarlandToyotasplitup.Whichtheywill,becauseCarlisanidiotandhe’snotgoingtokeepaholdofagirlfriendwitheyebrowsthatgreat.
DoesDonnastillloveCarl?No.Didsheever,ifshe’sbeinghonest?Probablynot,nowshe’shadtimetothinkaboutit.Doesshestillfeelbelittledbyhisrejection?Yes,that’sshowingnosignsofgoingaway.It’ssittinglikeastonejustunderherheart.ShehadarrestedashoplifterinFairhavenlastweek,andwhenhehadstruggled,shehadbroughthimdownwithabatonbehindtheknees.Shewasawareshehadhithimmuchharderthansheshould.Sometimesyoujusthadtohitthings.
WasitamistaketogetasfarawayfromCarlasshecould?TotransfertoFairhaveninafrightenedhuff?Ofcourseitwasamistake.Itwasstupid.Donnahasalwaysbeenheadstrong,alwaysactedquicklyanddecisively.Whichisafinequalitywhenyouareright,butaliabilitywhenyouarewrong.It’sgreattobethefastestrunner,butnotwhenyou’rerunninginthewrongdirection.MeetingtheThursdayMurderClubwasthefirstgoodthingthathadhappenedtoDonnainalongtime.ThatandTonyCurranbeingmurdered.
DonnahadtakenaphotoofherselfandGregorjustafterhe’dfinishedhissuperfoodsalad.ShepostedittoInstagramwiththecaption‘Thisiswhatyougetwhenyoudateapersonaltrainer!’andaddednotonebuttwowinkemojis.Theonlythingmenwereeverjealousofwasgoodlooks,andCarlwasn’ttoknowthatDonnahadspentmuchoftheeveningsurveyingthedinnertable,idlywonderinghowshewouldmurderGregor,ifsheabsolutelyhadto.Shehadsettledoninjectingadoughballwithcyanide.AlthoughshelaterrealizedthattherewasnowayshecouldhavegotGregortoeatacarb.
TalkingofGregor,shehearsthetoiletflush.Sheslipsherclothesbackonand,ashecomesbackoutofthebathroom,shegiveshimapeckonthecheek.Thereisnowayshe’sstayingovernightintheroomofatwenty-eight-year-oldmanwhohastwopostersonhisbedroomwall,oneoftheDalaiLamaandoneofaFerrari.Itisstillnot10p.m.andshewondersifsheisallowedtotextChrisHudsonandseeifhefanciesaquickdrink.HavealittlechataboutElizabeth’sfile,thebitsofitthatshehadunderstood.Also,shehasfinallyjustwatchedNarcosonNetflixandwantstodiscussitwithsomeone.Gregorhadnotseenit.Gregordidn’twatchtelevision,duetoalongreasonthatDonnahadquicklylostinterestin.
MaybesheshouldjustheadhomeandringElizabethinstead?Talkthroughwhatshe’dreadinthefolder?Would10p.m.betoolate?Whoknewwiththatlot?Theyhadlunchathalfeleven.
So,it’seitherChris,herboss,orElizabeth,her…wellwhatexactlywasElizabeth?ThewordthatcametoDonna’smindfirstwas‘friend’,butsurelythatwasn’tright.
37
‘Nottoolateatall,PCDeFreitas,’saysElizabeth,nearlydroppingthephonereceiverinthedarknessandblindlystrugglingtoswitchonthebedsidelight.‘IwasjustwatchingaMorse.’
Elizabethmanagestoflickthelighton,seesthegentleriseandfallofStephen’sribcage.Hisfaithfulheartbeatingon.
‘Andwhyareyouupatthishour,Donna?’
Donnasneaksalookatherwatch.‘Well,it’squarterpastten.SometimesIjuststayupthislate.Now,Elizabeth,thefolderwasabitlongandabitcomplicated,butIthinkIgotsomeofit.’
‘Excellent,’repliesElizabeth.‘Iwantedittobelongandcomplicatedenoughforyoutoneedtoringmetotalkaboutit.’
‘Isee,’saysDonna.
‘Itkeepsmeinvolved,yousee,anditremindsyouthatwecanbeuseful.Iwouldn’twantyoutofeellikewewereinterfering,Donna,butatthesametimeIdowanttointerfere.’
Donnasmiles.‘Whydon’tyoutakemethroughit?’
‘Well,firstly,justtonote,therearedocumentsinthatfolderthatwouldtakeyouweekstotrackdown.You’dneedwarrantsandallsorts.Venthamwouldn’tletyouanywherenearsomeofthem.So,I’mnotblowingmyowntrumpet,butevenso.’
‘Feelfreetoletmeknowhowyougotholdofthem.’
‘Ronfoundtheminaskip.Amazingwhatyoucanfind,aluckybreakforusall.Now,doyouwanttheheadlinesbeforebed?YouwanttoknowwhyIanVenthammighthavemurderedTonyCurran?’
Donnaliesbackonherpillow,rememberinghermumreadingherbedtimestories.Sheisawarethatthisshouldn’tfeelsimilar,butitdoes.‘Mmmhmm,’sheassents.
‘Now,Ventham’sbusinessisveryprofitable,verywellrun.Buthere’sthefirstheadlinethat’sofinteresttous.WediscoverthatTonyCurranownstwenty-fivepercentofCoopersChase.’
‘Isee,’saysDonna.
‘ButthenwediscoverthatCurranisnotapartnerinthenewcompanyVenthamisusingforTheWoodlands.’
‘Thenewdevelopment?OK.And?’
‘Thereisanappendixinyourfolder–4c,Ithink.TheWoodlandswasduetobeexactlythesameastherestofCoopersChase,seventy-fivepercentIanVentham,twenty-fivepercentTonyCurran,untilVenthamchangedhismindandcutCurranoutentirely.Nowyouknowwhatquestiontoasknext?’
‘WhendidVenthamchangehismind?’
‘Precisely.Well,VenthamsignedthepaperstocutCurranoutofthedealthedaybeforetheconsultationmeeting.Whichwas,ofcourse,thedaybeforetheirmysteriousrow.AndthedaybeforesomeonemurderedTonyCurran.’
‘SoCurranmissesoutonTheWoodlands,’saysDonna.‘Whatwouldthathavecosthim?’
‘Millions,’saysElizabeth.‘Therearehugeprojectionsinthefolder.CurranwouldhavebeencountingonanenormouspaydaybeforeVenthamcuthimoutofthedeal.That’sthenewshereceivedfromIanVenthamthedayhewasmurdered.’
‘CertainlyenoughforhimtothreatenVentham.Isthatyourthinking?’asksDonna.‘SoCurranthreatensVentham.VenthamgetsscaredandkillsCurran?Getshisretaliationinfirst?’
‘Exactly.Anditwouldgetevenworseafterthenextphaseofthedevelopment,Hillcrest.That’swhatourexpertsays.’
‘Hillcrest?’asksDonna.
‘Therealgoldengoose.Buyingthefarmlandontopofthehill.Doublingthesizeofthedevelopment.’
‘AndwhenwillHillcresthappen?’asksDonna.
‘Wellthat’sastickingpointforVentham.Hedoesn’tevenownthelandyet,’saysElizabeth.‘Itisstillownedbythefarmer,GordonPlayfair.’
‘Thisistoocomplicatedformenow,Elizabeth,’admitsDonna.
‘ForgetHillcrestfornow,andforgetGordonPlayfair,they’reredherrings.Whatthatfoldertellsyouaretwokeythings.Firstly,Venthamdouble-crossedTonyCurran,onthedayCurrandied.’
‘Agreed.’
‘Andsecondly–listencarefullytothis–TonyCurran’sshareshaveallrevertedtoIanVentham.’
‘TonyCurran’ssharespassbacktoIanVentham?’
‘Theydo,’confirmsElizabeth.‘Ifyouwanttoputafigureonit,somethingsimpletotellChrisHudson,ourexpertsaysTonyCurran’sdeathjustearnedIanVenthamaroundtwelveandaquartermillionpounds.’
Donnagivesalowwhistle.
‘Whichsoundsanawfullotlikeamotivetome,’continuesElizabeth.‘SoIhopethisishelpful?’
‘Itishelpful,Elizabeth.I’llletChrisknow.’
‘Chris,isit?’saysElizabeth.
‘I’llletyougetbacktosleepnow,Elizabeth;sorryforringingsolate.AndI’mgratefulforwhatyou’vedone.Andit’scuteyoukeepsaying“ourexpert”insteadof“Joyce’sdaughter”.Veryloyal.Ipromisewe’lllookintoit.’
‘Thankyou,Donna,andnocomment.Whenyou’reovernext,IwouldlikeyoutomeetmyfriendPenny.’
‘Thankyou,Elizabeth,I’lllookforwardtoit.CanIaskwhyyouwantedtoknowwhattimeTonyCurrandied?’
‘Justidlecuriosity.IthinkPennywilllikeyouverymuch.Night,night,dear.’
38
ThemorningsunisrisingintheKentsky.
‘Ibrahim,ifyoukeepdrivingattwenty-ninemilesperhour,thiswholeexercisewillbemoot,’saysElizabeth,herfingersdrummingontheglovebox.
‘AndifIcrashonasharpbend,theexercisewillalsobemoot,’saysIbrahim,eyesfixedontheroadandintendingtoremainsteadfast.
‘WouldanyonelikeaMiniCheddar?’asksJoyce.
Ibrahimwastempted,buthelikedtohavebothhandsonthewheelatalltimes.Tenandtwo.
Ronwastheonlyoneofthemwhohadacar,buttherehadstillbeenanargumentaboutwhowasgoingtodrive.Joycehadn’theldalicenceforthirtyyearsandsowasoutimmediately.Ronhadputupatokenfight,butIbrahimknewhehadlosthisconfidenceonright-handturnsandwouldbesecretlydelightedtobevoteddown.Elizabethputupmorespiritedopposition,mentioningthatshestillheldafullyvalidtanklicence.ShereallycouldplayfastandloosewiththeOfficialSecretsActattimes.But,intheenditallcamedowntothis:Ibrahimwastheonlyonewhounderstoodhowthesatnavworked.
IthadbeenElizabeth’sidea,hewashappytograntherthat.Theyknew,somehow,thatIanVenthamhadleftCoopersChaseatexactly3p.m.andtheyknewthatTonyCurranhadbeenmurderedat3.32.IbrahimhadhadtoexplaintoeveryonewhataFitbitwas.Andsoheretheywere,timingthejourneyinRon’sDaihatsu.Ibrahimknewtheycouldhavejustplottedthejourneyonthesatnav,buthealsoknewnooneelserealizedthatandhehadfanciedthedrive.Ithadbeenalongtime.
SoIbrahimisbehindthewheel.JoyceandRonarehappilysharingtheirMiniCheddarsinthebackseat,Elizabethhasstoppeddrummingherfingersandisnowtextingsomeoneonherphoneandeveryonehadbeentothetoiletbeforetheyleft,asperhisinstructions.
CouldIanVenthamhavemadeitfromCoopersChasetoTonyCurran’shouseintimetokillhim?Ifhecouldn’t,thentheywerebarkingupthewrongtree.Theywereabouttofindout.
39
‘OK,folks,I’llshowyoumineifyoushowmeyours.’
AnotherearlymorningandChrisHudson’smurdersquadisassembled,invariousstagesofdishevelment.ChrishasbroughtinKrispyKremesfromthegarageandtheyaredoingbriskbusiness.Chrisgoesthroughwhathe’ddiscoveredfromtheThursdayMurderClubandwhatDonnahadtoldhimaboutthefile,aftershe’dbuzzedonhisdoorat11p.m.They’dtalkedaboutitoverandoverandthenwatchedthefirstepisodeofNarcosseasontwowithabottleofred.DonnahadinvitedherselfoverandChrishadwonderedifthiswasjustwhatconstableswerelikeinLondonthesedays.Youhadtohandittoher,sheknewhowtomakeaquickimpression.
‘IanVentham,TonyCurran’sbusinesspartner,brokesomebadnewstoCurranlessthantwohoursbeforethemurder.HewascuttinghimoutofadevelopmentthatwouldextendCoopersChase,aretirementvillageoutnearRobertsbridge.ThiswouldhavecostCurranalotofmoney,andhisdeathhasmadeVenthamevenmoremoney.Overtwelvemillion.ThetwomenwereseenhavinganargumentshortlybeforeCurranreturnedhome.DidhethreatenVentham?DidVenthamdecideitwasbettertobesafethansorryandsendsomeoneround?WeknowthatCurranwaskilledat3.32lastTuesday,butwhendidVenthamleaveCoopersChasethatday?’
‘Where’sthisinfofrom?’asksayoungDI,Katesomething.
‘Sources,’saysChris.‘Whereareweontrafficcameras,Terry?You’vegotVentham’sregnumber?’
Donna’sphonebuzzesandshelooksdownatamessage.
Goodluckatthebriefingthismorning.Love,Elizabethx.
Donnashakesherhead.
‘Gotthenumber,butnothingyet.Stilllooking,’saysDITerryHallet,shaven-headed,musclesbulgingfromunderneathawhiteT-shirt.‘There’salotoftraffic.It’safunjob.’
‘That’swhyyougetdoughnuts,Terry,’saysChris.‘Keepitup.Andwhereareweonourotherfriendinthephotograph,BobbyTanner?’
‘They’vetalkedtothepoliceinAmsterdam,’saysKatesomething.‘BobbywasworkingforsomeScousersthereafterhedidarunner.Itdidn’tendwell,asfaraswecantell,andnoone’sheardofhimsince.Norecords,nobankdetails,nothing.We’restillaskingaround,toseeifhe’scomebackunderadifferentname,butitwasalongtimeago,there’snotmanyoftheoldfacesleft.’
‘It’dbenicetochattohim,rulehimoutatleast.Anyonewithanythingpositiveforme?’
AjuniorDSputsupherhand.She’sbeensentoverfromBrightonandiseatingcarrotsticksinsteadofadoughnut.
‘Yes,DSGrant,’saysChris,takingapuntonhername.
‘DSGranger,’saysDSGranger.
Soclose,thinksChris.Therearetoomanyofficersonthisteam.
‘I’vebeenlookingatTonyCurran’sphonerecords.Hegetsthreecallsonthemorningofthemurder,allfromthesamenumber,doesn’tpickthemup.Amobile,untraceable,probablyaburner.’
Chrisnods.‘OK,goodworkDSGranger,emailmeeverythingyou’vegotandgetontothephonecompany,incasetheycanhelp.Iknowtheywon’t,butoneofthesedaystheywill.’
‘Ofcourse,sir,’saysDSGrangerandtreatsherselftoacarrotbaton.
Donna’sphonebuzzesagain.
WearehavingalittleThursdayMurderClubroadtrip,incasetherewasanythingyouwantedtopasson?
‘OK,gang,let’sgetbacktoit.Terry,anythingfromthetrafficcams,letmeknowstraightaway.Kate,canIteamyouupwithDSGrangerandseewhatyoucanlearnaboutthephonecalls.AndkeeptracingBobbyTanner,whereverheis,aliveordead,someonemustknow.Anyonewhofeelsthey’vegotnothingtodo,comeandknockatmydoorandI’llfindsomethingboringforyou.Onewayoranother,let’sgetVentham.’
ThereisafinalbuzzonDonna’sphone.
PS,mysourcessawChrisbuyingdoughnutsthismorning.Youluckything.Also,Joycesayshelloxx40
BernardCottlefinishestheCodewordpuzzleintheExpressandputshispenbackinthepocketofhisjacket.Itisbeautifulupherethismorning.Onthebench,onthehill.Toobeautiful,acrueltrick,playedonthosenotstillheretoseeit.
HehadseenJoyceandherfriendsdrivingoffsomewherethismorning.Howhappytheyhadlooked!But,then,Joyceseemstomakeeveryonehappy.
Bernardknowshehasgonetoofarinsidehimself.Knowsheisoutofreach,eventoJoyce.Bernardisnotgoingtobesavedandhedoesn’tdeservetobesaved.
Still,whathewouldn’tgivetobeinthatcarrightnow.Lookingoutattheview,asJoycenatteredaway,perhapspickingtheloosethreadfromthecuffofhisjacket.
Butinsteadhewillstayhere,onthehill,wherehesitseveryday,andwaitforwhat’stocome.
41
IbrahimhadwantedtodrivetheDaihatsurightuptoTonyCurran’sfrontgate,justforthepurposesofabsoluteaccuracy.Elizabethhadtoldhimthatthiswaspoorfieldcraft,however,andsotheyarenowinalay-by,about300metresfromTonyCurran’shouse.Itwilldo,hesupposes.
IbrahimhashisnotebookopenonthebonnetandisshowingsomecalculationstoJoyceandElizabeth.Ronisurinatinginthewoods.
‘Soittookusthirty-sevenminutesatanaveragespeedoftwenty-sevenandahalfmilesperhour,giveortake.Therewasnotraffic,becauseIamveryefficientatplottingroutes.Ihaveasixthsense.Otherpeoplewouldhavehittraffic,Iassureyou.’
‘Iwillrecommendyouforagallantryhonour,’saysElizabeth.‘Assoonaswegetback.Now,whatdoesthismeanforVentham?’
‘Wouldyoulikethedetailedanswer,orthesimpleanswer?’asksIbrahim.
‘Thesimpleanswerplease,Ibrahim,’saysElizabethwithouthesitation.
Ibrahimpauses.Perhapshehadphrasedhisquestionpoorly?‘ButIhavepreparedadetailedanswer,Elizabeth.’
Ibrahimletsthishangintheair,untilJoycesays,‘Well,let’sallenjoythedetailedanswershallwe?’
‘Asyouwish,Joyce.’Ibrahimclapshishandsandturnsoverapageinhisnotebook.‘Now,Venthamcouldhavetakenoneofthreeroutes.Hemighthavetakenourroute,butIdoubtit;Idon’tthinkhehasmyinsightforroadnetworks.Routetwo,alongtheA21,looksthemostobviousonthemap,it’sthestraightestline,buthereourfriendtemporaryroadworkscomeintoplay.IspokeyesterdaytoaveryinterestingmanatKentCountyCouncil,whosaystheroadworksaretodowithfibreoptics.Wouldyoulikemetoelaboratefurtheronfibreoptics,Joyce?’
‘IthinkI’mOK,ifElizabethis,’saysJoyce.
Ibrahimnods.‘Anothertime.Soroutethree,youcouldtaketheLondonRoad,downpastBattleAbbey,cutacrossandthendowntheB2159.Now,Iknowwhatyou’rethinking.You’rethinkingthatseemsslower,surely?’
‘Iwascertainlythinkingsomething,butitwasn’tthat,’saysElizabeth.Ibrahimcouldswearhesensesimpatience,butheisgoingasquicklyashecan.
‘So,wetakeourspeed,whichyouwillrememberwas…?’
‘I’veforgotten,Ibrahim,forgiveme,’saysJoyce.
‘Approximatelytwenty-sevenpointfivemilesperhour,Joyce,’saysIbrahim,withhistrademarkpatience.
‘Ofcourse,’nodsJoyce.
‘AndwewillallowanextrathreemilesperhourforIanVentham’saveragespeed.Iwasbeingcareful,asyouknow.’IbrahimlooksatbothElizabethandJoyceandisgratifiedbytheirquicknods.‘So,Ithentookthelibertyofaggregatinghisthreepossibleroutes,dividingtheanswerbyhisaveragespeedandsubtractingamarginoferror.Ihavecalculatedthemarginoferrorinaratherelegantway.Takealookatmynotebookandyou’llseethemaths.WetaketheaveragespeedofrouteAandthenwe…’
Ibrahimstopsasanoisecomesfromthewoods.ItisRon,emergingandzippinghimselfupwithoutacareintheworld.
‘Betteroutthanin,’saysRon.
‘Ron!’saysElizabeth,asifgreetingheroldestfriendintheworld.‘WewereabouttoenjoyIbrahimshowingussomemaths,butIimagineyou’dhavelittlepatiencewiththat?’
‘Nomaths,Ibrahimoldson,’saysRon.‘CouldVenthamhavegothereontime?’
‘Well,Icanshow…’
Ronwavesthisaway.‘Ibrahim,I’mseventy-five,mate.Couldhehavedoneit?’
42
IanVenthamisonhistreadmill,listeningtotheaudiobookofRichardBranson’sScrewIt,Let’sDoIt:LessonsinLifeandBusiness.Iandoesn’tagreewithBranson’spolitics,farfromit,butyouhavetoadmiretheguy.Admirewhathe’sachieved.OnedayIanwillwriteabook.Hejustneedsatitlethatrhymesandthenhe’llgettowork.
AsIanruns,heisthinkingaboutthegraveyardandhe’sthinkingaboutFatherMackie.Hewouldn’twantanythingtogetoutofhandthere.InthegoodolddayshecouldhavesentTonyCurranroundtohaveaquietwordwithhim.ButTony’sgoneandIanisnotgoingtodwellonthatanymorethanRichardBransonwould.BransonwouldmoveonandsowillIan.
Thediggersareduetostartinaweek.Getthegraveyarddonefirst,that’sthetoughbit,likeeatingyourvegetables.Everythingelsewillbeabreeze.
Thediggersarereadytogo,thepermitsaresignedoff,Bogdan’slinedupacoupleofdrivers.
Infact,thinksIan,infact,whatishewaitingfor?WhatwouldBransondo?WhatwouldtheoneguyhelikesonDragons’Dendo?
They’dgetonwithit.Screwit,let’sdoit.
Ianswitchesofftheaudiobookand,withoutbreakingstride,ringsBogdan.
43
Joyce
So,couldIanVenthamhavekilledTonyCurran?Thatwastoday’sbigquestion.
Well,accordingtoIbrahim,andIdotrusthimintheareaofattentiontodetail,IanVenthamwouldhavebeencuttingitveryfine,butitwouldhavebeenpossible.IfhehadleftCoopersChaseat3p.m.,hewouldhavearrivedatTonyCurran’shouse(big,andabittacky,butstillnice)at3.29.Thatwouldhavegivenhimtwominutestogetoutofhiscar,getintothehouseandhitTonyCurranwithalargeobject.
So,RonsaidthatifIanVenthamhadkilledTonyCurran,thenhe’ddoneitveryquicklyandElizabethhadsaidthatthatwasalwaysthebestwaytokillsomeoneandthattherewasneveranypointfaffingaround.
IaskedIbrahimifhewascertainofthetimingsandhetoldmethatofcoursehewasandthathehadtriedtoshowmehisworkings,butthathe’dbeeninterruptedbyRonreturningfromurinating.Itoldhimthatwasashameandheperkedupabitandsuggestedthatperhapshecouldshowmetheworkingslater.ItoldhimthatIwouldlikethatverymuch,becauseawhitelieharmsnoone.
So,wehadalotoffuntodayanditseemsthatIanVenthamreallycouldhavekilledTonyCurran.HehadthemotiveandhehadtheopportunityandIsupposewherebludgeoningisconcerned,themeansisjustsomethingbigandheavy,sothatwouldn’tbebeyondhimeither.Lewiswouldhavehimbangtorights.
WhatiftheyarrestVenthamthough?Andthefunstops?
Let’sseewhattomorrowbrings.
44
IanVenthamishavinganearlynight.Hesetshisalarmfor5a.m.Tomorrowisthebigday.Heputsonhisblackoutgogglesandhisnoise-cancellingheadphonesandhappilydriftsoff.
Ronshutshiseyes.Helikedittheotherday,thepolicecomingtoseethem,andhelikedshoutingatVenthaminthemeeting.Intruthhemissesthelimelightabit.Hemissespeoplelisteningwhenhetalks.PuthimonQuestionTime.Theywouldn’tdare.He’dtellthemathingortwo.Thumpthetable,blametheTories,raisetheroof,likethegoodolddays.Orwouldhe?Maybenot.He’sdriftingnow.Maybethey’dseethroughhim,maybehistrickswereyesterday’stricks?Hehascertainlylostayardofpace.WhatiftheyaskedaboutSyria?IsitSyria?Libya?WhatifDimblebylookshimintheeyeandsays,‘MrRitchie,telluswhatyousaw.’Butthatwasthecopperwasn’tit?Andit’sFionaBrucenowisn’tit?HelikesFionaBruce.WhokilledTonyCurranthough?Ventham.TypicalBlairite.Unlesshewasmissingsomething.Washemissingsomething?
Acrossthepath,Ibrahimislearningthecountriesoftheworld,justtokeephisleftbraintickingover.HeislettinghisrightbraingetonwiththejobofthinkingaboutwhokilledTonyCurran.SomewherebetweenDenmarkandDjibouti,hefallsasleep.
Inherthree-bed,inLarkin,theonewiththedecking,Elizabethcannotsleep.Sheisgettingusedtothatthesedays.
HerarmisaroundherStepheninthedarkness.Canhefeelit?DoesPennyhearher?Havetheybothalreadydisappeared?Oraretheyonlyrealforaslongasshechoosestobelievethey’rereal?Elizabethclingsonalittletighterandholdsontothedayforaslongassheisable.
BernardCottleisonline.Hisdaughter,Sufi,hadboughthimaniPadlastChristmas.Hehadaskedforslippers,butSufihadn’tconsideredslippersaproperpresent,sohe’dhadtobuyhimselfsomeinFairhaveninthesales.Hehadn’tknownhowtousetheiPad,butJoycehadtoldhimnottobesosillyandhadtakenitoutofthedrawerandshownhim.Byhisside,BernardhasalargeglassofwhiskyandthelastsliceofJoyce’scoffeeandwalnutcake.Apale,blueglowilluminateshisface,ashelooksattheplansforTheWoodlandsforwhatmustbethehundredthtime.
Onebyone,thelightsofthevillageswitchoff.TheonlyremainingilluminationcomesfrombehindthethickhospitalblindsofWillows.Thebusinessofdyingkeepingdifferenthoursfromthebusinessofliving.
45
Ellidgehadseenthemfirst.
Everymorning,EdwinEllidgewakesat6a.m.andwalksslowly,butwithpurpose,tothebottomofthedriveatCoopersChase.Onceacrossthecattlegridandontothemainroad,helooksbothways,looksagainforgoodmeasure,thenturnsandwalksslowlybackupthedrive.Jobdone,heisbackinhisflatby6.30a.m.,whereuponheisnotseenfortherestoftheday.
CoopersChasebeingCoopersChase,noonehaseveraskedhimwhy.Afterall,awomaninTennysonwalksadogshedoesn’thave.Whatevergetsyououtofbed.
Elizabeth,beingElizabeth,oncedecidedtocasuallyintercepthimonhiswalkback.Assheapproachedhim,theearlymist,herfrozenbreathandthetrudgingfigureofamaninanovercoatallremindedherofhappytimesinEastGermany.Heraisedhisgazetomeethers,gaveareassuringshakeoftheheadandsaid,‘Noneed,I’vealreadychecked.’Elizabethreplied‘Thankyou,MrEllidge.’Sheturnedbackandthetwoofthemwalkedtogetherupthedriveinaverypleasantsilence.
IbrahimsaysEllidgewasonceaheadteacherandlatterlyabeekeeper,andElizabethhaddetectedaburiedhintofNorfolkinhisvoice,butthatwasalltheinformationtheyhadonfileforMrEdwinEllidge.
IanVentham’sRangeRoverwasfirst.Thiswasat6a.m.Ellidgesawitveerofftheroadbeforeitreachedhim,takingthetrackwhichledupthehilltothePlayfairfarm.ThediggerspassedEllidgeataround6.20a.m.,ashewaswalkinghome.Hedidn’tevengivethemaglance.Evidentlythesewerenotthevehicleshehadbeenlookingfor.Theywereset,nosetonose,onalow-loaderthatslowlygrounditswayupthedrive.
Adawnraidisallwellandgoodforcatchingdrugdealers,orarmedgangs,butatCoopersChaseitisnexttouseless.Ifsuchthingswerelogged,thefirstphonecallwouldhavebeenrecordedat6.21.Diggersarehere,comingupthedrive,twoofthem.ImeanIdon’tknow,doyou?Thatbeaconlit,thenewswasacrossthewholevillageby6.45a.m.attheverylatest,thenewsspreadbylandlinealone–IbrahimhadtriedtosetupaWhatsAppgroupinFebruary,butithadn’tcaughton.Residentsbegantoemergeanddiscusswhatcouldbedone.
At7.30a.m.IanVenthamcomesbackdownthehillandturnsintothedrivetodiscoverthewholevillageisout.ExceptforEdwinEllidge,whohashadenoughexcitementforoneday.KarenPlayfairisinIanVentham’spassengerseat.ShehasabreakfastlecturetogiveatCoopersChasethismorning.
Thelow-loaderhascontinueditsslowgrowlupthedriveandisnowbeingcarefullydriventhroughthecarpark.Bogdanjumpsfromthepassengerseatandunboltstheheavywoodengate,sothejourneycancontinueupwardsonthenarrowpathtowardstheGardenofEternalRest.
‘Holdup,son.’RonapproachesBogdanandshakeshishand.‘Ron.RonRitchie.What’sallthis?’
Bogdanshrugs.‘Diggers.’
‘I’llgiveyoudiggers,son.Whataretheydoing?’saysRon,quicklyadding,‘Don’tsaydigging.’
MoreresidentshavereachedthegatenowandtheybegintocrowdaroundRon,allwaitingforananswer.
‘Well,son?Whataretheyfor?’asksRon.
Bogdansighs.‘Yousaidtonotsaydigging.Idon’thaveotheranswer.’Helooksathiswatch.
‘Son,youjustopenedthisgateandthisgateonlyleadsoneplace.’Ronseeshehasacrowdandthisisanopportunityheisnotgoingtowaste.Heturnstowardsthegathering.Hespieshisgangamongthem.Ibrahimhashisswimmingstuffunderonearm,Joycehasjustarrivedwithaflaskandislookingoutforsomeone.Bernard,nodoubt.Elizabethisatthebackandthere’sararesightingofStephenbyherside.He’sinadressinggown,buthe’snottheonlyone.RonfeelsapangofguiltasheseesPenny’shusband,John,inhissuit,asever,stoppedonhiswayovertoWillows.Ronhasn’tvisitedPennyinalongtimeandknowshemustputthatrightbeforethechanceisgone.Itfrightenshim,though.
Ronclambersontothefirstbarofthegatetoaddresshiscrowd.Hethenalmostloseshisbalance,thinksthebetterofitandreturnstosolidground.Nomatter,he’sinbusinesshere.
‘Well,thisisnice.Justus,acoupleofPolishladsandsomediggers.Allenjoyingthemorningair.Ventham’slittlegang.Crawlinginatsixthirtyinthemorningtodigupournuns.Nowarning,noconsultation.Comingintoourvillageanddiggingupournuns.’HeturnstoBogdan.‘That’syourgame,isit,son?’
‘Yes,that’sourgame,’concedesBogdan.
Ventham’sRangeRoverpullsupalongsidethelow-loaderandhestepsout.HelooksatthecrowdandthenatBogdan,whoshrugs.KarenPlayfairstepsouttooandsmilesatthescenebeforeher.
‘Andhere’sthemanhimself,’saysRonashespotsVenthamwalkingover.
‘MrRitchie,’saysVentham.
‘Sorrytodisturbyourmorning,MrVentham,’saysRon.
‘Notatall.Carryon,makeaspeech,’repliesVentham.‘Pretendit’sthefifties,orwheneveryouwerearound.Butwhenyou’redoneI’mgoingtoneedtoaccessthatpathtodosomedigging.’
‘Nottoday,oldson,afraidnot,’saysRon,turningbacktothecrowd.‘We’reallweak,MrVentham,youcanseethat,right?Lookatus,giveusanudgeandwe’dtoppleover.That’sthelastyou’dseeofus.We’refeeble,thelotofus,we’reapushover.Apushover,eh?Shouldbeeasy.But,youknow,there’safewpeopleherewho’vedoneafewthingsintheirlife.AmIright?’
Cheers.
‘There’safewpeopleherewho’veseenoff,andnodisrespect,bettermenthanyou.’Ronpausesandlooksaroundathisaudience.‘Wegotsoldiershere,oneortwo.Wegotteachers,wegotdoctors,wegotpeoplewhocouldtakeyouapartandpeoplewhocouldputyoubacktogetheragain.Wegotpeoplewhocrawledthroughdeserts,peoplewhobuiltrockets,peoplewholockedupkillers.’
‘Andinsuranceunderwriters!’shoutsColinClemencefromRuskin,tohappyapplause.
‘Inshort,MrVentham,’saysRon,hisarmsweeping,‘wegotfighters.Andyou,withyourdiggersathalfseveninthemorning,havepickedafight.’
IanwaitstomakecertainRonhasfinished,thatthebolthasbeenshot,thenstepsforwardtotalktothesamecrowd.
‘Thanks,Ron.Allrubbish,butthankyou.There’snofighthere.You’vehadyourconsultation,you’vemadeyourobjections,theywerealloverturned.You’vegotlawyershere,right?Alongsidethepeopleyou’retellingmehavecrawledthroughdeserts?You’vegotbarristers?Solicitors?Jesus,you’vegotjudgeshere!Thatwasyourfight.Incourt.Itwasafairfightandyoulostit.SoifIwanttodriveontolandthatIownateighta.m.andcarryoutworkthatI’veplannedandthatI’mpayingforandthat,alsonodisrespect,willkeepyourservicechargeatthereasonablelevelitcurrentlyis,thenIwill.IwillandIam.’
Theterm‘servicecharge’hasanoticeableeffectonthesofterelementinthecrowd.Theymightwellhavefourhourstokilluntillunchandbelookingforwardtoashow,butthisfelladoeshaveapoint.
JoyceandBernard,whohadslippedawaytogetherduringRon’sgrandstanding,arenowreturningwithgardenchairsundertheirarms.Theywalkthroughthecrowdandopenthemoutonthepath.
ItisJoyce’sturntoaddressthecrowd.‘RadioKentsaysit’sgoingtobelovelyallmorning,ifsomeofyouwouldliketojoinus?Wecouldmakeadayofitifanyone’sgotapicnictablethey’renotusing?’
Ronturnstothecrowd.‘Who’supforanicesitdownandacupoftea?’
Thecrowdgetstobusiness,chairsandtablestobecollected,kettleon,seewhat’sinthecupboard,tooearlyforadrink,butlet’sseeifwecanstringitout.Ifnothingelsethisshouldbefun.Though,again,hedoesmakeaverygoodpointabouttheservicecharge.
Ibrahimstandsbythecabofthelow-loader,talkingtothedriver.Hehadestimated,byeye,thatitwasthirteenpointfivemetresinlengthandisgratifiedtolearnthatitisthirteenpointthree.Notbad,Ibrahim,stillgotit.
ElizabethleadsStephenhome,unscathed.Makehimacoffeeandshecanheadbackout.
46
ThecallfromIanVenthamcomesthroughtoFairhavenPoliceStationataround7.30a.m.Donnaisdrinkingalitrecartonofcranberryjuiceassheoverhearsthewords‘CoopersChase’.ShevolunteersherservicesandsendsChrisHudsonatext.He’soffthismorning,buthewon’twanttomissthis.
At7a.m.FatherMatthewMackiereceivesacallfromaMaureenGadd.By7.30heisupanddressed,dogcollarfrontandcentreandwaitingforacabtothestation.
47
InfrontofthegatethatleadstotheGardenofEternalResttherearenowtwentychairs.Mainlysunloungers,butalsoonediningchairbecauseofMiriam’sback.
Asabarricadeitisunorthodox,buteffective.Treescrowdinoneithersideofthegate,sotheonlywayuptotheGardenofEternalRestisnowthroughaphalanxofpensioners,someofwhomaretakingtheopportunitytostretchoutinthemorningsunandhaveawell-earnednap.Thediggersarenotgettingpastforawhile.
IanVenthamisbackinhiscar,watchingthescene.KarenPlayfairhassteppedoutsideandismerrilyvapingawayonanappleandcinnamone-cigarette.
Ianseespicnictables,ice-coolersandparasols.Teaisbeingfetchedandcarriedonpaddedtrays.Photographsofgrandchildrenarebeingswapped.TheGardenofEternalRestisasideshow,formostoftheresidentsthisisjustastreetpartyinthemidsummersun.NoneedforIantogetinvolved,theywillfoldliketheirloungersthemomentthepolicearriveandthey’llwanderofftodowhatevertheydo.
Ianissurethislittledisplaywillblowover,buthehopesthepoliceshowupsoon.Withtheamountoftaxhehypotheticallypays,it’sreallynottoomuchtoask.
48
Elizabethisnotatthescene.Instead,afterdroppingStephenathome,shehastakenarouteupthroughBluntsWoodand,assheclearsthetreeline,shestepsontothebroadpathleadinguptotheGardenofEternalRest.Shewalksupthepathuntilshereachesthewoodenbench,BernardCottle’sbench,whereshesitsandwaits.
ShelooksdowntowardsCoopersChase.Thepathcurvestowardsthebottom,sothebarricadeisoutofsight,butshecanhearthepolitedisturbanceatthebottomofthehill.Alwayslookwheretheactionisn’t,becausethat’swheretheactionis.ApartofherissurprisedthatJoycehasn’tmadethewalkupthehilltoo.PerhapsshelackssomeofElizabeth’sinstinctsafterall.
ElizabethhearsarustlingcomingfromthetreesabouttwentymetresdownontheothersideofthepathandthatrustlingverysoonturnsintothefigureofBogdanemergingfromthetrees,withashoveloverhisshoulder.
Heheadsupthepath,noddingtoElizabethashepasses.
‘Missus,’hesays,noddingtoher.Ifhehadacap,Elizabethfeltsurehewoulddoffit.
‘Bogdan,’shereplies.‘Iknowyouhaveworktodo,butIwonderifImightaskyouaquestion?’
Bogdanstopshiswalk,lowerstheshovelfromhisshoulderandrestshisweightonthehandle.‘Please,’hereplies.
Elizabethhadbeenthinkingthingsthroughlastnight.Really–Venthamarrives,getsinside,makeshiswaytothekitchenandthenkillsTonyCurranwithintwominutes?She’dseenitdonebefore,butnotbyanamateur.Sowhatwasshemissing?
‘DidMrVenthamtellyouhewantedTonyCurranmurdered?’asksElizabeth.‘Aftertheirrow?Perhapsheaskedyoutohelp?Perhapsyoudidhelp?’
Bogdanconsidersherforamoment.Notfazed.
‘Iknowthat’sthreequestions,forgiveanoldwoman,’addsElizabeth.
‘Well,isonlyoneanswer,soisOK,’beginsBogdan.‘No,hedidn’ttellmeandnohedidn’task,sonoIdidn’thelp.’
Elizabethgivesthisherconsideration.‘Allthesame,it’sworkedoutnicelyforyou.Youhavealucrativenewjob,don’tyou?’
‘Yes,’agreesBogdan,nodding.
‘CanIaskifyoufittedTonyCurran’salarmsystem?’
Bogdannods.‘Sure,Iangetsmetodoallthatstuffforpeople.’
‘Soyoucouldhavegotin,veryeasily?Waitedforhim?’
‘Sure.Wouldhavebeensimple.’
Elizabethhearsmorecarspullingupatthebottomofthepath.
‘IknowI’mbeingrudeinasking,butifIanVenthamhadwantedTonyCurrandead,mighthehaveaskedyoutodoit?Isthatthesortofrelationshipyouhave?’
‘Hetrustme,’saysBogdan,thinking.‘SoIthinkmaybehewouldaskme,yes.’
‘Andwhatmightyouhavesaid?Ifhehadaskedyou?’
‘TherearesomejobsIdo,likefixalarms,tileswimmingpools,andtherearesomejobsIdon’tdo,likekillpeople.So,ifheask,Isay,“Listen,maybeyouhavegoodreason,butIwouldsaykillhimyourself,Ian.”Youknow?’
‘Well,Iagree,’saysElizabeth,nodding.‘You’reabsolutelysureyoudidn’tkillTonyCurranthough?’
Bogdanlaughs,‘Iamabsolutelysure.Iwouldremember.’
‘Thishasturnedintoalotofquestions,Bogdan,I’msorry,’saysElizabeth.
‘IsOK,’saysBogdan,lookingathiswatch.‘IsstillearlyandIliketotalk.’
‘Whereareyoufrom,Bogdan?’
‘Poland.’
‘Yes,I’dgotthat.Whichpart?’
‘NearKrakow.YouheardofKrakow?’
ElizabethcertainlyhasheardofKrakow.‘Ihave,yes,it’saverybeautifulcity.InfactIwentthere,manyyearsago.’
Itwasin1968tobeexact,toconductaninformalinterview,ontradedelegationbusiness,withayoungPolisharmycolonel.ThePolisharmycolonellaterveryhappilywentontorunabookmaker’sinCoulsdonandhadanMBEforservicestotheBritishState,whichstayedinalockeddraweruntilthedayhedied.
BogdanlooksoutovertheKenthills.Hethenholdsoutahand.‘Ishouldwork.Itisnicetomeetyou.’
‘Itisnicetomeetyoutoo.MynameisMarina,’saysElizabeth,assheshakeshishugehand.
‘Marina?’repeatsBogdan.Hissmilereturns,onceagain,likeababydeerattemptingtowalk.‘Marinawasmymother’sname.’
‘Howlovely!’saysElizabeth.She’snotproudofherself,butyouneverknowwhenthissortofthingcouldcomeinhandy.Andreally,ifsomeoneisgoingtohavesomuchpersonalinformationtattooedonhisbody,whatissheexpectedtodo?‘Ihopetoseeyouagain,Bogdan.’
‘Ihopetoseeyoutoo,Marina.’
Elizabethwatchesashecontinuesupthepath,swingsopentheheavyirongatesandtakeshisshovelintotheGardenofEternalRest.
Thereismorethanonetypeofdigger,thinksElizabeth,asshestartstowalkbackdownthehill.Shethinksofanotherquestionsheshouldhaveasked.DoesIanVenthamhavethesamealarmsystemasTonyCurran?Ifso,itwouldhavebeenaneasyjobforhimtogetintoTonyCurran’shouse.Hadheneededto.Shewouldbethedoes.ShewillaskBogdanthenexttimesheseeshim.
WhenElizabethreachesthebarricade,shefindsthatthegatehasbeenpadlockedandthatthepadlockisbeingguardedbythreewomen,includingMaureenGadd,whoplaysbridgewithDerekArcher.Verybadly,inElizabeth’sview.
Elizabethclimbsthegateandmakesthesmalljumpontheothersidebackintotheheartoftheaction.Howmanymoreyearsofthat?Threeorfour?ShespiesIanVenthamclimbingoutofhiscarasChrisHudsonandDonnaDeFreitasapproach.Timetojoininthefun,shethinks,andtapsJoyceontheshoulder.Bernardisasleepinthechairnexttoher,whichatleastexplainswhyJoycehadn’tcomesnooping.
Intheory,sheapprovesofchasingaftermen,ifthat’swhatyouwantedtodo,butsurelyJoycemustfinditexhausting?
49
Joyce
WhenElizabetharrived,Bernardhadalreadyfallenasleep,whichIthinkwasablessing,becausehedoesgetworkedup.HehadlookedtiredwhenIhadknockedforhimthismorning.Idon’tthinkhe’ssleepingatnight.
ElizabethandIwenttoseeDonnaandChris,collectingRonontheway.Hewaslookinginthepink,whichwasnicetosee.Whileitisstillfresh,thisiseverythingIrememberafterthat.
DonnadoessomethingwithhereyeshadowandIalwaysmeantoaskwhatitis,butIhaven’tyet.Anyway,itwasDCIHudsondoingthetalkingandhewasquiteimpressiveinhisway.HewassayingsuchandsuchtoIanVentham.IanVenthamsaidhewantedusalloutofthewayandhadthepaperworktobackitup.Whichseemedfair.
DCIHudsonsaidhewantedtotalktotheresidentsandRontoldhimtotalktohim(Ron)instead.RonalsosaidthatIanVenthamcouldstickhispaperworkuptheproverbial.WhichisparforthecourseforRon,asyouknow.DonnathensuggestedthatDCIHudsonperhapsshouldtalktome.Asalevelhead,ofallthings.
SoDCIHudsonexplainedthelegalnicetiestomeandwarnedthathewouldbeforcedtoarrestanyonewhoblockedthediggers.IsaidthatIwassurehewouldn’tactuallyarrestanyoneandheagreedthatthiswastrue.Sotherewewere,backtosquareone.
RonthenaskedDCIHudsonifhewasproudofhimselfandDCIHudsonrepliedthathewasanoverweight,fifty-one-year-olddivorceeandso,byandlarge,no,hewasn’t.ThismadeDonnasmile.Shelikeshim,notlikethat,butshelikeshim.Idotoo.Iwasgoingtosaytohimthathewasn’toverweight,butheactuallyisabitand,asanurse,it’sbesttoneversugar-coatthings,evenwhenyourinstinctistobeprotective.InsteadItoldhimheshouldnevereatafter6p.m.,that’sthekeyifyoudon’twantdiabetesandhethankedme.
That’swhenIbrahimjoinedusandsuggestedthatDCIHudsonmighttryPilatesandDonnasaidthatwassomethingshewouldpaytosee.IanVenthamdidn’twanttojoininthefunandtoldDonnaandDCIHudsonthathepaidtheirwages.Donnasaidinthatcasecouldsheaskhimaboutapayriseandthat’swhenIanVenthamstartedshoutingtheoddsaboutthis,thatandtheother.Peoplewithoutasenseofhumourwillneverforgiveyouforbeingfunny.Butthat’sanaside.
Anyway,Ibrahim,whoisverygoodwiththissortofthing,conflictandinadequatemenandstalematesandsoon,steppedinandofferedto‘thinthecrowdout’togiveeveryoneabitofbreathingspace.Itwasagreedthatthiswasthethingtodo.
Ibrahimwalkedovertothebarricadepicnic,whichwasinfullswing,andsuggestedthatanyonewhodidn’twanttobearrestedshouldperhapsmovetheirchairsoffthepath.Thisshiftedafewofthefairweathers.ColinClemenceledthecharge.WhenIbrahimreassuredtherestthattheyonlyhadtoclearthepathandwereverywelcometostayoutandwatchtheaction,therewasaproperexodus.Thoughnotaquickexodus,becauseyouknowthatgettingoutofagardenchairatourageisamilitaryoperation.Onceyouareinone,youcanbeinitfortheday.
