‘You didn’t mention your husband,’ Charlotte began.
‘He died of a heart attack two years ago.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Charlotte replied, by instinct. She worked out how old he must have been. Not that much older than her and Will. They were entering that dangerous zone when the penalties of a carefree life had to be paid.
‘It was a classic middle-age scenario. Two years from retirement, too much stress, overweight and not enough exercise, then one day he just dropped dead. Just like that. That’s when I started the jogging. It helped me get through it and build a new life. The kids have lives of their own now, so it leaves me free to go on adventures like this, looking up my family tree.’
Charlotte felt an easy comfort with Daisy, but she wanted to resist it; she couldn’t afford to let anything slip. This woman had to do whatever she’d come for, then go back home to the north-east and leave them all alone. It was a shame, though; Daisy was a woman who she could happily spend more time with.
Breakfasts were over when they walked through the door of the guest house. Olli was checking out a guest and Isla had all but finished the clearing up.
‘That chap from the paper has been trying to get in touch with you,’ Isla called from the kitchen.
Daisy made her exit and headed up the stairs back to her room. The room where Barry McMillan’s life had ended. At least Daisy hadn’t picked up on that. She was oblivious to the dark incident that had taken place there days before.
‘Nigel Davies?’ Charlotte asked, walking into the kitchen.
‘Yes. He said he’d tried your mobile phone. It sounded urgent. It might be a good idea to call him sooner rather than later. He wouldn’t say what it was.’
‘Unusual for him to call on a Saturday,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’ll get showered, then I’ll ring him back. Thanks Isla, and thanks for taking care of breakfasts. I haven’t forgotten what you said about George. The next time I see him, I’ll pin him down.’
Charlotte showered quickly, eager to find out what Nigel wanted. She was annoyed to discover that Lucia had left the house early, not giving Olli any indication as to where she was heading.
Will seemed equally annoyed with Charlotte for chasing Nigel Davies once again.
‘Don’t you think it’s time to cool things down as far as this wild goose chase is concerned?’ he said, looking up from some paperwork. ‘We got into enough trouble last night. For somebody who wants to keep a low profile, you’re sticking your nose in all over the place.’
Charlotte decided not to tell him about that morning’s incident. The man with the purple Mohican would go unmentioned for now.
‘I don’t even know what he wants,’ Charlotte said, more defensively than she intended. The truth was, just like Daisy with her family tree, Charlotte had to begun to pick at a knot and she couldn’t stop even if she tried.
Steven Terry might have understood better. She needed to stay ahead of whatever was going on in the resort. The murders, this man with the purple hair, Piper and Daisy; it seemed to her that a storm was brewing, one which could wreak havoc in their lives. She wasn’t going to let that happen. Will was happy to lie low in the hope that the turbulence would pass them by, but Charlotte was prepared to run into the eye of the storm and tear out its heart, if that’s what it took to keep her family safe.
‘Hi Nigel, it’s Charlotte. Sorry I couldn’t take your call. What’s up?’
‘Hi Charlotte, are you available today? I’ve got a bit of investigative journalism planned, and I thought you might like to be involved.’
‘You don’t normally work on Saturdays, do you?’
‘No, but this can’t wait. Edward Callow is back from London for the weekend. He’s attending some fundraiser this evening, so he’s in his constituency house on the way out to Heysham. He has a police guard on his drive, but I want to try to doorstep him if I can. I could use a decoy if you’re up for it.’
Charlotte felt a surge of excitement. She turned away from Will and walked across the hallway towards the sitting room. He wouldn’t approve of what Nigel was suggesting, particularly after their run-in with the police. But Edward Callow, the man who rose up from the planning department, seemed to be at the centre of everything.
‘That’s fine. Can you pick me up outside the guest house? I’ll see you in ten minutes.’
‘Where are you going now?’ Will called to her from the kitchen. ‘It’s bad enough Lucia sneaking about like she does. Like mother, like daughter.’
That annoyed Charlotte, but she knew better than to pick a fight at that moment. She returned to the kitchen to place the phone back in its cradle.
‘I won’t be long,’ she said. ‘Trust me. This is all about our family. I’m just trying to keep us safe.’
Will looked up.
‘I know you are,’ he said, the confrontational tone now gone. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just a bit stressed with this job application. And with the thought of that woman snooping around trying to find out about Bruce Craven... I’m just jittery, that’s all. It didn’t help having our encounter with the police last night.’
Charlotte gave him a kiss, glad that they’d parted without tension. If they weren’t careful, the stress of keeping their secret would destroy them without it ever coming out.
Within half an hour, she was parked up at the end of Edward Callow’s road, sitting in Nigel Davies’ car and devising a plan of attack.
‘I just want to speak to him,’ Nigel said. ‘I want to hear what he has to say about these deaths. I’ve been telephoning his London office all week, and his PA’s stonewalled me. As our constituency MP, I’d expect him to make a comment at least.’
Edward Callow’s house was on a very expensive cul-de-sac which afforded excellent views across Morecambe Bay. The properties were substantial, each with a drive on which at least three cars were parked. The gardens were well tended, full of shrubs, trees and flowers. This was where the elite of the area gathered: successful business people, those in high office and the lucky ones who’d inherited property through the family. Years ago, Charlotte had home-tutored a child somewhere in this area of the town.
