‘What’s up?’ Nick asked into the receiver.
‘Sorry to disturb you, Nick,’ came Malone’s voice. ‘Hope I didn’t wake you. I just wanted to ask – did Carter come today?’
‘Yes, he… he brought a colleague with him, a red-haired woman. It’s all OK, Pete. I think they got what they wanted.’
‘What was that?’ Malone’s voice sounded suddenly sharp.
‘Well, nothing, really. I think it was just background stuff.’
‘I just wondered…’
There was a rustling sound in the background that Nick couldn’t identify. ‘Where are you?’ he asked Malone.
‘In the garden. I didn’t want Caroline to know I was calling you. She worries. Nick, listen, is there anything you were able to tell the police – anything at all – that I… I might have forgotten?’
‘Well, I don’t know what you told them, do I?’
‘Nothing new. I’ve said it so often now that it comes out like a record. It’s beginning to sound unconvincing even to me. Nick, is there anything – can you think of anything I should know? I keep thinking there must be. It’s difficult to explain, but I feel as though Carter believes I do know something I haven’t told him. He may even know exactly what it is. But he wants to hear me say it. He thinks I must know it, too, you see. But I can’t say it, because I don’t know what it is – or I think I don’t know what it is…’ Malone’s voice tailed off miserably.
‘Are you OK, Pete?’ Nick asked. He was starting to get seriously concerned. ‘You haven’t been drinking, have you, old son?’
A brittle laugh echoed from the phone. ‘Two small whiskies, and a glass and a half of Beaujolais with dinner. Caroline keeps an eye on that sort of thing! Listen, Nick, don’t tell her I rang, OK?’
‘I won’t say anything. I might ring her myself tomorrow, is that OK? She’ll be expecting me to give her an update. Perhaps I should have rung this evening, but there was a bit of a rumpus at home when I confiscated a plastic toy weapon of Oliver’s. It was a bit unfair of me, because Dominic had broken his and I was just evening things up. Not Ollie’s fault, though. I’ll have to buy them both new ones.’
‘Yes, ring her tomorrow. She will be expecting to hear from you. Just as long as you don’t mention this call…’ A pause and then Malone added, ‘Carter does suspect me, you know. I can’t blame him, I suppose. It would all make sense, wouldn’t it?’
‘No, of course it wouldn’t! No one could seriously imagine you had anything to do with Rebecca’s disappearance. Get a grip, Pete!’ Nick said sharply. ‘Carter’s floundering and he keeps coming back to you because he doesn’t know where else to go, except to me—’ Nick broke off. ‘And I can’t help him, can I?’ he continued. ‘We none of us can. Listen, are you still there?’ It struck Nick that the silence at the other end of the phone had an absent feel to it. Pete was there, he was pretty sure of that. At least, he hadn’t cut the phone link, because Nick could still distinguish those garden-at-night sounds. There was a distant sharp bark. A fox? It was followed by the faint hoot of an owl. Trees rustling. But Nick felt Malone had tuned out the sound of Nick’s voice. ‘Pete?’ he repeated more loudly.
‘Yes, I’m still here, still listening.’ Pete sounded desperately tired, like a man who had made a long and arduous journey.
‘Get some sleep. You’ve had a difficult day.’ It sounded trite, obvious advice, but what else could he say?
* * *
‘Poor old Pete,’ said Nick, climbing into bed beside Cassie. ‘He’s creeping out into the garden to make his phone calls in secret now.’
‘I know she’s your cousin,’ mumbled his wife from the pillow, ‘but she can be jolly scary!’
‘I think Pete might be cracking up.’
‘Why?’
‘Obvious, isn’t it? The police hanging around their place and ours, that wretched fellow, Carter, with his suspicious stares and the way he has of doubting everything you say.’
‘Did he doubt what you told him today?’
‘No! I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Pete. You can’t blame the poor chap for feeling persecuted. Damn waste of everyone’s time.’
‘If Pete can’t tell them anything new, the police will soon realise that and stay away.’