Eventuallythescenewasasfollows.Thebarricade,withthegatefirmlylockedbehindit,wasthestageandthecrowd,happilybackintheirchairs,wastheaudience.Andwhowasonthestage?TherewasMaureenGadd,whoplaysbridgewithDerekArcher(andnotjustbridge,inmyopinion,butthat’snottoberepeated),BarbaraKellyfromRuskinwhooncewalkedoutofWaitrosewithawholesalmonandpleadeddementia(myfoot,butitworked)andBronaghsomething,whoisnewandonwhomIhavenofurtherinformation.IhaveseenallthreeofthemontheirwaytotheCatholicMassonSundays,thenhourslater,trudgingback.Theywerepadlockedtothegatelikebikesonrailings.
Andinfrontofthem?Thebarricadehaddisappearedandleftjustoneman.Awakenow,sittingtoattention,unmoved,unbowed,terrificposture:Bernard.Unlikehim,Isuppose,buthemustfeelstronglyaboutthegraveyard.Youshouldhaveseenhim.Thelastguard,likeHenryFonda,orMartinLutherKing,orKingMidas.ThiswastoomuchforRon,whograbbedachairandsatrightnexttohim.Whetheroutofsolidarityoradesireforattention,whoknows?ButIwasgladthathedid.Iwasveryproudofthemboth,mystubbornboys.
(Idon’tmeanKingMidasbytheway,ImeanKingCanute.)
Venthamhadgonebacktohiscar,forthetimebeing,withDonnaandChris.
IpouredBernardandRoncupsofteaandsettleddownmyself,assumingthefunwasabouttoend.
Whichwaswhenthetaxiarrivedandthefunreallybegan.
Forgiveme,mydoorbellisringing,I’llbebackinamoment.
50
FatherMatthewMackiealwayslikestochattotaxidrivers.ThesedaystheyareoftenMuslim,eveninKent,andtheirkinshipmakeshimfeelverycomfortable.Theyalsoreactwelltothedogcollar.Buttodayhehasbeensilent.
HeisrelievedtoseethatthegateuptotheGardenisstilllockedandguardedandthatthediggersareidlingontheirtrailer.HehadleftaphonenumberonthenoticeboardoutsidethechapelforjustthiseventualityandthatwasthenumberMaureenGaddhadphonedthismorning,promisingalsothatshewould‘alertthetroops’.
Mackietookthose‘troops’tobethethreewomeninblackstandingstock-stillbythegate.Infrontofthemareawomanandtwomeninchairs,whodidn’tseemquitethetype.Infact,nowhelookscloser,heissurethatoneisthegentlemanwiththeopinionsfromthepublicmeeting.Andthemaninthemiddle,ishethemanfromthebenchtheothermorning?Well,whoevertheyare,andwhatevertheirmotive,allarewelcomeinthisparticularflock.Tothesideofthegateisacrowdofaroundfiftyresidents,sitting,watchingandwaitingforashow.Fine,hewillgivethemashow.Hesupposesthismightbehislastandonlychance.
Steppingoutofthetaxiandgivingthedriveralargetip,FatherMackieseesVenthamisinaFordFocus,talkingtotwopoliceofficers.Oneofthemisalargemanlookingtoohotinajacket,theotherayoung,blackwomaninuniform.NosignofBogdan,noteveninthecabofthetrailer.Hewillbesomewherenearby,surely?
Mackiewandersovertothegate;Venthamhasyettospothim.Hetakesamomenttospeakto,andbless,thethreeguards.Oneofthem,themysteriousMaureenGadd,asksifthereisthechanceofacupofteaandMackiesayshewillseewhathecando.BeforeheadingovertoconfrontVentham,hestops,tointroducehimselftotheseatedfigures.
51
Joyce
Sorry,theringatthedoorwasaparcelforupstairsandwealwayssignforeachother,sothat’swhereI’vebeen.Sometimes,ifIknowJoannaissendingmeflowers,Ipretendnottobein,justsoaneighbourpicksthemupandseesthem.Terribleofme,really,butI’msurepeopledoworse.
Anyway,Bernardwassayingthathewouldn’ttakeordersfromthepolice.Bernardwasstayingputandthatwasthat.
Ronsaidthathe’doncebeenchainedtoapitshaftinGlasshoughtonforforty-eighthoursandthey’dhadtodefecateintosandwichbags,thoughhedidn’tsay‘defecate’,andthatwaswhenFatherMackieintroducedhimself.
Ihadseenhimatthemeeting.Hehadsatattheback,quietasyoupleaseandslippedbiscuitsintohispocketwhenhethoughtnoonewaslooking.AsI’vesaid,nooneeverrealizesI’mwatching.Ijusthaveoneofthosefaces.
IhavetosayhewasverypoliteandhethankedusforprotectingtheGarden.BernardtoldhimtheGardenwasonlythestartofitandonceyougivesomeoneaninch,thenweallknowwhatthey’dtake.RonthenhadtohavehissayandtoldFatherMackiethat‘hislot’(theCatholics)hadnotalwaysbeensqueakycleanwhenitcametograveyards,butthatalibertyisstillalibertyandhedidn’tliketoseeonebeingtaken.FatherMackiesaidthat‘wouldn’thappenonmywatch’anditallgotabitcowboyfilm,whichwasfinebyme.Iliketoseemenbeingmen,uptoapoint.
ThisiswhenVenthammusthavecaughtsightofFatherMackie,becauseoverherushes,withChris,DonnaandIbrahimchasingbehind.Andso,thestagewasnowset.
52
Bogdanhasbeendiggingforalongtime.Whynot?Mightaswellbegettingsomethingdone.HestartedattheverytopoftheGardenofEternalRest,wheretheearliestgravesarenowpermanentlyundertheshadowofthewidebranchesofthetreesbehindthewall.Thegroundissofter,withnosunlightinmanyyears,andBogdanknowsthattheolder,grandercoffinsherewillbeintact.Theywillbesolidoak.Theywon’tbesplitorrotten.Therewillbenoskullsstaringupathim,hollowandeatenandhopeful.
Hehearstheoddbitofexcitementfromdownthehill,butstillnorumbleofthelow-loader,andsohekeepsdigging.Oneofthemachinescoulduncoverawholerowofgravesinminutes,especiallyifnotmuchcareistaken,whichBogdanknowswillbethecase.Sohechoosestobeneatandtidy,foraslongasitisjusthimandhisshovel.
Thenextgravehechoosestotackleistuckedtightlyinthetopcornerofthegraveyard.Ashedigs,heisthinkingaboutMarina,thewomanhemetonhiswayuphere.Hehasseenherbeforeinthevillage,butmainlypeopledon’ttalktohim,theydon’tevennoticehim,andthat’sOK.Hedoesn’tsupposeyouareallowedtovisitpeoplehere,butmaybeonedayifhebumpedintoheragain,thenthatwouldbeOK.Hemisseshismothersomedays.
Bogdan’sshovelfinallystrikessomethingsolid,butitisnotthelidofthecoffin.Therearemanystonesandtreeroots,whichmakethejobharder,butmorefun,forBogdan.Hereachesdownandclearsthickearthofftheobstruction.Itispurewhite.Beautiful,infact,thinksBogdan,inthemomentbeforeherealizeswhatitis.
ThiswasnotpartofBogdan’splan.Theverypointofdiggingherewasthattherewouldbenorottencoffinsandnobones.Andyetheretheywere.Soeven150yearsagotheywerecuttingcorners?Cheapcoffins,whowouldeverfindout?
Shouldhejustfillthegravebackin?Pretenditneverhappenedandwaitforthediggers?Somethingaboutthatmakeshimfeeluncomfortable.Bogdanhasuncoveredaboneandthatmakeshimtheguardian.Hehasnosmallertoolthantheshovelwithhim,sokneelsdownonthecompactedearthandstartstoworkwithhishandsalone.Heisasgentleashecanbe.Heshiftshiskneelingweighttogetabetterangletoclearawaymoredirt,andashedoessoherealizesheisnotkneelingoncompacteddirtbutonsomethingmuchmoresolid.Herealizesthatheiskneelingonthesolidoaklidofthesolidoakcoffin.Whichcan’tbe.Abodycan’tescapefromacoffin.Bogdantriestoforceoutahorrificthought.Hadsomeonebeenburiedalive?Hadtheymanagedtosomehowclamberoutofthecoffin,butnofurther?
Bogdanworksquickly,withnoroomforceremonyorsuperstition.Therearemanybonesandthenaskull,thoughhetriesnottodisturbit.Heuncoversenoughofthecoffintojamthebladeofhisshovelunderthelid.Afterconsiderableefforthebreaksopenthelowerthird.Insideisanotherskeleton.
Twoskeletons.Oneinsidethecoffinandoneoutside.Onesmall,onebig.Onegreyandyellow,onecloud-white.
Whattodo?Somebodyshouldtakealookatit,thatwasfairlycertain.Thoughthatwouldtakealongtime.Theywoulddigwithtinytrowels,BogdanhadseenitonTV.Andtheywouldn’tjustbediggingintothisgrave,theywouldbediggingintoallofthem.AndBogdanknowsitwillendupbeingnothing.Itwilljustbehowtheyusedtoburypeopleinthiscountry,oroneyeartherewasadiseaseandtheyburiedpeopletogether,oramillionotherpossibilities.Meanwhilethedevelopmentwillbedelayedandhewillbewaitingtowork.So,thequestionremains.Whattodo?
Bogdanneedsthinkingtime,butunfortunatelyhedoesn’thavethatluxury.Inthedistance,Bogdanhearsasiren.Hewaitsamomentandthesirencomescloser.ItsoundslikeanambulancetoBogdan,butheknows,logically,thatitmustbethepolice.Whichmeansthebarricadewillbeclearsoonenoughandthecircuswillbegin.Bogdanhaulshimselfoutofthegraveandstartstofillitinoncemore.
Ianwilltellmewhattodo,hethinks,asthesirensreachthebottomofthepath.
53
IanVentham,exitingthepolicecar,iscalm,happyeven.
Thepolicehavehadaplacatorychatwithhim.He’llcomebacktomorrow.Thegravesaren’tgoinganywhere.Perhapssendinginthediggerssoearlywasamistake.Butitwasacoolthingtodo,soamistakeworthmaking.Itwasastatement,andmakingstatementsisimportant,whatevertheyare.
Hedoesn’tmindtheresidentsbeingupinarms,they’llsoonloseinterest.Hecanjustgivethemsomethingelsetocomplainabout.Sackoneofthewaitingstaffthattheylike,orbangrandkidsfromthepoolonhealth-and-safetygrounds.Thenthey’llbeall‘whatgraveyard?’Hehastolaugh,really,andsohedoes.
But,atthatverymoment,heseesFatherMatthewMackie.
Standingthereinhisfrockandlittlewhitecollar,likeheownstheplace.Asboldasyoulike.
ThisisIan’sland,forChrist’ssake!It’sIan’sproperty!Hestormstowardsthebarricade,andhashisfingerinFatherMackie’sfaceinseconds.
‘Ifyouweren’tavicarIwouldknockyouout.’Thecrowdstartstosurroundthem,likeafightinapubcarpark.‘Getoffmyproperty,orI’llgetyouthrownoff.’
IanaimsashoveatMackie’sshoulder,knockingtheoldermanbackwards.Mackiereachesoutforbalance,grabbingIan’sT-shirt,andthetwomenlosetheirbalanceandfalltothegroundtogether.Donna,withthehelpofahorrified-lookingKarenPlayfair,pullsIanupandoffthepriest.Agroupofresidents,includingJoyce,RonandBernard,thensurroundandrestrainIanVenthamwhileagroupofresidentsontheothersideformaguardaroundFatherMackie,nowsitting,dazed,ontheground.Schoolplaygroundreally,buthelooksshaken.
‘Calmit,MrVentham,calmdown,’yellsDonna.
‘Arresthim!Trespass!’yellsIan,nowbeingpulledawayfromthescenebyagroupofdeterminedseptuagenarians,octogenariansandevenonenonagenarian,whohadmissedSecondWorldWarcall-upbyadayandhasregrettediteversince.
Joycefindsherselfinthescrum.Howstrongthesemenmusthavebeenintheirtime,Ron,Bernard,John,Ibrahim.Andhowdiminishedtheywerenow.Thespiritwasstillwillingatleast,butonlyChrisHudsonwasreallyabletoholdVenthamback.Thetestosteronewaslovelywhileitlastedthough.
‘I’mprotectingsacredground.Peacefullyandlawfully,’saysFatherMackie.
DonnahelpsFatherMackietohisfeet,dustinghimdownandfeelingthefrailtyoftheoldmanbeneaththelooseblackcassock.
ChrispullsIanVenthamfromthescrumofbodiessurroundinghim.HecanseetheadrenalinesurgingthroughVentham’sbody,thesortofthinghe’sseenathousandtimesbefore,inthelate-nightdrunksoftoomanytowns.TheveinsridingthemusclesthatpokeoutfromhisT-shirt,agiveawayofsteroidabuse.
‘Homenow,MrVentham,’ordersChrisHudson,‘beforeIarrestyou.’
‘Ididn’ttouchhim,’protestsIanVentham.
Chrisremainsquiet,tokeeptheconversationprivate.‘Hestumbled,MrVentham,Isawthat,buthestumbledafteryoumadecontactwithhim,howeverlight.SoifIwanttoarrestyouIwill.And,allowapolicemanahunch,theremightbeoneortwowitnessestohelpmeincourt.So,ifyoudon’twanttobechargedwithassaultingapriest,whichwouldn’tlookgoodinyourbrochures,thenyougetinyourcarandyoudriveaway.Understand?’
IanVenthamnods,butwithoutconviction,hisbrainalreadysomewhereelse,makingsomeothercalculation.Hethenshakeshishead,slowlyandsadly,atChrisHudson.
‘Something’snotrighthere.Something’sup.’
‘Well,whatever’supwillstillbeuptomorrow,’saysChris.‘Sogetyourselfhome,calmyourselfdownandmopyourbrow.Beamanandtakeadefeat.’
Ianturnsandwalkstowardshiscar.Defeat?Asif.Ashepassesthelow-loaderhebangstwiceonthecabdoorandcockshisthumbtowardstheexit.
Hewalksslowly,thinking.Where’sBogdan?Bogdanisagoodguy.He’sPolish.HeneedstogetBogdantotilehisswimmingpool.He’stoolazy,theyallare.He’lltalktoTonyCurran.Tonywillknowwhattodo.ButdidTonylosehisphone?SomethingaboutTony.
IanreachestheRangeRover.Thecarhasbeenclamped!Hisdadwillbefurious,he’sonlyborrowedit.He’llhavetogetthebusfromtownandhisdadwillbewaitingforhim.Ianisfrightenedandstartstocry.Don’tcry,Ian,he’llsee.Iandoesn’twanttogohome.
Hesearcheshispocketsforchange,thenstumblesandtopplesbackwards.Hereachesoutforsomethingtoholdonto,but,tohissurprise,thereisonlyair.
IanVenthamisdeadbeforehehitstheground.
PartTwo
EVERYONEHEREHASASTORYTOTELL
54
Joyce
ItrippedoveraloosepavingslabinFairhavenafewweeksago.Ididn’tmentionitinmydiarybecauseofmurdersandtripstoLondonandmypursuitofBernard.ButitwasanastytumbleandIdroppedmybagandmythingswenteverywhere.Keys,glassescase,pills,phone.
Now,here’sthething.Everysinglepersonwhosawmefallcameovertohelp.Everysingleoneofthem.Acyclisthelpedmetomyfeet,atrafficwardenpickedupmythingsanddusteddownmybag,aladywithapushchairsatwithmeatapavementtableuntilI’dgotmybreathback.ThewomanwhoranthecafécameoutwithacupofteaandofferedtodrivemearoundtoherGP.
PerhapstheyonlycametohelpbecauseIlookold.Ilookfrailandhelpless.ButIdon’tthinkso.IthinkIwouldhavehelpedifIsawafityoungstertakethetumbleIdid.Ithinkyouwouldtoo.IthinkIwouldhavesatwithhim,IthinkthetrafficwardenwouldhavepickeduphislaptopandIthinkthewomaninthecaféwouldstillhaveofferedtodrivehimtoherGP.
That’swhoweareashumanbeings.Forthemostpart,wearekind.
However,IstillrememberaconsultantIonceworkedwith,atBrightonGeneral,uponthehill.Averyrude,verycruel,veryunhappyman,andhemadeourlivesamisery.Hewouldshoutandwouldblameusformistakeshemade.
Now,ifthatconsultanthaddroppeddeadinfrontofmyeyesIwouldhavedancedajig.
Youmustn’tspeakillofthedead,Iknow,butthereareexceptionstoeveryruleandIanVenthamwasofthesametypeasthisconsultant.Cometothinkofit,hewascalledIantoo,sothat’ssomethingtolookoutfor.
Youknowthosepeople.Peoplewhofeeltheworldistheirsalone?Theysayyouseeitmoreandmorethesedays,thisselfishness,butsomepeoplewerealwaysawful.Notmany,that’swhatI’msaying,butalwaysafew.
Allofwhichistosaythat,inoneway,I’msorrythatIanVenthamisdead,butthereisanotherwaytolookatit.
Onanygivendaylotsofpeopledie.Idon’tknowthestatistics,butitmustbethousands.SosomebodywasgoingtodieyesterdayandI’mjustsayingthatIwouldratheritwasIanVenthamwhodiedinfrontofmethan,say,thecyclistorthetrafficwarden,orthemumwiththepushchair,orthewomanwhoranthecafé.
IwouldratheritwasIanVenthamtheparamedicsfailedtosave,thanthatitwasJoanna,orElizabeth.OrRon,orIbrahim,orBernard.Withoutwantingtosoundselfishaboutit,IwouldratheritwasIanVenthamwhowaszippedintoabagandwheeledintoacoroner’svan,thanme.
ForIanVentham,though,yesterdaywastheday.Wewillallhaveoneandyesterdaywashis.Elizabethsayshewaskilled,andifElizabethsayshewaskilledthenIexpecthewas.Idon’tsupposeheexpectedthatwhenhewokeupyesterdaymorning.
IhopeIdon’tsoundcallous,it’sjustthatIhaveseenalotofpeopledieandIhaveshedsomanytears.ButIhaveshednoneforIanVenthamandIjustwantedyoutoknowwhy.Itissadthatheisdead,butithasn’tmademesad.
Andnow,ifyou’llexcuseme,Ihavetogoandhelpsolvehismurder.
55
‘Well,here’sthebigheadline.’ChrisHudsonisstandingatthefrontofthebriefingroom,histeamspreadoutinfrontofhim.‘IanVenthamwasmurdered.’
DonnaDeFreitaslooksaroundatthemurdersquad.Thereareafewnewfaces.Shesimplycannotbelieveherluck.Twomurdersandheresheis,rightinthemiddleofitall.ShehadtohandittoElizabeth.Shedefinitelyowedheradrink,orwhateverelseElizabethmightprefer.Ascarf?WhoknewwhatElizabethwouldlike?Agun,probably.
Chrisopensafolder.‘IanVentham’sdeathwascausedbyfentanylpoisoning.Amassiveoverdose,deliveredintothemuscleofhisupperarm.Almostcertainlyinthemomentsleadinguptohiscollapse.You’lltellbythespeedthatthisisnotofficial;thisismecallinginafavour,OK?Andtheyseeenoughfentanyloverdosesatthepathlabthesedaystoknowonewhentheyseeone.We’retheonlypeoplewhohavethatpieceofinformationatpresent,solet’skeepitthatwayaslongaswecan,please.Nopress,nofriendsandfamily.’
HegivesDonnathebriefestoflooks.
56
‘So,wewereallwitnessestoamurder,’saysElizabeth.‘Which,needlesstosay,iswonderful.’
Fifteenwindingmilesaway,theThursdayMurderClubisinextraordinarysession.Elizabethislayingoutaseriesoffull-colourphotosofthecorpseofIanVentham,alongsideeveryconceivableangleofthescene.Shehadtakenthemonherphonewhilepretendingshewascallingforanambulance.ShethenhadthemprivatelyprintedbyachemistinRobertsbridgewhoowedherafavour,duetoherkeepingquietaboutacriminalconvictionfromthe1970sthatshehadmanagedtouncover.
‘Tragictoo,initsway,ifwewantedtobetraditionalaboutouremotions,’addsIbrahim.
‘Yes,ifwewantedtobemelodramatic,Ibrahim,’saysElizabeth.
‘Firstquestion,then,’saysRon.‘Howdoyouknowitwasamurder?Lookedlikeaheartattacktome.’
‘Andyou’readoctor,Ron?’asksElizabeth.
‘Asmuchasyouare,Liz,’saysRon.
Elizabethopensafolderandtakesoutasheetofpaper.‘Well,Ron,I’vealreadybeenoverthiswithIbrahim,becauseIhadajobforhim,butlistencarefully.Thecauseofdeathwasanoverdoseoffentanyl,administeredveryshortlybeforedeath.ThisinformationisstraightfromamanwhohasaccesstotheemailcorrespondenceoftheKentPoliceForensicService,butithasn’tyetbeenconfirmedbyDonna,eventhoughIhavetextedherrepeatedly.Happy,Ron?’
Ronnods.‘Yeah,I’llgiveyouthat.What’sfentanyl?That’sanewoneonme.’
‘It’sanopioid,Ron,likeheroin,’saysJoyce.‘Theyuseitinanaesthesia,painrelief,allsortsofthings.Veryeffective,patientsraveaboutit.’
‘Alsoyoucanmixitwithcocaine,’saysIbrahim.‘Ifyouwereadrugaddict,say.’
‘AndtheRussiansecurityservicesuseitforallsortsofthings,’saysElizabeth.
Ronnods,satisfied.
Ibrahimsays,‘And,asitmust’vebeenadministeredveryshortlybeforehisdeath,thenweareallsuspectsinhismurder.’
Joyceclapsherhands.‘Splendid.I’mnotsurehowanyofuswouldhavegotholdoffentanyl,butsplendid.’SheisarrangingViennesewhirlsonaplatecommemoratingPrinceAndrewandSarahFerguson’swedding,somethingJoannahadassumedshewouldlikemanyyearsago.
Ronisnodding,lookingatthephotosofthescene.LookingatthefacesoftheresidentscraningforabetterviewofIanVentham’sslumpedbody.‘So,someoneatCoopersChasekilledhim?Someoneinthesepictures?’
‘Andweareallinthepictures,’saysIbrahim.
‘ExceptforElizabeth,ofcourse,’saysJoyce.‘Becauseshewastakingthephotos.Butshewouldstillbeasuspectforanyhalf-decentinvestigation.’
‘Iwouldhopeso,’agreesElizabeth.
Ibrahimwalksovertoaflipchart.‘Elizabethaskedmetomakeafewcalculations.’
Elizabeth,JoyceandRonsettleintotheJigsawRoomchairs.RontakesaViennesewhirl,tothereliefofJoyce,whonowfeelsabletodothesame.Theyareown-brand,buttherehadbeenaGreggWallaceprogrammewhichhadsaidtheyweremadeinthesamefactoryastheproperones.
Ibrahimbegins.‘SomebodyinthatcrowdadministeredaninjectiontoIanVenthamwhichkilledhim,almostcertainlywithinaminute.Therewasapuncturewoundfoundonhisupperarm.Iaskedyoualltocompilealistofeverybodyyourememberedseeing,whichyoukindlydid,althoughnotallofyourlistswerealphabetizedinthewayIhadasked.’
IbrahimlooksatRon.Ronshrugs.‘Honestly,IgetmixedupsomewherearoundF,HandGandthenIgiveup.’
Ibrahimcontinues.‘Ifwecombinethoselists–aneasyjobifyouknowyourwayaroundanExcelspreadsheet–thenintotalthereweresixty-fourresidentsatthescene,ourselvesincluded.ThenweaddDCIHudsonandPCDeFreitas,thebuilderBogdan,whowentmissing…’
‘Hewasuponthehill,’saysElizabeth.
‘Thankyou,Elizabeth,’saysIbrahim.‘Weaddthedriverofthelow-loaderwhosenamewasMarie,anotherPoleifthatisofinterest.Shealsoteachesyoga,butthat’sbytheby.KarenPlayfair,theladywholivesatthetopofthehill,wasthere,asshewassupposedtoteachusaboutcomputersyesterday.Andthen,ofcourse,FatherMatthewMackie.’
‘Thatmakesseventy,Ibrahim,’saysRon,nowontohissecondbiscuit,whateverdiabetesmightsay.
‘AndIanVenthammakesseventy-one,’explainsIbrahim.
‘Soyouthinkhemighthavedrivenup,startedaruck,thenkilledhimself?Allright,Poirot,’saysRon.
‘Thisisn’tthinking,Ron,’saysIbrahim.‘Thisisjustalist.Sonoimpatienceplease.’
‘ImpatienceisallIgot,’saysRon.‘It’smysuperpower.YouknowArthurScargilloncetoldmetobepatient?ArthurScargill!’
‘SooneoftheseseventypeoplekilledIanVentham.NowtheseareniceroddsthantheThursdayMurderClubusuallyfaces,butcanwenarrowdownthefieldstillfurther?’
‘Itwouldhavetobesomeonewithaccesstoneedlesanddrugs,’suggestsJoyce
‘That’severyonehere,Joyce,’saysElizabeth.
‘Quiteso,Elizabeth,’agreesIbrahim.‘IfImightbepermittedavisualimage,thatwouldbelikelookingforaneedleinahaystackmadeentirelyofneedles.’
Ibrahimpauses,undertheassumptiontheremightbeapplauseatthispoint.Initsabsence,hecontinues.
‘Now,theinjectionwouldbetheworkofasplitsecondtoanyoneexperiencedinintramuscularinjections,which,again,isallofus.Butthedrugwouldneedtobeadministeredatveryclosequarters.So,Ihavedeletedthenamesofanyoneweknow,forafact,wasneverincloseproximitytoIanVentham.Thatlosesalotofthesupportingcast.Thefactthatmanyofthecrowdsufferfromseveremobilityissueshasplayedintoourhandshere,asweknowtheycouldn’thavemanagedaquickdashwhennoneofuswerelooking.’
‘NoZimmers,’agreesRon.
‘WeloseeightnamesonZimmerframesalone,’agreesIbrahim.‘Mobilityscootersarealsoourfriendshere,asarecataracts.Therearealsomanypeople,suchasStephen,Ihopeyouagree,Elizabeth,whoneverfoundthemselvesclosetoIanVenthamonthatmorning.Theyarestruckfromthelist.Also,threeresidentswerepadlockedtothegateuntilsomeonethoughttocallthefirebrigade,sometimelaterintheday.Andsoherewefindourselves.’
Ibrahimturnsoverthetopsheetoftheflipcharttorevealalistofnames.
‘Thirtynames.Ourselvesincluded.Andoneofthemisthekiller.Ipauseonlytonotethat,alphabetically,bysurname,Iamfirstonthelist.’
‘Welldone,Ibrahim,’saysJoyce.
‘Sothat’sthelist,’saysElizabeth.‘AndI’mguessingit’snowtimeforthethinking?’
‘Yes,Ithinkbetweenuswecantrimdownthelistalittlefurther,’saysIbrahim.
‘Whowantedhimdead?’saysRon.‘Whogained?DidthesamepersonkillCurranandVentham?’
‘Funnytothink,isn’tit?’saysJoyce,wipingcrumbsfromthefrontofherblouse.‘Thatweknowamurderer?Imean,wedon’tknowwhoitis,butweknowwedefinitelyknowone.’
‘It’sbrilliant,’agreesRon.Heisconsideringbiscuitthree,butknowsthere’snowayhewouldgetawaywithit.
‘Well,wehadbettergetstarted,’saysIbrahim.‘ConversationalFrencharedueinattwelve.’
57
‘Whichmeans,’saysChrisHudson,‘thatthefentanylmusthavebeenadministeredbysomeonewhowastherethatmorning.So,onewayoranother,wealreadyknowourkiller.Today,weworkonafulllistofeveryonewhowasthere,whichwon’tbeeasy,butthesoonerwehaveit,thesoonerwe’llhavethekiller.Andwhoknows,maybeTonyCurran’skillertoo.UnlessVenthamkilledCurranandthiswasretaliation.’
Donnachancesaquickpeekoutofthebriefing-roomwindow.Heruniformedcolleague,Mark,isputtingonabicyclehelmet,perfectlycomplementinghismoroseexpression.Donnasipshertea–murdersquadtea–andthinksaboutsuspects.ShethinksaboutFatherMackie.Whatdotheyreallyknowabouthim?ThenshethinksabouttheThursdayMurderClub.Theywereallthere.AllsurroundingVenthamatonepointoranother.Shecouldimaginethemeach,intheirownparticularway,beingamurderer.Hypothetically,anyway.Butactually?Shecouldn’tseeit.Theywouldcertainlyhaveaview,though.Donnashouldprobablyheadoverandseethem.
‘Inthemeantime,’continuesChris,openinganotherfolder,‘Ihavesomeotherfunjobsforyou.IanVenthamwasnotapopularman.Hisbusinessdealingswerecomplicatedandwide-reachingandhisphonehasrevealedalistofaffairs,whichmusthavebeenprettytiringforhim.Tellyourlovedonestheywon’tbeseeingmuchofyouforawhile.’
Lovedones.Donnathinksaboutherex,Carl,thenrealizesshehasn’tthoughtaboutCarlforagoodforty-eighthours,whichisanewrecord.Thoughshehasthoughtabouthimnow,whichspoilsitalittle.Sherealizes,though,thatsoonshewon’tthinkabouthimforninety-sixhours,andthenaweek,andbeforeyouknowitCarlwilljustseemlikeacharacterfromabooksheonceread.Really,whyhadsheleftLondon?Whathappenswhenthesemurdersaresolvedandshe’sbackinuniform?
‘Andtherestofyou,nolet-upontheTonyCurrancase.Thetwocouldbeconnected,wecan’truleitout.Westillneedthespeed-camerainfo.IparticularlywanttoknowifIanVentham’scarwasonthatroadthatafternoon.IneedtoknowwhereBobbyTannerisandIneedtoknowwhotookthatphotograph.AndIstillneedtheinformationonthephonenumberthatcalledCurran.’
WhichremindsDonnaofalittlehunchshehasbeenmeaningtocheck.
58
ElizabethisbackinWillows,sittinginherlowchairinPenny’sroom.SheisfillingPennyinonthedrama.
‘Simplyeveryonewasthere,Penny.Youwouldhavebeeninyourelement,swingingyourtruncheonandarrestingeveryoneinsight,nodoubt.’
ElizabethlooksoveratJohn,inthechairwherehespendsmostofhiswakinghours.‘I’mguessingyoufilledPennyinonthedetails,John?’
Johnnods.‘Imayhaveoverstatedmyownbraveryalittle,butotherthanthat,itwaschapterandverse.’
Elizabeth,satisfied,pullsanotepadandballpointfromherhandbag.Shetapsapageofthenotepadwithherpen,likeaconductorgivingnoticetoherorchestra,andbegins.
‘So,wherearewe,Penny?TonyCurranisbludgeonedtodeath,byperson,orpersons,unknown.Asasidenote,Iwillnevertireofsaying“bludgeoned”.Ibetyouusedtosaythatalotinthepolice,youluckything.NowIanVentham,meanwhile,dieswithinsecondsofbeinginjectedwithahugedoseoffentanyl.Youknowfentanyl,John?’
‘Ofcourse,’saysJohn.‘Useditallthetime.Anaesthetic,mainly.’
Johnthevet.ElizabethremembersthefoxthatJohnnursedbacktohealthwithRon.Oncehealthy,ithadgoneontomurderElaineMcCausland’schickens.Notproven,buttherewerenoothersuspects.Ronhadtakenalotofgriefforitatthetime,whichhadpleasedhimenormously.
‘Howeasywoulditbetogetholdofit?’asksElizabeth.
‘Forsomeonehere?’Johnstarts.‘Well,noteasy,butnotimpossible.Pharmacieswouldhaveit.Youcouldbreakinhere,Isuppose,butyou’dhavetobeverydetermined,orverylucky.Andyoucangetitontheinternet.’
‘Goodness,’saysElizabeth.‘Canyou?’
‘Thedarkweb.IreadaboutitinTheLancet.Youcangetallsorts.Arocketlauncher,ifyoureallywantedone.’
Elizabethnods.‘Andhowwouldonegoaboutgettingonthedarkweb?’
Johnshrugs.‘Well,I’mguessing,butifitwereme,thefirstthingIwoulddowouldbetobuyacomputer.Perhapsgofromthere?’
‘Mmm,’saysElizabeth.‘Mightbeworthcheckingwhohasacomputer.’
‘Youneverknow,’agreesJohn.‘Itwouldcertainlynarrowitdown.’
ElizabethturnsbacktoPenny.Howunfairtoseeherlyingthere.‘Onemanbludgeoned,Penny,theotherpoisoned.Butbywhom?IfVenthamwaskilledstraightaway,thensomebodyouttherethismorningkilledhim.MeorJohn.OrRonorIbrahim?Or…whoknows?Ibrahimhasalistofthirtynamesonaspreadsheet,tostartusoff.’
Elizabethlooksatherfriendagain.Shewantstowalkoutofthedoorwithherrightnow,arminarm.Shareabottleofwhite,listentoherswearlikeadockeraboutsomeimaginedslightandswayhomehappyandtipsy.Butthatwillneverhappenagain.
‘IalwaysfinditpeculiarthatIbrahimdoesn’tcomeandvisityou,Penny.’
‘Oh,hedoes,’saysJohn.
‘Ibrahimvisits?’saysElizabeth.‘He’sneversaid.’
‘Likeclockwork,Elizabeth.Everydayhebringsamagazineandsolvesbridgepuzzleswithher.Hetalksthemthrough.Theysolveapuzzle,hekissesherhandandoffhepopshalfanhourlater.’
‘AndRon?’asksElizabeth.‘Doeshevisit?’
‘Never,’saysJohn.‘Isupposeit’snotforeveryone,Elizabeth.’
Elizabethnods.Shesupposessotoo.Backtobusiness.‘So,Penny,whowantstokillIanVentham?Andwhyattheverymomentdiggingwasabouttostart?Isuspectyourquestionmightbe,wholoseswhatifthedevelopmentgoesahead?Wouldn’tyouthink?IwanttotalktoyouaboutBernardCottleatsomepoint.Doyourememberhim?WiththeDailyExpressandthenicewife?Ifeellikethereisamotivethere,waitingtobewinkledout.’
Elizabethstands,readytoleave.
‘Wholoseswhat,Penny?That’sthequestion,isn’tit?’
59
ChrisHudsonhashisownoffice,alittleboltholewherehecanpretendtowork.Thereisaspaceonhisdeskwhereafamilyphotographmightordinarilysitandhefeelsaprickofshameeverytimehenotesitsabsence.Perhapsheshouldhaveaphotoofhisniece?Howoldwasshenow?Twelve?Ormaybefourteen?Hisbrotherwouldknow.
SowhokilledVentham?Chriswasrighttherewhenithappened.Onewayoranother,heactuallywatchedhimbeingkilled.Whohadheseen?TheThursdayMurderClub,theywereallthere,thepriest.Theattractivewomaninthejumperandtrainers.Nowwhowasshe?Wasshesingle?Now’snotthetime,Chris.Concentrate.
HadthesamepersonmurderedVenthamandTonyCurran?Itmadesense.Solveone,solvetheother?
WhowerethethreecallstoTonyCurran’sphonefrom?Almostcertainlysomeonetryingtosellhimlifeinsurance,butyouneverknew.ChrisissurethatTonyCurran’sphonecouldtellallsortsoftales.Humanrightsareallwellandgood,butChriswouldlovetotapthephoneofeverysinglepersoninFairhavenwholookedevenabitsuspicious.Liketheydoinprison.
HeremembersanarmedrobbercalledBernieScullionwhoranoutofmoneyinParkhurst,butwantedtobuyhimselfaPlayStation,sophonedhisuncleandtoldhimwherehe’dburiedhalfamillionpounds.ThepolicehadthemoneyandtheunclewithinthehourandBernienevergothisPlayStation.
ThereisaknockatthedoorandChrishasthebrief,disturbing,realizationthathehopesit’sDonna.
‘Come.’
Thedooropens.It’sDITerryHallet.Terrifyinglyefficient,handsomeinthatRoyalMarinewaythateveryoneseemedtolike,butalso,annoyingly,aniceguy.ChriswouldneverbeabletowearaT-shirtthattight.OnedayTerrywillhavethisoffice.Terryhasfourkidsandahappymarriage.Imaginethephotographshewillhaveonthedesk.ChriswisheshewasTerry,butwhoreallyknewwhatwentonathome?PerhapsTerryhadahiddensadness,perhapshecriedhimselftosleep?Chrisdoubtsit,butatleastit’ssomethingtoclingto.
‘Icancomeback?’saysTerryandChrisrealizeshehasbeenstaringathimforabeattoolong.
‘No,no,sorry,Terry,milesaway.’
‘ThinkingaboutIanVentham?’
‘Yep,’liesChris.‘Whathaveyougot?’
‘SorrytodragyoubacktoTonyCurran,butI’vegotsomethingIthinkyou’regoingtolike,’saysTerry.‘I’vegotacarthattooktwelveminutestotravelthehalfmilebetweenthetwospeedcameraseithersideofTonyCurran’shouse.Exactlytherighttimeframetoo.’
Chrislooksatthedetails.‘Soitstoppedsomewherebetweenthetwo?Nicelittleten-minutebreakforsomethingorother?’
TerryHalletnods.
‘AnythingelsearoundthereexceptTonyCurran’shouse?Somewhereyou’dstop?’
‘There’salay-by.Ifyouneededaslash.But…’
‘Longslash,’agreesChris.‘We’veallhadthem,butevenso.Andyou’verunthenumberplate?’
Terrynodsagain.Thensmiles.
‘Ilikethatsmile,Terry.Whathaveyougot?’
‘Youwon’tbelievetheregisteredowner,Guv.’
TerryslidesanotherpieceofpaperontoChris’sdesk.Christakesitin.
‘Well,thisisverygoodnews.Areyousureaboutthesetimings?’
TerryHalletnodsanddrumshisfingersonChris’sdesk.‘That’sourkiller,surely?’
Chrishastoagree.Timetogoandhaveachat.
60
BogdanhasseenwhereMarinalives,andnowisasgoodatimeasany.Shewillknowwhattodoaboutthebones;hesensedthatassoonashemether.Hehasbroughtherflowers.Notfromtheshopbutfromthewood,tiedthewayhismotherusedtotiethem.
Flat8.Hepressesthebuzzerandaman’svoiceanswers.ThissurprisesBogdan.Hehaskeptacloseeyeonherforawhileandnotseenaman.
Theexternaldoortotheflatsswingsopen.‘IamhereforMarina?ToseeMarina?’hesaysashewalksthrough.Thefirstdooroffthecarpetedhallwayswingsopenandheseesanelderlymaninpyjamasrunningacombthroughhisthick,greyhair.Maybehehasgotthiswrong?Eitherway,themanwillknowMarinaandcanpointhimintherightdirection.
‘IcomelookingforMarina?’saysBogdan.‘Ithinkmaybeshelivehere,butmaybeanotherflat?’
‘Marina?Ofcourse,ofcourse,comein,let’sgetthekettleonshallwe?Nevertooearly,isit?’saysStephen.
Withanarmaroundhisshoulder,themanushersBogdanin.BogdanisrelievedtoseeapictureofMarina,ayoungerMarina,onthehallwaytable.It’stherightflat.
‘Idon’tknowwheresheis,oldchap,butshewon’tbelong,’saysStephen.‘Probablyattheshopsorroundathermother’s.Sityourselfdownandlet’smakethemostofthepeaceandquiet,eh?Youplaychessatall?’
61
ChrisHudsonispullinghiscoatoverhisjacketasheleavesthestation.Heturnsasavoicebehindhimcallsout,‘Sir?’
ItisDonnaDeFreitas.Shecatchesupwithhim.
‘Whereveryou’regoing,IthinkI’vegotachangeofplanforyou,’saysDonna.
‘Idoubtit,PCDeFreitas,’saysChris.HestillcallsherPCDeFreitasatwork.‘I’mofftohavealittlechatwithsomeone.’
‘Only,Iwaslookingthroughthecalllogs,’saysDonna.‘AndIrecognizedthenumber.’
‘ThemobilethatcalledTonyCurran?’
Donnanods,thentakesoutascrapofpaperforChristosee.‘Rememberthis?JasonRitchie’snumber.He’stheonewhophonedTonythreetimesonthemorningofthemurder.Isthisworthachangeofplan?’
ChrisholdsupafingertosilenceherandtakesthepieceofpaperTerryHallethadhandedhimfromhisjacketpocket.HepassesittoDonna.‘Vehiclerecords,fromthedayofthemurder.’
DonnareadsandthenlooksupatChris.
‘JasonRitchie’scar?’
Chrisnods.
‘JasonringsTonyCurranthatmorning.Jason’scarisoutsideTony’shousewhenhedies.Sowe’regoingtoseeJason?’
‘Maybejustmethistime,’saysChris.
‘Idon’tthinkso,’saysDonna.‘Firstly,I’myourshadow,whichisasacredbondoftrustetcetera,etcetera.Andsecondly,Ijustsolvedthecrime.’
ShewavesJason’sphonenumberathim.
Chriswavesthevehiclerecordsather.‘Isolveditfirst,Donna.SoI’mjustgoingtopayhimaquickvisitathome,alone,andseeifhewouldn’tmindansweringacoupleofquestions.Verylowkey.’
Donnanods.‘Goodidea.He’snotathome,though,Icheckedalready.’
‘Thenwhereishe?’
‘Ifyoutakemealong,I’llshowyou,’saysDonna.
‘AndwhatifIorderedyoutotellmewherehewas?’asksChris.
‘Well,youcantry,’saysDonna.‘Seewhereitgetsyou?’
Chrisshakeshishead.‘Comeon,then,youcandrive.’
62
NeitherChrisnorDonnahadknownthatMaidstonehadanicerink.WhyonearthdidMaidstonehaveanicerink?Thathadbeenalargepartoftheconversationonthedrivethere.ThiswasafterDonnahadaskedChristoturnoffhiscompilationofearlyOasisB-sides.
Bitbybit,DonnawasintentondraggingChrisfromhiscenturyintohers.
ThemysteryhadnotbeensolvedwhentheypulledupoutsideIce-Spectacular.Howwasanyonemakingmoneyoutofanicerink,justoffaringroad,sandwichedbetweenatilewarehouseandaCarpetright?
Chriswouldoftentellfriendsthatiftherewasabusinessintheirneighbourhoodthatdidn’tmakeanysense,whichhadnocustomers,thenitwasafrontforadrugsbusiness.Always.Norealcustomersneeded,norealprofitneeded,justawayofwashingmoney.Everytownhadone,tuckedawaysomewhereonalittlerowofshops,orintherailwayarches,orsatnexttoaCarpetright.Whetheritwasawaxingparlour,orapartylightshireshoporanicerinkwithaneonsignthatlastlitupin2011.
Alwaysafront,alwaysdrugs,thoughtChrisasheclosedthepassengerdoorofhisFocus.Whichseemedapt,givenwhoChrisandDonnawereheretosee.
Theywalkthroughthefrontdoors,acrossthesticky,carpetedfoyerandintothearena.Atthistimeofdayitismostlyempty,exceptforanelderlymanhooveringuppopcornfromrowsofplasticseatsandtwofiguresoutontheice.
AnyonewhohadseenJasonRitchieinhisprimewouldtellyouthesame.Hehadafluidstrength,hisfeetsimplyglidingaroundthering.Thosepowerfularmsarcingthroughtheair,orflickingforwardsinrib-rattlingjabs.Histinyfeintsanddips,eyesneverleavinghisopponent,hiswholebodyreadytopounceandstrike.Hewasn’taslugger,abigplankofwood,azombie.Hewasanathlete,strongandbrave,amagnificent,flowingmachine,everythinggiven,nothingwasted.Withhisgraceandhispoiseandhismovement,JasonRitchiewasbeautifultowatch.
However,asChrisandDonnasiponcoffees,watching,itbecomesapparentthatJasonRitchiecannoticedance.
Thesessionseemstobeover,asJasonisgingerlyskatingtowardsthesideoftherink,hiselbowbeingsupportedbyasmallwomaninapurpleleotard.Evenso,aboutametrefromthesweetsafetyoftheside,Jason’sleftskatedisappearsfromunderneathhim,slicesintohisrightskateandhistumblingweightistoomuchfortheladyintheleotardtosave.Thebigmanisdownagain.ChrisandDonnahavebeenwatchingforonlyamatterofminutes,buthavealreadylostcountofhisfalls.
Chrisleansovertheboardandoffersahand.ItisthefirsttimeJasonclocksthetwoofficers.Hehasbeenpreoccupied.HelooksChrisintheeyeashetakestheprofferedhandandfinallyreachesdryland.
‘Haveyougotfiveminutes,Jason?’asksChris.‘We’vecomeeversuchalongway.’
‘AreyouOK,Jason?’askstheladyintheleotard.
Jasonnodsandgesturesforhertogoonahead.‘Yeah,coupleofmates.I’mgoingtostopforachat.’
‘Well,look,I’mgoingtowritethisallupandsendittotheproducers,’saystheskater.‘You’renotalostcause,Ipromise!’
‘Darling,you’reasuperstar,thanksforputtingupwithmeandpickingmeupoffmyarse.’
‘Hopefullyseeyouontheshow!’saystheskaterandwavesasshedisappearsupthesteepstairsonhernarrowblades.
Jasoncollapsesontoamouldedplasticchair,whichbendsalittleunderhisweight.Hestartstounlacehisskates.
‘ThoughtImightseethetwoofyouagain.Yougotanotherphotoforme?’
‘Well,shallwedivestraightin?’startsChris.‘WhatwereyoudoingatTonyCurran’shouseonthedayhewasmurdered?’
‘Noneofyourbusiness,’saysJason.Henearlyhasthefirstskateoff,thoughit’sastruggle.
‘Butyouagreeyouwerethere?’asksDonna.
‘AmIunderarrest?’asksJason.
‘Notyet,’saysDonna.
‘Thenit’snoneofyourbusinessifIwasorIwasn’t.’Thefirstskateisfinallyoff.Jasonpuffslikehe’sgonethreerounds.