‘So what’s the plan?’ she asked.
‘Simple,’ Nigel replied. ‘Remember when you were a kid, and you’d creep into somebody’s garden to pinch their apples?’
‘I can’t say I ever did that as a child,’ Charlotte replied.
‘Well, there’s a first time for everything. Only this time we’ve got to creep past a policeman as well.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‘You can tell this is the UK. Look, only one police officer stationed outside his house. That’s what counts for protection around here.’
Nigel was peering from behind a large bush which provided them with convenient cover. From their vantage point, they could see a single unarmed police officer standing outside Edward Callow’s ornately carved front door. He looked bored out of his mind. It was the most lacklustre protection the local constabulary could have mustered, as far as Charlotte could see.
‘As if anybody who wants him dead is going to walk up to the front door and knock,’ she said. ‘Only in the UK!’
Nigel stooped down to pick up a handful of pebbles from the end of the neighbour’s drive.
‘I’m going to cross the road so the police officer can’t see me. I’ll go around to the other side of Edward’s house and throw these stones at his garage roof. When the officer goes to investigate, I want you to knock at the door and see if you can raise Edward Callow.’
‘What about you?’ Charlotte asked.
‘Once I’ve distracted this chap, I’ll sneak round the garage and join you at the front door. We’ll have to be quick. We won’t get long with Callow.’
Nigel crossed the road and tucked himself into the hedge on the opposite side of Edward’s house. Charlotte watched as he stealthily moved towards Edward Callow’s triple garage, which on its own was bigger than many of the family houses in the resort. She wan
ted to giggle when she saw Nigel pulling back his arm so he could launch the stones at Edward’s garage roof. He wouldn’t have looked out of place if he was ten years old and wearing shorts and a school cap.
He threw the first stone. Although Charlotte couldn’t see it, she heard it land on the tiled roof on the side that was facing away from her. The police officer heard it too and looked over towards the garage. He scanned the area for a few seconds, then turned away. Charlotte assumed he’d dismissed it as bird movement or something similar.
Nigel threw a second stone. This time it landed just over the ridge of the garage roof on Charlotte’s side. It made a loud cracking sound as it struck one of the tiles, then rolled down the roof, flying past the guttering and onto the immaculately kept drive.
The officer was suddenly alert, moving away from the doorway to investigate what had fallen from the roof.
Barely missing a beat, Nigel threw a third, then a fourth stone, this time landing them on his side of the roof. Charlotte wanted to laugh at what they were doing. It was as ridiculous as clambering over fences into the private grounds of abandoned leisure parks.
The officer took the bait and began to move around the far side of the garage. Charlotte made her way up the drive, aware of Nigel to her side, making his way back round. Nigel threw another couple of stones, landing them on the side of the roof where the police officer was now located.
Charlotte rang the doorbell rather than knocking at the door. She hadn’t a clue what she’d say to Edward Callow if he answered. Hopefully Nigel would get to her by then.
Now movement could be heard in the hallway, beyond the heavy, wooden door. She glanced around for signs of the police officer. He wouldn’t be gone long, Nigel was right about that. As the door began to open, Nigel joined her on the doorstep, perfectly on time, a little out of breath but obviously pleased with himself at having secured his objective.
He threw the last two stones in his hand across the garage roof as the door opened fully to reveal a tall, confident man, wearing expensive glasses which set off his bald head and neatly trimmed beard perfectly. This was a man who paid for his grooming in London, not the local hairdresser in Morecambe. He oozed authority and power. Charlotte shrank back from the door, suddenly feeling stupid and immature. What the hell had she been thinking of?
Nigel engaged him immediately, before he had time to question their presence.
‘I’m Nigel Davies from The Bay View Weekly. I’ve been trying to reach you for a comment on the death of two of your business partners this week…’
‘Get off my property, you idiots!’ he boomed. ‘Where is my police officer? How did you get in here?’
‘Mr Callow, you’ve been involved with Fred Walker, Barry McMillan and Harvey Turnbull as business partners for well over three decades now. Is there any reason why somebody might want to kill you?’
Charlotte watched Edward Callow as he formed a fist with his hand.
‘You’d better leave now, before I punch you in the face, Mr Davies. I don’t give a shit about your crappy little paper or any half-brained theory you might have about the deaths of my colleagues. Officer! Officer!’
A lady walked by on the pavement above them, her attention drawn by the raised voices.
‘Good morning, Mrs Higgins,’ Callow shouted, a genial tone in his voice. He waved at her like she was his best friend in the world.
‘Now fuck off before I smash your nose in, you silly little man,’ he growled.
The officer appeared from the side of the garage, looking flustered and confused.
‘How did you get here?’ he asked. ‘Was it you who—?’
‘Escort these fools off my property!’ Edward Callow boomed. ‘I shall be having a word with the Chief Constable about your incompetence and obvious unsuitability for this task. Get rid of them now!’