He didn’t answer. No point in arguing with Cassie, as well as everything else.
* * *
Jess spent the evening looking for old family snaps. She did have some, but they dated from her early childhood. If there were other, later ones – of the sort Monica had suggested might exist – she didn’t have them here in her flat.
They must be at her mother’s house. As she’d told Ian, her mother kept everything.
Chapter 13
Visitors, whether expected or unexpected, appeared to be the order of the day, and not only in Gloucestershire. At the Bamford end of the investigations, the day started well. Markby, on seeing from the window that it was a nice, bright, promising morning – just the day to be out in his garden – announced to Meredith that he would be devoting his time to catching up on chores in the neglected vegetable plot. He really felt he had ‘done his bit’ in the Rebecca Hellington enquiry. ‘And I can’t be giving all my time to that. I’ve got other things to do!’ he pointed out cheerfully to Meredith over his toast and marmalade.
‘I expect you have,’ said Meredith.
‘Let’s face it, there’s nothing much else I can do,’ he continued. ‘I’ve interviewed Dilys, shown Ian Carter where the skeleton was discovered, and I’ve done my best to support Trevor Barker.’
‘Yes,’ returned Meredith and, seeing that Alan seemed to expect a more detailed answer, repeated, ‘Yes, you have.’
‘Trevor’s a good man, reliable. Ian Carter will do a good job at his end of things, and Jess won’t leave any stones unturned.’
‘No, she won’t.’
‘All right,’ exclaimed her husband, putting down his cup of coffee. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. I just didn’t think you’d get bored with the investigation so soon. You were so keen!’
He stared at her, appalled. ‘Bored? I am not bored! I wish you’d make up your mind. First you asked if I was bored because I didn’t have any detecting to do. Now that I’ve been doing my best to help out the ACC, you reproach me for not running round like a demented sniffer dog. I’m very keen that it all turns out as it should; I trust Ian and Trevor to see that it does.’
‘If I didn’t know you better,’ said Meredith calmly, ‘I would suspect you of pique.’ Seeing that this accusation left him bereft of speech for the moment, she went on, ‘I might suspect that you’d love to be running the whole thing and, because you can’t, you’re adopting a grand attitude and pretending you don’t care any more. Rot! Of course you care dreadfully, and you don’t fool me, ex-Superintendent Markby!’
‘I am retired!’ said her husband firmly. ‘So, get thee to thy piano tuner and let him sort out everyone’s problems. I am going into the garden. Josh is supposed to be coming today to give me a hand putting up the frame for the beans.’
Josh was waiting for him. He hadn’t called at the house first, but this was normal. Markby guessed he’d walked through the churchyard and entered the garden through the Victorian door in the wall. He’d already gathered together the poles of the bean frame and the plastic netting that would be thrown over it. It struck Markby that Josh looked cheerful. He wouldn’t ask why. If Josh wanted to tell him, he would, in his own good time. And so he did.
‘You went to see our Dilys,’ said Josh, hammering poles into the ground.
‘Yes, I was very pleased to meet her.’
‘She liked you, too,’ said Josh happily. He looked up as he spoke, his face crimson with effort, its colour clashing with that of his mop of red hair.
You could have fooled me, Markby almost replied. I got the impression Dilys thought I was a dead loss.
‘Good,’ he said aloud.
‘She doesn’t like a lot of
people,’ Josh reminded him.
‘So I understand.’ Obviously, he needed to show how much he appreciated Dilys’s approval. ‘I’m glad she… we got on all right.’
There was a pause in the conversation; but now it had begun, Markby decided to take the opportunity to ask a question or two. That would show Meredith he hadn’t lost interest. Pique, indeed!
‘Dilys told me something interesting,’ he began. ‘She said she remembered, when the two of you found the body in the spinney, the smell of cigarette smoke trapped under the trees. Do you remember that?’
‘Not really,’ said Josh. ‘But if Dilys said she smelled smoke, she did. Dilys doesn’t make things up.’