‘Justsoyouhavethefullpicture,’saysChris,pullingouthisphonefromhispocketandswipingitintolife.‘We’dbeentryingtofindIanVentham’scaronthetrafficcamerasnearTonyCurran’shouse.Aniceopen-and-shutcase.IanVenthamdidn’tvisitTonyCurranthatafternoon,butwefoundsomethingevenmoreinteresting.Thefirsttrafficcameracatchesyourcar,Jason,aboutfourhundredyardseastofTony’shouseatthreetwenty-sixandthenthenextcamera,theothersideofTony’shouse,catchesyouatthreethirty-eight.Soeitheryoutooktwelveminutestodrivehalfamile,oryoustoppedsomewhereinbetween.’
JasonlooksatChrisverycalmly,thenshrugsandstartsonhisrightskate.
‘OK,I’vegotonetoo,’saysDonna.‘ThedaythatTonyCurranwasmurdered,didyouringhim?’
‘Don’tremember,I’mafraid.’Jasonispickingatwhatseemstobeanimpossibleknotinhislaces.
‘You’drememberthatthough,Jason,wouldn’tyou?’asksDonna.‘RingingTonyCurran?Oneoftheoldgang,wasn’the?’
‘Neverbeeninagang,’saysJason,finallymakingabreakthroughwiththeknot.
Chrisnods.‘Buthere’sourissue,Jason.AmysterynumberphonesTonyCurranthreetimesonthemorningofhisdeath.Anumberwecouldn’ttrace,thankstoVodafoneandtodataprotectionlegislation.Butanumberthat,thankfully,youhadpersonallywrittendownandhandedtoPCDeFreitas.Soyournumber,Jason.’
Jasonfinallyhasthesecondskateoff.Henods.‘Thatwassillyofme.’
‘Andthen,thatveryafternoon,youaredrivingalongtheroadoutsideTonyCurran’shouse,atwhichpointyoustoptoperformsomesortoferrand,whichtakesaroundtenminutes.AttheexacttimethatTonyCurranwasmurdered.’ChrislooksatJasonforaresponse.
‘Yep.Soundslikeyou’vegotyourselfamysterythere,’saysJason.‘NowI’vegottheseskatesoff,I’mgoingtoheadback.’
Jasonstands.ChrisandDonnadotoo.
‘Iwonderifyou’dliketocomeinandgiveussomefingerprintsandabitofDNA?’saysChris.‘Justtoeliminateyoufromourinquiries?Wecouldeliminateyoufromtwomurdersatonce.Thatwouldbenice.’
‘Youshouldprobablyaskyourselfwhyyoudon’thavemyprintsandDNAalready,’saysJason.‘MaybebecauseI’veneverbeenarrestedforanything?’
‘Neverbeencaught,Jason,’saysChris.‘That’sdifferent.’
‘Beinterestingtohearamotivetoo,’saysJason.
‘Robbery?’saysChris.‘Manlikethathasalotofmoneylyingaround.Yougotanymoneyworriesatthemoment?’
‘Ithinktime’suphere,don’tyou?’saysJason,startingtoclimbthestairstothechangingroom.ChrisandDonnadon’tfollow.
‘OrareyoudoingCelebrityIceDancefortheprestige,Jason?’asksDonna.TowhichJasonturnsandgivesagenuinesmile.Thenraiseshismiddlefinger,turnsagainandcontinuestowardsthedressingroom.
ChrisandDonnaseehimdisappear,thensitbackdownontheirplasticchairsandlookoutovertheemptyice.
‘Whatdoyoumakeofthat?’asksChris.
‘Ifhedidit,whyonearthwouldheleaveaphotowithhiminitbythebody?’asksDonna.
Chrisshakeshishead.‘Perhapssomepeoplearejuststupid?’
‘Hedoesn’tseemstupid,’saysDonna.
‘Agreed,’agreesChris.
63
Fromoutside,Elizabethcanimmediatelyseethatsomethingiswrong.ThecurtainsinStephen’sstudyareopen.Theyarealwaysclosed.Stephendoesn’tliketheglareofthemorningsunwhenhewrites.
Herbrainmakesallofthenecessarycalculationsinasecond.HasStephenwokenandbrokenhisroutine?Ishehurt?Lyingonthefloor?Alive?Dead?
Orhassomeonebrokenin?Someonefromherpastlife?Itdoeshappen,evennow.Shehasheardofithappening.Orperhapssomeonefromthemessypresenthaspaidheravisit?
ElizabethcirclestothefiredooratthebackofLarkinCourt.ItisimpossibletoopenfromtheoutsidewithoutapieceofkitavailableonlytotheFireService.Elizabethopensitandslidesinside.
Herfeetmakenosoundonthecarpetedhallway,buttheywouldhavemadenosoundontheconcretewalkwayofanEastGermandetentioncentre.ShetakesoutherkeysandcoatstheYaleinlipbalm.ItmakesnonoisewhensheinsertsitinthelockandElizabethopensthedoorasquietlyasshecan.Whichisveryquietly
IfthereissomeoneintheflatElizabethknowshertimemaybeup.Holdingherkeyringinthepalmofherhand,sheslidesadifferentkeythrougheachofthegapsinherfist.
Stephenhasnotcollapsedinthehallway,thatisnewsatleast.Hisstudydoorisopen,morningsunstreamingin.Shefeelsamomentaryshameatthebrightdustdancinginthedoorway.
‘Checkmate,’saysavoicefromthelivingroom.AneasternEuropeanvoice.
‘WellI’mdamned,’repliesStephen.
Elizabethslipsherkeysbackintoherbagandopenstheliving-roomdoor.StephenandBogdansitacrossthechessboardfromeachother.Theybothsmiletoseeher.
‘Elizabeth,lookwhoitis!’saysStephen,gesturingtoBogdan.
Bogdanhasamomentofconfusion.‘Elizabeth?’
‘Hecallsmethat.Hegetsthingswrong.’ToStephen,‘It’sMarina,dear,remember.’Thisdoesn’tfeelwonderful,butneedsmust.
‘Likethemansaid,’agreesStephen.
BogdanhasrisenfromhischairandextendshishandtowardsElizabeth.‘Ibroughtyouflowers.Yourhusbandhasputthemsomewhere.I’mnotsurewhere.’
Stephenisexaminingtheend-gameonthechessboard.‘Thebuggergotme,Elizabeth.Fairandsquare.’
Elizabethlooksatherhusband,crouchedovertheboard,backtrackingmoves,clearlydelightedwiththetrapinwhichhehasbeencaught.Lifeintheolddogyet,then,thinksElizabeth,andfallsinloveagainforthethousandthtime.Sherepeats.‘It’sMarina,darling.’
‘IcallyouElizabeth.IsOK,’saysBogdan.
‘Hefixedthelightinmystudytoo,dear,’saysStephen.‘Wehaveamarvelonourhands.’
‘That’sverykindofyou,Bogdan.I’msorrywe’renotascleanaswemightbe.Wedon’tgetguests,sosometimes…’
BogdanplaceshishandonElizabeth’supperarm.‘Youhaveabeautifulhome,Elizabeth,andawonderfulhusband.IwonderifIcanspeaktoyou?’
‘Ofcourse,Bogdan,’saysElizabeth.
‘Icantrustyou?’asksBogdan,staringdeepintoElizabeth’seyes.
‘Youcantrustme,’saysElizabeth,hereyesneverleavinghis.
Bogdannods.Hebelievesher.
‘Canwegoforawalk?YouandI?Thisevening?’
‘Thisevening?’asksElizabeth.
‘Ihavesomethingtoshowyou.Isbesttowaittilldark.’
ElizabethstudiesBogdan.‘Somethingtoshowme?Anyclues?’
‘Yes.Itissomethingyouwillbeinterestedtosee,’saysBogdan.
‘Well,I’llbethejudgeofthat,’saysElizabeth.‘Andwherewillwebewalking,Bogdan?’
‘Tothecemetery,’saysBogdan.
‘Thecemetery?’AslightshiverrunsdownElizabeth’sspine.Howwonderfultheworldcanbeattimes!
‘Imeetyouhere,’saysBogdan.‘Andwearwarmclothes,webethereforawhile.’
‘Ithinkyoucancountmein,’saysElizabeth.
64
Joyce
Yes,IknowIanVenthamisdead,andwewillgettothat,Ipromise.Butguesswhatelse?Joannaishere!
WetookourselvesdowntoFairhaveninhernewcar(Iwillcheckthemakeinamoment).WestoppedatAnythingwithaPulse.Iwasverycasualaboutit,butitwasanunqualifiedsuccess.Notawordofcomplaint,or,‘Noone’savegananymore,Mum,’or,‘TheydobetterbrowniesinaLebaneseshoproundthecornerfrommine,Mum.’Greentea,flapjack,macaroon.AndIdidn’tthinkI’dbesayingthat.
Shehasameetingdownthisway.Somethingtodowith‘optimization’.IfIthinkbacktothatgirlwhowouldeatherfishfingersandpotatowaffles,butscreambluemurderabouteatingherpeas,Ididn’timagineshewouldeverbehavingmeetingsabout‘optimization’.Whateveritis.
Theboyfriendishistory,aswe’dguessed.Didyouknowyoucanlockyourmobilephonesthesedays,sothatnoonecantakeapeek?Andyoucanunlockthemwithyourthumbprint?Anyway,hehadfallenasleeponthesofaoneeveningandshehadusedhisthumbtoopenhisphone.Onelookthroughhismessagesand,bythetimehewokeup,hissuitcaseswerepackedandinthehall.That’smygirl.
Nodetailsofthemessageswereforthcoming,butJoannastronglyhintedthatphotographswereinvolved.IlistentoenoughWoman’sHourtogetthegistofthat.Excusemylanguage,butthesillysod.
Wehadagiggleaboutit,soIdon’tthinkherheartisbroken.
IcanhearJoannagettingupfromanap,soI’llsaybyefornow.Youwouldn’tknowit,butI’vebeentypingquietly.
Mygorgeousbaby,happyandsleepinginmybed,andtwomurderstosolve.Whocouldaskformore?
Joannabroughtabottleofwinedownwithher.Thereissomethingspecialaboutit,butI’mafraidI’veforgottenwhatitis.Onedayshewillrealizethatsheisthesomethingspecial.Anyway,IinvitedElizabethovertohaveadrinkwithusthisevening,butshehas‘otherplans’.
Yourguessisasgoodasminethere.Somethingtodowiththemurderthough,youcanbetonthat.
(ADDITIONALNOTEADDEDLATER:ITISANAUDIA4)
65
ThepathupthehilltowardstheGardenofEternalRestisapaleribboninthedusklight.BogdanoffershisarmandElizabethtakesit.
‘Stephenisnotwell?’saysBogdan.
‘No,dear,he’snotwell.’
‘YouputsomethinginhiscoffeeIthink?Whenweleft?’
‘We’reallonpillsforsomething,dear.’
Bogdannods,heunderstands.
TheywalkpastthebenchwhereBernardCottlespendsmostofhisdays.ElizabethhasbeenthinkingsomemoreaboutBernard,hashadtointhecircumstances.Shealwaysgetsthesensationthatheiskeepingguardforthecemetery.Thathe’ssomehowatsentrydutyonhisbench.Hewon’tgoin,buthe’sneverfaraway.WhatdoesBernardloseifthedevelopmentgoesahead?Shewouldhavetospeaktohimatsomepoint,or,perhapsbetter,askRonandIbrahimtospeaktohim.WhichmightmeantiptoeingaroundJoyce.
‘Hehasn’tplayedchessinalongtime,Bogdan.Thatwasnicetosee.’
‘Heisgood.Hewasatoughplayerforme.’
TheyhavereachedtheirongatesoftheGardenofEternalRest.BogdanpushesoneofthemopenandguidesElizabeththroughintothecemetery.
‘Youmustbequitetheplayeryourself?’
‘Chessiseasy,’saysBogdan,continuingthewalkbetweenthelinesofgravesandnowflickingonatorch.‘Justalwaysmakethebestmove.’
‘Well,Isuppose,’saysElizabeth.‘I’veneverquitethoughtaboutitlikethat.Butwhatifyoudon’tknowwhatthebestmoveis?’
‘Thenyoulose.’Bogdanleadsheronforafewmorepacesbeforestoppingbyanoldgraveinthetopcorner.
‘YousaidIcantrustyou,OK?’saysBogdan.
‘Implicitly,’saysElizabeth.
‘EventhoughyouarereallycalledElizabeth,becauseIseebillsinthestudy?’
‘Sorry,’saysElizabeth.‘But,otherthanthat,implicitly.’
‘IsOK,whateveryouneedtodo.ButifIshowyousomething,youdon’ttellthepolice,youdon’ttellnoone?’
‘Youhavemyword.’
Bogdannods.‘YousitwhileIdig.’
ItisapleasanteveningtositonthestepsofastatueofJesusChrist,andElizabethwatchesveryhappilyasBogdan,overtoherleft,startsdiggingthegraveinthefainttorchlight.Shewonderswhathemighthaveuncovered.Whatsecretwasheabouttoreveal?Shegoesthroughthepossibilitiesinherhead.Themostobviousanswerwasmoney.Therewouldbeasuitcase,oracanvassportsbag,andBogdanwouldheaveitoutandlayitatherfeet.Banknotes,goldperhaps,ahaul,buriedbygoodnessknowswhoandgoodnessknowswhen.Andabighaultoo,orwhyhasBogdandraggedheruphereinthemiddleofthenight?Enoughforsomeonetokillfor?AcoupleofthousandandsurelyBogdanwouldjusthavetakenit?Finderskeepers,noharmdone.But,asuitcasefulloffifties,wellthatwould–
‘OK,youcomesee,’saysBogdan,standinginthegrave,spadenowoverhisshoulder.
Elizabethpushesherselfup,walksovertothegraveandseeswhatBogdansawthemorningthatIanVenthamwasmurdered.Shesupposesthatofallthethingstofindinagrave,abodyshouldbetheleastsurprising.ButasBogdan’storchplaysoverthebonesandthecoffinlidonwhichtheyrest,shehastoadmitthiswasn’twhatshehadbeenexpecting.
‘Youthoughtmoney,right?’saysBogdan.‘MaybeIfoundsomemoneyorsomethinganddidn’tknowwhattodo?’
Elizabethnods.Moneyorsomething.Bogdanisverygood.
‘Iknow.Sorry,nomoney.Wouldhavebeengood.Instead,bones.Bonesinsidethecoffin.Otherbones,differentbones,outsidethecoffin.’
‘Andyoufoundtheseyesterday,Bogdan?’asksElizabeth.
‘JustwhenIanwaskilled,yes.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Iwantedadaytothink.Maybeit’snothing,doyouthink?’
‘I’mafraidit’sprobablysomething,Bogdan,’saysElizabeth.
‘Yes,maybeissomething,’agreesBogdanglumly.
Elizabethsitsnowanddanglesherfeetintothegrave.Shelooksdownonthelidofthecoffin.‘Soyouopenedthecoffin?’
‘Ithoughtwasbest.Tocheck.’
‘Quiteright,’agreesElizabeth.‘Andyou’resureit’sadifferentbodyinthere?’
Bogdanjumpsintothegraveandpullsawaypartofthecoffinlid,exposingthebonesinside.‘Yes.Boneswherebonesshouldbe.Mucholder.’
Elizabethnodsandthinks.‘So,twobodies.Onewhereitbelongsandanother,muchnewer,whereitdoesn’tbelong?’
‘Yes.MaybeIshouldhavetoldpolice,butIdon’tknow.Youknowhowthepoliceare.’
‘Idoknow,Bogdan.Youdidtherightthingcomingtome.Atsomepointwemightneedtotalktothepolice,butnotyet,Ithink.’
‘Sowhatdowedo?’
‘Fillitbackin,Bogdan,ifyouwouldn’tmind?Justforthetimebeing.Givemesomethinkingtime.’
‘Idig,Ifillin,Idig,Ifillin.Whateveryouneed,untilthejobisdone,Elizabeth.’
‘Wearebirdsofafeather,Bogdan,’saysElizabeth,thinkingshemustcallAustin.He’llknowwhattodowithallthis.
Shelooksdowntowardsthelightsofthevillage.Mostlyoffnow,butIbrahim’slightisshiningbright.He’llbeworkingaway.Goodman.
ShelooksbackatBogdan,shovellingearthintothegrave,coveredindirtandsweat.Slidingabrokencoffinlidbackoveronebodywhilecarefullyavoidingdisturbinganotherbody.Shethinksthisisabsolutelythesortofsonshewouldliketohavehad.
66
‘Theyarebangatitallthetime,’saysRon.‘Alwayshavebeen.Whateveritis,theCatholicChurchwillhaveapieceofit.’
‘Evenso,’saysIbrahim.
IbrahimandRonarediscussingwhomighthavemurderedIanVentham.
Theyareworkingtheirwaythroughthelistofthirtynames,weighingupthepossibilities.Itisjusttheboysthisevening.JoycehasJoannastayingandElizabethwasnowheretobefound.Which,atthistimeoftheevening,wassuspicious,buttheyhavechosentocarryonregardless.
Ronisinsistingonmarkingeveryoneoutoften,andthemorewhiskyhedrinks,thehigherhisscoresareclimbing.MaureenfromLarkinhadjustscoredaseven,largelybecauseshehadoncepushedinfrontofRonatdinner,which‘spokeathousandwords’.
‘FatherMackie’sourfirstten,Ibbsy,writeitdown.Topofthelist.He’llhavesomethingburiedupinoneofthegraves.Guaranteed,nailedon.Gold,orabody,orporn.Allthree,knowingthatlot.He’sworriedthey’lldigitup.’
‘Seemsunlikely,Ron,’saysIbrahim.
‘Well,youknowwhatSherlockHolmessaid,oldson.Ifyoudon’tknowwhodidit,then…somethingorother.’
‘Indeed,wisewords,’saysIbrahim.‘AndFatherMackiewouldn’tjusthavedugituphimself,Ron?Atsomepoint?Tosavehimselftheworry?’
‘Losthisspade,Idunno.Markmywordsthough,’saysRon,thoseverywordsbeginningtoslurgentlyandwarmly.Latenights,whisky,somethingtosolve,thiswasthelife.‘It’satenfromme.’
‘ThisisnotStrictlyComePoisoning,Ron.’IbrahimstronglydisagreeswithRon’smarkingsystem,butwrites‘10’nexttoFatherMackie’sname.Asithappens,IbrahimalsostronglydisagreeswiththeStrictlyComeDancingscoringsystem,believingitgivestoomuchweighttothepublicvotewhencomparedtothejudges’scores.HeoncewrotealettertothiseffecttotheBBCandreceivedafriendly,butnon-committal,reply.Helooksatthenextnameonthelist.
‘BernardCottle,Ron.Whatdowethinkthere?’
‘Anotherofthebiggunsforme.’TheiceinRon’swhiskychimesashegestureswithhisglass.‘Seehowhewasthatmorning?’
‘Hehasbecomeincreasinglyagitated,Iagree.’
‘Andweknowhesitsuptherealot,onthatbench,likehe’smarkinghisterritory,’saysRon.‘Usedtosittherewithhiswife,didn’the?Sothat’swherehegetshispeace,innit?Youcan’ttakethatawayfromaman,especiallyourage.Toomuchchangedon’tsitright.’
Ibrahimnods,‘Toomuchchange,yes.Therecomesatimewhenprogressisonlyforotherpeople.’
ForIbrahimoneofthebeautiesofCoopersChasewasthatitwassoalive.Sofullofridiculouscommitteesandridiculouspolitics,sofullofarguments,offunandofgossip.Allthenewarrivals,eachonesubtlyshiftingthedynamic.Allthefarewellstoo,remindingyouthatthiswasaplacethatcouldneverstaythesame.Itwasacommunityand,inIbrahim’sopinion,thatwashowhumanbeingsweredesignedtolive.AtCoopersChase,anytimeyouwantedtobealone,youwouldsimplycloseyourfrontdoorandanytimeyouwantedtobewithpeople,youwouldopenitupagain.Iftherewasabetterrecipeforhappinessthanthat,thenIbrahimwasyettohearit.ButBernardhadlosthiswife,andshowednosignsoffindingawaythroughhisgrief.AndsoheneededtositonFairhavenPier,oronabenchonahill,andnobodyeverneededtoaskwhy.
‘Whereisyourplace,Ron?’asksIbrahim.‘Wheredoyoufindyourpeace?’
Ronpurseshislipsandchuckles.‘Ifyou’daskedmeaquestionlikethatacoupleofyearsagoI’dhavelaughedandleft,wouldn’tI?’
‘Youwould,’agreesIbrahim.‘Ihavesuccessfullychangedyou.’
‘Ithink,’startsRon,facealert,eyesalive,‘Ithink…’IbrahimseesRon’sfacerelaxashedecidestojustletthetruthcomeout,ratherthanthink.‘Honestly?I’mflickingthroughitallinmyhead,allthethingsyou’resupposedtosay.But,listen.Itmightbehereinthischair,withmymate,drinkinghiswhisky,darkoutside,withsomethingtotalkabout.’
IbrahimknotshishandstogetherandletsRontalk.
‘Justthinkofeveryonewhoisn’there,Ibbsy.Everybuggerwhodidn’tmakeit?Andhereweare,aboyfromEgyptandaboyfromKent,andwemadeitthroughitall,andthensomeoneinScotlandmadeusthiswhisky.That’ssomething,isn’tit?Thisistheplace,isn’tit,oldson?Thisistheplace.’
Ibrahimnodsandagrees.Hisplaceofpeaceisactuallythewalloffilesdirectlybehindhim,buthedoesn’twanttospoilthemoment.Ronhasstoppedspeaking,andIbrahimcanseehehasgonesomewhereverydeepinsidehimself.Losttomemories.Ibrahimknowstokeepquiet,toletRongowhereheneedstogo.Tothinkwhatheneedstothink.SomethingIbrahimhasseensomanytimesovertheyears,withpeopleinthatveryarmchair.Itishisfavouritethingabouthisjob.Seeingsomeonegodeepinsidethemselvestoaccessthingstheyneverknewwerethere.Rontiltshisheadup;heisreadytotalkagain.Ibrahimleansforward,justatouch.WherehasRonjustbeen?
‘DoyouthinkBernardisbangingJoyce,Ibbsy?’saysRon.
Ibrahimleansback,justatouch.‘Ihaven’treallythoughtaboutit,Ron.’
‘Courseyouhave,Iknowyouhave.Psychiatrist.Ibetheis,luckysod.Allthatcakeandwhathaveyou.Couldyoustill,youknow,ifyouhadto?’heasks.
‘No,notforafewyearsnow.’
‘Same,same.Ablessinginsomeways.Iwasaslavetoit.Anyway,I’dsayhe’sanine,wouldn’tyou?OldBernard?Hewasthere,youcouldseehedoesn’twanttheplacebulldozed,andheworkedinscienceorsomethingdidn’the?’
‘PetrochemicalsIthink.’
‘Thereyouarethen,fentanyl.Nine.’
Ibrahimisinclinedtoagree.Bernarddoesnotseemtobelivingentirelyingrace.Hewritesa‘9’nexttoBernardCottle’sname.
‘Ofcourse,iftheyarebanging,Joycewon’tlikethatnine,’saysRon.
‘Joycehasthesameinformationthatwehave.Shewillalreadyknowhe’sanine.’
‘She’snofool,thatone,’agreesRon.‘Whataboutthatgirlfromthetopofthehill?Thefarmer’sgirlwiththecomputers?’
‘KarenPlayfair,’saysIbrahim.
‘Shewasthere,eh?’saysRon.‘Banginthemiddleofit.Probablyknowsathingortwoaboutdrugs.Pretty,too,andthat’salwaystrouble.’
‘Isit?’
‘Always,’saysRon.‘Tome,anyway.’
‘Motive?’asksIbrahim.
Ronshrugs.‘Affair?Forgetgraveyards,it’susuallyanaffair.’
‘Asevenperhaps?’saysIbrahim.‘Orperhapsasevenwithanasteriskandafootnoteexplainingthattheasteriskmeans“inneedoffurtherinvestigation”?’
‘Asteriskseven,’agreesRon,thoughwithapronunciationoftheword‘asterisk’verymuchhisown.‘Andthatjustleavesthefourofus,eh?Theonlyonesleftonthelist?’
Ibrahimlooksdownatthelistandnods.
‘Shallwe?’asksRon.
‘Youthinkthereisachanceoneofusdidit?’
‘Ididn’tdoit,that’sforsure,’saysRon.‘Theycanredevelopwhattheylike,morethemerrier,farasI’mconcerned.’
‘Andyetyouledtheobjectionsatthepublicmeeting,youlobbiedthecouncilandyoustartedthebarricade.Alldesignedtostoptheredevelopment.’
‘Ofcourse,’saysRon,asifhisfriendhaslosthismind.‘Noonetakeslibertieswithme.Andwhenelsedoyougetthechancetocauseabitoftroublewhenyou’renearlyeighty?But,mate,thinkoftheservicecharge,thenewfacilities.Probablywon’thappennow.NowayI’dhavekilledhim,that’dbecuttingoffmynose.Scoremeafour.’
Ibrahimshakeshishead.‘Yougetaseven.Youareverycombative,youarehot-headed,oftenirrational,youwerethereattheheartofthescuffleandyouareinsulin-dependent,soyouknowhowtouseaneedle.Thataddsup.’
Ronnods,fairenough.‘Allright,let’scallmeasix.’
Ibrahimtapshispenagainsthisbookseventimes,beforelookingup.‘Andyourson,Ithink,perhapsknewTonyCurranalittle.Whichaddsuptoseven.’
Ronisnolongerinhisplaceofpeaceandhisicecubesnowdanceadifferentjig.Heremainsquiet,ifnotcalm.‘Don’tbringJasonintothis,Ibrahim.Youknowbetterthanthat.’
Interesting,thinksIbrahim,butsaysnothing.‘Arewescoringourselves,Ron,orarewenotscoringourselves?’
Ronstaresathisfriendforalongwhile.‘Weare,weare,you’reright.WellifI’maseventhenyou’reaseventoo.’
‘That’sfine,’saysIbrahimandwritesitinhisbook.‘Anyreason?’
Somanyreasons,mate,Ronthinks.Heissmilingnow,thetensionbroken.‘Toosmartbyhalf,there’sone.Youmightwanttowritethesedown.You’reapsychopath,orsociopath,whicheveronethebadoneis.Terriblehandwriting,that’sasuresign.You’reanimmigrant,andwe’veallreadaboutthem.There’ssomepoorBritishpsychiatrist,awhitefella,sittingathomewithoutajobbecauseofyou.Also,perhapsyou’refuriousthatyourhairisthinning,peoplehavekilledoverless.’
‘Myhairisn’tthinning,’saysIbrahim.‘AskAnthonyaboutmyhair.Headmiresit.’
‘Youwerethere,rightinthethickofit,asusual.Andyou’reexactlythesortofpersoninafilmwhowouldcommittheperfectmurderjusttoseeifhecouldgetawaywithit.’
‘Thatiscertainlytrue,’agreesIbrahim.
‘PlayedbyOmarSharif,’addsRon.
‘Ah,soweagreeIhavehair.OKIamaseven.Now,JoyceandElizabeth.’
Ibrahimrelishesthethoughtoftalkinglateintothenight.OnceRongoes,alltherewillbetodoisread,tomakemorelists,thenforcehimselftolieonhisbedwaitingforasleepthatalwaystakestoolongtocome.Toomanyvoiceswantinghisattention.Toomanypeoplestilllostinthedark,askingforhishelp
IbrahimknowsheisusuallythelastpersonawakeinCoopersChase,andtonightheisgladtohavetheexcuseofcompany.Twooldmen,fightingagainstthenight.
IbrahimopenshispadagainandlooksoutofhiswindowtowardsJoyce’sflat.Darknesseverywhere.Thevillageisasleep.
Ofcourse,Elizabethistoomuchofaprofessionaltolethertorchbeamshowonherwalkbackdownthehill.
67
JasonRitchiesitsatacornertable,finishinghislunch.Monkfishandpancetta,bothlocallysourced.
Hedoesn’tknowquitewhattodo.
JasonissurprisedbythechangesintheBlackBridge.ItisnowagastropubcalledLePontNoir,withitsnamewritten,blackagainstgrey,inminimalistlower-casefont.SomeoftheroughedgeshavebeenreallybeenknockedoffFairhavenovertheyears,someofthedarkercornershavegone.
Youandmeboth,Jasonthinks,ashesipshissparklingwater.
Jasonisthinkingaboutthephotograph.Hewouldfeelalotsaferwithagun,andtwentyyearsagothatwouldhavebeeneasy.HewouldhavewalkedintotheBlackBridge,talkedtoMickeyLandsdowne,whowouldhaverungGeoffGoffand,beforehe’dfinishedhispint,akidonaBMXwouldhavedeliveredabrownparceltothesaloonbarandbeengivenapacketofcrispsandtwentyB&Hforhistroubles.
Simplertimes.
NowMickeyLandsdownewasinWandsworthforarson,andforsellingfakeViagraatcar-bootfairs.
GeoffGoffhadtriedtobuyFairhavenTownFC,losthismoneyinapropertycrash,madeanotherfortunesellingstolencopperandhadeventuallybeenshotdeadonajetski.
AnddidkidsevenrideBMXsanymore?
ThephotographliesinfrontofJasononthetable.TakenintheBlackBridgelongago.Inthedaysbeforepancettaandsourdoughbread.
Thegang,justlikeitwasyesterday.Laughingawayliketroublewasn’troundthenextcorner.
Eversincehesatdown,JasonhasbeentryingtoworkoutexactlywhereinthepubTonyCurranhadshotthatdrugdealerdownfromLondon,tryinghisluckinsleepyFairhaven.Inabout2000,wasit?Itwashardbecausetheyhadmovedawall,buthethinksperhapsitwasbythereclaimedfireplace,withthelocallysourcedlogs.
‘Coffee,sir?’Thewaitress.Jasonordersaflatwhite.
Jasonremembersthatthebullethadgonethroughtheguy’sstomach,straightthroughthepaper-thinwallandoutintothecarpark,whereitwentthroughthefrontwingofTurkishGianni’sCosworthRS500.Gianniwasgutted,youcouldseeit,butitwasTony,sowhatcouldhedo?
TurkishGianni.Jasonhasbeenthinkingabouthimalot.HeissureGiannihadtakenthephotographwhichhadbeenleftbythebody.Alwayshadthatcamerawithhim.Didthepoliceknow?HadGiannicomebacktotown?HadBobbyTannercomeback?WasJasonnextontheirlist?
TheboyTonyshothaddiedintheend.TheyhadoftencomedownfromLondoninthosedays.SometimessouthLondon,sometimesnorth;gangslookingtoexpand,tofindsoftnewmarkets.
Thewaitressbringshisflatwhite.Withanalmondbiscotto.
JasonstillrememberstheboyTonyhadshot.Hewasonlyakid.He’dofferedawrapofcoketoSteveGeorgiou,intheOakontheseafront.SteveGeorgiouwasaCypriotlad,usedtohangaroundonthefringesofthegang,neverlikedtogetinvolved,butwasloyal.Ownedagymnow.SteveGeorgiouhadsethimup,toldtheyoungdrugdealertotryhisluckattheBlackBridge.Whichtheboyhaddone,beforequicklyrealizinghisluckwasout.
Hewasbleedingalot,Jasonremembersthat,anditwasn’tfun,heremembersthattoo.Thinkingback,thekidmusthavebeenaboutseventeen,whichseemsyoungnow,butdidn’tatthetime.SomeoneputhiminBobbyTanner’soldBritishTelecomvan,andacabbieTonylikedtouseinthissortofsituationdrovehimouttothe‘WelcometoFairhaven’signontheA2102anddumpedhimthere.That’swheretheyfoundhimthenextmorning.Toolatefortheboy,hewaslongdead,buthe’dknowntherisks.Thecabbiegotshottoo,becauseTonythoughtyoucouldneverbetoocareful.
ThathadbeentheendofthingsforJason.Theendofitforallofthem,really.Itwasnolongeryoungmenmakingmoney,friendshavingfun,pretendingtobeRobinHood,orwhateverhehadthoughtitwasatthetime.Itwasbulletsanddeadbodiesandpoliceandgrievingparents.He’dbeenanidiot.He’dspotteditalltoolate.
BobbyTannerleftsoonafter.Hisyoungerbrother,Troy,haddiedonaboatintheChannel.Bringingdrugsin?Jasonneverfoundout.Giannididarunnertoo,straightafterthecabbiewasshot.Andthatwasthat.Justlikethat,withonebullet,thosedaysweregone.Andgoodriddancetothem.
TheysaytwobrothersfromStLeonardsnowrunthingsinFairhaven.Goodlucktothem,thinksJason.Stillkeepingitlocallysourced.
Hewalksovertothefireplace,thencrouches.Yep,thiswastheplaceallright.Herunshisfingeracrossthereproductionantiquetiles.Takethemoff,keepscrapingandyou’dfindalittleholeMickeyLandsdownehadfilledinandpaintedover,twenty-oddyearsago.Theonebulletthatchangedeverything.
Therewasnothingleftherenow,intheBlackBridge,withitsmemoriesandwithitsgreenteawithginseng.Alltheganggone.TonyCurran,MickeyLandsdowne,GeoffGoff.Where’sthatCosworthwithahole,now?Rustingsomewhereinafield?AndwherewasBobbyTanner?WherewasGianni?Howcouldhefindthembeforetheyfoundhim?
Jasonsitsbackdownandsipshisflatwhite.Well,hesupposes,heprobablyknowstheanswertothat.Hasknownitallalong.
Jasonsighs,dipshisbiscottointohisflatwhiteandcallshisdad.
68
‘IgotthephotoontheTuesdaymorning,’saysJasonRitchie.‘Hand-delivered,throughtheletterbox.’
FatherandsonaredrinkingfrombottlesofbeeronRon’sbalcony.
‘Andyourecognizedit?’asksRon.
‘Well,notthephoto,I’dneverseenthephotobefore.ButIrecognizedwhatitwas,whereitwas,allthat,’saysJason.
‘Andwhatwasit?Andwherewasit?Andallthat,’askshisdad.
JasontakesoutthephotographandshowsittoRon.
‘Hereyouare.It’sTonyCurran,BobbyTannerandme.ThethreeofusaroundthetableintheBlackBridge,that’swhereweusedtodrink.Remember,Itookyouthereonce,whenyoucamedown?’
Ronnodsandlooksatthephoto.Infrontofthelittlegang,thetableiscoveredincash.Thousands,twenty-fivegrandmaybe,allinnotes,justscatteredabout.Andtheboysalllookingpleasedaboutit.
‘Andwherewasthemoneyfrom?’asksRon.
‘Thattime?Noidea,itwasoneeveningoutofmany.’
‘Butdrugs?’askshisdad.
‘Drugs.Always,inthosedays,’confirmsJason.‘That’swhereIputmymoney.Tokeepitsafe.’
RonnodsandJasonholdsouthispalms,nodefence.
‘Andthepolicehavegotthephoto?’asksRon.
‘Yep,they’vegotplentymoreonmetoo.’
‘YouknowI’vegottoask,Jason?DidyoukillTonyCurran?’
Jasonshakeshishead.‘Ididn’t,Dad,andI’dtellyouifIdid,becauseyouknowthere’dhavebeenagoodreasonifIhad.’
Ronnods.‘Canyouproveyoudidn’tdoit?’
‘IfIcanfindBobbyTannerorGianni,thenIreckon.It’soneofthem.Icanunderstandsomeoneelseleavingthephotobythebody,youknow,redherringforthecopstofind.Butwhysendittometoo?UnlessBobbyorGianniwantmetoknowtheydidit?’
‘Andyou’renottalkingtothepolice?’
‘Youknowme.IthoughtI’dfindthemmyself.’
‘Andhow’sthatgoing?’
Well,that’swhyI’mhere,isn’tit,Dad?’
Ronnods.‘I’llcallElizabeth.’
69
DonnaandChrisareinFairhavenPoliceStation.InterviewSuiteB.
NotsolongagoDonnahadbeensittinginthisinterviewroomtalkingtosomeonepretendingtobeanun.Shenowsatinfrontofamanpretendingtobeapriest.Theparallelwasnotlostonher.
Donnaherselfhadmadethebreakthrough.JustafewbackgroundchecksonFatherMatthewMackie.Runhimthroughthecomputer,seewhatpoppedup.
Thebackgroundcheckshadtakenacoupleofdays,becausenothingatallhadpoppedup.Whichhadmadenosenseatall.SoDonnahadspentabitoftimepiecingittogether,workingoutwhatwaswhat,beforetakingtheinformationtoChris.Andnowheretheyallwere.
‘Ateverystepoftheprocess,MrMackie,’Chriscontinues.‘Ateverystep,youreferredtoyourselfas“Father”?Youintroducedyourselfas“Father”?’
‘Yes,’agreesMatthewMackie.
‘Evennow,you’rewearingadogcollar,areweagreed?’
‘Iam,yes.’Mackiefingersthedogcollarinconfirmation.
‘Andtherest.Thefullkit,ifyoulike?’
‘Thevestments,yes.’
‘Andyet,whenwestartlookingintoyou,whatdowefind,doyouthink?’
Donnawatchesandlearns.Chrisisbeinggentlewiththeoldman.Shewondersifhewillturn,givenwhattheyknow.
‘Ithink…well,Ithinkperhaps,possibly,theremayhavebeenamisapprehension.’ChrissitsbackandletsMatthewMackietalk.Whichhedoesinfitsandstarts.‘ForwhichIacceptmyshareoftheblame,andifyoufeelIhave…fallenshort,Isuppose,insomeway,myintentionswerenottomislead,butIseethatthat’showitmightlook,withoutallthe,uh,facts.’
‘Thefacts,MrMackie?’saysChris.‘Excellent!Let’sgetontothefacts.YouarenotFatherMatthewMackie,that’safact.YoudonotworkfortheCatholicChurch,oranychurch.That’sanotherone.Youare,andthishastakenafullfifteenminutesofresearchwiththelocalNHSTrust,DoctorMichaelMatthewNoelMackie?Canwehavethatoneasafacttoo?’
‘Yes,’admitsMatthewMackie.
‘YouretiredfromprivatepracticeasaGPfifteenyearsago.YouliveinabungalowinBexhilland,askingaroundthere,youdon’tevenattendMass.’
MatthewMackielookstothefloor.
‘Allfacts?’
Mackienodswithoutlookingup.‘Allfacts.’
‘Iwonderifyoucouldremovethedogcollarforme,MrMackie?’
Mackielooksup,anddirectlyatChris.‘No,I’llkeepitonifyoudon’tmind.UnlessI’munderarrest,whichyouhaven’tmentioned.’
NowChrisnods.HelooksoveratDonna,thenturnsbackanddrumshisfingersonthetable.Herewego,thinksDonna.IttakesalottogetChristodrumhisfingersonatable.
‘Amanhasjustdied,MrMackie,’saysChris.‘AndyouandIwatchedithappen,didn’twe?AnddoyouknowwhatIthoughtIsaw?IthoughtIsawamanpushingaCatholicpriest.ACatholicpriestprotectingaCatholicgraveyard.And,asapoliceofficer,thatpaintedthingsinacertainlightforme.Youunderstand?’
Mackienods.Donnaisstayingquiet.Thereisnothingshecanthinktoadd.ShewondersifChriswouldeverdrumhisfingersonatableather.Shehopesnot.
‘ButwhatdidIactuallysee?Iactuallysawamanpushingsomeoneimpersonatingapriest,forreasonsstillknownonlytohimself.Pushingaconman,whichiswhatyouare.Aconmanprotectingagraveyard?’
‘I’mnotaconman,’saysMatthewMackie.
Chrisholdsupahandtostophim.‘Momentsafterscufflingwiththisconman,thefirstmandropsdowndeadfromalethalinjection.Whichputsadifferentcomplexiononthings,especiallywhenwediscovertheconmanisadoctor.ButperhapsI’vemissedsomething?’
Mackieremainssilent.
‘I’mjustgoingtoaskyouagain,sir.Iwonderifyoucouldremovethedogcollarforme?’
‘Iamnotpresentlyafather,Igrantyouthat,’saysMackiewithalongsigh.‘ButIwas,andformanyyears.Andthatconfersprivilegesandthiscollarisone.IfIchoosetowearit,andifIstillchoosetocallmyselfFatherMackie,thenthatismybusiness.’
‘DoctorMackie,’saysChris,‘thisisamurdercase.Ineedyoutostoplyingtome.PCDeFreitasherehasbeenthrougheveryrecord.TheChurchhasbeenveryhelpful.Whateveryou’vesaidtous,whateveryousaidtothecouncil,toIanVentham,totheladieswhoprotectedthegate,youarenotapriestandyouneverwereapriest.Thereisnorecordanywhere,nodustyledger,nooldphoto.Ihavenoideawhyyouarelyingtous,butwehaveourselvesadeadbodyandwe’relookingforamurderer,soit’sprobablybestthatwefindoutquickly.IfI’mmissingsomethingimportant,Ineedyoutotellme.’
MackielooksatChrisforamoment,thinking.Thenshakeshishead.
‘Onlyifyouarrestme,’repliesMackie.‘Otherwise,I’dliketogohomenow.Andnohardfeelings,Iknowyouaredoingyourjob.’
MatthewMackiecrosseshimselfandstands.Chrisstandstoo.
‘Iwouldstay,DoctorMackie,ifIwereyou.’
‘Themomentyouchargeme,IpromiseIwill,’saysMackie.‘But,inthemeantime…’
DonnastandsandopenstheinterviewroomdoorforhimandMatthewMackietakeshisleave.
70
Itcanbeveryhardtosmokeinasauna,butJasonRitchieisgivingithisbestshot.
‘Areyousureyou’reOKwiththis,Dad?’heasks,sweatdrippingfromhisbrow.
‘Justtellthemeverything,’repliesRon.‘They’llknowwhattodo.’
‘Andyoureckonthey’llfindthem?’asksJason.
‘Ishouldhavethoughtso,’saysIbrahim,stretchedoutonalowerbench.
ThesaunadooropensandElizabethandJoyceenter,withtowelswrappedaroundswimsuits.Jasonputsouthiscigaretteinapileofhotash.
‘Well,thisisnice,’saysJoyce.‘Eucalyptus.’
‘Nicetoseeyou,Jason,’saysElizabeth,takingaseatoppositethehalf-nakedboxer.‘Ibelieveyouthinkthatwemightbeofusetoyou.Imustsay,Iagree.’
That’sitforpleasantries.ElizabethfixeshereyesonJason.
‘So?’
JasontellsElizabethandJoycethesamestoryhetoldhisdad.Acopyofthephotoispassedaroundthesauna.Ibrahimhashaditlaminated.
‘Igetthephoto,’confirmsJason,‘andI’m,like,what’sthisabout?Where’sthisfrom?Isthisthepapers?IsthisthefrontpageoftheSuntomorrow?That’swhatIwasthinking.Butthere’snomessage,nothing.There’snojournalistonthephone,andthey’vegotanumberforme,sowhat’sup?’
‘Andwhatwasup?’asksElizabeth.
‘Well,I’mthinking,doIringmyPR?Maybethey’vespokentoher.Iwasinshock,tobefair,thisistwenty-oddyearsago,thisphoto,andaworldI’dleftbehind.SoI’mreadytodenywhatever,orcomeupwithsomething,stag-do,fancydress,anythingtoexplainitaway.’
‘Ooh,that’sgood,’saysJoyce.
‘SothereIam,stilllookingathispicture,andsomethingclicks.Ithink,wellmaybethisisthegame.MaybeTony’sgotholdofthisphoto,famousboxer,surroundedbycash,jailbirdseverywhere.Hesendsmeacopy,lookingforabitofmoney.GivemetwentyK,whatever,andIdon’tgotothepapers.Fairenough,really,soIthink,yeah,Ishouldjustringhim,havealittlechat.Seeifwecanworksomethingout.’
‘WasTonyCurranthesortofmanwhomightblackmailyou?’asksElizabeth.
‘Tony’sthesortofmanwhomightdoanything,yeah.So,firstthingsfirst,Igetholdofanewphone,cheapone,intown.’
‘Afterwards,willyoutellmewhere,becauseI’mlookingforoneatthemoment,’saysIbrahim.
‘Ofcourse,MrArif,’saysJason.‘So,Iringhimonce,andnoanswer.Iringhimagain–same;leaveittwentyminutesandtryagain.He’sstillnotpickingup.’
‘Ineverpickupifit’sanumberIdon’trecognize,’saysJoyce.‘IsawthatonRogueTraders.’
‘Verywise,Joyce,’continuesJason.‘ThenIcamehereforaquickdrinkwithPopsandIsawthemanhimself,Curran,arguingwithVentham.’
‘Keepingallthisquietfromme,’saysRon,andJasonraiseshishandtoacknowledgeit.
‘SoaftermeandDadhadacoupleofbeers…’
‘Andme,’saysJoyce.
‘AndJoyce,’agreesJason.‘Afterthat,Iwentforalittledrive,justtodoabitofthinking.ThenIheadeddownthere,Tony’shouse,lovelyplace.Now,we’realwayscautiousaroundeachother,meandTony,toomanysecrets,butIwouldn’tbeathisfrontdoorwithoutareason.Hiscar’sonthedrive,sowhenthere’snoanswer,Ithinkhe’sseenmeonhissecurityanddoesn’tfancyachat.AndIdidn’tblamehim,soIrangthebellafewmoretimesandthenIleft.’
‘Andthisisthedayhedied?’asksJoyce.
‘Thedayhedied.Icouldn’thearanythingfrominside,soIdon’tknowifthatwasbeforeorafterorwhatever.Anyway,homeIgoandacoupleofhourslaterI’monthisWhatsAppgroup…’
‘AWhatsAppgroup?’asksElizabeth,butJoycewavesherawayandJasoncontinues.
‘Afewoftheoldfaces,andsomeonesaysTony’sbeenfounddeadathome.Igocold,youknow?IgetsentthephotothatmorningandTonydiesthatafternoon.Whichleavesmeworried.Imean,Icanlookaftermyself,butTonycouldlookafterhimselftoo,andseewherethatgothim?SoI’mnervous,that’snatural,andthenthepolicegetwindthatI’vebeentoTony’sandtheygetrecordssayingI’drungTony’sphonethatdaytoo.Andthey’vegotaphotoofmethatwasleftbythebody.Youcan’tblamethem,theythinkthatstinksandsowouldI.’