The police officer looked like he was about to start crying. Charlotte felt terrible about what they’d just done, landing him in trouble like that. They were no further forward, other than that she now understood why Jon Rogers at the library disliked the man so much. It looked like he was not only happy to run over cats, but he was also equally at ease humiliating young police officers.
‘How did you get down the drive? I was only gone a few moments,’ the officer said, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Nigel took out his ID and flashed it at the officer.
‘I must admit, I was surprised to see that Edward Callow was not being protected, bearing in mind all that’s been going on. But there was nobody to stop us when we arrived, and I just wanted some information for the newspaper.’
‘Did you see anybody around the side of the house?’ the officer asked.
‘Just a couple of kids,’ Nigel replied. ‘They looked like they were throwing things at houses. I don’t think Callow will come to any harm. Besides, with language like that, I reckon he can look after himself, don’t you?’
The officer seemed relieved with Nigel’s explanation about local children throwing stones. He escorted them to the end of the drive.
‘Do you think he’ll really report me to the Chief Constable?’ the officer asked.
‘He’s a nasty piece of work, that one. But I doubt he’ll trouble the Chief Constable with something so minor. Next time you see him, tell him you had to chase a couple of the local kids out of his garden. If you explain that’s why you had to leave your post, it’ll blow over, I’m sure.’
Charlotte and Nigel made their way along the pavement, towards the car.
‘I feel bad about that,’ Charlotte said after a while. ‘The poor cop didn’t deserve a dressing down like that.’
‘Yes, but did you see Callow’s face when I challenged him? I’m telling you, if that man isn’t in it up to his ears, I’ll be very surprised. I think this is about property deals and relationships gone sour. And it’s significant that Callow is the one who’s still alive.’
‘Wasn’t there a fifth man in the photograph?’ Charlotte asked.
‘Yes, and I think I’ve managed to track him down now. As soon as I can confirm it, I’ll arrange a visit.’
It felt like an anti-climax arriving back at the guest house. Everything was quiet when she walked through the door. Isla was gone for the day, although there were signs that one or two guests were still around. She walked up the stairs to the family accommodation, opening the door that separated them from the rest of the building.
‘Anybody at home?’ she called as she walked in. She left the door open, remembering that she should have taken out some steaks to defrost from the freezer downstairs.
‘Hi Charlotte, I’m in the kitchen.’
Will was home.
She walked in to see him sitting with a worried look on his face.
‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘Are Olli and Lucia around?’
‘I haven’t seen Lucia since she sneaked out earlier this morning. Olli has gone to Lancaster with his girlfriend. I need to talk to you.’
Will didn’t usually speak like this. He obviously had something on his mind.
‘What is it?’ Charlotte asked.
‘I drove that woman—Mrs Bowker—over to the old holiday camp while you were out.’
‘Why did you do that?’ Charlotte asked, immediately tense.
‘She asked me about hiring a car. I told her not to bother. I thought it might put an end to it if I just drove her out there myself and showed her that there’s nothing to look at any more. I was thinking about what you said protecting our family. I thought I’d do my bit.’
‘What happened?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Do you think she’ll lose interest soon?’
‘She was like a dog with a bone,’ Will continued. ‘All the way over there, she was asking me questions. Did I meet Bruce? What did he look like? Did he ever mention family? She nearly caught me out. I had to backtrack fast.’
‘Damn it, Will, we’ve got to be careful. What did you say?’
‘It’s so easy to get
tripped up. She was asking me about Jenna. She’d seen the photograph in the paper and noticed that Bruce and Jenna seemed to be an item. She asked me if I knew where Jenna was now. I couldn’t lie; you go to visit her in prison, for God’s sake. But then I realised that if she talks to Jenna, the whole story might come out. She’s not the most reliable of people these days. So I covered my tracks and said we didn’t really know Jenna. I’m sure she knew I was lying. We’ve got to be careful, Charlotte. We’ve got to keep our stories straight.’
‘Hello?’
Daisy walked into the kitchen.
‘I hope you don’t mind me walking in like that, only your door was wide open. I need an extra towel if you’ve got one spare.’
Charlotte could see the look of guilt on Will’s face. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her that she looked just as bad.
Will jumped up from his chair to attend to the towel. As he did so, Daisy began to speak again.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but that conversation sounded fascinating, whatever it was about. Who has to keep their stories straight?’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Charlotte hated the person she was becoming. It seemed that every lie she told spawned another, and it was fast getting out of control.
‘Kids again,’ she replied to Daisy. ‘You know how it is. I was just saying to Will that we must to get our stories straight. We need to be consistent with what we’re telling Lucia. Sing from the same hymn book, that sort of thing.’
Charlotte knew she was over-explaining, but she had to be sure that the lie had landed well. Daisy didn’t seem convinced, but she nodded anyway.
‘It was very interesting visiting that old holiday camp with your husband earlier. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing him for a while?’
Charlotte didn’t think she had much choice in the matter.
‘I feel like I’ve drawn a bit of a blank with Bruce, though. Everything seems to lead nowhere. I’m wondering if I ought to raise it with the police. Do you think they’ll have any records?’
Circle of Lies Page 15