‘Butyoudidn’tkillTonyCurran?’asksElizabeth.
‘No,notme,’saysJason.‘ButyoucanseewhythepolicethinkIdid.’
‘Theircaseiscompelling,’agreesIbrahim.
‘Andyou’reheretoseeifwecanfindyouroldfriendforyou?’asksElizabeth.
‘Well,’saysJason,‘thewaymydadtellsit,howevergoodthepoliceare,youlotarebetter.’
Therearequietnodsallround.
‘Andit’soldfriends,’saysJason.‘There’stheladwhotookthephototoo.’
‘Andwhowasthat?’asksElizabeth.
‘TurkishGianni,thefourthmemberofourlittlegang.’
‘Andhe’sTurkish?’asksJoyce.
‘No,’saysJason.
Ibrahimnotesthisdown.
‘He’sTurkishCypriotandscarperedbackthereyearsago.’
‘IknowsomegoodoperativesinCyprus,’saysElizabeth.
‘Look,’saysJason.‘Youowemenothing.Lessthanthat.I’vedonenothinggoodhereandTonyneverdid.ButifBobbyorGiannikilledTony,thenthey’restilloutthere,andifthey’restilloutthere,thenwhynotmenext?Again,notyourbusiness,Iknow,butDadthoughtitmightbeupyourstreet,andI’mnotgoingtoturndownthehelp.’
‘So…whatdoyoureckon?’Ronasks.
‘Well,’saysElizabeth.‘Here’smytake.Theothersmightdisagree,thoughIsuspecttheywon’t.Thisisamessofyourownmaking.Andamessthatcamefromgreedandfromdrugs.Andthosearedownsidesforme.Butthereisanupsidetoo.AndthatisthatyouareRon’sson.AndIbelieveyouareprobablyright,IbelievewecanfindBobbyTannerandTurkishGianniforyou.Probablyquickly.Andwhateveryou’vedone,andwhateverwemightthinkofthat,Iwouldliketocatchamurderer.Beforethatmurderercatchesyou.’
‘Agreed,’saysJoyce.
‘Agreed,’saysIbrahim.
‘Thankyou,’saysJason.
‘Thankyou,’addsRon.
‘Notatall,’saysElizabeth,standing.‘Now,Iwillleaveyoutoyoursauna.Ihavetomakeafewcalls.Ron,Ineedtoseeyouatthegraveyardattenthisevening,ifyou’refree.JoyceandIbrahim,I’llneedyoutheretoo.’
‘Soundslovely.Wouldn’tmissit,’saysRon.Hissongiveshimaquestioninglook.
‘AndJason?’saysElizabeth.
‘Yes?’saysJason.
‘Ifthisisabluff,it’sahigh-riskone.Becausewewillcatchthismurderer.Evenifit’syou.’
71
‘Doyouneedahandtogetdownintothegrave?’asksIbrahim.
‘Yes,please,’saysAustin,‘thatwouldbeterriblykindofyou.’
BogdanhasborrowedanarclightanditistrainedonthegravehehadopenedonthemorningthatIanVenthamwasmurdered.Thegravethathadrevealedanextraoccupantontopofthecoffin.Askeleton,buriedwhereithadnorighttobeburied.
AustinholdsontoIbrahim’sarmandtakesastepdownintothegrave.Heiscarefulnottosteponthebonesscatteredonthelipofthecoffin.HelooksupatElizabethandchuckles.‘Thistakesmeback,Lizzie.RememberLeipzig?’
Elizabethsmiles,shecertainlydoesremember.Joycealsosmiles,becauseshehasneverheardElizabethcalledLizziebefore.Shewondersiftheotherscaughtit.
‘Whaddayathink,Prof?’asksRon,sittinghappilyatthefeetofourLordJesusChrist,anddrinkingfromacanofStella.
‘Well,Iwouldn’tordinarilyliketosay,’repliesAustin,raisinghisglassestogetacloserlookatthefemurheisnowholding,‘butifIwereagossip,amongfriends,ofcourse,Iwouldsaythesehavebeendownheresomewhile.’
‘Somewhile,Austin?’asksElizabeth.
‘Iwouldsayso,’considersAustin.‘Justbythecolouration.’
‘Andifyouwerebeingmorespecific?’asksElizabeth.
‘Well,goodness!’saysAustin.‘Ifyouwantmetobespecific,Iwouldsay…’Hetakesamomenttocalibratehisthoughts.‘Iwouldsayreallyquitesomewhileindeed.’
‘SotheycouldhavebeenburiedatthesametimeasSisterMargaret?’asksJoyce.
‘What’sthedateontheheadstone?’asksAustin.
‘Eighteenseventy-four,’readsJoyce.
‘Notachance.Thirty,forty,fiftyyearsperhaps,dependingonthesoil,butnotahundredandfifty.’
‘Soatsomepoint,’saysIbrahim,‘somebodyhasdugupthisgrave,buriedanotherbodyinitandthenfilleditinagain?’
‘Certainly,’agreesAustin.‘Youhaveyourselvesamystery.’
‘Anothernun,perhaps,Austin?’asksElizabeth.‘Anyjewellerydownthere?Anyfragmentsofclothing?’
‘Notathingonthisone,’saysAustin.‘Strippedbare.Ifitwasmurder,thensomeoneknewwhattheyweredoing.I’mgoingtotakeafewboneswithme,ifyoudon’tmind?’I’llhavealittlelookattheminthemorning,justtogiveyouaclearerpicture.’
‘Absolutely,Austin,takeyourpick,’saysElizabeth.
Bogdanblowsouthischeeks.‘Sowegottotellpolicenow?’
‘Oh,IthinkwecanprobablykeepthistoourselvesuntilAustingetsbacktous,’repliesElizabeth.‘Ifeveryoneagrees?’
Everyoneagrees.
‘Someonegivemeahandoutofthegrave,’saysAustin.‘Bogdan,oldchap?’
Bogdannods,butseemstowanttogetsomethingclearfirst.‘Listen,Ijustneedtosayonething.IsOK?IncasemaybeIgomad.Thisisnotnormal?Right?Anoldmaninagravelookingatbones.Someoneismurderedmaybe,butnoonetellsthepolice?’
‘Bogdan,youdidn’ttellthepolicewhenyoufirstdugupthebones,’saysJoyce.
‘Yes,butIamme,’saysBogdan.‘I’mnotnormal.’
‘Well,we’reus,’saysJoyce,‘andwe’renotnormaleither.AlthoughIdidusetobe.’
‘Normalisanillusoryconcept,Bogdan,’addsIbrahim.
‘Bogdan,trustus,’saysElizabeth.‘Wejustwanttofindoutwhosetheseremainsmightbeandwhoburiedthem,andthatwillbealoteasierwithoutthepolicepokingtheirnosesinuntilabsolutelynecessary.Ifthepolicehavethebonesfirst,youcanbetthatwillbethelastwehearaboutthem.Andthatseemsunfair,afterallourhardwork.’
‘Itrustyou,’saysBogdan,thenscrewsuphisfaceasathoughtoccurs.‘ThoughifitgoeswrongIbetit’smesenttoprison.’
‘Iwon’tletthathappen;you’retoouseful,’saysElizabeth.‘Now,pleasehelpAustinoutofthegraveandgrabthosebonesforme.IsuggestweallgobacktoJoyce’sforanicecupoftea.’
‘Splendid!’saysAustin,placinghisselectionofbonesonthelipofthegravebeforereachingoutforBogdan’sarms.
‘Youleadtheway,Lizzie,’saysRonandfinishesoffhiscanofStella.
72
Joyce
Therewasajollyatmosphere,andIcanunderstandthereasonswhy.Weeachofusunderstandwe’reinagangandweunderstandweareinthemiddleofsomethingunusual.Weunderstandalso,Ithink,thatwearedoingsomethingillegal,butwearepasttheageofcaring.Perhapsweareragingagainstthedyingofthelight,butthatispoetry,notlife.TherewillbeotherreasonsIhavemissedout,butIknowonthewalkbackdownthehillwefeltgiddy.Liketeenagersouttoolate.
ButwhenAustinlaidthepileofbonesonmydiningtable,whilewestillknewitwasanadventure,Ithinktheybegantohaveasoberingeffectonallofus.EvenRon.
Itisallverywell,theThursdayMurderClubandallourderring-do,andthefreedomofageandwhateverweliketotellourselves.Butsomeonehaddied,howeverlongagoitmighthavehappened,soitwasrighttopauseforreflection.
Therewasnowayaroundit,wecouldn’tconjureasinglegoodreasonwhytheextrabodywasthere.Oncloserinspection,fuelledbyorangedrizzlecake(Nigella),Austinwasfairlysurethatthebodywasaman,soitwasn’tanun.
Butwhowashe?Andwhohadkilledhim?Thefirststeptofindingouttheanswerswouldbetodiscoverwhenhehadbeenkilled.Thirtyyearsago?Fiftyyearsago?Therewasabigdifference.
Austinexplainedhewouldtakethebonesawayanddofurthertests.Aftereverybodyhadleft,IgoogledhimanditturnsoutheisaSir.Ican’tsayIwassurprised,hereallydidknowagreatdealaboutbones.Quitewhathemadeofstandinginagrave,attenatnight,inhiseighties,ishisbusiness,butIsupposeanyfriendofElizabethisprobablyusedtothesethings.Threesugarsinhisteatoo,thoughyouwouldn’tknowbylookingathim.
Andthenthebiggestquestionofall,ofcourse.You’llbeaheadofmehere.Hadthemotivebeenfoundforonemuchmorerecentmurder?Didsomeoneelseknowtheboneswerehiddenthere?WasIanVenthamkilledtoprotecttheGardenofEternalRestandthesecretofthosebones?
Wetalkedforaroundanhour,Isuppose.Werewerightnottoinvolvethepolice?Wewillhavetotellthemeventually,butthefeelingwasthatthisisourstory,ourgraveyard,ourhomeand,justforthetimebeing,wewantedtokeepitforourselves.AssoonaswegettheresultsfromAustinwewillhavetotellall,ofcourse.
Sowearetryingtosolvetwomurders,andpossiblythree,iftheskeletonwasmurdered.Or,Ishouldsay,iftheskeletonisofsomeonewhowasmurdered.Isaskeletonaperson?That’saquestionforgreatermindsthanmine.
IknowElizabethiskeentotrackdownBobbyandGianni,butweallagreedtheboneshavetotakeprecedencefornow.
IwonderifChrisandDonnaaremakinganyprogress?Wecertainlyhaven’theardiftheyare.Idohopethey’renotkeepinganythingfromus.
73
ChrisandDonnaarewalkingthethreeflightsofstairsuptoChris’soffice.Donnahaspretendedtobefrightenedoflifts,toforceChristowalk.
‘So,JasonRitchiefortheTonyCurranmurder,’saysChris.‘AndMatthewMackieforIanVentham?’
‘Unlesswe’remissingsomething,’saysDonna.
‘Iwouldn’tputthatpastus,’saysChris.‘So,let’sworkitthrough.WeknowMatthewMackiewasthereandweknowhe’saliar.He’sadoctor,notapriest.’
‘Soweknowhecouldgetholdoffentanylandhe’dknowhowtouseit,’saysDonna.
‘Agreed,’saysChris.‘Ithinkwe’vegoteverythingexceptamotive.’
‘Well,hedoesn’twantthegraveyardmoved,’saysDonna.‘Isthatenough?’
‘Notenoughtoarresthim.Unlesswefindoutwhyhedoesn’twantitmoved.’
‘Isimpersonatingapriestacrime?’asksDonna.‘SomeoneImetonTinderoncepretendedhewasapilotandtriedtogropemeoutsideanAllBarOne.’
‘Ibetheregrettedthat.’
‘Ipunchedhimintheballs,thencalledinhisregnumberandgothimbreathalysedonthewayhome.’
Theybothsmile.Butthesmilesarefleeting.BothknowtheyareindangeroflettingMatthewMackieslipbetweentheirfingers.Noevidencewhatsoever.
‘HaveyouheardanythingfromyourpalsintheThursdayMurderClub?’asksChris.
‘Notapeep,’saysDonna.‘Whichmakesmenervous.’
‘Metoo,’saysChris.‘AndIreallydon’twanttobetheonetotellthemaboutJasonRitchie.’
Chrispausesforamomentonthelanding.Pretendingtothink,butreallyjusttocatchhisbreath.
‘PerhapsMackie’sgotsomethingburiedinthegraveyard?’saysChris.‘Doesn’twantitdugup?’
‘Goodplacetoburysomething,’agreesDonna.
74
Joyce
HaveyoueverusedSkype?
Ihadn’tuntilthismorning,andnowIhave.Ibrahimsetitup,andsowehadgoneroundtohis.Hekeepshisflatsoclean,andIdon’tthinkhehasanyoneintodoit.
Therearefileseverywhere,butalllockedaway,soyoucanseethembutnotreadthem.Imaginethestoriesyoumusthearifyou’reatherapist.Whodidwhattowho?Orisit,whomdidwhattowho?Eitherway,Ibethe’sheardallsorts.
Austinrangattenonthedot,asyouwouldexpectfromaSir,andtolduswhatheknew.Wecouldseehimonscreen,andwetookitinturnstogointhelittleboxinthecorner.Itwashard,becausetheboxisverysmall,butIexpectyougetusedtoitifyoudoitafewtimes.
Thebodywasaman,whichhe’dalreadytoldus.Hehadagunshotwoundtothefemur.Austinheldituptoshowus.Wealltriedtogetintheboxforthatbit.Hadthatbeenthewoundthatkilledhim?Austinwouldn’tliketosayforcertain,butprobablynot.Apre-existinginjury.
Atonepointhiswifewalkedpastinthebackground.Whatmustshethink?Herhusbandholdingupbonestoacomputerscreen?Perhapssheisusedtoit.
Now,howmuchdoyouknowabouthowtotellhowoldbonesare?Iknewnothing,andAustinwentthroughthewholethingindetail.Itwasfascinating.Therewasamachine,andtherewasaspecialdye,andsomethingtodowithcarbon.ItriedtorememberthisallthewayhomesoIcouldwriteitdown,butI’mafraidit’sgone.Butitwasveryinteresting.HewouldbeverygoodonTheOneShowiftheyeverneededit.
He’dtakensomesoilwithhimtoo,anddonetestsonthat,butthesoilstuffwaslessinteresting.Backtothebones,please,Ihadbeenthinking.
Thelongandshortofit,though,isthatAustinhaddonesomemaths,andyoucan’tbecertain,andtherewerevariables,andnoonehasalltheanswers,andallhecouldreallydowasmakehisbestguess.AtthispointElizabethtoldhimtostopprattlingonandgettoit.Elizabethcangetawaywiththatsortofthing,eventoaSir.
Sohecameoutwithit.Thebodywasburiedsometimeinthe1970s,probablyearlierratherthanlater.Sofifty-oddyearsago,giveortake.
WethankedAustin,butthennooneknewhowtohangup.Ibrahimtriedforawhileandyoucouldseehewaslosingface.IntheendAustin’swifecametotherescuehisend.Sheseemslovely.
Sotherewehadit.Twopotentialmurdersfiftyyearsapart.Plentytochewonforeveryonethere.AndprobablytimetotellChrisandDonnawhatwehavedone.Ihopetheydon’ttakeittoopersonally.
ElizabeththenaskedifIwouldliketogotoacrematoriuminBrightonwithhertoday,onahunch,butIhadalreadysaidthatIwouldcooklunchforBernard,sonothingdoing.
Iknowyoucan’tsmellit,butI’mmakinghimsteakandkidney.Heisgettingthin,soI’mjustseeingwhatIcando.
75
DonnaandChrisarewaitingfortheirfreecoffeeattheWildBeanCaféinsidetheBPgarageontheA21.Anythingtogetoutofthestationforhalfanhour.TostoplookingattheendlessfilesfromtheIrishpassportoffice.Chrispicksupachocolatebar.
‘Chris,youdon’tneedthat,’saysDonna.
Chrisgivesheralook.
‘Please,’saysDonna.‘Letmehelp,Iknowit’shard.’
Chrisnodsandputsthechocolatebarback.
‘So,what’sinitforMackie?’asksDonna.‘What’stheconnectionwiththegraveyard?Whyprotectitifhe’snotapriest?’
Chrisshrugs.‘Perhapsit’sjustawayofgettingtoVentham?Perhapsthere’sanotherconnectionbetweenthem.HavewelookedatDoctorMackie’spatientlists?Youneverknow.’
Christhenpicksupacerealbar.
‘That’sevenworsethanachocolatebar,’saysDonna.‘Evenmoresugar.’
Chrisputsitbackdown.He’sgoingtobeforcedtoeatapieceoffruitatthisrate.
‘He’sdodgyashell,’saysChris.‘Allwe’remissingishismotive.’
Donna’sphonebuzzesandshereadsamessage.ShepursesherlipsandlooksupatChris.
‘It’sElizabeth.Shewondersifwemightliketopopoverthisevening.’
‘Ithinkthatmighthavetowait,’saysChris.‘Tellherwe’rebusysolvingtwomurders.’
Donnacontinuestoscrollthroughthemessage.‘Shesaysshehassomethingforus.Iquote“Pleasedonotreadanotherfileuntilyouhaveseenwhatwehavefound.Alsotherewillbesherry.Seeyouateight.”’Donnaputsherphoneinherpocketandlooksatherboss.
‘Well?’sheasks.
Well?ChrisslowlystrokeshisstubbleandconsiderstheThursdayMurderClub.Hehastofaceit,helikesthem.He’shappydrinkingtheirtea,eatingtheircakeandchattingofftherecord.Helikestheirrollinghillsandtheirbigsky.Washebeingtakenadvantageof?Well,almostcertainly,but,fornow,hewasgettingplentyinreturn.Wouldthisalllookverybadifitcameout?Yes,butitwon’t.And,ifitdid,whynotjusttakeElizabethintohisdisciplinaryhearingandletherworkhermagic?
EventuallyhelooksupatDonna,whohashereyebrowsraisedwaitingforananswer.
‘I’mareluctantyes.’
76
‘Nowwecandothisoneoftwoways,’saysElizabeth.‘Youcankickupafussandcurseustotheheavensandwecanallwastealotoftime.Oryoucanjustacceptwhathashappenedandwecanenjoyoursherryandgetonwiththis.Yourchoice.’
Chriscannotspeakforamoment.Helooksatthefourofthem.Thentotheair,thentothefloor.Lookingforwordsthatdon’twanttocome.Heholdstheflatofapalmintheairinfrontofhim,inanefforttopauserealityforthebriefestofmoments.Butnoluck.
‘You…,’hebegins,slowly,‘you…dugupabody?’
‘Well,technicallywedidn’tdigitup,’saysIbrahim.
‘Butabodywasdugup,yes?’saysChris.
ElizabethandJoycenod.Elizabethtakesasipofhersherry.
‘That’sthelongandshortofit,’confirmsJoyce.
‘Andyouthenperformedaforensicanalysisonthebones?’
‘Well,again,notuspersonally.Andonlyonsomeofthem,’saysIbrahim.
‘Oh,that’sfinethen.Justafew?’Chris’svoiceisraised,andDonnarealizesit’sthefirsttimeshe’sexperiencedthis.‘ThenIwishyouallagoodevening.Nothingtoseehere.’
‘Iknewyou’dgetmelodramatic,’saysElizabeth.‘Canwejustgetthisoverwithandmoveontobusiness?’
Donnastepsin.
‘Melodramatic?’sheaddressesElizabethdirectly.‘Elizabeth,youjustdugupahumanbodyandfailedtoreportittothepolice.Thisisn’tpretendingtobeanunwho’shadherbagstolen.’
‘Whatnun?’asksChris.
‘Nothing,’saysDonnaquickly.‘Thisisaseriouscrime.Elizabeth,youcouldallgotojailforthis.’
‘Nonsense,’saysElizabeth.
‘Farfromnonsense,’saysChris.‘Whatonearthareyoudoing?Ineedyoutothinkverycarefullyaboutwhatyousaynext.Whydidyoudigupabody?Let’stakethisstepbystep.’
‘Well,asIstatedpreviously,wedidn’tdigupthebody.Butourattentionwasdrawntothefactthatabodyhadbeendugup,’saysIbrahim.
‘Andwewerecurious,naturally,’saysRon.
‘Ourattentionwasgrabbed,’agreesIbrahim.
‘WhatwiththemurderofIanVentham,’addsJoyce,‘itseemeditmightbeimportant.’
‘Youdidn’tthinkDonnaandmemighthavebeeninterestedatthispoint?’asksChris.
‘Firstly,Chris,it’s“DonnaandI”,’saysElizabeth.‘Andsecondly,whoknewwhattheboneswere?Wedidn’twanttowasteyourtimeuntilweknewforsurewhatweweredealingwith.Whatifwe’dcalledyououtandtheywerenothingbutcowbones?Wouldn’twehavelookedsillyoldfoolsthen?’
‘Wewouldn’thavewantedtowasteyourtime,’agreesIbrahim.‘Weknowyouarebusywithtwomurdersalready.’
‘Butofftheywentforanalysis,’continuesElizabeth.‘Andbackitcomes,humanbones,goodtohaveitconfirmed,nocosttothetaxpayer.Male,diedsometimeinthe1970s,agunshotwoundtotheleg,butnowayoftellingifthat’swhatkilledhim.NowtoinviteChrisandDonnatotakealook,andtoleadthingsfromhere.Gettheprofessionalsin.Itreallyfeelslikeyoumightbethankingus.’
Chrisistryingtocomposearesponse.Donnadecidesthatthisonemightbeherresponsibility.
‘Christ,Elizabeth,justgiveitarestforonesecond.Youcandroptheactwithus.Thesecondyoudugupthatbodyyouknewtheywerehumanbones,becauseIthinkyoucantellthedifference.Joyce,youwereanurseforfortyyears,doyouknowthedifferencebetweenhumanbonesandcowbones?’
‘Well,yes,’admitsJoyce.
‘Thesecondyoudidthat,Elizabeth,youandyourwholegang…’
‘WearenotElizabeth’sgang,’interruptsIbrahim.
DonnaraiseshereyebrowsatIbrahim,whoholdsupahandinconcession.Shecontinues.‘Thelotofyou,fromthatmoment,wereindeep,deeptrouble.Thisisnotaneatlittletrick.Youmightfooltherestoftheworld,butyoudon’tfoolme.You’renotpluckyunderdogs,orhelpfulamateurs.Thisisaseriouscrime.Thisisbiggerthanaseriouscrime.Andthisdoesn’tendwithusallgigglingoveraglassofsherry.Itendsinacourtroom.Howcouldyoubesostupid?Thefourofyou?We’refriends,andyoutreatmelikethis.’
Elizabethsighs.‘WellthisisexactlywhatImeant,Donna.Iknewyou’dbothmakeafuss.’
‘Afuss!’saysDonnaincredulously.
‘Yes,afuss,’saysElizabeth.‘AndIdounderstand,inthecircumstances.’
‘Justdoingyourjob,’agreesRon.
‘Admirable,ifyouwantmyopinion,’addsIbrahim.
‘Butthefussendshere,’saysElizabeth.‘Ifyou’regoingtoarrestus,arrestus.Takethefourofustothestation,questionusallnight.Getthesameanswerallnight.’
‘Nocomment,’saysRon.
‘Nocomment,’saysIbrahim.
‘Likeon24HoursinPoliceCustody,’saysJoyce.
‘Youdon’tknowwhodugthebodyupandyouwon’theartheanswerfromanyofus,’continuesElizabeth.‘Youdon’tknowwhotookthebonesawayforanalysisandyouwon’thearthatfromuseither.AttheendoftheeveningyoumighttryandexplaintotheCPSthatfourpeopleintheirseventiesandeightieshavefailedtoreportdiggingupabody.Forwhatreason?Withwhatevidence,otherthantheinadmissibleconfessionyou’vetakenfromusthisevening?Andwithfoursuspects,allofwhomarequitehappytogotocourt,smilehappilyandpretendtomistakethejudgefortheirgranddaughterandaskwhyshedoesn’tvisitoftenenough.Thewholeprocessisdifficult,costlyandtime-consuming,andachievesnothing.Nooneisgoingtoprison,nooneisgettingafine,noone’sevengoingtobepickinglitterbytheroadside.’
‘Notwithmyback,’saysRon.
‘Or,’continuesElizabeth,‘youcanforgiveus,andbelieveuswhenwesayweweretryingtohelp.Youcanletusapologizeforouroverenthusiasm,becausewedidknowwhatweweredoingwaswrong,butwediditanyway.Weknowyou’vespentthelasttwenty-fourhoursinthedarkandweknowweareinyourdebt.Andifyouforgiveus,thentomorrowmorning,onawildhunch,youcanorderasearchoftheGardenofEternalRest.Youcandigupthebody,youcansendittoyourownforensicsteam,whowilltellyouit’samalewhowasalmostcertainlyburiedintheearly1970s,andthenwe’llallhappilybeonthesamepage.’
Thereisamoment’ssilence.
‘So,’asksChris,veryslowly,‘you’vereburiedthebones?’
‘Wethoughtitwasbest,’saysJoyce.‘Togiveyoutheglory.’
‘I’dleavethegraveinthetopright-handcornertillaboutfourthorfifth,ifIwereyou,’saysRon.‘Don’twanttomakeittooobvious.’
‘Andinthemeantime,’continuesElizabeth,‘wecanallhaveaniceeveningandnomoreshouting.Wecantellyoueverythingweknow.Soyoucanreallyhitthegroundrunninginthemorning.’
‘Youcouldevenshareabitofinformationwithusifyouthoughtthatwasappropriate,’addsIbrahim.
‘Howaboutsomeinformationaboutthecustodialsentencesyoucangetforpervertingthecourseofjustice?Ordisturbingagrave?’saysChris.‘Uptotenyears,ifyou’reinterested.’
‘Oh,wejustwentthroughallthis,Chris,’sighsElizabeth.‘Stopgrandstandingandswallowyourpride.Andbesides,we’renothampering,we’rehelping.’
‘Ididn’tnoticeeitherofyoudiggingupabody,’addsRon,toChrisandDonna.
‘Wehavecertainlydoneanawfullotoftheworksofar,’saysIbrahim.
‘SothisishowIseeit,’confirmsElizabeth.‘Eitheryouarrestus,whichwewouldallunderstand,andJoyce,infact,Ithinkwouldactuallyenjoy.’
‘Nocomment,’saysJoyce,noddinghappily.
‘Oryoudon’tarrestusandwecanspendtherestoftheeveningtalkingaboutexactlywhysomeoneburiedabody,onthishillside,sometimeinthe1970s.’
ChrislooksatDonna.
‘AndwecanalsodiscusswhetherthatsamepersonhasjustmurderedIanVenthamtokeepitsecret,’saysElizabeth.
DonnalooksatChris.Chrishasaquestion.
‘Soyouthinkthesamepersonmighthavecommittedtwomurders?Butnearlyfiftyyearsapart?’
‘It’saninterestingquestion,isn’tit?’asksElizabeth.
‘It’saninterestingquestionwecouldhavebeenaskinglastnight,’saysChris.
‘Itmighthavebeenusefultoknowwecouldbelookingoutforsomeonewhowasrighthereinthe1970sandisstillrightherenow,’addsDonna.
‘Wereallyaresorry,’saysJoyce.‘ButElizabethwasadamant,andyouknowElizabeth.’
‘Let’smoveon,’saysElizabeth.‘Putthisbehindus.’
‘Dowehaveachoice,Elizabeth?’asksChris.
‘Choiceisoverrated;you’lllearnthatastheyearsflyby,’saysElizabeth.‘Now,tobusiness.Whatdoyoumakeofthepriest,Iwonder?FatherMackie?Mighthehavebeenaroundwhenthisplacewasaconvent?’
‘Itakeitfromthatquestionthatyouhaven’tbeenabletofindoutanythingaboutFatherMackie?’saysChris.‘Don’ttellmeI’vefoundachinkinyourarmour.’
‘Myinquiriesareongoing,’saysElizabeth.
‘Noneed,Elizabeth,we’vecrackedthatoneforyou,’saysDonna.‘It’sDoctorMackie.Notapriest,neverhasbeen,neverwillbe.AdoctorinIreland,movedoverhereinthenineties.’
‘That’sverycurious,’saysElizabeth.‘Whypretendtobeapriest?’
‘Toldyouhewasawrong’un,’saysRontoIbrahim.
‘So,hemighthavekilledIanVentham,’saysDonna.‘Andhe’scertainlyuptosomething.ButIdoubtit’sbecauseofyourbones.’
‘Isitworthmypointingoutanymorethatthisisallconfidential?’saysChris.
‘Youarequitesafewithus.Youknowthat,don’tyou?Nothingeverleavesthisroom,’saysElizabeth.‘Shallwejustforgetthiseverhappened,thebusinesswiththebonesandwhathaveyou,andpoolourknowledge?’
‘Ithinkwe’vepooledquiteenoughforoneday,Elizabeth,’saysDonna.
‘Ohreally?’saysElizabeth.‘Andyet,youhaven’teventoldusabouttheTonyCurranphotographyet.Wehadtofindthatoutforourselves.’
DonnaandChrisbothlookatElizabeth.Chrisletsoutatheatricalsigh.
‘Bywayofapeaceoffering,’saysIbrahim,‘perhapsyouwouldliketoknowwhotookthephotograph?’
Chrislooksuptotheheavens.OrJoyce’sArtexceiling.‘Iwouldactuallyliketoknowthat,yes.’
‘LadnamedTurkishGianni,’saysRon.
‘Althoughhe’snotTurkish,’addsJoyce.
‘You’veseenthephoto,Ron?’asksDonna.
Ronnods.
‘NiceoneofJason,eh?’
‘Youwantmyview,forwhatit’sworth?’saysRon.‘YoufindTurkishGianniorBobbyTanner,youfindTonyCurran’skiller.’
‘Wellthen,ifwe’relayingallourcardsonthetable,’saysChris,‘hasJasonexplainedawayhisphonecallstoTonyCurranonthemorningofthemurder?AndhasheexplainedawaythepresenceofhiscarintheareaattheexactmomentthatTonyCurranwasmurdered?’
‘Yes,’saysElizabeth.‘Tooursatisfaction.’
‘Anythingyou’dliketoshare?’asksDonna.
‘Listen,I’llgethimtogiveyouabellandexplain,don’tworry,’saysRon.‘ButshallwegetonandfindthisGiannifellaandBobbyTanner?’
‘Justleavethatwithus,please,’saysChris.
‘Ithinkwe’reunlikelytojustleavethatwithyou,Chris,’saysElizabeth.‘I’meversosorry.’
‘Wouldyoulikesomesherry?’asksJoyce.‘It’sonlySainsbury’s,butit’sTastetheDifference.’
Chrissinksbackintohischairandsubmits.
‘Ifanyofthisevergetsbacktomysuperintendent,Iwillpersonallyarrestyouandmarchyouintocourtmyself.Iswear,onmylife.’
‘Chris,noonewilleverfindout,’saysElizabeth.‘YouknowhowIusedtomakemyliving?’
‘Well,notreally,ifI’mhonest.’
‘Exactly.’
Asacomplicitsilencefallsovertheroom,itseemstheevening’sdrinkingcannowbegininearnest.
‘Iamveryproudofhowweallworktogetherasateam,’saysIbrahim.‘Cheers.’
77
Joyce
I’mgladwetoldChrisandDonnaaboutthebones.Itseemsright.Noweveryonecankeepaneyeout.Whowashereinthe1970sandisstillheretoday?Thatshouldkeepthemalloccupiedforabit.
Everyoneknowseverythingnowandthatseemsfair.
SowhereareGianniandBobby?Nowwe’vedealtwiththebones,IknowElizabethwillbethinkingabouthowwetrackthemdown.That’srightupherstreet,isn’tit?Iwillgetacallinthemorninganditwillbe,‘Joyce,we’regoingtoReading,’or,‘Joyce,we’regoingtoInverness,orTimbuktu,’andbitbybitshe’lltellmewhyandbeforeyouknowitwe’llbehavingacupofteawithBobbyTanner,oracaféaulaitwithTurkishGianni.Youwaitandsee.Tomorrowmorning,before10a.m.Guaranteed.
TheonlytimeIeverusemypassportiswhenIneedtopickupaparcel,butI’vejustcheckedandithasthreeyearsleft.IrememberwhenIfirstgotit,wonderingifitwouldbemylastever.TheoddsonitbeingrenewedarewithmenowIthink.Anyway,that’sjusttosaythatifGianniorBobbyTannerareabroadsomewhere,thenIwouldn’tputitpastElizabethtohoponaplane.We’reonlyadrivefromGatwickhere.
IcouldsendJoannaapostcard.‘Who,me?Oh,I’minCyprusforacoupleofdays.Trackingdownafugitive.Possiblyarmed,butyoumustn’tworry.’Thoughnoonesendspostcardsanymore,dothey?Joannahasshownmehowtosendphotosonmyphone,butI’mbeggaredifit’severworkedwhenItried.Ijustgetthatspinningcircle.
PerhapsIcouldaskBernardtocomealongwithme.‘Acoupleofdaysinthesun?Last-minutething.Wejustfanciedit.’Ithinkitmightfrightenthepoormantodeath.
Idon’tliketogiveuponachase,butBernardseemstobedriftingfurtherandfurtherawayfromme.Hewasnotabundleoffunatlunchandtherewasplentyofsteakandkidneyleftover.
Anddon’tthinkIdon’tknowwhattheothersthink.Whattheysuspect.They’llbecheckingwhetherBernardwasherefiftyyearsago.Theyhaven’tspokentomeaboutit,butyoumarkmywords.Checkaway,don’tmindme.
Timbuktuisarealplacebytheway.Didyouknowthat?Itcameupinaquizonce.Ibrahimwillrememberwhereitis,butIdidthinkthatwasinteresting.
78
ChrisHudsoniscradlingawhisky.HelikesareallogfireandtheyhaveaniceoneinLePontNoir.He’snevereatenhere,becausewhowouldheeatwith,buthelikesthebar.Thefirehasavintagetilesurround,verytasteful.Ifyou’daskedhimtwentyyearsago,hewouldhaveimaginedthiswasthesortofplacehemightlive.Leatherarmchair,whiskyonthego,wifereadingsomesortofbookoppositehim.Somethingprize-winningandbeyondhim,butshe’dbeturningthepages,smilingwryly.AlovestorysetagainstthebackdropoftheRaj.Hecouldbelookingatmurdercasenotes.Slowlysolvingsomething.
HeisstillsurethatMackieisguiltyashell.Itaddedup.Butthesebones?Didtheychangethings?Hadtherebeentwomurders,fifty-oddyearsapart,onetoprotecttheother?Ifso,thenMackiewasn’ttheirman,they’vebeenthroughtherecords,hehadn’tleftIrelanduntilthenineties.
Hisminddriftsbacktohisdreamlife.Weretherekidssleepingupstairs?Innewpyjamas.Aboyandagirl,twoyearsapart.Goodsleepers.Butno,noneofthat,justafireplaceinabarthatwasn’tdoingenoughbusiness,inarestaurantthathehadnoonetotaketo.Thenawalkhome,stopattheall-nightshopforaDairyMilk.Aproperbigone.Thenthekeyfob,theapartmentblock,thethreeflightsup,theflatthatthecleanerkeptclean,thatnooneevercookedin,thespareroomthatwasneverused.Ifheopenedhiswindowhecouldhearthesea,butcouldn’tseeit.Didn’tthatjustsumitup?
TherewasalifethatChrishadn’tbeenabletotakeinhisgrasp.Families,driveways,trampolines,friendsroundfordinner,allthestuffyou’dseeonadverts.Wasthisforevernow?ThelonelyflatwiththeneutralwallsandtheSkySports?Maybetherewasawayout,butChriscouldn’timmediatelyspotit.Treadingwater,gettingfatter,laughingless.Chriswasoutofrocketfuel.ItwasluckythatChrislovedhisjob.Wasgoodathisjob.Chrisalwaysfounditeasytogetupinthemorning.Hejustfoundithardtogotosleepatnight.
LeaveMackiebeforaminuteandfocusonTonyCurran’smurder.JasonRitchiehadrunghimearlier.Toldhistale.Explainedawaythecallsandthecar.Ifhewaslying,thenhe’ddoneagoodjobofit.Butthenhewould,wouldn’the?
BobbyTannerwasstillprovingelusive.AfterAmsterdam,therewasnomoreBobbyTanneronanyofficialrecord.Buthe’dbesomewhere.MaybeBrussels,livingundersomenameorother,plentyofgangscouldusehimoutthere.He’dbedoingwhathe’dalwaysdone.Smuggling,fighting,makinghimselfuseful.Notabigenoughfishforanyonetoworryabout.Burnedoftenenoughtobecareful.They’dcatchhimcomingoutofsomeexpatgymoneday,puttheirhandonhisshoulderandflyhimbackforafewquestions.
Though,ofcourse,therewasagoodchancethatBobbyTannerwasdeadtoo.Steroids,pubfight,felloffaferry,somanywaystogoandtheonlywaytoidentifyhimafalsepassport.ButChristhinksBobbyisstillouttheresomewhere,andifhe’sstillouttheresomewhere,thenwho’stosayhehadn’tjustpaidavisittoTonyCurranforsomelong-forgottenreason?Somethingtodowithhisbrotherdrowningwiththatboatfullofdrugs?Whoknew?
Andthenthenewname,TurkishGianni.Chrishadfoundplentyonrecordforhim.GianniGunduzwashisrealname.Fledthecountryintheearly2000safteratip-offhe’dmurderedthecabbieintheBlackBridgeshooting.Everythingkeptcomingbacktothatonenight.Inthisverybar.
HadGiannicomebacktotown?
Chrisfinisheshiswhiskyandlooksatthetilesonceagain.Beautifulreally.
Heshouldprobablygohome.
79
Joyce
Justtwoquickthingsthismorning,asIfindmyselfinahurry.
Firstly,TimbuktuisinMali.IbumpedintoIbrahimonmywaybackfromthepostboxandIaskedhim.IalsosawBernardwalking,slowly,upthehill.It’severydaynow,butnevermind.
And,asIsay,Mali.Sonowyouknow.
Secondly,Elizabethrangat9.17andwe’reofftoFolkestone.Fromthelooksofitit’stwochanges,oneatStLeonardsandoneatAshfordInternational,sowe’resettingoffniceandearly.Ihaven’tbeentoAshfordInternational,butIdoubtastationwouldhave‘International’initsnameandnothaveanM&S.MaybeevenanOliverBonas.Fingerscrossed.
IpromiseIwillreportbacklater.
80
Inmanyways,hisneighboursowedPeterWardadebtofthanksand,tobefair,mostofthemknewit.
PearsonStreethadalwaysbeenalittledownatheel.Anewsagentwithnopapers,amini-mart,withamountainofcheapalcoholbehindthecounter,atravelagentwithfadingpostersofthesun,twobookies,apubonitslastlegs,apartyaccessoriesshop,anailbarandaboarded-upcafé.
AndthenTheFlowerMillhadmovedin.PeterWard’sshop,burstingwithcolour,alittlerainbowexplosiononthisgreystreet.
Andwhatflowers!PeterWardknewhisstuffandwhenyouknowyourstuffinasmalltown,wordsoongetsaround.Peoplewouldstartmakingdetoursfromthetowncentre.Andtheywouldtelltheirfriends,whowouldtelltheirfriendsand,beforeyouknowit,someonedownfromLondonhasspottedtheboarded-upcaféandboughttheleaseandnowthereweretworeasonstovisitPearsonStreet.ThenabrideorderingflowersfromPeterandenjoyingalatteinthecafé,seesthislittlestreetisontheupandwondersifitmightbetheplacetoopenasmallhardwarestore?SonowTheToolChestsitsnexttoTheFlowerMill,oppositeCasaCafé.Thetravelagentsuddenlyhaspeoplewalkingpast,feelstheneedtochangethosepostersandthosepeoplestartwalkingin.Under-thirtiesmainly,whohavenoideawhatatravelagentmightbe.TheLondonerwiththecafébuysthepubandstartsdoingfood.Terryatthenewsagentstartsorderinginmorepapers,moremilk,moreeverything.Thenailbarpaintsmorenails,thepartyshopsellsmoreballoons,themini-martstartsstockingginalongsidethevodka.Johnfromthebutcher’scounteratAsdatakestheleapandopensastoreofhisown,takinghiscustomerswithhim.Alocalartgrouphiresoutavacantstorefrontandtakesitinturnstobuypiecesofeachother’sart.
AllthankstoPeterWard’sorchidsandsweetpeasandTransvaaldaisies.
PearsonStreetisjustwhatyouwantashoppingstreettobe.Busy,friendly,localandhappy.Joycethinksit’ssoperfect,thatit’ssurelyonlysixmonthsawayfromhavingaCostaandlosingwhatitnowhas.Whichwouldbesad,butJoycehastoadmitthatshelikesaCosta,somustshouldersomeoftheblame.
JoyceandElizabetharesittinginCasaCafé.PeterWardhasjustboughtthembothacappuccino.BeckyfromTheToolChestwillkeepaneyeoutforcustomerswhilehetakeshalfanhouroff.It’sthatsortofstreet.
PeterWardisgreyingandsmilingandhastheeasyairofamanwhohasmadeaseriesofgooddecisionsinlife.AFolkestoneflorist,whomkarmahasrewardedforalifetimeofkindnessandcalmness,amanwhosegooddeedshavedeliveredhimtheprizeofhappiness.
Thisimpressionismisleading.Asthescarunderhisrighteyeandthebulgeofthebicepswilltellyou,PeterWardisBobbyTanner.OrperhapsPeterWardhasleftBobbyTannerbehind?Thatiswhattheyhavecometofindout.Isthefighterstillthere?Thekillerperhaps?HasherecentlymadetheshorttripalongthecoasttoFairhavenandbludgeonedtodeathhisformerboss?ElizabethlaysthephotographonthetablebetweenthemandPeterWardpicksitup,smiling.
‘TheBlackBridge,’saysPeter.‘Wehadafewnightsinthere.Where’dyougetthisfrom?’
‘Anumberofplaces,’saysElizabeth.‘Well,twoplaces,infact.OnewassenttoJasonRitchieandonewasfoundbythecorpseofTonyCurran.’
‘IreadaboutTony,’nodsPeterWard.‘Thatwasabouttime.’
‘You’veneverseenthisphotographbefore?’asksElizabeth.
Peterlooksagain,thensays,‘Neverhave.’
‘Youweren’tsentone?’asksJoyce,andsipshercappuccino.
Petershakeshishead.
‘Well,that’seithergoodnewsforyou,orit’sgoodnewsforus,’saysElizabeth.
PeterWardraisesaninquiringeyebrow.
‘Well,it’seithergoodnewsforyou,inthatTonyCurran’skillerhasnoideawhereyouare.Orit’sgoodnewsforus,inthatyoukilledTonyCurranyourselfandwehaven’twastedatriptoFolkestone.’
PeterWardgivesahalfsmileandlooksatthephotoagain.
‘Notthatthetripwouldreallybewasted,’saysJoyce.‘We’rehavingaveryniceday.’
‘ThepolicehavetheideathatJasonkilledTonyCurran,’startsElizabeth.‘Andperhapshedid.But,forreasonsofourown,wewouldpreferthathedidn’t.Wouldyouhaveaviewonthat,Bobby?’
PeterWardholdsupahand.
‘Peteraroundhere,please.’
‘Wouldyouhaveaviewonthat,Peter?’asksElizabeth.
‘Idon’tseeit,’saysPeterWard.‘Jasonwentnowherenearthatsideofthings.Helooksmean,buthe’sateddybear.’
Joycelooksupfromhernotesforamoment.‘Ateddybearwhofundedamajordrugsring.’
Peteracknowledgesthiswithanod.
Elizabethputsthephotobackdownonthetable.‘So,ifnotJason,thenperhapsyou?OrperhapsTurkishGianni?’
‘TurkishGianni?’saysPeter.
‘Hetookthephoto.’
PeterWardthinksforawhile.‘Didhenow?Idon’tremember,butthatwouldmakesense.I’mguessingyouknowthestory?TheboyTonyshotintheBlackBridge?Giannishootingthetaxidriverwhogotridofthebody?’
‘Weknowthatstory,yes,’confirmsElizabeth.‘ThenGiannidisappearsbacktoCyprus.’
‘Well,itwasn’tquitethatsimple,’saysPeterWard.
‘I’mallears,’saysElizabeth.
‘SomeonegrassedGianniuptothecops.Theyraidedhisflat,buthe’dgonealready.’
‘Andwhograssedhimup?’asksElizabeth.
‘Whoknows?Notme.’
‘Noonelikesagrass,’saysJoyce.
‘Itdoesn’tmatterwho,’saysPeterWard.‘WhatmattersisthatwhenGiannileggedit,hetookahundredgrandofTony’scashwithhim.’
‘Isthatso?’
‘Moneyhehadlyingaroundhisflat.Tony’smoney.Alldisappeared.Tonywentmental.AhundredgrandwasalotofmoneytoTonyinthosedays.’
‘DidhetryandfindGianni?’asksElizabeth.
‘Youbet.WentofftoCyprusacoupleoftimes.Didn’tfindathing.’
‘Noteasywhenit’snotyournaturalterritory,’saysElizabeth.
‘SoI’mguessingyouhaven’tfoundGiannieither?’asksPeterWard.
Elizabethshakesherhead.
‘Howdidyoufindme,bytheway?’hegoeson.‘Ifyoudon’tmindmeasking?Idon’treallywanttobefoundbyanyoneifGianni’sbackintown,leavingphotosofmenexttobodies.’
Elizabethtakesasipofhercoffee.‘WoodvaleCemetery,wheretheyburiedyourbrotherTroy?’
PeterWardnods.
‘IgotaccesstotheCCTV,thankstoamorticianwhoseuncleIoncesavedonatrain,’saysElizabeth.‘That’swhereIfoundyou.’
PeterWardlooksatElizabeth.
‘Elizabeth,I’vebeentheretwiceinayear.There’snowayyoufoundmefromtheCCTV.That’dbeaneedleinahaystack.’
‘Youwenttheretwice,yes,’agreesElizabeth.‘Butonwhatdays?’
PeterWardsitsback,foldshisarms,thennodsandsmiles.Heseesitnow.
‘TwelfthofMarchandseventeenthofSeptember,’continuesElizabeth.‘Troy’sbirthdayandtheanniversaryofhisdeath.Iwashopingtoseethesamecarbothtimes,jotdownanumberplate,getthefriendofafriendtorunitthroughacomputersomewhere.ButonMarchthetwelfthIsawawhitevanfromaFolkestoneflowershop,whichIthoughtunusualatacemeteryinBrighton.Notimpossible,butnoteworthy.AndIthoughtitvery,veryunusualtoseethesamevanonSeptembertheseventeenth.Ifoundthatverynoteworthyindeed.Yousee?’
‘Idosee,’nodsPeterWard.‘Andnoneedforanumberplate.’
‘Becauseyouhadyourname,youraddressandyourtelephonenumbersignwrittenontheside,’saysElizabeth.
Petercan’thelpbutgiveElizabethaquietroundofapplauseandsherespondswithaslightbow.
‘That’sverygood,Elizabeth,’saysJoyce.‘She’sverygood,Peter.’
‘Iseethat,’saysPeter.‘SonooneelseknowswhereIam?Nooneelsecanfindme?’
‘NotunlessItellthemwhereyouare,’saysElizabeth.
PeterWardleansforward.‘Andisthatsomethingyou’dbelikelytodo?’
Elizabethleansforwardtoo.‘Notifyoucomeandseeustomorrow,sitdownwithJasonandthepoliceandtellthemwhatyoujusttoldus.’
81
‘Wouldyoulikeawalnut?’asksIbrahim.
BernardCottlelooksathimandthendownattheopenbagofwalnutsheisbeingoffered.
‘Nothankyou.’
Ibrahimwithdrawsthebag.‘Verylowcarb,walnuts.Inmoderation,nutsareveryhealthy.Butnotcashews,cashewsareanexception.AmIdisturbingyou,Bernard?’
‘No,no,’saysBernard.
‘Justenjoyingtheview?’asksIbrahim.HecansensethatBernardfeelsuncomfortablesharinghisbench.
‘Justtakingtheweightoff,’saysBernard.
‘Whataplacetobeburied,’saysIbrahim.‘Wouldn’tyouthink?’
‘Ifonehastobeburied,’saysBernard.
‘Sadly,itcomestothebestofus,doesn’tit?Howevermanywalnutswemighteat.’
‘Imeannooffencebythis,butI’mveryhappytositinsilence,’saysBernard.
‘That’snotunreasonable,’saysIbrahim,nodding.Heeatsapieceofwalnut.
Thetwomensit,takingintheview.Ibrahimturns,andseesRonwalkingupthepath,tryingtohidehislimp.Hehasastick,buthewon’tuseit.
‘Well,thisisnice,’saysIbrahim.‘HerecomesRon.’
Bernardlooks,thereistheslightestpursingofthelips.
Ronreachesthebench.HesitstheothersideofBernard.
‘Afternoon,gents,’saysRon.
‘Goodafternoon,Ron,’saysIbrahim.
‘So,Bernard,oldson,’saysRon.‘Youkeepingguard?’
BernardlooksatRon.‘Keepingguard?’
‘Ofthegraveyard.Sittingherelikeagnome,“noneshallpass”,allthat.What’sup?’
‘Bernardwantstobeleftinsilence,Ron,’saysIbrahim.‘That’swhathetellsme.’
‘Fatchanceofthatwithmearound,’saysRon.‘Socomeon,mate.Whatareyouhidinguphere?’
‘Hiding?’asksBernard.
‘Idon’tbuyallthisgriefstuff,son.Weallmissourwives,withthegreatestrespect.Somethingelseisgoingonhere.’
‘Ithinkgriefaffectspeopleindifferentways,Ron,’saysIbrahim.‘Bernard’sbehaviourisnotunusual.’
‘Idon’tknow,Ib,’saysRon,shakinghisheadandlookingoutoverthehills.‘Geezergetskilledtheotherday,whenallhewantedtodowasdigupthegraveyard.Bernardsitsherebythatsamegraveyardallday,everyday.Thatchangesthingsforme.’
‘Isthatwhat’shappeninghere?’asksBernard,voicecalmandlevel,refusingtolookatRon.‘You’retalkingtomeaboutthemurder?’
‘That’swhat’shappening,Bernard,yeah,’saysRon.‘Someonedownthereinjectedtheguyandkilledhim.Weallhadourhandsonhim,remember?Anyoneofuscouldhavedoneit.’
‘Wesimplyneedtoeliminatesomepeoplefromourinquiries,’saysIbrahim.
‘Maybeyouhadagoodreason?’saysRon.
‘Isthereeveragoodreasontomurdersomeone,Ron?’asksBernard.
Ronshrugs.‘Maybeyou’vegotsomethinghiddenupthereinthegraveyard.Youadiabetic?Goodwithaneedle?’
‘Weallare,Ron,’saysBernard.
‘Wherewereyouintheseventies,mate?Wereyoulocal?’
‘That’sapeculiarquestion,Ron,’saysBernard.‘Ifyoudon’tmindmesaying.’
‘Allthesame,wereyou?’saysRon.
‘We’rejustexploringavenues,’saysIbrahim.‘We’reaskingeveryone.’
BernardturnstoIbrahim.‘Isthisthegame?Goodcop,nastycop?’
Ibrahimconsidersthis.‘Well,yes,thatistheidea.Psychologically,itisoftenveryeffective.Ihaveabookyoucouldreadifyouareinterested?’
BernardletsoutalongbreathandturnstoRon.‘Ron,youmetmywife.YoumetAsima.’
Ronnods.
‘Andyouwerenothingbutkindtoher.Shelikedyou.’
‘Well,Ilikedher,Bernard.Youhadagoodonethere.’
‘Everyonelikedher,Ron,’saysBernard.‘AndyetyoustillaskmewhyIsithere?It’snothingtodowiththegraveyardandit’snothingtodowithneedles.OrwhereIlivedfiftyyearsago.I’mjustanoldmanwhomisseshiswife.Sospareme.’
Bernardstands.
‘Gentlemen,youhavespoiledmymorning.Shameonyouboth.’
IbrahimlooksupatBernard.‘Bernard,Idon’tbelieveyou,I’mafraid.Iwantto,butIdon’t.Youhaveastoryyouaredesperatetotell.So,anytimeyouwanttotalk,youknowwheretofindme.’
Bernardsmilesandshakeshishead.‘Talk?Toyou?’
Ibrahimnods.‘Yes,talktome,Bernard.OrtoRon.Whateverhashappened,theworstthingyoucoulddoistostaysilent.’
Bernardtuckshispaperunderhisarm.‘Withrespect,Ibrahim,Ron,youhavenoideawhattheworstthingIcoulddois.’
Andwiththat,Bernardstartsaslowwalkdownthehill.
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Joyce
Well,thatwasjollygoodfun.Forstarters,IhadneverbeentoFolkestone.
PeterWardisBobbyTanner’snamenow,butwearesworntosecrecy.Heownsaflorist.
IsupposeIhavetwothingstowriteaboutthen.WhywasPeterWardaflorist?And,floristornot,whodidhethinkkilledTonyCurran?
ImightwriteaboutBernardtoo,butIwillleavethattotheend,becauseIwanttothinkaboutitwhileIwritetherest.
PeterWard–IwillcallhimPeter–leftFairhavenshortlyafterhisbrotherdied,forreasonsyoucanimagine.Hegothimselfanewpassport.It’seasilydoneifyoulistentoElizabethandPeter,butIwouldn’tknowhowtogoaboutit,wouldyou?HeendedupinAmsterdam,doingoddjobs.Notoddjobsaswewouldthinkaboutthem,likeclearingyourguttersorpaintingafence,buttakingcocaineacrosstheChannelonferries.Or,Isuppose,threateningpeople.Youcouldseethatinhim,underneatheverything.
HefellinwithagangfromLiverpool.Hewouldn’ttellusthename,asifIwouldhaveanyswayifhehad.TheirrusewastosmuggledrugsinthebacksofthosebigflowerlorriesyouseecomingoverfromHollandandBelgium.Thatwastheir‘angle’.
Atfirst,Peterwoulddotheloading.Adriverwouldbepaidsuchandsuchtostophislorryinalay-byinBelgium,andPeterandafewcronieswouldhopinthebackandstashwhattheycould,wheretheycould.Overthelorrywouldgo,anotherstopinKentandBob’syouruncle.Theselorrieswerebackandforthallthetime.It’sadailyschedule,isn’tit?Hastobe,becauseoffreshflowers.Soitwasperfect.
Theyjusthadtheodddriverhereandthereandthat’showitworkedatfirst.Untilthepennydroppedandtheyboughtoneofthenurseries.Thebusinessranasusual,butPeterwasonhandto‘inspect’everyshipmentasitwentout,andtoaddthatlittlespecialsomethingtoeachone.SonowtheyhadthreelorriesadaytravellingthroughZeebruggeandtheycoulddowhattheylikedwiththem.Clever,really.
Peterwouldspendallhistimeatthenursery,andtheyoungladwhoranitwaspaidtoturnablindeye.They’dplaycardsandchatandwhateverelseyoudoalldayinBelgium.
(Off-subjectforaminute,buttherewasanoticepinneduptheotherdayaboutatriptoBrugesandIthoughtofsigningup.Joannawentafewyearsagoandherverdictwas,‘It’stootwee,Mum,butyouwouldloveit,’soImighttaketheplunge.WouldElizabethlikeit?)
That’sbytheby,becausehere’swhathappenednext.Therewasanerror,nooneknowshoworwhy,oratleastPeterdoesn’t,buttheupshotwasthatasmallflorist’sshopinGillinghamaccidentallytookdeliveryoftwokilogramsofcocainealongsidetheirbegoniasandpromptlyreportedittothepolice.
Thepolice,whoarenofoolsattimes,didn’trushstraightinandarrestthedriver,theyfollowedhiminsteadandsawwhereheheadedandwhatwaswhat.Therewasawholeteamoniteventually,andonebyonetheyworkedoutwhowasdoingwhatandarrestedeveryonetheycould.
ThewayPetertoldit,heandtheyoungladrunningthenurseryhadseenthepolicecomingamileoff(BelgiumisasflatasHolland,saysPeter)andtheyhidinafieldofsunflowersforsixhoursasthepolicestrippedtheplacebare.InAmsterdam,oneoftheLiverpudlianswaskilledbyaSerbianshortlyafterwardsandthatwasthat.
Youcanseewhereit’sgoing,I’msure.Peterhadneverreallyrisenthroughtheranks,hewasn’treallythetype,buthe’dmadeabitofmoneyandhehadlearnedanawfullotaboutflowers.Andhesawthemattheirmostbeautiful,ofcourse.Hedescribedthecoloursandsoonandgotquitelyrical.Elizabethhadtohurryhimalongeventually.
So,now,everyday,oneofthosebiglorriespullsupinPearsonStreetandPetergetsintheback,likehealwaysusedto,butthistimehejustunloadshisflowersandcarriesthemintohisshop.AndthelorrycontinuesonitsroundsandheadsbacktoBelgium,tothenurseryrunbytheyoungladhe’dplayedcardswithandhiddeninasunflowerfieldwith.
Sothat’sanicestory.IbettheLiverpudliansandtheSerbiansarestillshootingeachotherleft,rightandcentreinAmsterdam,butPeterhashisbeautifulshop,inthatlovelystreet,whereeverybodyknowshisname.Ordoesn’tknowhisname,butyoutakemypoint.Andthebenefitofgoingstraightwasthatnoonehasevercomelookingforhim,noonehaseverarrestedhimandtakenacloserlookatthatpassport,soPeterWardhadlefthispastbehindandfoundsomepeace,whichisnoteasytodo.
JusttosatisfyElizabeth’scuriosity,PetertookhertoTheFlowerMillandshowedhertheCCTVfromthedayTonyCurranwasmurdered.Therehewas,Peter,Imean,plaintosee,behindthetill.WhichIthinkruleshimout.HeissurethatTurkishGianniisourman.TonyhadbetrayedhimtothepoliceandGiannihadstolenfromTonyinturn.Thatwoulddoit,Isuppose.
ElizabethandItalkedaboutitonthetrain.AndwehadhalfanhouratAshfordInternational,where,believeitornot,therearenoshops.Perhapsthereareshopsbeyondpassportcontrol?Theremustbe,surely?
Sothat’sBobbyTanner.Timeforbed,Joyce.IwonderwhatRonandIbrahimwereuptotoday?
IknowIwasgoingtosaysomethingaboutBernard,butithasn’treallyformulated,soIwon’t.
IboughtBernardsomefreesiasfromPeterWard’sshop.IwantedtobuysomethingbutIcouldn’tthinkwhotobuythemforandIthoughtperhapsBernardwouldlikethem.Dowomengivemenflowers?NotwhereI’mfrom,butperhapsthat’snotwhereIamanymore.Sothey’reinthesink,andIwilltakethemovertomorrowmorning.
BernardwouldlikeBruges.Don’tyouthink?
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Thepathisuneven,butbyshiningatorchatthegroundheisabletomakehiswayuptotheallotmentswithoutdrawingattentiontohimself.Itislate,andeveryonewillbeasleep,butwhytakearisk?Hereachestheshed.Thereisapadlock,butit’sacheaponeandhiswife’shatpinsoonspringsitopen.
TheshedissharedbyalltheresidentswhohaveanallotmentatCoopersChase.Aselectband.Thereareacoupleoffoldingchairsforniceweatherandthere’sakettleforcolderweather.Therearebagsoffertilizerandmulchalongonewall.TheseareboughtfromthekittyandCarlitocarriestheminwhenevertheminibuscomesbackfromtheGardenCentre.PinnedabovethefertilizeraretherulesoftheCoopersChaseAllotmentUsersAssociation.Theyarelengthyandtheyareenforcedwithvigour.Itiscold,evenonasummer’snight.Thetorchcontinuesitscircuit.Therearenowindows,whichmakesiteasier.
Thespaderestsagainstthebackwallinsidetheshed.
Onelooktellshimallheneedstoknow.Allhealreadyknew,ifhewashonest,ashewalkedupthepath.Butwhattodo?Youhavetotry.
Heliftsitbythehandle,butisquicklybeatenbyitsweight.Whendidhegetsoweak?Whathappenedtohisbody?Itwasnevermuchtowritehomeabout,buttothinkhecouldnowbarelyliftaspade?Diggingwasoutofthequestion.
Sowhatnow?Whocouldhelp?Whowouldunderstand?Itwashopeless.
BernardCottlesitsinafoldingchairandweepsforwhathehasdone.
84
ChrisandDonnaaresittingintheJigsawRoom,withmugsoftea.OppositethemareJasonRitchieandBobbyTanner.BobbyTanner,whomdetectivesacrosseightforceshadfailedtolocate.Elizabethhasrepeatedlyrefusedtosaywhereorhowshefoundhim.
ElizabethandJoycehavebothseenevidencethatBobbywasbusyelsewherewhenTonyCurranwasmurdered.ChrishadwonderedifhemightseethatevidenceandElizabethhadtoldhimhecertainlycould,themomentheproducedawarrant.Bobby’sdealwasthathewouldtellthemeverythingheknewandthenslipbackintothecrowd,nevertobeseenagain.
‘Ahundredgrand,bitmorethanthat,’saysBobbyTanner.‘Giannihaditathisflat,usedtokeepitsafeforTony.’
‘Didhehaveaniceflat?’asksJoyce.
‘Uhh,oneofthebigonesonthefront?’saysBobby.
‘Ohyes,withthepicturewindows,’saysJoyce.‘Lovely.’
‘AndTonywentouttoCypruslookingforhim?’asksChris.
‘Acoupleoftimes,yeah.Neverfoundathing.Nothingwasthesameafterthat.Jason,youdriftedoff,didn’tyou?Starteddoingtellyandallthat.’
Jasonnods.‘Itwasn’tformeanymore,Bobby.’
Bobbynods.‘Ilefttownacoupleofmonthsafter,whenmybrotherdied.Nothingleftformeherethen.’
‘ButsomeonewouldhaveseenGianni,surely?’asksDonna.‘Ifhe’dcomebacktotownrecently?Someonewouldhaveseenhim,someonewouldbetalking?’
Bobbythinksaboutthis.‘Nottoomanyfacesleftfromthosedays.’
‘HardtoknowwhoGianniwouldturntoifheneededaplacetostay,’saysJason.
BobbylooksatJason.‘Unless,Jase…?’
JasonlooksbackatBobby,thinksforamoment,thennods.‘Ofcourse,ofcourse.Unless…’
Jasonstartscomposingatext.
‘Areyougoingtosharethiswiththegroup?’asksElizabeth.
‘JustsomeonemeandBobbyneedtotalkto,’saysJason.‘Someonewho’dknowforsure.Leaveitwithus.It’snotfairifyougettosolveeverything,Elizabeth.’
‘Perhapsyoucouldshareitwiththepolice?’suggestsDonna.
‘Ohcomeon,’saysBobby,laughing.
‘Worthatry,’saysDonna.
Jason’sphonepings.Helooksdown,thenturnstoBobby.
‘Hecanmeetusattwo.ThatOKforyou?’
BobbynodsandJasonstartsanothermessage.
‘Onlyoneplaceforit,eh?’
85
LunchatLePontNoir.Justlikeoldtimesandyet,ofcourse,notlikethematall.
‘Astronaut?’guessesJasonRitchie.
BobbyTannersmiles,andshakeshishead.
‘Jockey?’guessesJason.
BobbyTannershakeshisheadagain.‘Iain’tgonnatellyou,evenifyouguess.’
Fairenough,fairenough.
‘Youhappythough,Bobby?’asksJason.
Bobbynodshishead.
‘Goodlad,’saysJason.‘Youdeserveit.’
‘Webothdo,’agreesBobbyTanner.‘Onewayoranother.’
‘Well,wedoandwedon’t,’saysJason.
BobbyTannernods.Maybeso.
Theyareondesserts,stillwaitingfortheirguest,andabottleofLePontNoir’sfinestMalbechasbeendispatched.
‘Imean,itmusthavebeenGianni,right?’asksBobby.‘I’vealwaysthoughthewasdeadsomewhere.’
‘I’vealwaysthoughtthatyouweredeadsomewhere,’saysJason.‘I’mgladyou’renotthough.’
‘Thanks,Jase,’saysBobby.
Jasonlooksathiswatch.‘We’llknowforsuresoonenough.’
‘Youreckonhe’llknow?’asksBobby.
‘IfGianni’sbeenover,thenhe’llknow.That’swherehe’dhavestayed.’
‘Ican’tdolunchtimedrinkinganymore,canyou?’asksBobby.
‘We’reoldmennow,Bob,’agreesJason.‘Timeforanotherbottlethough?’
Theyagreethattheydohavetimeforanotherbottle.AndtheninwalksSteveGeorgiou.
86
DonnahasspenttheeveninglookingthroughaeroplanepassengerliststoandfromCyprusforthelasttwoweeks.AsifGianniGunduzwouldbeusinghisownnamethesedays.Butyouneverknew.
Funthoughthepassengerlistshadbeen,however,DonnaisnowbackonInstagram
Toyotawashistoryalready,butCarlwouldn’twaitaround.Whowasheseeingnow?Donnawasnothingifnotanaturaldetective.Washeseeingthatwomanfromhiswork,Poppy?Poppy,whosephotohe’dlikedonFacebook?Notjustliked,butrepliedtowithawinkemoji?Poppy,whoseemedincapableofhavingherphototakenwithoutbeingshotfromtheleftandpouting?Yes,shewasobviousenoughforCarl.DonnahadrunhernamethroughtheHomeOfficecomputerontheoff-chance,butnothing.
Donnaknowsitistimeforbed,butsheisstillthinkingaboutPennyGray.
AftertheThursdayMurderClubmeeting,ElizabethhadtoldhershewantedhertomeetsomeoneandhadledherintoWillows,thenursinghomeattachedtoCoopersChase.
Theyhadwalkeddownquietbeigecorridors,withdimstriplightingandseasidewatercoloursliningthewalls.Itallcarriedanappallingweight,andthehopefulsprigsofflowersoncheapMDFsidetableswerepowerlessagainstit.Whobroughttheflowersineveryday?Thatwasalosingbattle,butwhatwasthealternative?Donnahadgulpedforairatonepoint.Willowswasaprisonfromwhichnoescapewaspossible.Wherereleasecouldmeanonlyonething.
TheyhadwalkedintotheroomandElizabethhadsaid,‘ConstableDeFreitas,I’dlikeyoutomeetDetectiveInspectorPennyGray.’
Pennyhadbeenlyinginbed,alightsheetcoveringhertotheneck,ablanketfurtherdown,foldedback.Tubesrunningfromhernoseandfromherwrists.DonnahadoncebeenonaschooltriptotheLloyd’sBuilding,whereeverythingthatshouldbeontheinsidewasontheoutside.Shepreferredeverythingtidiedaway
Donnasaluted.‘Ma’am.’
‘Takeaseat,Donna,Ithoughtitwouldbeniceforthetwoofyoutogettoknoweachother.Idothinkyou’llgetalong.’
ElizabethhadtakenDonnathroughPenny’scareer.Smart,resilient,opinionated,thwartedateveryturn,byhergenderandbyhertemperament.Orratherbytheunacceptablecombinationofthemboth.
‘She’sawreckingball,’Elizabethhadsaid.‘I’mathinblade,youunderstand.Pennyisallbruteforce.Idon’tknowifyoucouldtellthatnow.’
DonnalookedatPennyandfanciedthatshecould.
‘Itwasfashionableinthepolicebackthen,’Elizabethhadgoneon.‘Abitofbluntforce.Fashionableifyouwereamanatleast,itneverhelpedPenny,shenevermadeithigherthanDetectiveInspector.Absurdifyouknewher.I’mright,John,absurd,wasn’tit?’
Johnhadlookedupandnodded.‘Awaste.’
‘Shewastrouble,Donna,’saidElizabeth.‘AndIcanthinkofnofinercompliment.That’swhyPennyenjoyedlookingovertheoldcases.Shecouldfinallybeincharge.Couldfinallybethebullinachinashop.Shedidn’thavetobepoliteandlaughatthejokesandmakethetea.’
DonnasawElizabeth’shandclosearoundPenny’s.
Elizabethlookedatherandnodded.‘Wefightonthough,dowenot?Pennytookitall,suckeditup,astheysay,dayafterday,withoutcomplaint.’
‘Shecomplainedalot.’ThiswasJohn.‘Withrespect,Elizabeth.’
‘Well,yes,shehadanimpressivetemperonherwhenshewantedto.’
‘Veryfocused,’Johnhadagreed.
Astheyhadleft,generationsapart,butshouldertoshoulderandinperfectstep,ElizabethhadturnedtoDonnaandsaid,‘Youwillknowbetterthanme,Donna,butIthinkperhapsnotallthebattleshavebeenwon?’
‘Ithinkperhapstoo,’Donnahadagreed.Theyhadcontinued,incompanionablesilence,outthroughthefrontdoorsofWillows,gratefultobebreathingtheairoftheoutsideworld.
Backathome–wasthisreallyhomenow?–DonnaisnotfullyconcentratingonInstagramanymore.ThevisittoPennyhasmadeherproudandsad.Shewouldlovetohavemether.Reallymether.TherearemanyreasonswhyDonnawouldliketobetheonetocrackthesemurders,andsheaddsmakingDetectiveInspectorPennyGrayproudtoherlist.
GiannifortheTonyCurranmurder?MatthewMackieforVentham?Elizabethhadtoldhertolookintoanotheroftheresidents.ABernardCottle.Shehadwrittenthenamedown.
Andthebones?Aretheyimportant?
Whatdoyousay,PennyGray?
Itwouldbenicetowrapitallup.Anicetributetosomeonewhohasgonebefore.Sheshouldgetbacktothosepassengerlists.
Donnascrollsthroughsomefinalpictures.Poppyhasjustbeenbungee-jumpingforCancerResearch.Wellofcourseshehas;thatwassoPoppy.
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Joyce
Idon’toftenwriteinthemorning,Iknow.ButtodayIam.IjustfeltIshould.SohereIam.
Yesterdaywasallveryinteresting,wasn’tit?Thoseboysandallthemurdersandthedrugsandwhathaveyou.Ibettheyhadalottotalkaboutwhentheyheadedoffafterwards.Iwonderwhotheyweremeeting?
Really,itwasveryinterestingtosomeonelikeme.Veryinteresting.Giannicertainlysoundsalikelyculprit,doesn’the?
Iwonderif…Ohstopit,Joyce,juststopit.You’reputtingitoff.Youdon’twanttowriteit.
Allrightthen.SoIhavehadsomesadnews,andthesadnewsisthis.
Imademy‘All’sWell’calltoBernardthismorning.
Lotsofpeoplehavean‘All’sWell’arrangement.Youbuddyupwithapal,ringthemat8a.m.,letitringtwiceandputthephonedown.Thentheydothesameback.SoyoueachknowtheotherisOKwithoutitcostingyouapenny.And,ofcourse,youdon’thavetohaveaconversation.
SoIrangBernardthismorning.Tworings,lettinghimknowIwassafeandsound,hadn’thadafallorwhathaveyou.Butnothingback.Ineverworrytoomuch,sometimesheforgetsandIwanderroundandringhisbuzzerandheshufflestothewindowinhisdressinggownandgivesmeaguiltythumbs-up.Ialwaysthink,‘Ohletmein,yousillyoldman,let’shavesomebreakfast,Idon’tmindthedressinggown,’butthat’snotBernard.
SooverItrotted.DidIknow?IsupposeIdid,butIalsodidn’t,becauseit’stoobigathingtoknow.ButIsupposeIdidknow,becauseMarjorieWalterssawmeonmywayover,andsaidshe’dwavedbutIhadn’tseen,justlostinaworldofmyown,whichisn’tlikeme.So,yes,IsupposeIknew.
Ibuzzedandlookedupatthewindow.Thecurtainsweredrawn.Perhapshewasasleep?Hadatouchoffluandstayedinbed.‘Manflu’,someonehadsaidonThisMorningtheotherday.IthadtickledmeandI’dtoldJoanna,butshesaidtheexpressionhadbeenaroundforyearsandhadIreallyneverheardit?Whichputmeinmyplace.
I’mstalling,Iknow.Let’sgetontoit.
Iletmyselfintotheblockwiththesparekeyfob,IwalkeduptheflightofstairsandsawanenvelopeSellotapedtoBernard’sdoor.Onthefrontofithehadwritten‘Joyce’.
Sorry,Ihavetofinishthere.
Therewasevenasmileyfaceinthe‘O’.YoureallyneverknewwithBernard.
88
Joyceopensuptheenvelopeandslipsoutahandwrittenletter.Maybethreeorfourpages.Sheisgratefulthatherfriendshavecometoherflat.Shedidn’twanttogooutthereagaintoday.
‘So,I’lljustreadit.Notallofit,butthebitsofinterest.Itanswersafewquestionswehad.Iknowwhatsomeofyouhadbeenthinkingabouthim.Maybethoughthe’d,youknow…IanVentham.Anyway.’
‘Youtakeyourtime,’saysRon,andplaceshishandonJoyce’sforamoment.
Joycebeginstoread,withanunfamiliarwaver.
‘“DearJoyce,Iamsorryforthenuisance.Don’ttrytocomein,Ihaveboltedthedoor.FirsttimeIhaveusedthatboltsinceImovedhere.YouwillknowwhatIhavedone,andIsupposeit’snothingyouhaven’tseenbeforeathousandtimes.Iwillbelyingonthebed,allthingsbeingwell,andperhapsIwilllookpeaceful,butperhapsIwon’t.Iwouldrathernottakethatchance,soI’llleaveittotheambulancementodecideifIlookinafitstateforyoutosaygoodbye.Thatisifyouwishtosaygoodbye.”’
Joycestopsreadingforamoment.Elizabeth,RonandIbrahimarecompletelysilent.Shelooksupatthem.‘Theydidn’tletmeseehimintheend.I’msurethat’spolicy,whenyou’renotfamily.Sohegotthatbitwrong,didn’the?Andtheywerebothambulancewomen.’
Joycegivesaweaksmileandherthreefriendsmirrorit.Shecontinuesreading.
‘“IhavethepillsbymysideandIhaveaLaphroaigIhadbeensavingforarainyday.Iseethelightsturningoffaroundmeanditwillbemyturnnext.Nexttothebedarethebeautifulflowersyouboughtme.Theyareinamilkbottle,becauseyouknowmeandvases.ButbeforeIgo,IsupposeIshouldtellyouthewholething.”’
‘Thewholething?’saysElizabeth.
Joyceputsafingertoherlips.ElizabethdoesassheistoldandJoycecontinuesreadingBernard’sfinalletter.
‘“Asyouknow,Asima”–that’shiswife–“diedshortlyafterwemovedtoCoopersChase,whichwasaspannerintheworks.Iknowyoudon’ttalkaboutGerryverymuch,Joyce,butIknowyouunderstand.Likesomeonereachedinandtookoutmyheartandmylungsandtoldmetokeepliving.Keepwakingup,keepeating,keepputtingonefootinfrontoftheother.Forwhat?Idon’tthinkIeverreallyfoundananswertothat.YouknowIwouldoftenwalkupthehillandsitonthebenchAsimaandIusedtositonwhenwefirstmovedhere,andyouknowIfeltclosetoherthere.ButIhadanotherreasonforclimbingthathill,areasonforwhichIfeelprofoundshame.Ashamethathasbecometoomuchformetobear.”’
Joycepausesforamoment.‘IwonderifImighthavesomewater?’
Ronpoursheraglassandhandsittoher.Joycedrinks,thenreturnstotheletter.
‘“YouwillknowthatmanyHindushavetheirashesscatteredontheGanges.Thesedays,otherriverswilldo,butforacertaingenerationit’sstilltheGanges,ifyouhavethewherewithal.ThiswasAsima’swishmany,manyyearsago,certainlyawishthatourdaughterSufihadgrownuphearingabout.Asima’sfuneralisnotsomethingIwishtothinkaboutorwriteabout,buttwodaysafterwardsSufiandMajid–that’sthedaughterandson-in-law–flewtoVaranasiinIndiaandscatteredAsima’sashesontheGanges.ButJoyce–andhere’swherethepillsandthewhiskycomein,I’mafraid–theyweren’therashes.”’
Shepausesandlooksup.
‘Well.Goodness!’saysIbrahim,andsitsforwardasJoycereadson.
‘“Iamnotareligiousman,Joyce,asyouareaware.Butinherlateryears,Asimawasnotareligiouswomaneither.Sheshookoffherfaithslowly,liketheleavesfromatree,untilnothingremained.IlovedthatwomanwitheverythingIpossessandshelovedme.Thethoughtofherleaving,beingplacedinhandluggage,Joyce,andthenfloatingawayfromme.Well,thatwasn’tsomethingIwasabletocomprehendtwodaysaftersayinggoodbye.Noneofthisexcusesmyactions,butIhopeitmightexplainthem.Ihadtheashesathome,forthefirstnight.SufiandMajidweren’tinmyspareroom,theyhadpreferredtostayinahotel,despiteitall.
‘“ManyyearsagoAsimaandIhadbeenbrowsingatanoldantiqueshopandshehadpickedupateacaddyintheshapeofatiger.‘Well,that’syou,’Isaid,andwebothlaughed.IcalledherLittleTigerandshecalledmeBigTiger,youknowthedrill.Iwentbackaweeklatertobuyitforher,asasurpriseChristmaspresent,butithadalreadybeensold.Anyway,thatChristmas,Iopenedmypresentfromher,andthereitwas.Shehadobviouslygonestraightbackandboughtitforme.Ihavekeptiteversince.So,Itooktheurnandpouredtheashesfromtheurnintothetigerteacaddy,thenplacedthecaddybackinthecupboard.Ifilledtheurnwithamixtureofsawdustandbonemeal,it’ssurprisinglyconvincing,thensealeditshutagain.Andthat’swhatSufitooktoVaranasiandthat’swhatshescatteredontheGanges.BearinmindIwasn’tthinkingstraight,Joyce,Iwasparalysedwithgrief.IwouldhavedoneanythingtostopmyAsimafloatingaway.Ihadforgotten,ofcourse,thatshewasSufi’sAsimatoo.Thenextday,assoonafterdarkasIdared,Itookaspadefromtheallotmentshedandwalkedupthehill.Icuttheturffromunderneaththebench,IdugaholeandIburiedthetin.EventhenIknewitcouldonlybetemporary,butIwasn’treadytolethergo.Theturfsettledbackin,nobodyevernoticedathing–whywouldthey?–andeverydayIwouldgoandsitonthebench,sayhellowhenpeoplewalkedbyandtalktoAsimawhentheydidn’t.Iknewthenthatitwaswrong,IknewthatIhadbetrayedmydaughterandthatIcouldnevermakeamends.Butthepainwassoverygreat.”’
‘Somepeoplelovetheirchildrenmorethantheylovetheirpartner,’saysIbrahim,‘andsomepeoplelovetheirpartnermorethantheirchildren.Andnoonecaneveradmittoeitherthing.’
Joycenods,absent-mindedlyandbeginsanewpage.
‘“Theimmediatepaingoes,howevermuchyoumightwantittostay,andIsooncametounderstandtheenormityofwhatIhaddone.Theawfulselfishness,theentitlement.Istartedtothinkofplansandplots,somethingtoputitright.MaybeIwoulddigtheteacaddyup,IwouldtakeitonthebusdowntoFairhaven,letsomeofhergoandkeepsomeofherwithme.IcouldnevertellSufiwhatIhaddone,butatleasthermotherwouldbeinthewaves,returningtowhereverSufiimagineswereturnto.Iknewitwasn’tenough,butitwasthebestIcoulddo.UntilonemorningIclimbedthehilltofindworkmenlayingaconcretefoundationforthebench.Theyhaddugdown,notfarenoughtofindthetin,andfilledtheholewithcement.Theyhadthejobdoneinhalfanhour.Andthatwasthat,Isuppose,sosillywhenyoulookatit,butIhadnoeasywayofdiggingtheteacaddybackup.SoIwouldcontinuetowalkupthehillandcontinuetotalktoAsimawhennoonewaslistening,tellinghermynews,tellingherhowmuchIlovedherandtellingherIwassorry.Andhonestly,Joyce,foryoureyesonly,IrealizethatIhaverunoutofwhateveritisthatweneedtocarryon.Sothat’sme,I’mafraid.”’
Joyce,finishes,staresdownattheletterforanothermoment,runningafingeracrosstheink.Shelooksupatherfriendsandattemptsasmile,whichturns,inaninstant,totears.ThetearsturntoshakingsobsandRonleaveshischair,kneelsinfrontherandtakesherinhisarms.ThethingRonissogoodat.JoyceburiesherheadinRon’sshoulderandflingsherarmsaroundhim,weepingforGerryandforBernardandforAsimaandfortheladieswhowenttoJerseyBoysanddrankG&Tsoutofcansallthewayhome.
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ItistoolatetobeinFairhavenPoliceStation,butDonnaandChrishavenowhereelsetobe.
Chriskneelsandunblocksthepaperjaminthephotocopier.Chrisfindsithardtokneelwithoutcrampingupthesedays.Heisn’tsurewhatthatis.Toomuchsalt,ornotenoughsalt?It’soneortheother.
‘Fixedit,’hetellsDonna.
Donnapresses‘Print’andmakesaseriesofcopiesofthereportsshe’sbeensentbytheCypriotPoliceService.
‘I’llbindthemalltogetherforyou,’saysDonna.‘It’lltakeawhile,butit’llbeeasierforyou.’
‘Verykind,Donna,’saysChris.‘Butyou’restillnotcomingtoCypruswithme.’
Donnasticksouthertongue.
Chrishasaveryinterestinginterviewlinedup.OnethatshouldtellthemonceandforallwhereGianniGunduzis.
Gianni’snamehasnotappearedonanyofthepassengerliststhatDonnahadwadedthrough.Noflight,noboat,notrain,eitherintooroutoftheUK.ButChrissupposesthatGianniisunlikelytostillbeusinghisoldname.NotwhenthepolicehadbeenhuntinghimdownforthemurderoftheyoungcabbieandTonyCurranhadbeenhuntinghimdownforthe￡100,000hehadstolen.
Butnoonecouldsimplydisappear.Therewouldbeatracesomewhere.
Chrisshutsdownhiscomputer.HefeelssurethatTurkishGianniistheirman,he’sbeenaroundlongenoughtosensewhensomethingfitsperfectly.Evidencewasanotherthing,buthopefullythetriptoNicosiawillhelphimoutthere.
‘Shallwecallitanight?’
‘Quickdrink?’saysDonna.‘PontNoir?’
‘Six-fiftyflightinthemorning,’saysChris.
‘Don’trubitin,’saysDonna.
Chrisstandsandpullsdownhisofficeblinds.Gianniwasonething,butIanVentham?Thatwasharder.Wasitreallyconnectedtoamurderfromfiftyyearsago?Surelynot?Howmanypeoplecouldtherebe?ChrisevenhadtwoDIstrackingdownnunsincasetheycouldrememberanything.Surelysomeofthemhadleftatsomepoint?Losttheircallingandgoneoutintotherealworld?Whatwouldtheybenow?Eighty-odd?Recordsweresketchythough,andheheldoutlittlehope.Orweretheyallmissingsomethingsimpler?
‘Don’tcrackthecasewhileI’mgoneplease.’
‘Ican’tpromiseanything,’saysDonna.
Chrispicksuphisbriefcase.Timetogohome.Alwaystheworsttime.Chris’sdreamliferemainsjustonestoneaway.ButinhisbriefcasethereisapacketofSalt&VinegarMcCoys,aWispaandaDietCoke.DietCoke?WhodidChristhinkhewaskidding?
SometimesChristhinksheshouldjoinadatingwebsite.Inhismindhisperfectdatewouldbeadivorcedteacherwhohadasmalldogandsanginachoir.Buthe’dbehappytobeprovedwrong.Justsomeonekindandfunnyreally.
ChrisholdsthedooropenforDonna,thenfollowsherout.
WhatkindofwomanwouldwantChris?Didwomenreallymindabitofextratimberthesedays?Well,yes,hewassuretheydid,butevenso?Hewasjustabouttosolveamurder,andsurely,somewhereinthewholeofKent,therewassomeonewhomightfindthatattractive?
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Joyce
Oh,Ican’tsleep.It’sBernard,Bernard,Bernard,ofcourse.I’malreadywonderingaboutthefuneral.Willitbehere?Idohopeso.IknowIhadn’tknownhimlong,butI’dhatetothinkofhiminVancouver.
SoI’mbackhereattwointhemorning,togiveyousomenews.Don’tworry,noonehasdiedthistime.
AfterIanwehadallbeenwonderingwhat’stobecomeofushereatCoopersChase.Whowasgoingtotakeitover?Idon’tthinkanyonewastooconcerned;itseemstobeprofitableenough,soweknewtherewouldbetakers.Butwho?
Youcanprobablyguesswhofoundout.
Elizabeth‘accidentally’bumpedintoGemmaVentham,IanVentham’sunfortunatewidowyesterday,atthenewdelithey’veopenedinRobertsbridge.ItusedtobeClaire’sHairdressers,untilClairewasstruckoff.Is‘struckoff’thecorrectexpressionforhairdressers?Eitherway,thelocalGP’swifelostthetopofanearandthatwasthat.TheysayClaire’sinBrightonnow,andthat’sprobablyforthebest.
Gemmawaswithaman,whoElizabethdescribedas‘atennis-coachtype’,thoughconcededthatthesedayshemighthavebeen‘aPilates-instructortype’.Certainlynotagrievingwidow,andIthinkweallagreedthatshe’dearnedabitofhappiness,sogoodforher.
Shehasalso,itseems,earnedanawfullotofmoney.ThisiswhatElizabethgotoutofher.Idon’tknowexactlyhow,butIdoknowthatatonepointshehadpretendedtofaint,becauseshehadactuallygrazedherelbowintheeffort.Shealwaysfindsaway,thatone.
Anyway,GemmaVenthamhassoldCoopersChaseHoldingstoacompanycalledBramleyHoldings.Ofcourse,we’vetriedtofindoutasmuchaswecanaboutBramleyHoldings,butthusfar,noluck.WeevencalledinJoannaandCornelius,butthey’veturnedupablank.Theypromisedtheywouldkeeplooking,althoughyoucanhearthatCornelius’spatienceisbeginningtowearabitthin.
Buthere’ssomethingelsekeepingmeawake.Thatname.
BramleyHoldings?ItisringingabellandIcan’tworkoutwhy.Elizabethsaystheytakenamesofftheshelf,andperhapssheisright,butanalarmisringinginmybrainandIcan’tswitchitoff.
Bramley?WherehaveIheardthatbefore?AndIknowI’manoldwoman,butdon’tsayapples.Somethingelse.Somethingimportant.
Anne,whoeditsCuttotheChase,cametoseemetoday.Peoplewillalwayscomeandseeyouwhenyouloseafriend.Bynowwe’veallworkedouttherightthingstosay.We’vesaidthemoftenenough.
Idon’tthinksheisdoingitjusttobenice,butAnnehasaskedifIwillwriteacolumninCuttotheChase.SheknowsIliketowriteandsheknowsIhavemynoseineverything,sowouldIwritesomethingaboutthecomingsandgoingsatCoopersChase?Isaidyes,ofcourse,andwearegoingtocallit‘Joyce’sChoices’,whichIlike.Ihadsuggested‘Joyce’sVoices’,butAnnehadthoughtthatmightsoundabitmentalhealth.Shewantsapictureofme,soIwillgothroughafewtomorrowandpickoutaniceone.
WeareofftoseeGordonPlayfairtomorrowaswell.Thefarmeratthetopofthehill?He’stheonlypersonanyofuscanthinkofwhowashereintheearly1970sandisstillheretoday.HewasnowherenearVenthamwhenhewasmurdered,soIdon’tthinkwecancounthimasasuspect,butwe’rehopinghemightremembersomethingusefulfromallthoseyearsago.
Imusttryandsleepagain.
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‘Quaint?’repeatsGordonPlayfair,laughing.‘Thisplace?YouandIknowit’sanoldhouse,fallingapart,foranoldmanfallingapart.’
‘We’reallfallingapart,Gordon,’saysElizabeth.
ThewalktothePlayfairfarmhadtakenlongerthanexpected,becauseapolicecordonhasbeenplacedaroundtheGardenofEternalRest.Byallaccounts,twopolicecarsandawhitevan,popularlybelievedtobeaforensicsunit,hadcarefullyparkedataround10a.m.andanumberofofficersinwhitebodysuitshadwalkedupthehillwithspades.MartinSedgehasatop-floorflatinLarkinandistrainingbinocularsonthesite,butnonewsyet.‘Justsomedigging,’washismostrecentreport.
‘Thishouseandmehavegrownoldtogether.Roofcomingoff,’saysGordon,andrubsthefewstrandsofhairleftonhishead.‘Thingscreakthatdidn’tusetocreak.Dodgyplumbing.We’retwoofakind.’
‘Wedon’tdisturbyoutoomuch?Thevillage?’asksElizabeth.
‘Neverhearapeep,’saysGordon.‘Mightaswellstillbethenunsdownthere.’
‘Youshouldcomeandvisitussometime,’saysJoyce.‘There’sarestaurant,there’sapool.There’sZumba.’
‘Iusedtogodownalotintheolddays.Justforbitsandbobs,haveachat.Theywerealivelybunchwhentheyweren’tpraying.Also,ifyoueverputanailthroughyourthumboryourankledownarabbithole,they’dfixyouup,’saysGordon.
Elizabethnods,fairenough.‘YoumetIanVenthamonthemorninghewasmurdered?’
‘Unfortunately,yes.Notmychoice.’
‘Whosechoice?’
‘Karen,myyoungest.Shejustwantedmetohearhimout.Shewantsmetosell.Whywouldn’tshe?’
‘Andwhatwasdiscussed?’asksElizabeth.
‘Sameoldnonsense.Sameoffer,samemanners.I’llputitpolitelybysayingInevertooktoIanVentham.Icanbelesspoliteifyou’dlike?’
‘Youweren’tforturning?’
‘Theybothtriedtotalkmeround.Karencouldseeitwasn’twashing,butVenthamkeptonforabitlonger.Tryingtomakemefeelguiltyaboutthekids.’
‘Butyoudidn’tbudge?’
‘Irarelydo.’
‘I’mmuchthesame,’saysElizabeth.‘Andhowdidyouleaveit?’
‘Hetoldmehewasgoingtogetmyland,onewayoranother.’
‘Andwhatdidyousaytothat?’asksJoyce.
‘Isaid,“Overmydeadbody,”’saysGordonPlayfair.
‘Well,quite,’saysElizabeth.
‘Anyway,’saysGordonPlayfair,‘I’vebeenmadeanotheroffer.AndI’mtakingit,nowVentham’soutofthepicture.’
‘Goodforyou,’saysElizabeth.
‘Now,mightIask,isthisjustasocialcall?’saysGordonPlayfair.‘OristheresomethingIcanhelpyouwith?’
‘Funnyyoushouldask,’Elizabethsays,nodding.‘Wewerewonderingifyouhadanymemoriesofthisplace?Fromtheseventies,say?’
‘Icertainlyhaveplentyofmemories,’saysGordonPlayfair.‘Mightevenhaveafewphotoalbumsifthey’dhelp?’
‘Itwouldn’tdoanyharmtotakealook,’saysElizabeth.
‘Ishouldwarnyounow,myphotosaremainlyofsheep.Whatisityou’relookingfor?’
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Joyce
SowetoldGordonPlayfairaboutthebody.Andweallhadagoodoldchataboutwhomighthaveburieditthereallthoseyearsago.Allthoseyearsago,whenCoopersChasewasaconventandayoungGordonPlayfairsatintheverysamehouse,withhisyoungfamily,onthisveryhill.
Theofferforhisland,bytheway?ItwasfromourmysteriousfriendsatBramleyHoldings.Thatnameisstilldrivingmecrazy.Butit’llcome.HewasjustcuttingoffhisnosetospitehisfacewithVentham,refusingtosellsimplybecausehecouldn’tstandhim.ThemomentVenthamwasoutofthepicture,thesalewason.
IaskedGordonwhathemightdowiththemoney,anditwon’tsurpriseyoutoknowthatmostofitwillgotothekids.There’sthree.Weknowoneofthem,ofcourse:Karen,wholivesinthesmallcottageinthenextfieldoverandwassupposedtobeteachingusaboutcomputers,untilweweresounexpectedlyinterrupted.
Unmarried,butthensoisJoanna.SoamI,cometothinkofit.
So,luckykids,butGordonsayshehasenoughleftovertobuyhimselfalittlesomewhereniceand,youwillseewherethisisgoing,we’regoingtogivehimaguidedtourofCoopersChaseinafewdaysandseeifanythingtakeshisfancy.Wouldn’tthatbefun?Gordoniscraggy,ratherthanconventionallyhandsome,buthasbroad,farmer’sshoulders
Anyway,backtothebones.Gordonunderstoodnowwhywewantedtohearhismemoriesofthe1970s.Andwhywewerestudyinghisphotoalbumssointently.Justtotakealookatanyshotshe’dtakenonthosetripsdownthehillallthoseyearsago.Seeifanyonerangabell.
Intheend,itwasinthesecondalbumwelookedthrough.Itstartedwithweddingphotos,GordonandSandra(orSusan,IhadglazedoverI’mafraid,youknowotherpeople’sweddingphotos),thenpicturesofababy,suspiciouslyshortlyafterwards.Thatwillbetheireldest.Then,andI’mnotmakingthisup,pageafterpageofpicturesofsheepand,thewayGordonwastellingit,alldifferent.Andthen,justasthewineandthefireandthesheepweremakingusdrowsy,wereachedthefinalphotosinthealbum.Sixinall,blackandwhite.AllsixphotostakenataChristmaspartyattheconvent.Probablynotapartyassuch,butcertainlyChristmas.
Itwasinthefifthphoto,agroupshot.Atfirstyoucouldn’treallyseeit.We’veallchangedalotoverfiftyyears,I’msureIwouldn’trecognizeElizabeth,orsheme.Butwealllookedandwealllookedagain.Andweallagreed.
Andsowehaveourevidence,andwehaveaplan.Well,Elizabethhasaplan.
And,speakingofphotos,IfoundaniceoneformycolumninCuttotheChase.It’sanoldphoto,whichIknowisvain,butyou’dstillknowit’sme.Gerryisalsoinit,butAnnetellsmeshecancrophimoutonthecomputer.Sorry,love.
93
ThereisstillaconfessionalstallinthechapelattheheartofCoopersChase.Itisusedasstorageforthecleanersnow.JoycehadhelpedElizabethclearitout,stackinguptheboxesoffloorpolishonthealtar,neatlytuckedbehindJesus.Elizabethhadgiventhewholeplaceaspruceup,evenpolishingthegrille.Asafinaltouch,sheputsapairofOrlaKielycushionsonthehardwoodenseats.
Elizabethhadconductedmanyinterviewsinhertime,andbroughtmanypeopletosomekindofjustice.Iftapesexistedofanyoftheseinterviews,theyhadlongsincebeenburied,erasedorburned.ThatwasElizabeth’sferventhopeatleast.
Lawyers?No.Procedure?Certainlynot.Justwhateverworkedquickest.
Nothingphysicalever,thatwasn’tElizabeth’sstyle.Sheknewithappenedfromtimetotime,butitwasnevereffective.Psychologywaskey.Alwaystrytheunexpected,alwaysapproachfromanangle,alwaysleanbackinyourchair,withallthetimeintheworld,andwaitforthemtotellall.Likethewholeprocesswastheirideainthefirstplace.Andforthatyoualwaysneededanangle,somethingunexpected.Somethingbespoke.
Likeinvitingapriesttoaconfession.
ElizabethrealizedshewasveryfondofDonnaandChris.TheThursdayMurderClubhadgotluckywiththosetwo.Imaginetheborestheymighthavebeensaddledwith.SheknewthatevenDonnaandChriswouldhavelimits,though,andthatthiswaswaybeyondthoselimits.ButifshecouldworkhermagicwithMatthewMackie,sheknewtheywouldforgiveher.
Andifshecouldn’tworkhermagic?Ifhermagicwasjustamemory?ShehadbeenwrongaboutIanVenthammurderingTonyCurran,hadn’tshe?
ButMatthewMackiewasdifferent.HerewasamanwhohadscuffledwithVentham.Amanwhodidn’tseemtoexist,yethadbeeninaphototakeninthisverychapel.Amanwhobothwasapriestandwasn’tapriest.Amanwhohadbrushedoverhisfootsteps.
Untilsomeonehaddecidedtodigupagraveyard.Hisgraveyard?
Andamanwhowasonhiswaythisverymoment.Whenitwouldhavebeeneasierforhimtostayathome.Washecomingtoconfess?Washecomingtofindoutwhatsheknew?Orwashecomingwithasyringefulloffentanyl?
Elizabethhasneverbeenafraidofdeath,but,allthesame,inthismoment,shethinksofStephen.
ItiscoldintheagelessdarkofthechapelandElizabethshivers.Shebuttonshercardigan,thenlooksatherwatch.Shewouldsoonfindout,onewayoranother.
94
ChrisHudsonisinasmallcell,oppositealargeman.ThesmallcellisaninterviewroomintheCentralPrisonofNicosiaandthelargemanisCostasGunduz.ThefatherofGianniGunduz.
Chrisisinaconcreteseat,boltedtothefloor.Thebackisramrodstraight.ItwouldbethemostuncomfortablechairthatChrishadeversatin,hadhenotjustmadetheflighttoCyprusonRyanair.
Chris’stripsabroadforworkhavebeenfewandfarbetween.Manyyearsago,hehadgonetoSpaintoescorthomeBillyGill,aseventy-year-oldantiquesdealerfromHovewhohadrunacounterfeitpound-coinoperationfromagarageclosetotheseafront.Itwasalovelylittlebusiness,runningprettymuchundetectablyformanyyears,until,withtheadventofthetwo-poundcoin,Billyhadgotgreedy.Hiscoinshadlookedterrific,butthemiddleskeptfallingout,andafteralengthystakeoutofaPortsladelaunderette,Billy’smintwastrackeddownandBillyhadfledforthesun,pocketsjanglingashewent.
Chris’smemoryofthattripwasacrampedcharterflightfromShorehamairport,landingsomewhereinSpainbeginningwithA,beingdrivenforforty-fiveminutesinsearingheat,thevanstoppingandahandcuffedBillyGillbeingshovedalongsidehim,andwaitingsevenhoursforaflighthome,allthewhilelisteningtoBillyGilltellinghimyoucouldn’tgetMarmiteinSpain.
ThenafewyearslatertherehadbeenacompulsoryITcourseontheIsleofWight.And,sofar,thathadbeenthatforglobetrotting.
ButCypruswasabitmorelikeit.Toohot,obviously,butmorelikeit.He’dbeenmetatLarnacaairportanddriventothecapitalbyJoeKyprianou,theCypriotdetectivewhonowsatnexttohim.Theprisonwasniceandcooland,Chrisdiscovered,it’simpossibletosweatwhensittingonaconcretechair.Fromthemomentthecelldoorsclosed,hehadbeenhappy.
CostasGunduzwas,Chrisguessed,somewhereinhisseventies,butwasalotlesschattythanBillyGill.
‘WhenwasthelasttimeyousawGianni?’asksChris.
Costaslooksstraightathimandshrugs.
‘Lastweek?Lastyear?Doeshevisit?Comeon,Costas.’
Costaslooksathisnails.Which,Chrisnotes,areimmaculateforamaninprison.
‘Here’sthething,MrGunduz.WehaverecordsshowingthatyoursonarrivedbackinCyprus,on17May2000.LandingatLarnacaairportataroundtwop.m.Andfromthatmomenttothis,nothing.Notatrace.Whymightthatbe,doyouthink?’
Costasthinksforamoment.‘WhydoyouwantGianni?Afterthistime?’
‘IwouldliketospeaktohimaboutanoffenceintheUK.Torulehimout.’
‘Prettybigoffenceifyouflyhere?No?’
‘Aprettybigoffence,MrGunduz,yes.’
CostasGunduznodsslowly.‘Andyoucan’tfindGianni?’
‘Iknowwherehewasattwop.m.on17May2000,andI’mhazyafterthat,’saysChris.‘Wherewouldhehavegone?Whowouldhehaveseen?’
‘Well,’saysCostas,sittinguptallinhischair,‘hewouldhavecometoseeme.’
‘Anddidhe?’
CostasleansforwardalittleandgivesChrisasmile.Thenshrugsonceagain.‘Timeup,Ithink.Goodlucktoyou.EnjoyCyprus.’
JoeKyprianouleansforwardnow,andregardsCostasGunduz.
‘CostasandhisbrotherAndreas,theyusedtostealmotorcycles,Chris,hereinNicosia,andshipthemofftoTurkey.Prettyeasy,ifyouhaveaguyineachport.Theyhadalittleworkshop,fileofftheserialnumber,changetheregistration,that’sright,Costas,isn’tit?’
‘Alongtimeago,’saysCostas.
‘Thenitwascarseverynowandagain.Buttheycouldgoonthesameboats,withthesamementurningthesameblindeye,soeverythingisOKforCostasandAndreas.Theyearsrollby,bikesandcars,carsandbikes.Andthecarsmeanabiggerworkshop,andabiggerlorry,andbiggercrates.’
‘AndbiggermoneyforCostas?’asksChris,lookingatCostas.
‘Biggermoney,forsure.Soalliscalmandeveryoneishappy,andCostasandAndreasdoverynicely,thankyousomuch.Andthen1974andTurkeyinvade.Youknowthestory?’
‘Yes,’saysChris.Hedoesn’t,buthereallywantsamealbeforehisflightandhecanbetthestoryisalongone.HewilllookituponWikipediaifitbecomesimportant.
‘SotheTurkishinvade,theytakeoverNorthernCyprus.Prettymuch.TheGreekCypriotsinthenorthcomedownsouth,theTurkishCypriotsinthesouthgoupnorth.Andthat’sCostasandAndreas.’
‘SoCostasmovednorth?’
JoeKyprianoulaughs.‘Youmovednorth,ehCostas?Likethreestreetsnorth.Nicosiawascutintwo,Turkishinthenorthofthecity,Greekinthesouth.SotheyjustmovednorthoftheGreenLineandfoundthemselvesinawholenewworld.’
Google‘GreenLine’,thinksChris.
‘AndCostas,yousensedopportunityinthisnewworld,eh?Startedanewbusiness.’
‘Drugs?’asksChris.‘NaughtyCostas.’
Costasshrugs.
‘Drugs,’confirmsJoeKyprianou.‘Theypaidtherightpeople.DrugsfromTurkeycomeintoNorthernCyprus.ThenfromNorthernCyprusontowherever,whoever.Hugebusinessvery,veryquickly,andallprotected.Frontiercountry,youknow?Tenyearson,thebrothersruneverything,they’reKingsoftheNorth.Untouchable,Chris,thewholefamily.Theypaycharities,openschools,thewholematch.Gunduz.YoujustsaythenameinNorthernCyprusandseewhatyousee.’
Chrisnods,hegetsit.‘WhenGiannilandedbackherein2000,hedisappeared,nevertobeseenagain.Therewasawarrant,wehadofficersflyover,theCypriotpolicesearched,butfoundnothing.’
Joenods.‘It’ssimple,Chris,really.IfGiannihastogetoutofEnglandquick,hejustcallshisdad.Helandsattheairport,Costassendspeopletopickhimup,burnthepassport,newonestraightaway.Newguy,newname,backuptoNorthernCyprus,backtobusiness.Nextday,backtobusiness,Iguarantee.Isthatwhathappened,Costas?’
‘Nothinghappened,’saysCostas.
‘Andthesearch?’asksChris.‘Ourguys?Yourguys?’
‘Nochance.Nochanceatall,’saysJoe.‘Iwon’tsaybadthings,Chris,becauseyouknowhowitis.Butnowaytheyevenlooked.Notintherightplaces.Seeifyourboyswroteitup.Theywon’thavesetfootinNorthernCyprus.In2000,youcan’tbelievethepowerCostashad.Youownedeverythingandeveryone,eh,brother?’
JoelooksatCostas.Costasnods.
‘Stilldoes,evenfromprison.So,howevergoodacopyouare,whyeventry?Giannicouldbehere,couldbeTurkey,couldbeUSorbackintheUK.YoucanseeCostasknowswhereheis,buthe’snevergoingtohelpyou.’
Costasholdsouthishands.
‘HecouldhaveflownintotheUK?’saysChris.‘Underanyname,killedTonyCurranandflownbackout,andwe’dbenonethewiser?’
Joenods.‘Definitely.ThoughifheflewtotheUKhe’dhavehadhelpwhenhegotthere.AnyCypriotstherewhocouldhelphim?Puthimup?AnyonewhomightbescaredofCostashere,andwhathecanstilldo?’
Chrisshrugs,buttucksthisaway.
Costashashadenough,andstands.‘Arewedone,gentlemen?’
Chrisnods,heisoutofammunition.Heknowsaprowhenheinterviewsone.ChristakesouthiscardandputsitonthetableinfrontofCostas.
‘Mycard,ifanythingcomesbacktoyou.’
Costaslooksatthecard,thenatChris,thenbackatthecardandletsoutabellylaugh.HelooksoveratJoeKyprianouandsayssomethingChriscan’tcatch.JoeKyprianoulaughstoo.CostaslooksbackatChrisforafinaltimeandshakeshishead,firmly,butnotunkindly.
ChrisgivesCostasashrugofhisown.Heisaprotoo.
ChrishadgoogleditearlierandthereisaStarbucksandaBurgerKingatLarnacaairport.YousawfewerandfewerBurgerKingsthesedays.Timetomaketracks.Hestands.
‘Whatdidtheygetyoufor,Costas?’asksChris.‘Intheend?’
Costasgivesasmallsmile.‘IboughtaHarley-Davidson,fromtheUS,haditshippedover.Forgottopaytheduty.’
‘You’rekidding?Andtheygaveyoulife?’
CostasGunduzshakeshishead.‘SentencedtotwoweeksandthenIkilledaprisonguard.’
Chrisnods.‘Quiteafamily.’
95
MatthewMackiehadbeensurprisedtogetthecallfromElizabeth.Askingifhewasavailableforaconfession.Hehadbeengardeningandthinking.Thepoliceinterviewhadupsethim,thrownhimoffbalance.Lifehadbeensosimpleafewmonthsago.Hislifewasn’thappy,exactly,hehadn’tbeenhappyformanyyears,butwasheatpeaceperhaps?Hadhefoundsomecontentment?Asmuchashewasevergoingto,hesupposed.
Hehadhishouse,hisgarden,hispension.Hehadniceneighbourswhowouldlookinonhim.Ayoungfamilyhadrecentlymovedinopposite,andthekidswouldplayontheirbikesonthepavement.Hecouldhearbellsandlaughterifhekeptthewindowsopen.Hecouldwalkdowntotheseainfiveminutes.Hecouldsitandwatchthegullsandreadthepaper,whenitwasn’ttoowindy.Peopleknewhim,andwouldsmileandaskhowhewaskeepingand,ifhewasn’ttoobusy,couldtheytellhimabouttheirnosebleeds,ortheirhip,ortheirsleeplessnights?Itwasalife,ithadarhythmandaroutineanditkepttheghostsatbay.Whatmorecouldyouask,really?
Butnow?Brawls,policeinterviews,non-stopworry.Wouldheevergethispeaceback?Wouldthisblowover?Heknewitwouldn’t.Whatevertheysayabouttimehealing,somethingsinlifejustbreakandcanneverbefixed.Fornow,MatthewMackiewaskeepinghiswindowsshut.Therewerenobellsandtherewasnolaughter,andhewasoldenoughtoknowtheremightneverbeagain.
Itseemedthateverybitofnewshehadreceivedinthelastmonthhadbeenbad.Sowhattomakeofthephonecall?Whatwasthistobe?
DidheknowtheconfessionalstallatStMichael’sChapel,shehadasked.Didheknowit?Hewouldstilldreamofitnow,thedarkness,thedullecho,thewallsclosinginonhim.Theplacewherehislifebrokeintwo,nevertobefixed.
Shouldhegobackthere?Itwasn’tafairquestion.Hehadneverleft.Hehadknownhislifewouldleadhimbackthereoneday.God’ssenseofhumour.Youhadtohandittohim.
HehadseenElizabeth,hewassure.Attheconsultationmeetingandagainontheawfuldayofthemurder.Shestoodout.SowhatwasonElizabeth’smind?Whatsincouldshenolongerhide?Andwhyaskforhim?Andwhythere?Shemusthaveseenhimonthedayofthemurder,hesupposed.Musthaveseenthedogcollar,thatusuallystuckinpeople’sminds.Itoftenmadepeoplewanttotelltheirsecrets,tospillall.Whathadheunlockedinherthatmadeherpickupthephone?And,forthatmatter,howhadshegothisnumber?Hewasn’tlisted.Perhapsitwasontheinternet?Shemusthavegotitsomewhere.
Andsothatwasthat.BacktoStMichael’s.Intotheconfessional,withElizabeth.Backtowhereitallbeganandwhereitallended.Amacabrecoincidence.Ifonlysheknew.
MatthewMackiewasalreadyontheplatformatBexhillstationwhenherealizedElizabethhadn’tactuallymentionedwhichofthemwouldbedoingtheconfessing.
Hethoughtaboutturningstraightround.But,bythatpoint,hehadalreadyboughtaticket.
Shecouldn’tpossiblyknow?Couldshe?
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Sothat,supposedChris,wasthat.GianniGunduzhadmanagedtodisappear,theprodigalsonreturned,protectedbyhispowerfulfamily.NowtofindoutifGiannihadrecentlytakenaflightbacktoEngland.Alittletripdownmemorylane.Butunderwhatname?Andwithwhatface?Giannicouldcomeandgoashepleased.
ChrishadgottotheairportwithplentyoftimetospareandwasenjoyingatriplechocolatemuffinfromStarbucks.Heshouldn’t,ofcourse,justemptycalories,buthecouldthinkaboutthatwhenhe’dfinishedthemuffin.HehearsanEnglishvoice.
‘Thisseattaken?’
Chrismotionsthattheseatisfree,withoutlookingup.Untilhisbrainregistersthatthevoiceisfamiliartohim.Butofcourse.Ofcourse.Chrislooksup,andnods.
‘Goodafternoon,Ron.’
‘Afternoon,Chris,’saysRon,sittingdown.‘Fourhundredandfiftycaloriesinonemuffin,youknow.’
‘Areyoufollowingme,Ron?’asksChris.‘Seeingwhatthereistosee?’
‘No,wegothereyesterday,oldson,’saysRon.
‘We?’saysChris.
Ibrahimarriveswithatray.HenodsatChris.‘Howlovelytobumpintoyou,DetectiveChiefInspector!Weheardyouwerehere.Ron,Ididn’treallyknowhowtoaskforjustaninstantcoffee,soIgotusCaramelFrappuccinos.’
‘ThanksIb,’saysRon,andtakeshisdrink.
‘Iwonderifit’sworthmywhileaskingwhatyoutwoaredoinghere,’asksChris.‘Assumingitisjustthetwoofyou?PerhapsJoyceisstockingupinDutyFree?’
‘Justusboys,’saysRon.‘LittlejollytoCyprus.’
‘Quitebonding,infact,’saysIbrahim.‘Ihaveneverhadmanyclosemalefriends.Orclosefemalefriends.OrbeentoCyprus.’
‘Elizabethsentusoverwithinstructions,’saysRon.‘Sheknewsomeonewhoknewsomeonewhoknewsomeone,sohereweare.Probablyfindingoutthesameasyou.’
‘Averypowerfulfamily,’saysIbrahim.‘VeryeasyforGiannitogomissing.Tochangehisidentity.Notraceofhimanywhere.’
‘Aghost,’saysRon.
‘Aghostwithagrudge,’agreesChris.Hehasgivenuponthemuffin.Hehasalreadyeatenhalf,sowhatwasthat?Twohundredandtwentycalories?IfthegatewasagoodwalkfromStarbucks,hewouldworksomeofthatoff.Thennothingontheplane.
‘Weheardyou’vebeentoseeGianni’sdad,’saysRon.‘Yougetanything?’
‘Whodidyouhearthatfrom?’asksChris.
‘Doesitmatter?’asksRon.
Chrissupposesitdoesn’t.‘HeknowswhereGianniis.ButevenElizabethwouldn’tbeabletogetitoutofhim.’
Themennod.
‘Joyce,maybe,’addsChris,andtheyallnodagain,smilingthistime.
‘Youdon’tsmileveryoften,DetectiveChiefInspector,’saysIbrahim.‘Ifyoudon’tmindmesayingso?That’sjustanobservation.’
‘IfIcanmakeanobservationofmyown?’saysChris,realizingthatIbrahimisrightandnotwantingtothinkaboutitrighthere,rightnow.‘IfElizabethknowssomeonewhoknowssomeonewhoknowssomeone,thenwhyisn’tshehere?WhysendStarskyandHutchwhenCagneyandLaceycouldhavecomeanddonethejob?’
‘StarskyandHutch,verygood,’saysIbrahim.‘IwouldbeHutch,moremethodical.’
Thereisaboardingannouncement,andthethreemengathertheirbelongings.ChrisseesthatRonhasawalkingstickwithhim.
‘FirsttimeI’veseenyouusingastick,Ron.’
Ronshrugs.‘Ifyou’vegotasticktheyletyouontheplanefirst.’
‘SowhereareElizabethandJoyce?’asksChris.‘Ordon’tIwanttoknow?’
‘Youdon’twanttoknow,’saysIbrahim.
‘Ohgreat!’saysChris.
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Candlelightisflickeringinthechapel.ElizabethandMatthewMackieareinchesapart,intheconfessional.
‘Iseenopointindressingitup.AndIdon’twantforgiveness,yoursortheLord’s.Ijustwantitonrecord,Iwantsomeonetobearwitness,beforeIdieandit’salldust.Iknowtherearerules,evenintheconfessional,soyoumustdowhateveryouneedtodowiththisinformation.Ikilledaman.Thiswasalifetimeago,andforwhatit’sworth,heattackedmeandIdefendedmyself.ButIkilledhim.’
‘Goon.’
‘IwaslivingindigsinFairhaven.Idon’tknowifyou’rethetypetojudgeme,butIhadinvitedhimhome.Stupid,perhaps,butyouwereprobablystupidbackthentoo.That’swhereheattackedme.Thedetailsaregrisly,butthat’snotanexcuse.IfoughtbackandIkilledhim.Iwassofrightened,Iknewexactlyhowitlooked.Noonehadseenwhathappened,sowhowouldbelieveme?Theyweredifferenttimes,youknowthat,yourememberthat?’
‘Iremember.’
‘Iwrappedthebodyinacurtain.Idraggedittomycar.Andthat’swhereIleftitwhileIthoughtwhattodo.Thishadallhappenedveryquickly,that’swhatyouhavetounderstand.ThatmorningIhadwokenlikeeverybodyelseandnowhereIwas.Itseemedsoabsurd.’
‘Howdidyoukillhim?CanIask?’
‘Ishothim.Intheleg.Ihadn’tthoughthewoulddie,buthebledandhebledandhebled.Somuchblood,soquickly.Perhapsifhe’dmadeanoiseitwouldhavebeendifferent.Buthejustwhimpered.Inshock,Isuppose.AndIwatchedhimdie,ascloseasIamtoyounow.’
Silenceintheconfessional.Silenceinthechapel.Elizabethhaslockedandboltedthedoor.Nooneisgoingtocomein.And,ofcourse,nooneisgoingtogetout.Ifthatwasthewaythiswasgoingtoend.
‘Then…well,thenIsatandIwept,becausewhatelsewastheretodo?Iwaitedforthehandonmyshoulder,forsomeonetotakemeaway.Itwassomonstrous.ButasIsatthereandIsatthereandIsatthere,nothingmuchhappened.Nooneknocked,noonescreamed.Therewasnolightning.SoImademyselfacupoftea.Andthekettlestillboiledandthesteamrose,andIstillhadabody,wrappedinacurtain,inthebootofmycar.Itwasasummerevening,soIturnedonthewirelessandIwaiteduntildark.AndthenIdrovehere.’
‘Here?’
‘StMichael’s,yes.Iworkedhereforatime.Idon’tknowifyouknewthat?’
‘Ididn’t.’
‘SoIdrovethroughthegates,andIswitchedoffmylightsasIdroveupthehill.TheSisterswouldalwayssleepearly.Ikeptdriving,pastStMichael’s,pastthehospitalandupthelanetotheGardenofEternalRest.Youknowit?’
‘Iknowit.’
‘Ofcourse.AndItookmyspade,andIdon’twantthesewallstocrumblearoundus,butIchoseagrave,ofoneoftheSisters.Itwasrightatthetop,wheretheearthwassoft,andIdug.IduguntilIhitthewoodofacoffin.ThenIwalkedbacktomycar.Itippedthebodyoutofthebootandoutofthecurtain.Ihadn’thadtoremoveanyclothes,becausehewasnakedwhenheattackedme,youunderstand.AndsoIdraggedthebodyupthepath,throughtheheadstones.Itwashardgoing,Irememberthat.AtonepointIcursed,andthenIapologizedforcursing.Igotthebodyuptotheholeandtippeditintothegrave.Ontopofthecoffin.ThenItookmyspadeagain,IfilledinthegraveandIsaidaprayer.ThenIwalkedbacktomycar,IputthespadeinthebootandIdrovehome.That’sasplainasIcantellit.’
‘Iunderstand.’
‘Andtheknockatthedoornevercame.Which,Isuppose,iswhyI’mtellingyouallthisnow.Becausenooneknockedatmydoorandsurelysomeoneshouldhave?Inmydreamstheyknockeverynight.Therehavetobeconsequences.So,whatdoyouthink?Please,justbehonestwithme.’
‘Behonestwithyou?’MatthewMackieletsoutalong,slow,sigh.‘I’llbehonest.Idon’tbelieveawordofit,Elizabeth.’
‘Notaword?’queriesElizabeth.‘Therewasalotofdetail,FatherMackie.Thedate,thegunshottotheleg,thatveryparticulargrave.Whatapeculiarthingformetomakeup.’
‘Elizabeth,youdidn’tworkherein1970.’
‘Mmm.Youdid,though.I’veseenthepictures.’
‘Idid,yes.I’vesatherebefore.AndI’vesatwhereyouaretoo.’
Elizabethdecidestostartturningthescrew.
‘Yousoundlikeamanwhowantstotalk?AnythingI’vesaidtriggeredanymemories?ConvincedyouImightjustknowsomething?’
MatthewMackiegivesasadlaugh.Elizabethkeepsathim.
‘Ifyoudon’tmindmesaying,FatherMackie,yougavequitethelittlejumpwhenImentionedtheGardenofEternalRest?’
‘Idomindyousayingthat,Elizabeth,butIsupposeIwouldliketotalk.I’vealwayswantedto.Andsincewe’rebothhere,whydon’tyouplayyourrealcardsandseewherethatgetsyou?’
‘You’resure?’
‘I’mathomehere,Elizabeth.InGod’shouse.Let’stalkawhile,shallwe?Twooldfools?YoujuststartsomewhereandI’lljoininwhereIcan.’
‘ShallwestartwithIanVentham?Shallwetalkawhileabouthim?’
‘IanVentham?’
‘Well,let’sstartthereatleast.Wecanalwaysworkbackwards.Imightstartwithaquestion,FatherMackie,ifyoudon’tmind?’
‘Askaway.AndcallmeMatthew,please.’
‘Thankyou,Iwill.So,firstthingsfirst,Matthew.WhydidyoukillIanVentham?’
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Joyce
Ihavebeengivenexpressinstructions,andElizabethhasbeengonetoolong.IwishRonandIbrahimwerewithme.I’mwritingthisdownwhileIwaitforDonnatoarrive,whichIhopewillbeverysoon.
It’sbeginningtofeellikethisisn’tallsomejollylark.Anadventurewhereeverythingresolvesitselfandweallcomebackformoreofthesamenextweek.Elizabethsaidtwohoursandshehasnowbeengonetwohours.Abitmorethantwohours.WhathadIbeenthinkingwhenIagreedtothisinthefirstplace?TherehavebeenlotsofthingswehadkeptfromChrisandDonna,butthisisbyfarthemostdangerous.Iamnotoneofnature’sliars.Icankeepmysecretstomyself,rightupuntilthetimesomeoneasksmeaboutthem.
SoImadethecalltoDonnaandItoldherwhereElizabethhadgoneandItoldhershehadn’treturned.
Donnawasveryangry,andIunderstandthat.ItoldherIwassorryforlyingandshesaidthatElizabethhadbeentheliar,Ihadsimplybeenacoward.ShethencalledmesomethingwhichIwouldn’twanttorepeat,butwhich,Ihavetoadmit,wasfaircomment.
IamsokeenforpeopletolikemethatIchosethatmomenttosayhowmuchIhadalwayslikedhereyeshadowandtoaskherwhereitwasfrom.Butshehadalreadyputthephonedown.
Donnaisonherway.IknowsheisveryworriedandsoamI.IhavealwaysthoughtElizabethwasindestructible.IhopeI’mnotwrong.
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Elizabethhasmadethiswalkmanytimesbefore,alongthecurvingpath,throughtheavenueoftreesanduptotheGardenofEternalRest.ShecanfeelMatthewMackie’shandinthesmallofherback,guidingherforward.
Itisalwaysquiet,butshecanneverrememberitbeingthisquiet.Eventhebirdsaresilent.Whatdotheyknow?Itlookslikerain.Thesunisdoingwhatitcantopiercethecloudcover,butshestillshivers.Therehadbeenpolicecrimetapehereuntilamatterofdaysago.Afragmenthasbeenlefttiedtoasaplingandflapsitsblueandwhitetailinthewind.
TheypassBernard’sbench.Itlooksabsurdlyempty.
Bernardwouldhavewantedtoknowwhatthetwoofthemweredoing,Elizabethandthepriest,walkingslowlyupthehill,facessetinstone.Bernardwouldhavelookedupfromhisnewspaper,wishedthemagooddayandkepttheminsightfortherestofthewalk.ButBernardhasgone.Likesomanybeforehim.Time’sup,that’sit.Noreturn.Anemptybenchonasilenthill.
TheyreachthegatesandMatthewMackiepushesthemopen.HeushersElizabethinside,handstillatherback,andshehearsthehingessquealshutbehindthem.
MatthewMackiedoesnotwalkherallthewaytothetopright-handcorneroftheGardenofEternalRest,towheretheoldergravesholdtheirsecrets.Instead,hetakeshishandfromherback,stepsoffthepathandwalksbetweentworowsofnewerheadstones,cleanerandwhiter.Theroutehealwaystakes.Elizabethfollowshimthistimeandtheystopinfrontofaheadstone.Elizabethlooksattheinscription.
SisterMargaretAnneMargaretFarrell,1948–1971
ElizabethtakesMatthewMackie’shandandinterlacesherfingerswithhis.
‘It’sabeautifulplace,Elizabeth,’hesays.
Elizabethlooksout,beyondthewall,totherollingfields,thehills,thetrees,thebirds.Itreallyisabeautifulplace.Thepeaceisbrokenbyacommotionfurtherdownthehill,thesoundoffootstepsrunning.Elizabethlooksatherwatch.
‘That’llbemyrescueparty,’shesays.‘ItoldthemifIwasn’toutintwohours,theyweretobreakdownthedoor.Comeinshooting.’
‘Twohours?’asksMackie.‘Werewereallytwohours?’
Elizabethnods.‘Therewasagreatdealtosay,Matthew.’
Henodstoo.
‘You’llprobablyhavetogothroughitagainwhenthislotfinallygetupthehill.’
ElizabethcanseeChrisHudsonnow,freshofftheplanesheguessed,runningasbesthecan.Shegiveshimafriendlywaveandseesthereliefonhisface.Boththatsheisstillaliveandthathecannowstoprunning.
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TherehadbeenaschismintheCrypticCrosswordClub.ColinClemence’sweeklysolvingchallengehadbeenwonbyIreneDoughertyforthethirdweekrunning.FrankCarpenterhadmadeanaccusationofimproprietyandtheaccusationhadgainedsomemomentum.ThefollowingdayaprofanecrosswordcluehadbeenpinnedtoColinClemence’sdoor,and,themomenthehadsolvedit,allhellhadbrokenloose.
TheupshotofallthiswasthatCrypticCrosswordClubhadbeenpostponedthisweek,toletallpartiescooldown,andsotheJigsawRoomwasunexpectedlyfree.TheThursdayMurderClubareintheirregularseatsandChrisandDonnahavebroughtthroughacoupleofstackingchairsfromthelounge.MatthewMackiesitsinanarmchairinthecorner.Thefocusofattention.
‘IwasnotlongoverfromIreland.I’donlyleftforadventure,really.Inthosedaystheycouldsendyouallsortsofplaces,AfricaorPeru,butthat’snotforme,convertingandwhathaveyou.SothisplacecameupandIsailedoverin1967,sightunseen.Itwaswhatyouseenow,really.Verybeautiful,veryquiet,ahundredSisters,butquietenoughyouwouldn’tknowit.They’dpadabout.Therewaspeace,here,intheconvent,butitwasalsoaplaceofwork,andthehospitalwasalwaysbusy.SoI’dstrollabouttheplace.I’dgivesermonsandtakeconfessions.I’dsmilewhenpeoplewerehappyandI’dcrywiththemwhentheyweresad,andthatwasmyjob.Twenty-fiveyearsold,withoutathoughtinmyheadandwithoutaboneofwisdominmybody.ButIwasaman,andthatseemedtobetheonlythingthatcounted.’
‘Andyoulivedhere?’Chrisasksthequestion.ElizabethhadsuggestedthatChrisandDonnatakechargeofanyquestioning,asshewasawareshewouldprobablyneedafewBrowniepointsbythetimetodaywasdone.
‘TherewasagatehousebackthenandIhadroomsthere.Niceenough,certainlynicerthantheSisters’rooms.Novisitors,ofcourse.Thatwastherule,atleast.’
‘Aruleyoufollowed?’asksDonna.
‘Atfirst,ofcourse.Iwaseagertodowell,eagertoplease,didn’twanttobesenthome.Allofthat.’
‘But…thingschange?’asksChris.
‘Thingschange,yes.Thingsdochange.I’dmetMaggieveryearlyon.Shewouldcleanthechapel.Therewerefourofthemcleaning.’
‘ButonlyoneMaggie?’saysDonna.
‘OnlyoneMaggie,’smilesMatthewMackie.‘Youknowwhenyoulookintosomeone’seyesforthefirsttimeandthewholeworldbreaksapart?Andyoujustthink,“Ofcourse,ofcourse,thisiswhatI’vebeenwaitingforallthistime”?’ThatwasMaggie,allright.Andatfirstitwouldbe,“Goodmorning,SisterMargaret,”and,“Goodmorning,Father,”andsoon,andshe’dgetonwithherworkandI’dgetonwithmine.Suchasitwas.ButIwouldsmile,andshewouldsmile,andsoonerorlateritwouldbe,“Afinemorning,SisterMargaret,we’reblessedwiththissunshine,”and“You’reright,Father,howblessedweare.”Andthenitwouldbe,“What’sthatyou’reusingonthefloor,SisterMargaret?”and,“It’sfloorpolish,Father.”Thiswasn’timmediate;thiswouldbeafewweeksin.’
Ronleansforwardtosaysomething,butElizabethshootshimalookandhedoesn’t.
‘Anyway,let’ssayIhadbeenthereamonthorso,whenMaggiecameinforconfession.Therewebothwere.Andneitherofussaidsomuchasaword.Wesatthereandwesatthere,ourbodiesinchesapart,justthewoodbetweenthem.IcanhearherbreathingandIcanhearmyheartthumping.It’stryingtojumpcleanoutofmychest.Don’taskmehowlongitwas,Iwouldn’thavethefirstclue,buteventuallyIsay,“You’veprobablyworktobegettingonwith,SisterMargaret,”andshesays,“Thankyou,Father,”andthatwasthat.Thatwasthewholethingclinchedandwebothknewit.Webothknewtheconfessionwasthesinanditwouldn’tbethelast.’
‘Wouldyoulikeatop-up?’asksJoyce,tippingherflaskoftea.Mackieliftshisfingerstosaynothankyou.
‘Wewouldmeetinprivate,whichgoeswithoutsaying,Iknow.Iwouldseehereverymorning,butobviouslywecouldn’tspeakwithothersaround.SoIwouldtakeherconfessionandwewouldtalk.Andonthosetwowoodenseatswefellinlove.MaggieandMatthew.MatthewandMaggie.Speakingthroughagrille.Canyouimaginealovesodoomed?’
‘And,forgiveme,butjustfortherecord,MaggieisSisterMargaretAnne?’asksChris.
‘Sheis.’
‘Nineteenforty-eighttonineteenseventy-one?’
MatthewMackienods.‘Iknewwehadtogetout.Itwouldbeeasyenough.I’dfindajob,Ihadallmyexams,Maggiewouldnurse,we’dbuyaplaceonthecoast.Webothgrewupbythesea.’
‘Youweregoingtoquitthepriesthood?’
‘Ofcourse.Letmeaskyou.Whydidyoujointhepolice,DCIHudson?’
Christhinksforamoment.‘Honestly?I’dfinishedmyAlevels,mymumtoldmeIhadtogetajob,andthatnightwewerewatchingJulietBravo.’
‘Well,isn’tthatjustit?’saysMatthewMackie.‘Inadifferenttown,inadifferentcountry,I’dhavebeenapilotoragreengrocer,butfornogoodreasonotherthancircumstance,Iwasapriest.Intruth,I’mnotagreatbelieverandneverhavebeen.Itwasajob,andaroof,andapassageawayfromhome.’
‘AndMaggie?’asksDonna.‘Shewasgoingtoquittoo?’
‘ItwasharderforMaggie.Shehadthereligion,itwasstillinher.Butshewouldhave.Ithinkshewould,oneday.Ithinkshe’dbeinBexhillwithmenow,greeneyesblazing.Butitwashardforher.Minewastheriskofayoungmanandherswastheriskofayoungwoman,andthatwasagreaterriskinthosedays,wasn’tit?’
Joycereachesoverandtakeshishand.‘WhathappenedtoyourMaggie,Matthew?’
‘Shewouldvisitme.Atnight,ifyougetthepicture.Inthegatehouse.Itwaseasyenoughtoslipawayafterlightsout.Maggiewasnofool,shewouldhavefittedinwithyoulot,noproblem.TuesdaysandFridaysshecouldseeme,thosewerethesafest.Iwouldlightacandleforher,inanupstairsroom.Iftherewasnocandle,itmeantI’dbeencalledaway,orhadguests,andsheknewnottocome.ButifIlitthecandle,shewouldalwayscome.SometimesstraightawayandsometimesI’dbewaitingandpacing,butshewouldalwayscome.’
Mackieclearshisthroatandfurrowshisbrow.Joycesqueezeshishand.
‘Ihaven’ttoldthisstoryinfiftyyears,andnowtwiceinaday.’Hegivesaweaksmile,thenpresseson.‘ItwasaWednesday,theseventeenthofMarch,andIhadlitthecandleandIwaswaitingandpacing.Therewasonefloorboardinthesittingroomthat,whenyoutrodonit,wouldgivethreelittlesqueaks.AndIwasbackandforthandbackandforthanditwas“squeak,squeak,squeak”,“squeak,squeak,squeak”.AndIwouldhearlittlesoundsoutsideandthink,“It’sher,”andstopandlistensomemore,buteachtime,justsilence.ThewaitwentontoolongandIgotworried.Hadshebeencaughtsneakingout?SisterMarywasfierce.Ikneweverythingwouldbefinereally,becauseatthatage,everythingalwayswas.SoIwentupstairs,blewoutthecandle,camedown,lacedupmybootsandheadeduptotheconvent.ToseewhatIcouldsee.’
MatthewMackielookstothefloor.Anoldmantellingthestoryofayoungman.ElizabethcatchesRon’seyeandtapsherbreastpocket.Ronnods,thenreachesintotheinsidepocketofhisjacketandpullsoutasmallhipflask.
‘I’mjustgoingtohavealittlenipofwhisky.Ihopeyou’llkeepmecompany,Matthew?’
Withoutwaitingforananswer,RonpourswhiskyintoMatthewMackie’smug.Mackienodshisthanks,eyesstilltothefloor.
‘Andwhatdidyousee,FatherMackie?’asksDonna.
‘Well,theconventwasdark,whichwasgood.Ifshe’dbeencaughtsneakingoutthere’dbealightsomewhere.SisterMary’soffice,maybe.Orsomemidnightscrubbinginthechapel.Buttheonlylightswereintheinfirmary.Ijustwantedtodoalittletour,makesureMaggiewassafeandsound.Icouldthinkofahundredgoodreasonsshehadn’tcometomethatnight,butIwantedtoeasemymind.IthoughtIwouldpickupsomepapersfromthelittleofficeIhad,offthebackofthechapel.Youknow,ifanyonesawme,Iwasjustcatchinguponsomework.Icouldn’tsleep.Maybehaveawanderaround.IfIcouldhave,Iwouldhavehadapeekintothedorms,justtoseeherlyingthere.’
‘Thisroomwe’rein,’saysJoyce,‘thiswasoneofthedorms.’
MatthewMackielooksaround,nodding.Hislefthandgentlypatsthearmofhischairandhecontinues.
‘Ihadthechapelkey.Youknowthatdoor,it’ssoheavyandthelockwassonoisy,butIopenedupasquietlyasIcould,thenshutitbehindme.Theplacewaspitchblack,butIknewmywayaround,ofcourse.NearthealtarIbumpedintoanoldwoodenchairthatshouldn’thavebeenthere,andthatclatteredacrossthefloormakingaterribleracket.IthoughtIshouldlightoneofthelamps,bythealtar,justtomakemefeelalittlecalmer,alittlelesslikeathief.Ilitthelampanditwasaverydimlight,youwouldn’thaveseenitfromoutside,Idon’tthink,notabrightlightatall.Justadimglow,really.Andthat’swhatIwouldsayaboutthelamp.’
MatthewMackiepicksuphismugandtakesasip.Heplacesthemugbackdown.
‘So,thatwasthelight,theonethatIlit.Andreallyallyoucouldseewasthealtar,justshadows,butenoughtosee.Enoughtosee.’
MatthewMackierubshismouthwiththebackofhishand.
‘AndtherewasMaggie.There’sabeamabovethealtar.Atleasttherewas.Youcouldhangincenseorblessings.Itwasstructural,Ithink,thebeam,butweusedit.Anyway,Maggiehadloopedalengthofropearoundthebeamandhungherself.AndnotlongbeforeI’dgotthere.PerhapsshediditwhenIwastyingmylaces.OrperhapsitwaswhenIblewoutthecandle?Butshewasdead,Icouldseethatclearly.That’swhyshehadn’tcome.’
ThereisquietintheJigsawRoom.MatthewMackietakesanothersipfromhismug
‘Thankyou,Ron,forthis.’
Ronmakesa‘don’tmentionit’gesturewithhishands.
‘Wasthereanote,FatherMackie?’asksChris.
‘Nonote.Iraisedthealarm–quietly,ofcourse;thiswasn’tasceneforalltosee.IwokeSisterMaryandshetoldmethestory,really.’
‘Thestory?’asksDonna.
MatthewMackienodstohimselfandElizabethtakesthereinsforamoment.
‘Maggiewaspregnant.’
‘Buggerme!’saysRon.Matthewlooksup,andcontinueshistale.
‘She’dconfidedinsomeone,anotheroftheyoungnuns.Ineverfoundoutwho.Maggiemusthavetrustedher,whoevershewas,butthatwasamistake.ThenuntoldSisterMaryandthen,aboutsix,afterprayers,SisterMarycalledMaggietoherroom.SisterMarydidn’ttellmewhatwassaid,butIcanguess,andthatwasMaggiepackedandonherway.Shewastostayonelastnightandbecollectedinthemorning,straightbacktoIreland.I’dhavelitmycandlearoundseven,Isuppose.Maggiewentbacktothedorms,mayberightherewherewe’resitting.Sheknewhowtoslipout,ofcourse,sosheslippedout.Butthatnightshedidn’tcometome.Shecametothechapelandsheslippedanoosearoundherneck.Andshetookherlifeandthelifeofourchild.’
MatthewMackielooksupatthesixotherpeopleintheroom.
‘Andthat’smystory.So,yousee,itwasn’tfine,wasitnow?Andnothingwaseverfineagain.’
‘Sohowissheburieduponthehill?’asksRon.
‘ThatwasthedealImade,’saysMackie.‘Iwastoleave,whichIdid,notawordtoasoul.BacktoIreland.TheyfoundmeajobinKildare,atateachinghospital.Allrecordsdestroyed,newrecordsmade,theChurchcoulddowhatitwantedbackthen.Theywantedmeoutoftheway,notrouble,noscandal.NotasoulbutmeandSisterMarysawthebodyhanging.Whateverstorytheytoldintheend,I’venoidea,butitwasn’tthestoryofapriestandababyandasuicide.AndinreturnIaskedthattheyallowedhertobeburiedintheGardenofEternalRest.Shewouldn’thavewantedtogohomeandStMichael’swastheonlyotherplaceMaggieknew.’
‘AndSisterMaryagreed?’asksDonna.
‘Itlookedbetterforhertoo.Therewouldhavebeenquestionsotherwise.Meleavingsuddenly,Maggiesentawayforburial,peoplewouldhavestrungtwoandtwotogether.Sowemadethedeal,andthenextmorningthecarthatwascomingtopickupMaggie,pickedmeupinstead.WedrovethroughthedaytoHolyhead.Iwentbackhome,andthat’swhereIstayeduntilIheardthatSisterMaryhaddied.She’supthereinthegraveyardtoo,you’llseethecherubsonherheadstone.ThedayIheardthenewsIwalkedoutofmyjob,IpackedacaseandIcamebacktostay.AsnearasIcouldtoMaggie.’
‘Andthat’swhyyoudideverythingyoucouldtostopthebodiesbeingmoved?’
‘ItwastheonlythingIcoulddoforher.Tofindhersomefinalpeace.You’veallbeenupthere;youallunderstand.ItwasallIhad,tosaysorryandtosay,“Istillloveyou.”Somewheresobeautiful,fortheonlyloveIeverknew,andforourbabyboy.Orbabygirl,butit’saboyI’vealwayscarriedinmyheart.IcalledhimPatrick,whichissilly,Iknow.’
‘Withoutbeingindelicate,Father,’saysChris.‘IwouldsaythatgivesyouanextraordinarymotiveforkillingIanVentham.’
‘It’snotadayforbeingdelicate.ButIdidn’tdoit.CanyouimagineMaggieeverforgivingmeifI’dkilledMrVentham?Youdidn’tknowher,butshe’datemperonherwhenshewanted.Everystep,IdidwhatMaggiewouldhavewanted,andwhatwouldhavemadePatrickproud.IfoughtinallthewaysIknewhow,butonedayI’llseeMaggieagain,andI’llmeetmylittleboy,andIintendtodothatwithapureheart.’
101
‘DoyoulikePilates?’asksIbrahim.
‘Icouldn’ttellyou,’saysGordonPlayfair.‘Whatisit?’
HistourofCoopersChasefinished,GordonPlayfairissittingwithIbrahim,ElizabethandJoyce,onIbrahim’sbalcony.Ibrahimhasabrandy,ElizabethhasaG&TandGordonhasabeer.IbrahimhastheminthefridgeforRon,althoughRonseemstobedrinkingwinethesedays.
ChrisandDonnahavereturnedtoFairhaven.Beforetheyleft,ChrishadtoldthemalittleaboutCyprusandaboutGianni’sconnections.Hewasprettysuretheyhaveidentifiedtheirman.
Donnawasclearlystillangryatthem,butshewouldgetoverit.Thesunissettingandthedayiswindingdown.
MatthewMackiehasgonehometoBexhill,andtothetwocandleshekeepslitatalltimes.Joycehaspromisedtocomedownandvisithim.ShelovesBexhill.
‘Itistheartofcontrolledmovement,’saysIbrahim.
‘Hmmm,’saysGordonPlayfair,consideringthis.‘Istheredarts?’
‘Thereissnooker,’saysIbrahim.
Gordonnods.‘That’snearenough.’
TheylookoutoverCoopersChase.IntheforegroundisLarkinCourt,curtainedwindowsinElizabeth’sflat.BeyondthatisRuskinCourt,Willowsandtheconvent.Thenthosebeautifulhills,rollingtothehorizon.
‘Icouldgetusedtothis,’saysGordon.‘Thereseemstobealotofdrinkinginvolved.’
‘Always,’agreesIbrahim.
ThephoneringsandIbrahimgetsuptoanswerit.HetalkstoGordonPlayfairoverhisshoulderashegoes.
‘IthinkI’vemadePilatessoundtooboring.Itisverygoodforthecoremusclesandforflexibility.Atanyrate,itiseveryTuesday.’
Gordonwatchessomeoftheresidentspassbybelowandsipshisbeer.‘Youknow,I’mnotkidding,butIwouldn’tknowifanyofthesewomenhadbeenherebackthen.Who’stosay?Allthosenuns.Iwouldn’tknow,youknow.Youcouldhavebeenoneofthenuns,Joyce.’
Joycelaughs.‘ItfeelslikeIhavebeenforthelastcoupleofyears.Notforthewantoftrying.’
ElizabethhasbeenthinkingthesameasGordonPlayfair.Thenuns.Perhapsthatwastheroutetheywouldhavetogodownnext?ItwasThursdayMurderClubtomorrow.Maybethat’swheretheyshouldstart.Shefeelstheginbeginningtoworkitsmagic.Ibrahimreturnsfromhiscall.
‘ThatwasRon.Hewouldlikeustojoinhimforadrink.ItseemsJasonhasgiftsforusall.’
102
‘MeandBobbyhadalittlereuniondrinkintheBlackBridge,afterwealllefthere.InLePontNoir,anyway.’
JasonRitchietakesaswigfromhisbottleofbeer.Ronhasabeertoo,ashealwaysdoesifJasonisaround.Itisimportanttobearolemodel.
‘Youcouldtellwesortoftrustedeachother,youknow?Itfeltlikewe’dbothchangedforthebetterovertheyears.Bobbywouldn’tletonwhathe’suptothesedays,butheseemedhappy,sofairplay.Idon’tsupposeanyonewantstotellmewhathedoesnow?’
JasonlooksexpectantlyatElizabethandJoyceandtheybothshaketheirheads.
‘Good,’saysJason.‘Noonelikesagrass.Butwestillcouldn’tbesure,youknow?Couldn’tbecertainoneofushadn’tdoneit.Couldn’tbesurethatitwasGianni,aliveandkickingandbackforrevenge.SoImadeacall.’
‘Ooh,whoto?’asksJoyce.
Jasonsmiles.‘Whatdoesnoonelike,Joyce?’
Joycenodsherdefeat.‘Agrass,Jason.’
‘Let’ssayIcalledafriend,someonewealltrusted,butsomeonewhoGianniwouldhavetrustedtoo,fordifferentreasons.Andhecamedown–nochoice,really,ifit’sthetwoofusringing–andweaskedhimstraightout.HasGiannibeenover?Youseenhim?Justbetweenusanditnevergoesfurther?’
‘Andhadhe?’asksElizabeth.
‘Hehad,’saysJason.‘GiannicameoverthreedaysbeforeTonywasmurderedandleftthedayhedied.HeblamedTonyforgrassinghimupallthoseyearsago,sohesaid.WhoknowswithGianni?’
JoycenodssagelyandJasoncontinues.
‘Maybehejustfeltthetimewasright.Puttherecordstraight.Somepeoplehavelongmemories.’
‘Andyoutrustthissource?AndPetertrustshim?’asksElizabeth.
‘Peter?’asksJason.
‘Sorry,Bobby,’saysElizabeth.‘That’smyageshowing.YouandBobbybothtrusthim?’
‘Withourlives,’Jasonsays.‘He’sthestraightestshooteryou’llfind.AndhehadhisreasonstohelpGianni.Ifyourfriendsinthepolicedon’tworkoutwhotheguyis,thenIpromiseI’lltellthem.ButIreckonthey’rebrightenoughtoworkitout.’
‘WhydidGiannisendyouthephotograph,Jason?’asksIbrahim.
Jasonshrugs.‘Ithinkhejustwantedustoknowitwashim.Showingoff.Gianniwasalwayslikethat.Hecouldfindmyaddressprettyeasytoo,everyoneknowsmeroundhere.WhateverGiannidid,healwayshadtotellyou.’
‘AnddidGiannilookthesame?Whatwashisnewname?’asksElizabeth.
Jasonshakeshishead.‘Noneofourbusiness.Wejustaskedwhatweasked.Wejustwantedtoknowforsure.Thatwasenough.’
‘Shame,’saysElizabeth.
‘Well,ifthepolicedon’ttrackhimdown,I’msureyoufourwill,’saysJason.‘Andlisten,meandBobby,wejustwantedtosaythankyou.Forbringingustogetherandforhelpingusgettothetruth.Noneofthiswouldhavehappenedwithoutyou.Let’sbehonest,withoutyouI’dprobablybebangedupforthis.SoIgotyouallalittlesomething,ifthat’sOK?’
That’sdefinitelyOK.Jasonunzipsasportsbagathisfeetandpullsouthisgifts.HehandsawoodenboxtoIbrahim.
‘Ibrahim,cigars;Cuban,ofcourse.’
‘Thatistheheightofurbanity,Jason,thankyou,’saysIbrahim.
ThenextgiftgoestoRon.
‘Dad,abottleofwine,andaniceonetoo.Youcanstoppretendingyoustillpreferbeerinfrontofme.’
Rontakeshisgift.‘Ooh,adropofwhite.Thanks,Jase.’
JasonhandsJoyceanenvelope.‘Joyce,twoticketstocomeupandseeCelebrityIceDancebeingfilmednextmonth.’
Joycebeams.
‘VIP,allthat.IthoughtyoucouldbringJoanna.’
‘NotJoanna,’saysJoyce.‘It’sITV,andshewon’thavethaton.’
‘AndElizabeth,’saysJason,withnothinginhishandbuthisphone.‘Mygifttoyouisthis.’
Jasonholdsuphisphoneand,verydeliberately,swipeshisfingeracrossthescreenandthenputsitbackinhispocket.HelookstoElizabeth,whoisn’tsurehowtoreact.
‘Well,thankyou,Jason,althoughIwasratherhopingforsomeCocobyChanel,’saysElizabeth.
‘IthinkIknowwhatyou’dlikemorethanthatthough,’saysJason.‘TocatchwhoeverkilledIanVentham?’
‘Isthatinyourgift,Jason?’asksElizabeth.
‘Ireckonitis.DadandIworkeditout.Didn’twe,Dad?’
Ronnods.‘Wedid,Son.’
‘And,withoutwantingtosoundcocky,’saysJason,‘Ireckonthatonelittleswipewillconfirmit.’
103
Joyce
IwonderifyouknowaboutTinder?
Ihadheardaboutitontheradio,heardjokesaboutit,butIhadneverseenitbeforeJasonshowedme.
Ifyouknowwhatitisthenyoucanskipthroughthisbit.
SoTinderisfordating.Youpostpicturesofyourselfonanapp.Anappisliketheinternet,butonlyonyourphone.Jasonshowedmesomeofthepictures.Thepicturesofthemenareusuallyonamountain,orchoppingdownatree.Sometimesthepictureshavebeencroppeddownthemiddletocutoutaformerpartner.ThankstomypictureinCuttotheChaseIknowhowtheydothatnow.
Thepicturesofthewomenareoftenonboats,orwithgroupsofotherwomen,andyou’renotsurewhichoneyou’resupposedtobelookingat,soIsupposeyoutakepotluck.
Iaskedhimifpeopleuseitfor‘one-nightstands’andhesaysthat,byandlarge,peopleuseitforlittleelse.Well,that’sabitoffun,youcouldsay,butthewholethingfeltunhappytome.AndthemoresmilesIsaw,theunhappierIfelt.
Perhapsthat’sjustme.ImetGerryatadanceIhaddecidedtogotoatthelastminutetospitemymother.IfIhadn’tgonethenweneverwouldhavemet.SoIknowthat’saninefficientwayoffindingtruelove,butitworkedforus.FromthemomentIlaidmyeyesonhim,hedidn’tstandachance.Theluckything
So,onTinderyouscrollthroughphotographsofsinglepeoplewholivenearby.Orsometimesmarriedpeoplewholivenearby.ThereisapictureofIanVenthamonTinder,inakaratesuit,eventhoughhe’sdead.
Everytimeyoulikethelookofsomeoneyouswipetheirpicturetotheright(ortotheleft,Ican’tremember).Meanwhile,somewherenearbytheyarescrollingthroughpicturestooandiftheylikethelookofyoutheyalsoswipetotheright(orleft)andthetwoofyouareamatch.
Honestly,itbreaksyourhearttoscrollthrough.It’sremindedmeofthosephotosoflostcatsyouseeonlampposts.It’sallthathope,Ithink.
Anyway,whenJasonswipedleftorrighthewasconfidentofamatch.Andhewasconfidentthatmatchwouldbethekiller.Itrusthisconfidenceonthefirstmatter,Iammoredubiousaboutthesecond.
ThereisanotherdatingappforgaymencalledGrindr.Perhapsit’sforgaywomentoo?Idon’tknow,Ididn’task.Wouldtheyusethesameone?ThatwouldbeniceIthink.
SoJasonimagineshehassolvedthecase.Andperhapshehas,thoughIdoubtitverymuch.Hesaysit’sobvious,butoften,inthesematters,theanswerisn’tobviousatall.
AtleastIhavediscoveredthatonlinedatingisnotforme.Youcanhavetoomuchchoiceinthisworld.Andwheneveryonehastoomuchchoice,itisalsomuchhardertogetchosen.Andweallwanttobechosen.
Goodnightall.GoodnightBernard.AndgoodnightGerry,mylove.
104
Havingspentaveryhappymorningpreparing,changingoutfitsandtextingfriends,KarenPlayfairisnowaloneforamoment,sittinginanunfamiliararmchair.Sheisshakingherhead,thinkingabouttheoptimismofthismorningandthentherealityofthelunchshe’sjusthad.
KarenhashadsomebaddatesonTinder.Butthiswasthefirsttimethatsomeonehadaccusedherofmurder.
Thematchhadpingedontoherphoneyesterdayevening.JasonRitchie.Well,Idon’tmindifIdo,shehadthought.Thisisacutaboveyouraverage.He’dmessaged,she’dmessaged,andbeforeyouknewit,theretheywereinLePontNoir,orderingacrayfishsaladwithradicchio.Awhirlwindromanceintheoffing.
Karenshiftsinherarmchairandidlypicksupamagazinefromapileonthecoffeetable.It’smoreofanewsletterreally.CuttotheChase
Backtothedate.Therehadbeensomesmalltalk,nottoomuch,KarenknewverylittleaboutboxingandJasonknewverylittleaboutIT.Lightlysparklingwaterarrived,andthat’swhenJasonmentionedIanVentham.Karenimmediatelyrealizedthatthiswasn’tadate,andfeltfoolish.Butworsewastocome.
ShecanhearRonRitchieinhiskitchennow,he’sopeningabottleofwine.Jason’snippedtotheloo.ShestartsflickingthroughCuttotheChase,buthermindkeepsgoingbacktoLePontNoir.
AllthosequestionsJasonhadfiredather.Hadn’tshebeentherethemorningIanVenthamwaskilled?Yesshehad.Wasn’therdadrefusingtosellhislandtoIanVentham?Well,yeshewas,but,look,herecomesourcrayfish.Didn’tshewantherdadtoselltheland,totakethemoney?Thatwasheradvice,yes,butitwasherdad’sbusiness.Surelyifhesold,thensomeofthatmoneywouldbecomingtoher?Well,youcouldcertainlyassumethat,Jason,butwhynotjustcomeoutwithitandsaywhatyouwanttosay?
Andsohedid.Itwasalmostfunny,thinksKaren,relivingit.Shehearsthelooflush.Whatwasithehadsaid?
Jasonhadleanedforward,verysure–certain,infact.Yousee,thepolicehadbeenlookingforsomeonewhowasthereinthe1970sandwasstilltherenow,andtheyhadbeenrightinaway.They’dfoundbonesandmaybesomeonehadbeenmurdered,allthoseyearsago.Butforgetthebones,theyweremissingthesimplesttrickinthebook:greed.VenthamwasinthewayofKarenmakinghermillions.Herdadwasn’tbudging,andsoVenthamhadtogo.Jasonmentionedsomedrugsyoucouldonlygetonthedarkwebanddidn’tKarenworkinIT?Wasn’tthatconvenient?Jasonhadsolvedthecaseandfeltsurehewasabouttogetaconfession.Honestly,somemen!
Hehadn’texpectedKarentolaughinhisfaceandexplainthatshewasadatabaseadministratorforasecondaryschool,whocouldnomoreaccessthedarkwebthanflytothemoon.ThatshehadmisheardJason’smentionoffentanylasVentolinandhadwonderedwhathewasonabout.ThatshelivedinoneofthemostbeautifulplacesinEngland,andwhileshewouldcertainlyswapthatforamillionpounds,shewouldratherbetherewithherdadhappy,thaninsomeexecutivenew-buildinHove,withherdadmiserable.Jasonlookedlikehewasgoingtocomebackwithacleverresponsebut,whenhetried,nonecame.
JasonwalksbackintotheroomandKarenremembershowcrestfallenhehadlooked.Heknewshewastellinghimthetruth.Thathislittletheorywaswrong.Hehadapologizedandofferedtoleave,butKarenhadwonderediftheyshouldn’tmakethebestoutofabaddealandenjoytherestoftheirlunch.Whatiftheyendeduptogether?Wouldn’tthisbethegreatest‘andhowdidyoutwomeet’storyofalltime?Whichsetthembothlaughingandsetthembothtalkingandturnedthewholethingintoalovely,long,boozylunch.
WhichiswhyJasonhadaskedherbackhereforanotherdrinkandtodoabitofexplainingtohisdad.
Rightoncue,RonRitchiewalksinwithanicebottleofwhiteandthreeglasses
Jasonsitsdownnexttoherandtakestheglassesfromhisdad.Hereallyhasbeencharmitselfsinceheaccusedherofmurder.
KarenPlayfairputshercopyofCuttotheChasebackdownonthepile.Andasshedoes,sheseesthephotograph.Halfwaydownthepage.Shepicksthenewsletterupagainandstaresclosely.Justtomakesure.
‘Youallright,Karen?’asksJason,asRonpoursthewine.
‘Thepolicewantedsomeonewhowashereintheseventies,who’sstillherenow?’asksKaren,slowlyandcarefully.
‘That’swhattheyreckon,’saysJason.‘Obviously,Ithoughttheywerewrong,butwesawhowthatplayedout.’
Jasonlaughs,butKarendoesnot.ShelooksatRonandpointstothefaceinthephotograph.‘Someonewhowashereintheseventiesandisstillherenow.’
Ronlooks,buthisbrainwon’ttakeitin.
‘You’resure?’hemanagestoask.
‘Itwasalongtimeago,butI’msure.’
Ron’smindistravellingatspeed.Thiscan’tbe.He’ssearchingforreasonswhythismustbewrong,butcanfindnone.HeputsthewinedownonthecoffeetableandpicksupCuttotheChase
‘IneedtogoandtalktoElizabeth.’
105
Steve’sGymlooksalotlikeitsowner.Asquat,brickbuilding,intimidatingatfirstsight,butwiththedooralwaysopenandeveryonealwayswelcome.
ChrisandDonnastepoverthethreshold.
Aftertheexcitementinthegraveyardyesterday,ChrisandDonnahadgonebacktoFairhavenandcheckedonJoeKyprianou’shunchabouttheoriginalinvestigation.NoonefromKentPolicehadventuredintoNorthernCyprus.TherewasnomentionofGianni’sfamilyconnections.Therehadbeennomeaningfulinvestigationatall.ChrishadseenthenamesofthetwoofficerswhohadbeensenttoNicosia.Nosurprises.They’dhavecomebackwithtansandhangoversandnothingelse
HeandDonnahadthenbeenhavinganotherlookatallthosepassengerlists,cominginfromLarnacatoHeathrowandGatwickintheweekbeforethemurder.Nearlythreethousandnames,mainlymenandmainlyCypriots.
Lookingthroughlistafterlistofnames,ChrisrememberedsomethingelsethatJoeKyprianouhadsaid.IfGiannihadcometotheUK,hewouldhaveneededhelp.AfellowCypriotwouldbetheobviouschoice.DidChrisknowany?
Asthenamesflashedbeforehiseyes,herealizedthathedid.
TheyhadthengonebacktotheoriginalTonyCurranfile.Therewasnodoubtthat,intheearlydays,SteveGeorgiouhadbeeninandaroundtheTonyCurrancrew.Mentionedindispatches,butneveranythingtobringhiminfor.AndwhateverhehadbeendoingforTonyhadn’tlastedlong.He’dopenedSteve’sGymagesagoandithadgonefromstrengthtostrength,asitwere.ChrisandDonnabothknewofficerswhotrainedthere.Decentofficerstoo,notfools.Theplacehadagoodreputation,andthatwasn’tthecasewithallgyms.
Eventodaythegymwaspacked.AWednesdayafternoon,anatmosphereofquiethardwork,nopreeningandposturing.Chrishasbeenmeaningtojoinagym,butatthemomenthewaswaitingforhiskneetostophurting.Nopointaggravatingit.Assoonasithassettleddown,he’lljoin.Takethebullbythehorns.Hehadfeltasharp,stabbingpaininhisarmaftertherunupthehilltothegraveyardtosaveElizabeth.Almostcertainlynothing,butevenso.
Stevehadbeenexpectingthemandmetthembythedoorwithacrushinghandshakeandahugesmile.Theyarenowinhisoffice.Steveissittingonayogaballandchattinghappily.
‘Listen,youknowaswellasanyone,wedon’thavetroublehere,andwedon’tcausetroublehere,’saysSteveGeorgiou.
‘Idoknowthat,’agreesChris.
‘Theopposite,innit?Youknowthat.Wetakepeoplein,weturnthemaround.Nosecrets,youjustaskwhatever,yeah?’
‘IwasinCyprusrecently,Steve.’
Stevestopssmilingandbouncesalittle.‘OK…’
‘Ididn’treallyknowmuchaboutitbeforeIwent,Ijustthoughtholidays,youknow.’
‘It’sverybeautiful,’saysSteveGeorgiou.‘Arewejustgossipingorwhat?’
‘Whatareyou,Steve?GreekCypriotorTurkishCypriot?’asksDonna.
There’sabeat,veryshort,butverytellingtoagoodcopper.Steveshakeshishead.‘Idon’tgetinvolvedinallthat,notforme.Peoplearepeople.’
‘We’reagreedonthat,Steve,’saysChris.‘Butevenso.Whatsideofthelinewereyou?Wecanprobablyfindoutanotherway,butsincewe’rehere…’
‘Turkish,’saysSteveGeorgiou.‘TurkishCypriot.’Heshrugs;it’sofnoconcern.
Chrisnodshisheadandandwritessomethingdown,justkeepingStevewaitingforamoment.‘LikeGianniGunduz?’
SteveGeorgioutiltshisheadtothesideandlooksatChrisanew.‘That’sanamefromalongtimeago.’
‘Isn’tit,though?’saysChris.‘Anyway,that’swhyIwasinCyprus.Tryingtotrackhimdown.’
SteveGeorgiousmiles.‘He’slonggone.Gianniwascrazy.Goodlucktotheguy,butsomeonewouldhavekilledhimbynow.Guaranteed.’
‘Well,thatwouldexplainwhywecan’tfindhim.But,youknow,Steve,I’mapoliceofficer,andsometimessomethingdoesn’tseemright.’
‘That’sthejob,innit?’saysSteveGeorgiou.
‘Iwanttosuggestastory,’saysChris.‘Justsomethingwe’vebeenthinkingabout.Andyoudon’thavetosayanything.Youdon’thavetoreact,justlisten.Canyoudothat?’
‘I’vegottobehonestwithyou,I’vegotagymtorunandIstilldon’tknowwhatyou’redoinghere.’
Donnaholdsupahandandconcedesthepoint.‘You’reright.Butjusthearusout.Twominutesandyou’llbebackoutthere.’
‘Twominutes,’acceptsSteve.
‘You’reoneofthegoodguys,Steve,’saysChris.‘Iknowthat,Idon’thearabadwordaboutyou.’
‘Iappreciatethat,thankyou,’saysSteve.
‘Buthere’swhatIworryhashappened,’continuesChris.‘Ithinkafewweeksagoyougetamessage,ormaybeit’sjustaknockatthedoor,Idon’tknow.Eitherway,it’sGianniGunduz.’
‘Nope,’saysSteveGeorgiou,shakinghishead.
‘AndGiannineedshelp.He’sbackintownforsomething.Maybehedoesn’tsaywhat,maybehedoes.Andheturnstoyou,alittlefavour,foroldtimes’sake.Somewheretostay?Maybejustthat.Hedoesn’twantarecordofwhateverhisnewnameisanywhereintown.Andnoone’stoknow?’
‘Ihaven’tseenGianniGunduzintwentyyears.He’sdead,orhe’sinprison,orhe’sinTurkey,’saysSteveGeorgiou.
‘Maybe,’saysChris.‘ButGiannicouldbetroubleifhedoesn’tgetwhathewants.Hecouldburnthisplacedownprettyeasily,I’dhavethought.He’sthetypetodoittoo,somaybeyouhadnochoice?Andit’sonlyacoupleofdays.He’sjustgottodeliveracoupleofthings,thentieupalooseend.Thenhe’dbegone.Howdoesthatsoundtoyou,Steve?’
SteveGeorgioushrugs.‘Likeaprettydangerousstory.’
‘You’vegotaflatabovethegym?’asksDonna.
Stevenods.
‘Whostaysthere?’
‘Anyonewhoneedsto.Noteveryonewhocomesinhereisfromastablebackground.Akidtellsmehecan’tgohome,Idon’taskthereason,Ijusthandhimthekeys.It’sasafeplace.’
‘WhowasstayingintheflatonJunetheseventeenth?’asksChris.
‘Noidea,I’mnottheHilton.Maybesomekid,maybeme.’
‘Maybenoone?’asksDonna.
SteveGeorgioushrugs.
‘Butyouthinkmaybesomeone?’saysChris.
‘Maybe.’
‘Gianniisverywellconnected,Steve.InCyprus?’saysChris.
‘Notmyworld.’
‘You’vestillgotfamilyoverthere?’asksDonna.
‘Yes,’saysSteveGeorgiou.‘Lotoffamily.’
‘Steve,ifGianniGunduzhadcomehereandaskedifhecouldstay,’beginsChris.‘Ifheputpressureonyouofanykind.Ormaybehepaidyou?Ifyouagreed.IfhesleptupstairsonJuneseventeenth.There’snowayyouwouldtellme?’
‘No.’
‘Consequencestoogreat?ConsequencesforfamilyinCyprus?’
‘Ithinkthat’sbeentwominutes,ifwe’rehonest.’
‘Agreed,’saysChris.‘Thankyou,Steve.’
‘Anytime.You’realwayswelcomehere.Imeanthat.Wecouldsortthatgutoutinaheartbeat.’
Chrissmiles.‘Ithadcrossedmymind,Steve.Idon’tsupposethere’sanywayIcouldtakealookupstairsbeforeIgo?JustseeifGiannileftanything?’
SteveGeorgioushakeshishead.‘Youcoulddomeafavourthough.’
‘Goon,’saysChris.
‘CouldyoustickthisinLostProperty?SomeonedroppeditacoupleofweeksagoandI’veaskedandasked,butIdon’tknowwhoitbelongsto.’Stevereachesintoadrawerandpullsoutaclearplasticwallet,filledwithcash,andhandsittoChris.‘Fivethousandeuros.Sometouristmustbekickingthemselves.’
Chrislooksatthecash,looksatDonna,thenbackatSteve.Wouldthishaveprintsonit?Doubtful,butatleastSteveislettinghimknowhe’sright.‘Youdon’twanttokeepit?’
SteveGeorgioushakeshishead.‘Nope,Iknowwhereit’sbeen.’
ChrishandstheenvelopetoDonnaandsheputsitinanevidencebag.TheybothknowthatSteveGeorgiouhasjustbeenverybrave.Chrisstandsandshakeshimbythehand.
‘IknowTonyCurranwasabastard,’saysSteveGeorgiou.‘Buthedidn’tdeservethat.’
‘Agreed,’saysChris.‘Uptoapoint.Anyway.Meandmygutwillbebackheresoon.’
‘Goodlad.’
106
ElizabethleavesStephensleeping.Bogdanwillbearoundafterworkforagameofchess.Shehopestheywillbothbetherewhenshegetsback.She’llneedthecompany.
TheknobhascomeoffthebedroomwardrobedoorandElizabethcasuallyleavesitonthekitchentable.ShebetsthatBogdanwon’tbeabletoresistfixingit.
RonhadcometoherwiththephotographthatKarenPlayfairhadseen.Karenwouldhavebeenyoungatthetime,butshewassure.Elizabethhadtriedtopieceitalltogetherinherhead.Itseemedimpossibleatfirst.Butthemoreshethoughtaboutit,itbegantoseemhorriblytrue.Sheworkedoutthesteps,onebyone.Ibrahimhadcomebackanhourago,withthefinalpieceofthejigsaw,sonowisthetime.Thecaseissolvedandonlyjusticeremains.
Elizabethwalksoutintothecoldeveningair,notturningbacknow.Theskiesaregettingdarkerearlierandthescarvesarecomingoutofthewardrobes.Summerisstillkeepingalidonautumn,butitwon’tbelong.HowmanymoreautumnsforElizabeth?Howmanymoreyearsofslippingonapairofcomfortablebootsandwalkingthroughtheleaves?Oneday,springwillcomewithouther.Thedaffodilswillalwayscomeupbythelake,butyouwon’talwaysbetheretoseethem.Soitgoes;enjoythemwhileyoucan.
Butrightnow,withthejobathand,Elizabethfeelsanaffinitywiththelatesummer.Theleavesclinginggamelyon,thelasthurrahoftheheat,theoddtrickstillupitssleeve.
SheseesRonmakinghiswayover,grim-faced,butready.Hidinghislimp,keepinghispaintohimself.WhatafinefriendRonis,shethinks.Whatahearthehas.Longmayitgoonbeating.
AssheturnsthecornersheseesIbrahimwaitingbythedoor,folderinhand.Thelastpieceofthejigsaw.Howhandsomehelooks,dressedfortheoccasion,readytodowhatever’snecessary.ThatIbrahimmighteverdieseemsabsurdtoElizabeth.Hewillcertainlybethelastofthem.Thelastoakintheforest,standingstillandtrue,astheaeroplaneswhizzoverhead.
Howtobegin?thinksElizabeth.Howtoevenbegin?
107
Chrisgetsthenod.AninternationalwarranthasbeenissuedforthearrestofGianniGunduzforquestioningoverthemurderofTonyCurran.Agoodendtotheday.TheeurosSteveGeorgiougavethemhadnoprints,buthadbeentakenoutatabureaudechangeinNorthernCyprusthreedaysbeforeTonyCurran’smurder.He’dgivenJoeKyprianoutheaddressofthebureau,incaseofCCTV,butJoehadtakenonelookattheaddressandlaughed.Nochance.
WouldtheCypriotauthoritieseverfindhim?Whoknew?You’dthinkso,butaftertheinitialrush,howhardisanyonereallygoingtolook?MaybeChriswillevengetanothertripovertoCyprus.Thatwouldbenice.Eitherway,he’sdoneallhecanandit’suptotheCypriotsnow,iftheyfancytheirchances.Whateverhappens,Chriswilllookgood.
Itisacauseforcelebration,butChrishashadtoomanynightsinthepubwithtoomanycoppersovertheyears.Whathe’dreallywantedwasacurryathome,getDonnaround,watchsomethingonTV,bottleofwineandsendherhomeatten.MaybetalkabitaboutVentham.Whathavetheymissed?
Chrishadaworryingthoughtearlier.Astupidone,really.Only,hadn’ttheconventhadahospital,allthoseyearsago?Wasn’tJoyceanex-nurse?RunthenameJoyceMeadowcroftthroughthecomputer?CouldhetalktoDonnaaboutit?
ButDonnahadamysterydatetonight.CasuallydroppeditintotheconversationonthewaybackfromSteve’sGym.So,hewouldgohomeandhaveanightinbyhimself,withacurry.Chrisknewthatwaswherethiswasheading.ThedartswasonSky.
Chriswonderedwhetherthiswasatragicplan,orsimplythesortofplanthatpeoplewouldthinkwastragic.Washeacontentman,doingthethingshelikedalone?Orwashealonelyman,makingthebestoutofwhathehad?Alone,orlonely?Thisquestioncroppedupsooftenthesedays,Chriscouldnolongerbeconfidentofhisanswer.Thoughifhewereabettingman,hismoneywouldbeonlonely
Wherewashisdate?
Ifheleavesrightnow,itwillberushhour.SoChrisclosestheTonyCurranfileandopensuptheVenthamfile.Ifhecansolveonemurder,hecansurelysolvetwomore?Whathashemissed?Whohashemissed?
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Theymaketheirwayalongthecorridor,ElizabethandIbrahim,withRoncarryingacoupleofextrachairs.Ajobtodo.
Behindthem,doubledoorsswingopenandJoycehurriesafterherfriends.
‘SorryI’mlate.ThebeeperwasgoingoffonmyovenandIcouldn’tworkoutwhy.’
‘Sometimesitcanbeaverybriefpoweroutage.Thentheclocktriestoresetitself,’saysIbrahim.
Joycenods.Withoutthinking,shetakesIbrahim’shand.AheadofthemElizabethhastakenRon’shandtooandtheywalkinsilenceuntiltheyreachthedoor.
Despitethecircumstances,Elizabethknocks.Asshealwaysdoes.
Sheopensthedoorandthereheis.ThemanKarenPlayfairhadrecognizedafterallthoseyears.HispicturenexttoRon,holdingthefoxthathehadsaved.
Thesameoldbookisopenatthesameoldpage.Helooksupandseemsunsurprisedtoseethefourofthem.
‘Ah,thegang’sallhere.’
‘Thegang’sallhere,John,’confirmsElizabeth.‘Doyoumindifwesit?’
Johngesturesforthemtodoexactlythat.Heputsdownhisbookandpinchesthebridgeofhisnose.RonlooksoveratPenny,comatoseonthebed.Nothingleftofher,really,hethinks.Gone.Whyhasn’thebeentoseeher?Whyhadittakenthis?
‘Howshallwedothis,John?’asksElizabeth.
‘Uptoyou,Elizabeth,’repliesJohn.‘I’vebeenwaitingforthatknocksincethemomentIdidit.Justtookeachdayasabonus.Idowishyou’dtakenabitlonger,though.Whatwasit,intheend?’
‘KarenPlayfairrecognizedyou,’saidIbrahim.
Johnnodsandsmilestohimself.‘Didshe?LittleKaren.Goodness!’
‘Youputherdogtosleepwhenshewassix,John,’saysJoyce.‘Shesaysshewouldneverforgetyourkindeyes.’
ElizabethisinhercustomaryseatatthefootofPenny’sbed.‘Doyouwanttostart,John?Orshallwe?’
‘ShallI?’saysJohn,andshutshiseyes.‘I’vebeenoveritsomanytimesinmyhead.’
‘Whoisinthegrave,John?Whosebonesarethey?’
Eyesstillshut,Johnlooksuptotheheavens,letsoutasighfromtheagesandbegins.
‘Itwouldhavebeentheearlyseventies,maybetenmilesfromhere.Greyscott,oneofthesheepfarms.Thereusedtobeanynumberaroundhere,youknow?Longtimeagonow.IthinkI’dstartedin1967,Pennywouldrememberforsure,butaroundthenanyway.ThefarmerwasanoldboycalledMathesonandIknewhimwellenoughbythatpoint.I’dgooutthereeverynowandagain.Youknow,somethingwouldhappen.Thistimearound,he’dhadamarejustgivenbirth.Thefoalhaddiedandthemarewasindistress.Shewasinsuchpain,screaming,andhehadn’twantedtoshoother,whichIunderstood,soIgaveheraninjectionandthatwasthat.Doneitmanytimes,beforeandsince.Somefarmerswilljustshootthem,somevetswilltoo,butnotMathesonandnotme.Anyway,hemademeacupofteaandwegotchatting.Iwasalwaysinahurry,butIthinkhewasaverylonelyman.Therewasnofamily,noonetohelphimonthefarm,moneyrunningout,soIthinkhewelcomedthecompany.Itwasverybleakupthere,that’showitseemedtomethatday.Ihadtobeonmyway,buthedidn’twantmetoleave.Youwilljudgeme,Iknow,orperhapsyouwon’t,butsuddenlysomethingseemedclearasdaytome.Hewasindistress,greatdistress.IfMathesonhadbeenananimalhewouldhavebeenscreaming.Youhavetobelievethat.AndsoIreachedintomybagandIofferedhimaflushot,youknow,seehimthroughthewinterandallthat.Hewasgladoftheoffer.HerolleduphissleeveandIgavehimhisshot.ThesameshotI’djustgiventhemare.Andthatwastheendofthescreamingandtheendofthepain.’
‘Youputhimoutofhismisery,John?’asksJoyce.
‘That’showIsawit.Thenandnow.IfI’dhadmywitsaboutmeIwouldhaveconjuredupsomecleverlittleconcoction,somethingthatwouldn’tshowupinapost-mortem,andlefthimtheretobefoundbythepostman,orthemilkvan,orwhoeverknockedtherenext.Butitwasspurofthemoment,sotherehewas,pumpedfullofpentobarbitalandIcouldn’ttaketheriskthatsomeonemightlookintoit.’
‘Soyouhadtoburyhim?ThisMatheson?’asksElizabeth.
‘Quiteso.Iwouldhaveburiedhimthereandthen,butyou’llremembertheywerebuyingupfarmlandleft,rightandcentrethosedays,buildinghouseseverywhere,andIthoughtit’dbejustmylucktoburyhim,thenhavehimdugupbybuildersamonthlater.Andthat’swhenIremembered.’
‘Thegraveyard,’saysRon.
‘Itwasperfect.IknewitfromvisitingGordonPlayfair.Itwasn’tonfarmland,andnoonewasgoingtobebuyingaconvent,forheaven’ssake.Iknewhowquietitwas,Iknewnoonevisited.SoIdroveuponenight,acoupleofdayslater,lightsoff.Pickedupmyspadeanddidthedeed.Andthatwasthat,untiloneday,fortyyearslater,Isawanadvertforthisplace.’
‘Andhereweallare,’saysElizabeth.
‘Andhereweallare.IpersuadedPennyitwouldbealovelyplacetoretireto,andIwasn’twrongthere.Ijustwantedtokeepaneyeonthings.Youthinktheywon’tdigupagraveyard,butyouneverknowthesedays,andIwantedtobeclosebyincasetheworsthappened.’
‘Whichitdid,John,’saysJoyce.
‘Icouldn’tdigthebodybackup;tooold,toofeeble.AndIcouldn’triskthegravebeingdugupandthebodybeingfound.Sointhepanicofthatmorning,inallthechaoswhilewewereholdinghimback,IslidasyringeintoVentham’sarmandsecondslaterhewasdead.Whichisunforgivableineveryway.Unforgivable.AndfromthatmomentI’vebeenwaitingforyoutocome,andI’vebeenwaitingtofacetheconsequencesofwhatI’vedone.’
‘Howdidyoumagicallyhaveasyringefilledwithfentanyl,John?’asksElizabeth.
Johnsmiles.‘I’vehaditforalongtime.IncaseIeverneededithere.IftheyeverwantedtomovePenny.’
JohnlooksatElizabeth,throughcleareyes.
‘I’mgladitwasyouatleast,Elizabethandnotthepolice.I’mgladyousolvedit.Iknewyouwould.’
‘I’mgladtoo,John,’saysElizabeth.‘Andthankyoufortellingyourstory.Youknowwewillhavetotellthepolice?’
‘Iknow.’
‘Wedon’tneedtodoitthisverysecondthough.Whileit’sjustus,canIclarifytwolittlethings?’
‘Ofcourse.Itwasalongtimeago,butI’llhelpifIcan.’
‘IthinkyouandIagree,John,thatPennyprobablydoesn’thearwhatgoesoninthisroom?Whateversillynonsensewesaytoher?Thatwe’rekiddingourselves,really?’
Johnnods.
‘ButIthinkwe’realsoagreedthatmaybeshecan?Justmaybe?Maybeshehearsitall?’
‘Maybe,’agreesJohn.
‘Inwhichcase,John,perhapsshecanhearusnow?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Evenifthere’stheslightestchance,John.TheslightestchancethatPennyheardwhatyoujustsaid.Whywouldyoudothattoher?Whyputherthroughthat?’
‘Well,I…’
‘Youwouldn’t,John,that’sthetruth.Thatwouldhavebeentorture,’saysElizabeth.
Ibrahimsitsforward.‘John,yousaidthatkillingIanVenthamwasunforgivable.AndIbelieve,truly,thatyoumeanthat.Itwasanactbeyondyourimagining.Andyetyouaskustobelievethatyoucommittedthatactsimplytosaveyourownskin?Thatdoesn’tringtrue,I’mafraid.Youcommittedanactyouknewtobeunforgivable.AndI’mafraidweseeonlyonereasonforthat.’
‘Love,John,’saysJoyce.‘Alwayslove.’
Johnlooksatthefourofthem.Eachimplacable.
‘IsentIbrahimtohavealookatoneofPenny’sfilesthismorning,’saysElizabeth.‘Ibrahim?’
IbrahimtakesasmallmanilafilefromhisshoppingbagandhandsittoElizabeth.Sheopensthefileonherlap.
‘Shallwegettothetruth?’
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Chrisisalone.Theremainsofatakeawaycurryareinfrontofhim.MichaelvanGerwendispatchedPeterWrightbysixsetstolove,finishingthedartsearly.SonowthereisnothingonTVandnoonetowatchitwith.Heiswonderingwhetherheshouldgotothetwenty-four-hourgarageforsomecrisps.Justtotaketheedgeoff.
Hisphonebuzzes.That’ssomething,atleast.It’sDonna.
MightwatchJasonRitchie’sFamousFamilyTreesoncatch-up.Youfancy?
Chrislooksathiswatch,it’snearlyten.Whynot?Anotherbuzz.
Andwearyourdarkblueshirt,please.Theonewiththebuttons.
ChrisisusedtoDonnabynow,sodoesasheistold.Asalways,hegetschangedwithoutlookinginamirror,becausewhowantstoseethat?Hetextsback.
Yesma’am,anythingforabitofJasonRitchie.Onmyway.
Donna’sdatehadclearlynotbeenaroaringsuccess.
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‘Shekeepstheminstorage,John,’saysElizabeth,holdingthemanilafile.‘Idon’tknowifyou’veeverbeen?It’sfilesofallheroldcases.You’renotsupposedtokeepthem,butyouknowPenny.Shemadecopiesofeverything,justincase.’
‘Incasetheymighthelpcatchakillermanyyearslater,’saysJoyce.
‘Anyway,John,afterKarenPlayfairrecognizedyou,itgotmethinking,andIjustneededonefinalthingcheckinginoneofthefiles.’
‘Wouldyoulikesomewater,John?’asksJoyce.
Johnshakeshishead.HiseyesareonElizabethasshebeginstoreadfromthefile.
‘TherewasacaseinRye,in1973.Pennymusthavebeenveryjunior.Ican’timaginePennyeverhavingbeenjunior,butyoumustrememberitveryclearly.Probablyseemslikeyesterday.ThecaseconcernedagirlnamedAnnieMadeley.YourememberAnnieMadeley,Penny?’
Elizabethlooksovertowhereherfriendislying.Listening?Notlistening?
‘Stabbedduringaburglaryandbledtodeathinthearmsofherboyfriend.Aroundcamethepolice,includingPenny,that’sinthefile.Foundbrokenglassonthefloor,whereourburglarhadgotin,butnothingstolen.TheburglarhadbeensurprisedbyAnnieMadeley,panicked,pickedupakitchenknife,stabbedherandfled.That’stheofficialaccountifyouwanttoreadit.Caseclosed.ButRonwasthefirsttosniffitout;hedidn’tlikeitonebit.’
‘Itstunk,Johnny,’saysRon.‘Aburglarinthemiddleoftheday,onabusyestate?Withpeopleathome?YoumightburgleonaSundaymorning,whileeveryoneisatchurch,butnotSundayafternoon,notthedonething.’
Elizabethlooksovertoherfriend.‘Youmusthavethoughtthattoo,Penny?Youmusthaveknowntheboyfriendhadstabbedher,waitedforhertodie,thencalledthepolice.’
ShedabsPenny’sdrylips.
‘Westartedlookingintoitmonthsago,John.TheThursdayMurderClub.NoPenny,butwecarriedon.Iwassurprisedwe’dneverlookedatthecasebefore,surprisedPennyhadneverbroughtitin.Westartedlookingatit,John,seeingifthepolicehadgotitwrongallthoseyearsago.Ireadthereportontheknifewoundanditdidn’tseemrighttome,soIaskedJoyceaboutit.Infact,itmighthavebeenthefirstthingIeveraskedyou,Joyce?’
‘Itwas,’remembersJoyce.
‘Idescribedthewoundandaskedherhowlongitwouldtaketodie,andshesaidaroundforty-fiveminutesorso,whichdidn’tfittheboyfriend’saccountatall.Hehadchasedtheburglar–noonesawthis,John–rushedbacktothekitchen,heldAnnieMadeleyinhisarmsandrangthepoliceimmediately.IthenaskedJoyceifsomeonewithanymedicaltrainingcouldhavesavedherandwhatdidyousay,Joyce?’
‘Iwascertain,itwouldhavebeeneasy.You’llknowthattoo,John,withyourtraining.’
‘Nowtheboyfriendhadbeenasoldier,John,invalidedoutafewyearsbefore.Sohecouldhavesavedher,noquestion.Butthat’snotthewaytheinvestigationwent.I’dliketosaythatthingsweredifferentinthesecasesbackthen,butnodoubthe’dgetawaywithittodaytoo.Theysearchedfortheburglar,butwithnoluck.PoorAnnieMadeleywasburiedandtheworldkeptturning.Theboyfrienddisappearedshortlyafterwards,inthemiddleofthenight,withrentowingandwecometotheendofthefile.’
‘Sowewerelookingintoallofthis,buttheneventstookover,ofcourse,’saysIbrahim.‘MrCurran,MrVentham,thebodyinthegraveyard.Weputthecasetoonesidewhilewehadarealmurderrightinfrontofus.’
‘Butweallknowwedon’tcometotheendofthestory,don’twe,John?’saysRon.
Elizabethtapsthemanilafile.
‘AndsoIsentIbrahimofftolookatthefile,withonequestion.Canyouguesswhatitwas,John?’
Johnstaresather.ElizabethlooksatPenny.
‘Penny,ifyoucanhear,Ibetyouknowthequestion.PeterMercer,thatwasthenameoftheboyfriend,PeterMercer.IaskedIbrahimtofindoutwhyPeterMercerhadbeeninvalidedfromthearmy.Andifyouhadn’tguessedthequestion,Ibetyoucanguesstheanswer,John.Haveago,it’salltoolateanyway.’
Johnburieshisheadinhishands,dragsthemdownhisfaceandlooksup.‘Iassume,Elizabeth,itwasagunshotwoundtothelowerleg?’
‘Itwasjustthat,John.’
ElizabethpullsherchairnearertoPenny,takesherhandandspeakstoherquietlyanddirectly.‘NearlyfiftyyearsagoPeterMercermurderedhisgirlfriend,thenvanishedintothinair.Andeveryonethoughthe’dgotawaywithit.Butit’sreallynotallthateasytogetawaywithmurder,isit,Penny?Sometimesjusticeiswaitingjustaroundthecorner,asitwasforPeterMerceronedarknightwhenyoupaidhimavisit.Andsometimesjusticewaitsfiftyyearsandsitsbesideahospitalbedholdingthehandofafriend.Hadyoujustseenonetoomanyofthesecases,Penny?Tiredofit?Andtiredofnoonelistening?’
‘Whendidshetellyou,John?’asksJoyce.
Johnstartstocry.
‘Whenshewasfirstill?’
Johnnodsslowly.‘Shedidn’tmeantotellme.Yourememberhowshewas,Elizabeth?Themini-strokes?’
‘Yes,’remembersElizabeth.Theywereverygentleatfirst.Nothingtooalarming,unlessyouknewwhattheywere.ButpoorJohnhadknownexactlywhattheywere.
‘Shewouldsayallsortsofthings.Seeallsortsofthings.Plentyofmake-believe,andthenthepresentsortofdisappearedandhermindwouldgofurtherandfurtherback.KeptspoolingbackuntilitfoundsomethingfamiliarIsuppose.Justlookingforsomethingthatmadesense,becausetheworldaroundherhadstoppedmakingsense.Soshe’dtellmestories,sometimesfromherchildhood,sometimesfromwhenwefirstmet.’
‘Andsometimesfromherearlydaysinthepolice?’promptsElizabeth.
‘AllthingsI’dheardbeforeatfirst.ThingsIrememberfromthetime,oldbosses,littlescamsthey’dpull,fiddlingexpenses,pubinsteadofcourt,thesortsofthingswe’dalwayslaughedabout.IknewshewasadriftandIwantedtoholdontoheraslongasIcould.Doyouunderstand?’
‘Wealldo,John,’saysRon.Andtheydo.
‘SoIwouldkeephertalking.Thesamestoriesoverandoveragainsometimes.Oneremindingherofanother,remindingherofanother,remindingherofthefirstoneagain,androundwe’dgo.Butthen…’
Johnpausesandlooksathiswife.
‘Yousayyoudon’treallythinkPennycanhearyou,John?’saysElizabeth.
Johnshakeshishead,slowly.‘No.’
‘Andyeteveryday,youcomehere.Yousitwithher.Youtalktoher.’
‘Whatelseisthereformetodo,Elizabeth?’
Elizabethunderstands.‘So,shewastellingyoustories.Storiesyouknew.Andthenoneday…?’
‘Yes,andthenonedayitwasstoriesIdidn’tknow.’
‘Secrets,’saysRon.
‘Secrets.Nothingawful,onlylittlethings.She’dtakenmoneyonce.Abribe.Everyoneelsehadtakenitandshefeltshe’dhadto.Shetoldmethatasifshehadtoldmemanytimesbefore,butshehadn’t.Weallhavesecrets,don’twe?’
‘Wedo,John,’agreesElizabeth.
‘She’dforgottenwhatwasafunnystoryandwhatwasasecret.Buttheremusthavebeensomethingstillworking,afinallockonafinalgate.Thelastthingtogive.’
‘Theworstsecretofall?’
Johnnods.‘ByGodsheheldontoit.Shewasalreadyinhere.Yourememberwhentheymovedherin?’
Elizabethremembers.Pennyhadgonebythistime.Conversationsweresnippets,incoherent,sometimesangry.WhenwouldStephencomeinhere?Sheneededtogetbacktohim.Justgetthisdoneandgohomeandkissherbeautifulhusband.
‘Shedidn’tevenrecognizemebythen.Well,sherecognizedme,butshecouldn’tplaceme.Icameinonemorning.Abouttwomonthsago,youknow,andshewassittingup.ItwasthelasttimeIrememberhersittingup.Andshesawme,andsheknewme.SheaskedmewhatweweregoingtodoandIdidn’tunderstandthequestion,soIaskedher,“Doaboutwhat?”’
Elizabethnods.
‘Andshestartedtotellme,andshewasverymatteroffact.Asiftherewassomethingintheloftandsheneededmetogetitdown.Nothingmorethanthat.Nothingmorethanthat.YouknowIcouldn’tletpeoplefindoutwhatshe’ddone,Elizabeth?Youknowthat?Ihadtotrysomething.’
Elizabethnods.
‘We’dpicnickeduponthehillafewtimes,’Johncontinues.‘Itreallywasverybeautiful.I’dalwayswonderedwhywestopped.’
Theysitinsilence.BrokenonlybythequietelectronicbeepsbyPenny’sbedside.Allthatremainedofher,likealighthouseblinkingfarouttosea.
Elizabethgentlybreaksthesilence.‘Here’swhatIthinkweshoulddo,John.I’mgoingtogettheotherstotakeyouhome.It’slate,haveasleepinyourownbed.Ifyouhaveletterstowrite,thenwritethem.I’llcomewiththepoliceinthemorning.Iknowyou’llbethere.We’llstepoutsideforamomentsoyoucansaygoodbyetoPenny.’
ThefourfriendsstepoutsideandElizabethwatchesthroughtheclearborderofthefrostedwindowinPenny’sdoorasJohnholdshiswifeinhisarms.Shelooksaway.
‘You’llseeJohnbacksafely,won’tyou?IfIstaywithPennyforamoment?’sheaskstheothers,andgetsnodsinreturn.Sheopensthedooragain.Johnisputtingonhiscoat.
‘Timetogo,John.’
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ThelightsinDonna’sflatarelowandStevieWonderisworkinghismagicfromthespeakers.Chrisishappyandrelaxed,shoesoff,feetup.Donnapourshimaglassofwine.
‘Thanks,Donna.’
‘Pleasure.Niceshirtbytheway.’
‘Whythankyou.It’sjustsomethingIthrewon.’
ChrissmilesatDonnaandDonnasmilesback.Donnacansensewhatisabouttohappenanditmakesherveryhappy.
‘Mum?’inquiresDonna,holdingthebottletowardshermother.
‘Thankyou,darling,Iwill.’
Donnathenpoursaglassofwineforhermother,currentlysittingbesideChrisonthesofa.
‘Honestly,youcouldbehersister,Patrice,’saysChris.‘AndI’mnotjustsayingthatbecauseDonnaisageingsobadly.’
DonnamimesthrowingupwhilePatricelaughs.
‘Madonnatoldmeyouwerecharming.’
Chrisputsdownhiswine,alookofdelightcreepingontohisface.‘Sorry?WhotoldyouIwascharming?’
‘Madonna,’shetiltsherheadtowardsherdaughter.
ChrislooksatDonna.‘YourfullnameisMadonna?’
‘IfyouevercallmethatIwilltaseryou,’saysDonna.
‘Itwouldbeworthit,’saysChris.‘Patrice,IthinkIloveyou.’
Donnarollshereyesandpicksuptheremote.‘ShallwewatchJasonRitchie?’
‘Sure,sure,’saysChris,distracted.‘Sowhatdoyoudoforaliving,Patrice?’
‘Iteach.Primary,’saysPatrice.
‘Doyou?’saysChris.Teacher,singsinachoir,lovesdogs,that’shisfantasychecklist.
DonnalooksChrisstraightintheeye.‘AndshesingsinthechoironaSunday.’
ChrisrefusestoholdDonna’sgazeandturnsbacktoPatrice.
‘Thisisgoingtosoundlikearidiculousquestion,Patrice,butdoyoulikedogs?’
Patricetakesasipofherwine.‘Allergic,I’mafraid.’
Chrisnods,andsips,thengiveshisglassanalmostimperceptibleraisetowardsDonna.Twooutofthreeain’tbad.Heisgladheiswearinghisblueshirtwiththebuttons.
‘Whathappenedtoyourdate?’ChrisasksDonna.
‘IjustsaidIhadadate.Ididn’tsayitwasmydate,’repliesDonna.
Donna’sphonebuzzes.Shelooksatthescreen.
‘It’sElizabeth.Shewondersifwe’refreetomorrowmorning?Nothingurgent.’
‘Solvedthecasenodoubt.’
Donnalaughs.ShehopeseverythingisOKwithherfriend.
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Penny’sbedsidelampisturnedaslowasitcango,justenoughlightfortwooldfriendswithfamiliarfaces.ElizabethhasPenny’shandinhers.
‘So,didanyonegetawaywithanything,darling?TonyCurrandidn’t,didhe?Someonedidforhim.Gianni,soeveryoneseemstothink,thoughIhaveatheoryaboutthatImustdiscusswithJoyce.Nolossthere,anyway.AndVentham?Well,youknowJohnhastopayforthat.I’lltakethepolicethereinthemorningandthey’llfindhisbody,webothknowthat.Themomenthe’shome,alittlenightcapandthat’sthat.Heknowsenoughtomakeitpeacefulatleast,doesn’the?’
ElizabethstrokesPenny’shair.
‘Andwhataboutyou,darling?Youclevergirl.Didyougetawaywithit?Iknowwhyyoudidwhatyoudid,Penny;Iseethechoiceyoumade,todeliveryourownjustice.Idon’tagreewithit,butIseeit.Iwasn’tthere.Iwasn’tfacingwhatyouwerefacing.Butdidyougetawaywithit?’
ElizabethplacesPenny’shandbackonthebedandstands.
‘Itallratherdepends,doesn’tit?Onwhetheryoucanhearmeornot?Ifyoucanhear,Penny,you’llknowthatthemanyoulovehasjustwalkedoffintothenighttodie.Allbecausehewantedtoprotectyou.Andthatallcomesdowntothechoiceyoumadeallthoseyearsago.AndIthinkthat’spunishmentenough,Penny.’
Elizabethstartstoputonhercoat.
‘Andifyoucan’thearme,thenyougotawaywithit,dear.Bravo!’
Elizabeth’scoatisnowonandsheplacesahandonherfriend’scheek.
‘IknowwhatJohndidwhilehewasholdingyou,Penny,Isawthesyringe.SoIknowyou’reofftoo,andthatthisisgoodbye.Darling,Ihaven’treallyspokenaboutStephenrecently.He’snotatallwellandI’mtryingmybest,butI’mlosinghimbitbybit.SoIhavemysecretstoo.’
ShekissesPenny’scheek.
‘DearGodIwillmissyou,youfool.Sweetdreams,darling.Whatachase!’
ElizabethleavesWillowsandwalksoutintothedarkness.Aquiet,cloudlessnight.Anightsodarkyouthinkyoumightneverseemorningagain.
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Christakesataxihomeandwalksthelongwalkuptohisflat.Isitthebooze,orishealittlelighteronhisfeet?
Heopenshisfrontdoorandsurveysthescene.Afewthingswouldneedtobetidiedawayforsure,taketherecyclingout,maybebuysomecushionsandacandle?Thebathroomdoorstillstuckwheneveritwasopened,butnothingthatabitofsandpaperandhardworkwouldn’tfix.GotoTesco’s,buysomefruit,putitinabowlonthediningtable.Ofcourse,alsobuyafruitbowl.Cleanthebedding.Replacetoothbrush.Buytowels?
Thatshoulddoit.JustenoughtoconvincePatricethathewasaregularhumanbeingandnotamanwhohadgivenuponlife.Itdidn’ttakemuch.Thenhecouldsendheratext,inviteherroundfordinnerwhileshewasinFairhaven.
Flowers?Whynot?Gocrazy.
Chrisswitchesonhiscomputerandwaitsforhisemailstoload.Abadhabit,checkinginbeforebedtime.Delayingbedtime,usually.Threenewemails,nothingthatlookedlikeitwoulddetainhim.Oneofhissergeantswasdoingatriathlon,acryforhelp,forwhichheexpectedtobesponsored.AninvitationtotheKentPoliceCommunityAwardsnight,bringaguest.Wouldthatcountasadate?Probablynot;hewouldcheckwithDonna.ThenanemailfromanaccountChrisdidn’trecognize.Didn’thappenoften;Chriskepthispersonalaccountasprivateasonecouldthesedays.From‘KypriosLegal’,subject,‘StrictlyPrivateandConfidential’.
FromCyprus?HadtheyfoundGianni?Weresolicitorswarningthepoliceoff?Butwhywoulditcometohispersonalaccount?NooneinCyprushadthisemailaddress.
Chrisclicksontheemail.
DearSir,Ourclient,MrCostasGunduz,hasaskedustoforwardthiscorrespondencetoyou.Pleasebeadvisedthatallandanyinformationincludedinthiscorrespondenceistobetreatedasconfidential.Pleasedirectanyreplytoouroffices.Yourfaithfulservant,GregoryIoannidisKypriosAssociates
CostasGunduz?CostaswhohadlaughedwhenChrishadhandedhimhiscard?Well,wasn’tthisturningintoquitetheevening?Chrisclicksontheattachment.
MrHudson,YousaymysoncamebacktoCyprusin2000.Youhaveproofofthis.IneedtotellyouthatIdidnotseehimthenandhavenotseenhimsince.Notonce.Ihavenotseenmyson,Ihavehadnoletterornocallfrommyson.MrHudson,Iamold,youhaveseenthiswithyourowneyes.AsyoulookforGianni,youmustknowthatItoolookforhim.Iwillneverspeaktoapoliceofficer,youunderstand,butIaskforhelptoday.IfyoucanfindGianni,ifyouhaveinformationofanytype,thereisgreat,greatrewardforyou.IfearGianniisdead.HeismysonandIwanttoseehimbeforeIdie,ortoknowthisisimpossibleandbeallowedtogrieve.Ihopeyouacceptthiswithcompassion.Iamaskingyouplease.Greetings,CostasGunduz
Chrisreadsitthroughacouplemoretimes.Nicetry,Costas.IsheexpectingChristosharethiswiththeCypriotpolice?WithJoeKyprianou?Surelyheis.DoesthismeantheCypriotpolicearegettingclosetoGianni?Onelastefforttothrowthemoffthescent?
Orisitwhatitsaysitis?Apleafromanoldmantofindhismissingson.Inhisyoungerdays,Chrismighthavebelievedthis.Buthe’sseentoomuch,heardtoomuchfrompeoplesavingtheirownskins.Anystory.AndheknowswhereGianniGunduzwason17June.
Gianniisnotdead.Gianniwenthome,withTonyCurran’smoney.Hechangedhisname,gotanosejobandwhateverelsehisdad’smoneywouldpayforandhasbeenlivingitupeversince.GianniissunninghimselfsomewhereinCyprus,happywithhislot.Withoutanenemyintheworld,nowthatTonyCurranhasbeendealtwith.
CostasGunduzwillnotbegettingareply.
Chrisshutsdownhiscomputer.Hereallywishespeoplewouldstopdoingtriathlons.
114
Elizabethisoutlate,butBogdanandStephenhavenotnoticed.
Bogdanhashislowerlipjuttingouttoonesideashethinks.Hetapsonthetable,thinkingabouttherightmove.HestaresacrossatStephen,thenbackdownattheboard.Howdoesthismanplaylikethis?IfBogdanisn’tvery,verycarefulheisgoingtolose.AndBogdandoesn’trememberthelasttimehelost.
‘Bogdan,canIaskyouaquestion?’saysStephen.
‘Always,’saysBogdan.‘Wearefriends.’
‘Itwon’tputyouoff?Ihaveyouinabindhere.Iwonderifyouneedtoconcentrate?’
‘Stephen,weplay,wetalk.Theyarebothspecialtome.’Bogdanmoveshisbishop.HelooksupatStephen,whoissurprisedatthemove,butnotyetconcerned
‘Thankyou,Bogdan,theyarebothspecialtometoo.’
‘So,askmeagoodquestion.’
‘It’sonlythis.Well,firstly,whatwasthenameofthechap?’StephenattacksBogdan’sbishop,butsensesheisbeingluredintosomething.
‘Whichchap,Stephen?’asksBogdan,lookingdownattheboard,gratefulforthechinkoflightwhichhasjustappeared.
‘Thefirstonewhowaskilled?Thebuilder?’
‘Tony,’saysBogdan.‘TonyCurran.’
‘That’stheone,’saysStephen.HerubshischinasBogdanprotectshisbishopandopenstheboardatthesametime.
‘What’sthequestion?’asksBogdan.
‘Well,it’sjustthis,andforgivemeifI’mspeakingoutofturn,butfromeverythingIhearaboutit,Ithinkyoukilledhim.Elizabethtalkstome,youknow.’Stephenmovesapawn,butcanseethere’snothingmuchdoing.
Bogdanlooksaroundtheroomforamoment,thenbackatStephen.
‘Sure,Ikilledhim.It’sasecretthough,onlyoneotherpersonknows.’
‘Ohmum’stheword,oldboy,noonewillhearitfromme.ButIdon’treallyunderstandwhy.Notmoney,surely,thatdoesn’tseemyourstyleatall?’
‘No,notmoney.Yougottobecarefulwithmoney.Don’tletitbeincharge.’BogdanadvancesaknightandStephenseeswhathe’suptoatlast.Delightful,really.
‘Whatwasitthen?’
‘Itwassimple,honestly.Ihadafriend,mybestfriendwhenIarrivedinEnglandandhedroveataxi.OnedayhesawTonydosomethingheshouldn’t.’
‘Whatdidhesee?’StephensurprisesBogdanbymovinghisrook.Bogdansmilesalittle.Helovesthiscraftyoldman.
‘HesawTonyshootaboy,ayoungboyfromLondon.Aboutsomething,Idon’tknow,Ineverfoundout.Adrugthing.’
‘SoTonykilledyourfriend?’
‘Well,thetaxicompanyisrunbyamannamedGianni.TheycalledhimTurkishGianni,buthewasCypriot.GianniandTonywereinbusiness,butTonywastheboss.’Bogdanstaresdownattheboard,takinghistime.
‘SoGiannikilledyourfriend?’
‘Giannikilledmyfriend,butTonytoldhimto.Idon’tcare,issamething.’
‘Itis.We’reagreedthere.AndwhateverhappenedtoGianni?’
Bogdanfeelstheneedtowithdrawhisknight.Awasteofamove,butnevermind,thesethingshappen.
‘Ikillhimtoo.Straightaway,prettymuch.’
Stephennods.Hestaresattheboardinsilenceforawhile.Bogdanthinkshemayhavelosthim,buthehaslearnedyouhavetobepatientwithStephensometimes.Andsureenough.
‘Whatwasyourfriend’sname?’Stephenkeepslookingattheboard,tryingtoconjuresomethingfromnothing.
‘Kaz.Kazimir,’saysBogdan.‘Gianni,heaskKaztodrivehimtothewoods,hehastoburysomethingandheneedshelp.Theywalkintothewoods,theydiganddig,forwhateverGiannineedstobury.Hewasahardworker,Kaz,andnice,youwouldlikehimverymuch.SothenGiannishootKaz,pop,oneshotandburieshiminthehole.’
Stephenfurtheradvanceshispawn.Bogdanglancesupathimandgiveshimalittlenodandasmile.Hescruncheshisnoseforamomentashelooksbackattheboard.
‘IthoughtKazhadrunaway,maybehome,keephisheaddown,OK?ButGianniisstupid,notlikeTony,andhespeakswithhisfriendsandsaysheshotthisguyinthewoodsandtheguydidallthedigging,andisn’tthisfunny?AndIhearaboutthis.’
‘Soyougointoaction?’asksStephen.
Bogdannods,andwondersabouthisbishopandwhetherStephenmightjusthavesomethinguphissleeve.‘ItellGianniIneedtospeaktohim.Don’ttellTony,don’ttelltheothers.IsayafriendworksinNewhaven,attheport,andtheremightbesomemoneyforhim,andisheinterested?Andhe’sinterested,sowemeetattheport,abouttwoa.m.’
‘Andthere’snosecurity?’
‘There’ssecurity,butthesecuritymanisacousinofmyfriend,SteveGeorgiou.Agoodguy.Hereallydoesworkattheport.Iseasiertoliewiththetruth.SoStevecomesalongtoo.SteveknewKaz.StevelikedKazlikeIdid.SowewalkacrosstoharbourstepsandgetinalittleboatandGianni,heisstupid,hejustthinkaboutmoney,andwechug,chug,chug,andit’schoppyandI’mtellinghimtheplanandweusethisboattosmugglepeopleandSteve’scousinwillturnablindeyeandthinkofallthemoney.ThenItakeoutagunandItellhimkneeldown,whichGiannithinksisajoke,andIsayyoukilledKazimir,justsoheknowswhyhe’sthere,sosuddenlyhethinksit’snotjoke,andIshoothim.’
BogdanfinallymoveshisbishopanditisStephen’sturntoscrunchhisnose.
‘Itakehiskeysandhiscards.Weweighhimdownwithbricksandthrowhimover,nevertobeseen.BackwegotoNewhaven,wesaythankyoutoSteve’scousin,let’snotspeakofthis.ThenmeandSteve,wedrivetoGianni’shouse,weletourselvesin,wetakehispassport,wepacksuitcasefullofclothes,thereispilesofmoney,youknow,drugsmoney,andwetakethistoo,andanythingvaluablewefind.SomeofthemoneyisTony’s,likealot,soIwasgladtotakeit.’
‘Howmuchmoney?’asksStephen.
‘Itwaslikehundredgrand.IsendfiftygrandtoKazimir’sfamily.’
‘Goodlad.’
‘TherestIgivetoSteve.HewantedtoopenagymandIthoughtwasgoodinvestment.He’sagoodguy,nononsensewithhim.ThenIdriveStevetoGatwick,hetakeflighttoCyprusonGianni’spassport,noonelooks.Easy.ThenSteveflystraightbacktoEnglandonhisownpassport.Icallthepolice,anonymous,butIknowenoughthattheytakemeserious.ItellthemGiannikilledKaz,andtheyraidhishouse.’
‘Andtheyfindhispassportgoneandhisclothesgone?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Sotheychecktheportsandairportsandfindhe’sscarperedofftoCyprus?’StephenattacksBogdan’sbishopwithapawn.JustasBogdanhadhoped.
‘AndsotheycheckandcheckforGianniforabitinCyprus,buthe’sdisappeared,andtheyjustleavetoCypriotpoliceintheend.NoevidencethatGiannikilledanyone,nodrugmoneyinhishouse,soeveryonejustforgetintheend.Justmoveon.’
‘TookyourtimewithCurranthough,eh?’
‘Alwaysjustwaitingforthebesttime.Justplanning.Ididn’twanttogetcaught,youknow?’
‘Ishouldthinkthatwouldbethelastthingyou’dwant,yes,’saysStephen.
‘Anyway,coupleofmonthsagoIinstalledhissurveillancesystem,thecameras,thealarmsystem,allofthis.AndIfittedthewholethingwrongprettymuch.Nothingrecording.’
‘Isee.’
‘AndIthought,so,nowisthetime.Icangetinhouse,Igotkeysmade,noonecanseeme.’BogdanattacksStephen’spawn,openingupafrontthatStephendoesnotwantopenedup.
Stephennods.‘Clever.’
‘JustafterIdiditthere’saring,ring,ringatthedoor,butIstayedprettycalm,noworry.’
Stephennodsagainandmovesapawninquietdesperation.‘Goodforyou.Whatiftheycatchyou?’
Bogdanshrugs.‘Idon’tknow.Idon’tthinktheywill.’
‘Elizabethwillworkitout,oldboy.Ifshehasn’talready.’
‘Iknow,butIthinkshewillunderstand.’
‘Idotoo,’agreesStephen.‘Butthepolicewouldbeadifferentmatter.TheyarelesseasytocharmthanElizabeth.’
Bogdannods.‘Iftheycatchme,theycatchme.ButIlaidaprettygoodfalsetrail,Ithink.’
‘Afalsetrail?Andhowdidyoudothat?’
‘Well,whenwewenttoGianni’shouseonthatnight,oneofthethingswetookwasacamera,so–’
Bogdanbreaksoffastheyhearakeyturninthedoor.Elizabethbacklatefromsomethingorother.BogdanputsafingertohislipsandStephendoesthesameinresponse.Shewalksin.
‘Hello,boys.’ShekissesBogdanonthecheekandthenholdsStepheninatightembrace.Asshedoes,Bogdanmoveshisqueenandcloseshistrap.
‘Checkmate.’
ElizabethletsStephengoandhesmilesattheboardandatBogdan.Hereachesoutandshakeshishand.
‘He’sacraftybugger,thisone,Elizabeth.Agrade-Acraftybugger.’
Elizabethlooksdownattheboard.‘Wellplayed,Bogdan.’
‘Thankyou,’saysBogdan,andstartstosetthepiecesbackupagain.
‘Well,Ihavequiteastoryforyouboth,’saysElizabeth.‘CanImakeyouacupoftea,Bogdan?’
‘Yesplease,’saysBogdan.‘Milk,sixsugars.’
‘Acoffeeforme,love,’saysStephen.‘Ifit’snottoomuchtrouble?’
Elizabethwalksintothekitchen.ShethinksaboutPenny,surelydeadbynow?Thatwashowitended,inanactoflove.ThenshethinksaboutJohn,settlingdowntoafinalsleep.HehadtakencareofPenny,butatwhatcost?Isheatpeace?Isheoutofhismisery?ShethinksofAnnieMadeleyandeverythingshehasmissed.Everyonehastoleavethegame.Onceyou’rein,thereisnootherdoorbuttheexit.ShereachesforStephen’stemazepam,thenpausesandputsthembackinthecupboard.
Elizabethwalksbacktoherhusband.Shetakeshishandinhersandkisseshimonthelips.‘Ithinkitmightbetimetocutdownonthecoffee,Stephen.Allthatcaffeine.Itcan’tbegoodforyou.’
‘Quiteso,’saysStephen.‘Whateveryouthinkisforthebest.’
StephenandBogdanbeginanothergame.Elizabethturnsbacktothekitchenandneithermanseeshertears.
115
Joyce
SorryIhaven’twrittenforawhile,it’sbeenverybusyaroundhere.ButIhaveagooseberrycrumbleonthegoandIthoughttheremightbeafewthingsyou’dwanttoknow.
TheyburiedPennyandJohntheTuesdaybeforelast.Itwasquiteaquietone,anditrained,whichseemedaboutright.TherewereafewoldcolleaguesofPenny’sthere.Infact,morethanyouwouldthink,considering.Ithadbeeninthepapers,PennyandJohn.Theyhadn’tgotthewholestorystraight,buttheywerenearenough.ThenewshadgotwindthatPennywasafriendofRon,too.HewasinterviewedonKentTodayandtheyevenshoweditonthenormalnewslater.SomeonecamedownfromtheSuntotalktohim,butRonwashavingnoneofthat.HetoldthemtoparkoutsideLarkinCourtandthenhadthemclamped.
Elizabethwasn’tatthefuneral.Wehaven’tdiscussedit,sothat’sthat,I’mafraid.Iwonderifshehadalreadysaidhergoodbyes?Shemusthave,mustn’tshe?
Idon’tevenknowifElizabethhasforgivenPenny.I’mafraidItaketheOldTestamentviewthatwhatPennydidwasright.That’sjustme,andit’snotsomethingIwouldsayoutloud,butI’mgladshedidwhatshedid.IhopePeterMercerwasalivelongenoughtoknowwhatwashappeningtohim.
Elizabethisagooddealclevererthanme,andwillhavethoughtaboutitmore,butIcan’tseethatshecouldreallyblamePennyforwhatshedid.WouldElizabethhavedonethesame?Ithinkso.IthinkElizabethwouldhavegotawaywithitthough.
ButIdothinkElizabethmustbesadatthesecret.Therewerethetwogirls,ElizabethandPenny,andtheirmysteries,andallthewhilePennywasthebiggestmysteryofall.ThatmusthurtElizabeth.Perhapsonedaywe’lltalkaboutit.
PennykilledPeterMercerandshekeptitfromJohnallherlife.Untildementiabrokeher.AndonceJohnknew,hehadtoprotecther.That’slove,isn’tit?That’swhatGerrywouldhavedoneforme.BecausePeterMercermurderedAnnieMadeley,PennymurderedPeterMercer.BecausePennymurderedPeterMercer,JohnmurderedIanVentham.Soitgoes,Isuppose.Andatleastnowit’sdone.IwishpeaceonPennyandJohn,andIwishpeaceonpoorAnnieMadeley.ForPeterMercer,andforeverythinghecaused,Iwishnothingbuttorment.
ThepolicehaveyettofindTurkishGiannibytheway,butthey’relooking.ChrisandDonnahavepoppedoverhereacoupleoftimes.Chrishasanewladyfriend,butisbeingcoyaboutitfornow,andwecan’tgetDonnatotalk.Chrissaysthey’llcatchupwithGiannieventually,butBogdanwasroundtofixmypowershowertheotherdayandhesaysGianniistoosmartforthat.
Ifyoureallywantmyview,Gianniisfartooconvenient.GiannicameoverandkilledTonyforinformingonhimallthoseyearsago?WhywouldTonyhaveinformedonhim?ForhispartinclearingupamurderthatTonycommitted?Thatmakesnosensetome.
No,theonlypersontoosmarttobecaughtaroundhereisBogdan.
Don’tyouthinkhekilledTonyCurran?Ido.I’msurehehadagoodreason,andIlookforwardtoaskinghim.Butnotuntilhe’sfittedmynewreplacementwindow,becausewhatifhetakesoffence?IwonderifElizabethsuspectshimtoo?Shecertainlyhasn’tmentionedchasingdownGiannirecently,soperhapsshedoes.
Iwillhavetocheckthecrumbleinabit.Shallwegetontomorepleasanttidings?
Hillcrestisalreadyupandrunning,therearecranesanddiggersuponthehill.TheysayGordonPlayfairgot￡4.2mforhisland,andby‘they’ImeanElizabeth,soyoucantakeitasgospel.Hesaidgoodbyetothehousehe’dlivedinforseventyyearsandpackedhisbelongingsintoaLandRoverandtrailer.Thenhedrovethe400-oddyardsdownthehillandunpackeditallatanicetwo-bedinLarkinCourt.
BramleyHoldingsgavehimtheflataspartofthedeal.Whichbringsusontoanotherbitofnews.
‘BramleyHoldings’?Itwasn’taboutapples,afterall.Itoldyou,though,thatthenamehadrungabell?Well,here’swhy.
Whenshewasverysmall,Joannahadalittletoyelephant,pinkwithwhiteears,andshewouldneverletmewashit.Ican’timaginethegermsitcarried,butIthinkthat’snotnecessarilyabadthingwithchildren.Andthenameofthatelephant?Bramley.Ihadquiteforgotten.ShehadsomanytoysandI’materriblemother.
Perhapsyouseewherethisisgoing,though?
YourememberwehadtakenVentham’saccountstoJoanna,ofcourse,backwhenElizabethwonderedifIanVenthamhadmurderedTonyCurran?
Anyway,JoannaandCorneliushadlookedthroughtheaccountsforusandthey’dreportedback,andthatwastheendofthematter.
ButforJoannaithadn’tbeentheendofthematteratall.Notabitofit.
JoannaandCorneliushadlikedwhattheysawintheaccounts.AndtheyhadlikedwhattheyreadaboutHillcrest.SoJoannahadmadeapresentationtotheotherboardmembers–thisscene,inmyhead,isaroundtheaeroplane-wingtable–andthentheyboughtthecompany.ShewasplanningtobuyitfromIanVentham,but,ofcourse,endedupbuyingitfromGemmaVentham.Soisn’tthataturn-up?
Joannaownsthewholeplace.OrJoanna’scompany,butthat’sthesamething,isn’tit?
Now,thisleadsmeontoBernard,andyou’llseewhy.
JoannaandIhadnevertalkedaboutBernard,butshecamedowntobewithmeatthefuneral,sohadElizabethtoldherperhaps?Ordidshejustknow?Ithinkshejustknew.Soshecamedownandsheheldmyhand,andinaweakermomentIputmyheadonhershoulderandthatwasnice.AfterthefuneralshetoldmeaboutBramleyHoldings.IpretendedIhadknownallalong,becauseIfeltguiltyaboutforgettingtheelephant,butJoannaseesstraightthroughme.
Butwetalked,andItoldherIdidn’tthinkthiswasthesortofbusinesstheybought,andsheagreed,butsaiditwas‘asectorwehavebeenkeentogetinto’,butIseestraightthroughhertooandsheadmittedthatwasalie.Shedidsaytherewasplentyofmoneytobemade,butshetoldmeshehadanotherreasontoo.WhichI’lltellyounow.
Shesatontheloungerthatsheboughtme,thatwouldhavebeenatenththepriceinIKEA,rightbesidethelaptopsheboughtmethatwillneverbecarriedanywhere,andhereiswhatshesaid.
‘Rememberwhenyoumovedinhere,andItoldyouitwasamistake?Itoldyouitwouldbetheendofyou?Sittinginyourchair,surroundedbyotherpeoplejustwaitingouttheirdays?Iwaswrong.Itwasthebeginningofyou,Mum.IthoughtIwouldneverseeyouhappyagainafterDaddied.’
(Wehadnevertalkedaboutthis.Bothourfaults.)
‘Youreyesarealive,yourlaughisbackandit’sthankstoCoopersChaseandtoElizabethandtoRonandIbrahimandtoBernard,Godresthissoul.AndsoIboughtit,thecompany,theland,thewholedevelopment.AndIboughtittosaythankyou,Mum.ThoughIknowwhatyou’regoingtosaynext,andIpromiseIwillalsomakemillionsoutofit,sodon’tpanic.’
Well,Iwasn’tpanicking,butthatwaswhatIwasgoingtosaynext.
Andsoacoupleofthingsyouwillwanttoknow.TheGardenofEternalRestisstayingexactlywhereitis.Joannasaysthey’llmakequiteenoughmoneyoutofHillcrest,soTheWoodlandshasbeenquietlyshelved.Thegraveyardisnowprotected,evenifCoopersChaseissoldagain(Joannasaystheywillsellitagainoneday,that’stheirjob).Butjustyoutryandbuyit,you’llseethereareallsortsofcovenantsinplace.It’sgoingnowhere.
Bytheway.Justnow,whenIsaiditwasbothourfaultsthatwehadn’ttalkedaboutGerry?Ofcourseitwasn’tbothourfaults.Itwasmyfault.Sorry,Joanna.
Wehadaceremonytheotherday.ElizabethinvitedMatthewMackieforlunchandalonghecame,nodogcollarthistime.WebrokethenewstohimthatMaggiewassafeandIthoughthewouldcry,buthedidn’t,hejustaskedtovisitthegrave.Wewalkedupthehillwithhim,thenwesatonBernardandAsima’sbenchwhilehepushedopentheirongatesandkneltbesidethegrave.Thisiswhenthetearscame,asweknewtheywouldwhenhesawtheheadstone.
IhadwatchedacoupleofdaysagoasBogdanhadspentthebestpartofthemorninggentlycleaninguptheinscription‘MargaretFarrell,1948–1971’,beforecarvingunderneath,‘Patrick,1971’.TherereallyisnothingBogdancan’tdo.
WhenFatherMackiebrokedownatthis,wesentRontoholdhimandthetwoofthemstayedtherequitesomewhile.Elizabeth,IbrahimandIstayedonthebenchandtookintheview.Ilikeitwhenmencry.Nottoomuch,butthiswasjustright.
TherearealwaysplentyofflowersonMaggie’sgravenow.Ihaveaddedsomeofmyown,andI’msureyoucanguesswhereIgotthemfrom.
You’llwanttoknowaboutthebench,too.Well,busyBogdantooktotheconcretewithapneumaticdrill,thendugdownuntilhefoundthetigerteacaddy,whichhegavetome.
InBernard’sfinallettertherewasratheramovingpostscript,inwhichhehadaskedthathisashesbescatteredoffthepierinFairhaven.Ihaveithere.
‘PartofmeandpartofAsimawillalwaysbetogether,righthere.Butsheisfloatingfreeinholywaters,soletmedriftonthetideuntilonedayIfindheragain,’hehadsaid.VerypoeticBernard,I’msure.
Toopoetic.
YouandIknowBernardwellenoughtoknowthatthiswassentimentalbunk.Itwasamessagetomeanditwasn’texactlytheEnigmacode.IwonderifBernardmighthavethoughtIwasalittlethick,butIsupposehewanteditspelledout,justincase.Anyway,IknewBernardhadgivenmemyinstructions.
SufiandMajidhadstayedatanairporthotelafterthefuneral,becausethat’stheirway,andIhadofferedtokeepBernard’sashessafeuntiltheyheadeddowntoFairhaven.Whenwillthesetwolearn?
IhadAsima’sashesintheteacaddyandIhadBernard’sashesinasimplewoodenurn.Itookoutmyscales.Properones,becauseIdon’ttrusttheelectronicones.
Iwasverycarefultippingouttheashes,because,muchasIlikedBernard,Ididn’twanthimallovermyworktop.Withinminutes,andwiththehelpofacoupleofintermediarybitsofTupperware(Ifeltabitguiltyaboutthat)thedeedwasdone.
InthetigerteacaddythattheyhadbothwantedtobuytheotherforChristmaswashalfBernardandhalfAsima.Thenextdayweburiedtheteacaddybackunderthebenchwhereitbelonged.WeaskedMatthewMackietoblessthesiteandIthinkhewastouchedtobeaskedanddidalovelyjob.
Andintheurn,halfAsimaandhalfBernard.And,unbeknownsttothem,that’swhatSufiandMajidtooktoFairhaventhefollowingday,soAsimacouldfinallyfloatfree,butstillintheembraceofthemansheloved.Wedidn’tjointhem,aswedidn’treallywanttointerfere.
Ihonestlydon’tknowwhattodowiththeTupperwareIused.Ifyou’veusedtwoTupperwarecontainerstohelpmixtheashesofadearfriendandawomanheloved,withoutlettingtheirchildrenknow,isitmoredisrespectfultokeepthem,ortothrowthemaway?ThisishonestlynotthesortofthingIhadtoworryaboutbeforeImovedtoCoopersChase.Elizabethwillknowwhattodo.
TalkingofElizabeth,sherangmeearliertotellmethatsomeonehadslidaveryinterestingnoteunderherdoor.Shewouldn’tsaywhatitwas,butshesaidshe’dhavetopaysomeonealittlevisitandthenshecouldtellme.Whatatease!
Well,itisThursday,soImustbeonmyway.Iworriedthat,afterPenny,wemightstopmeeting,orperhapsitwouldfeeldifferent.Butthat’snotreallyhowthingsworkaroundhere.Lifegoeson,untilitdoesn’t.TheThursdayMurderClubgoesonmeeting,mysteriousnotesarepushedunderdoorsandmurderersfitreplacementwindows.Longmayitcontinue.
AfterthemeetingIwillpopoverandseehowGordonPlayfairissettlingin.Justbeingagoodneighbour,beforeyouask.
And,rightontime,there’smycrumble.Iwillletyouknowhoweverythinggoes
Acknowledgements
ThankyousomuchforreadingTheThursdayMurderClub.Unlessyouhaven’treadityet,andhavejustturnedstraighttotheacknowledgements,whichIacceptisapossibility.Youmustliveyourlifeasyouchoose
IfirsthadtheideaforTheThursdayMurderClubafewyearsago,whenIwasfortunateenoughtovisitaretirementcommunity,fullofextraordinarypeoplewithextraordinarystories,andevenitsveryown‘contemporaryupscalerestaurant’.Theresidentsofthatretirementvillageknowwhotheyare,andIthankthemfortheirsupport.Don’tgetideasandstartmurderingeachotherthough,please.
Itishardworkwritinganovel.I’massumingthat’sthecaseforeveryone,althoughwhoknows?PerhapsSalmanRushdiefindsiteasy?Eitherway,manypeoplehavehelpedme,knowinglyorunknowingly,alongtheway.Itislovelytobeabletothankthempubliclyhere.
Iwant,firstofall,tothankMarkBillingham.Ihadwantedtowriteanovelforalongtime,andoveraverynicelunchatSkewdTurkishrestaurantinBarnet(delicious,greatvalueformoney,trythechickenwings)MarkgavemeexactlytheencouragementIneeded,atexactlytherighttime.Healsotoldmetherewerenorulestowritingacrimenovel,andthenproceededtotellmetwogreatruleswhichIkeptinmindthroughoutthewritingofthisbook.Anyway,Mark,Iwillbeforevergrateful.
IwassecretlysquirrelledawayforalongtimewritingTheThursdayMurderClubandIwanttothankanumberofpeopleforencouragingmetonotgiveupduringthistime.ThankyoutoRamitaNavai,thebestfriendIcouldeverwishfor,toSarahPinboroughfortellingmethat,yes,itissupposedtobethisdifficult,toLucyPrebbleforalwaysremindingmeto‘getitdone,andthengetitgood’,toBruceLloydforkeepingthetrainonthetracks,andtoMarianKeyesforthekindnessandforthecandle.
Also,specialthankstoSumuduJayatilakaforbeingmyfirstreader.Itwillalwaysmeantheworldtome.
Therecomesapointwhenabookmoreorlessexists,andthat’swhenyouneedwiseandbrilliantpeoplearoundyoutomakeitbetter.Thefewpeoplewhosawearlydraftsofthisbook,andareforeversworntosecrecy,includemywonderfullytalentedbrother,MatOsman(authorofthebrilliantTheRuins,alsooutnow),andmyfriendAnnabelJones,whotooktimeoutofherridiculouslybusyBlackMirrorscheduletoreadthebookandprovidesomanyanswersIwasmissing.Thankyousomuch,Annabel;youshoulddothisforaliving.
IwanttothankthebrilliantteamatViking,mostparticularlymyeditorKatyLoftus,forbackingmeandsupportingme,andforcomingupwithsomanydifferent,kind,waysofsaying,‘I’mnotsurethisbitreallyworks.’Andbehindeverygreateditorisagreatassistanteditor,sothankyoufromusbothtoVikkiMoynes.
ThankyoualsototherestoftheteamatViking:editorialmanagerNatalieWall,thecommsteamGeorgiaTaylor,EllieHudson,AmeliaFairneyandOliviaMead,whohaveheardmesay‘well,maybe’somanytimes.Thankyoutoototheamazingsalesteam–SamFanaken,TinekeMollemans,RuthJohnstone,KylaDean,RachelMyersandNatashaLanigan–andtotheDeadGoodonlineteam,andIndiraBirniefromthePenguinUKwebsite.Abookissuchateameffort,andIcouldn’twishforabetterteam.
IwouldalsoliketothankmyUSeditor,PamelaDorman,andherwonderfulassistanteditor,JeramieOrton,andIapologizeonceagainformakingyouhavetogoogleRyman’s,Holland&BarrettandSainsbury’s‘TastetheDifference’.Iamalsoindebtedtothethoroughnessandforensiccreativityofmycopy-editor,TrevorHorwood,withoutwhoIwouldneverknowwhatthedaysoftheweekcertaindateswerein1971.Or,asTrevorwouldimmediatelypointout,‘withoutwhom’.
Writingabookisitsownreward,andIwasveryreadytochalkthiswholeprojectuptoexperiencebeforesendingtheveryfirstdrafttomyagent,JulietMushens.Fromherveryfirstreply,however,thingschangedand,thankstoJuliet,IrealizedthatTheThursdayMurderClubmightbeanactualbook,whichactualpeoplemightactuallyread.Juliethasbeenaforceofnaturefromthestart–brilliant,creative,funnyandrefreshinglyunconventional.Icouldn’thavedoneanyofthiswithouther.Thankyousomuch,Juliet.SheisablysupportedbythewonderfulLizaDeBlock,who,givenshehastodealwithsomanyimportantcontracts,is,refreshingly,slightlymoreconventional.
I’llend,ifImay,withthebigguns.
Thankyoutomymum,BrendaOsman.Ihopethat,amongstotherthings,thereisasenseofkindnessandjustice,runningthroughTheThursdayMurderClub,andthatcomesfromyou.Itcomesaswell,ofcourse,fromyourparents,mygrandparents,FredandJessieWright,muchmissedbut,Ihope,verypresentwithinthesepages.Thankyoutootomywonderfulauntie,JanWright.Weareasmallfamily,butIthinkwepackapunch.
Andthankyou,finally,tomychildren,RubyandSonny.
Ihavenointentionofembarrassingyoutoomuch,soIwilljusttellyouhowmuchIloveyou.
THISISJUSTTHEBEGINNING
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Firstpublished2020
Copyright?RichardOsman,2020
Themoralrightoftheauthorhasbeenasserted
CoverletteringbyJoelHolland
ISBN:978-0-241-98827-5
Thisebookiscopyrightmaterialandmustnotbecopied,reproduced,transferred,distributed,leased,licensedorpubliclyperformedorusedinanywayexceptasspecificallypermittedinwritingbythepublishers,asallowedunderthetermsandconditionsunderwhichitwaspurchasedorasstrictlypermittedbyapplicablecopyrightlaw.Anyunauthorizeddistributionoruseofthistextmaybeadirectinfringementoftheauthor’sandpublisher’srightsandthoseresponsiblemaybeliableinlawaccordingly.
TableofContents
TitlePage
AbouttheAuthor
Dedication
Epigraph
PARTONE:MeetNewPeopleandTryNewThings
Chapter1:JoyceChapter2Chapter3Chapter4:JoyceChapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13:JoyceChapter14Chapter15:JoyceChapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20:JoyceChapter21Chapter22Chapter23:JoyceChapter24Chapter25Chapter26:JoyceChapter27Chapter28Chapter29Chapter30Chapter31Chapter32Chapter33Chapter34Chapter35:JoyceChapter36Chapter37Chapter38Chapter39Chapter40Chapter41Chapter42Chapter43:JoyceChapter44Chapter45Chapter46Chapter47Chapter48Chapter49:JoyceChapter50Chapter51:JoyceChapter52Chapter53
PARTTWO:EveryoneherehasaStorytoTell
Chapter54:JoyceChapter55Chapter56Chapter57Chapter58Chapter59Chapter60Chapter61Chapter62Chapter63Chapter64:JoyceChapter65Chapter66Chapter67Chapter68Chapter69Chapter70Chapter71Chapter72:JoyceChapter73Chapter74:JoyceChapter75Chapter76Chapter77:JoyceChapter78Chapter79:JoyceChapter80Chapter81Chapter82:JoyceChapter83Chapter84Chapter85Chapter86Chapter87:JoyceChapter88Chapter89Chapter90:JoyceChapter91Chapter92:JoyceChapter93Chapter94Chapter95Chapter96Chapter97Chapter98:JoyceChapter99Chapter100Chapter101Chapter102Chapter103:JoyceChapter104Chapter105Chapter106Chapter107Chapter108Chapter109Chapter110Chapter111Chapter112Chapter113Chapter114Chapter115:Joyce
Acknowledgements
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Copyright
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