‘It makes me think,’ said Markby, ‘that someone was in the spinney and watching you and your sister. After you left, that person buried the girl. That’s why, when you went back, you didn’t see a body.’
‘Bit of a job that,’ observed Josh, ‘burying a body all on your own. He’d have needed to dig down quite deep, because otherwise foxes would’ve dug her up again, or even any dogs sniffing round there. Even if they hadn’t dug her right up, there would’ve been scrape marks. I didn’t see any.’ After a few minutes, during which Josh concentrated on the bean frame, he added, ‘He did a good job, like I said, whoever he was.’
Markby had more he wanted to say, but he decided to let the matter rest for the moment. So, they discussed the layout of the rest of the garden. The conversation didn’t return to the body in the spinney until it was time for their coffee break. Because the sunshine was so pleasant, they hadn’t retreated to the shed, but sat outside it on an old wooden bench.
Meredith had appeared with the two mugs of coffee, and asked after Mrs Pengelly. ‘How is she today?’
‘Auntie Nina? Oh, she’s fine, Mrs Markby.’
Meredith disappeared back to her piano tuner while Markby reflected that she had done an excellent job of introducing the subject he wanted to discuss with Josh, without raising any suspicions.
‘It must be a bit lonely up there in Brocket’s Row, for Mrs Pengelly, I mean. She’s lucky to have you around some of the time. But there’s—well,’ Markby gave an apologetic smile, ‘I was going to say there’s not a lot going on up there. But there’s been an awful lot going on! Normally, I meant, it must be very quiet.’
‘She doesn’t mind,’ said Josh.
‘I did meet one of your neighbours, Fred Stokes, when the police were searching up there the other evening. He recognised me from years back, when I was still professionally active. He assures me I never arrested him! He is rather annoyed about all the activity around the spinney, I understand, especially the artificial light at night.’
‘Oh, you don’t need to take any notice of Fred,’ said Josh. ‘He likes to grumble.’
‘I understand Mrs Pengelly, Auntie Nina, takes him his midday meal every day. That’s very good of her.’
‘She likes looking after people,’ explained Josh. ‘And Fred eats pretty well the same thing every day, so she doesn’t have to think about it. He likes sausage and mash or cottage pie. Auntie Nina makes a good cottage pie. She makes a good steamed pudding, as well – syrup or dried fruit. But Fred doesn’t eat that. He hardly eats anything at all, Auntie Nina reckons. He keeps going on cigarettes.’
‘Yes, I heard he’s a heavy smoker.’
‘Always has been,’ said Josh. ‘That’s what he does all day, smoke and watch the telly, until Mickey Wallace comes over to collect him and take him out to the pub for an hour. Auntie Nina says Fred ought to be dead, not eating, just smoking, never going out much or getting any fresh air. But he’s tough, you see. He doesn’t look it but he is.’
‘He must have been a much bigger man once, years ago, when he drove the lorries,’ Markby remarked.
Josh thought about this and nodded. ‘When we were kids he was a big bloke, carried a lot of weight. He looked like a giant to Dilys and me. But he was always friendly to us. He used to walk off down into Bamford to the pubs every evening and back, never needed anyone to take him. It’s a shame he lives like he does now, but it’s how he wants it.’
The bench on which they were seated was opposite the door into the churchyard and now both of them were attracted by a rattle from that direction and stared across. The latch was moving up and down.
‘Someone’s trying to get in!’ said Josh indignantly, rising to his feet.
At that moment, the door creaked open and a female form stepped through it into the garden.
‘Tania Morris,’ said Markby with a sigh. ‘She’s a reporter, Josh.’
‘Well, she’s got no right coming in like that, uninvited!’ said Josh truculently. ‘What does she report on?’
‘Local news mainly, I suspect. In this case, that means the body in the spinney. Brace yourself, Josh.’
‘She’s not talking to me!’ growled Josh.
But Ms Morris had spotted them and was marching confidently towards them with a beaming smile on her face. No wellington boots with daisy pattern today, noticed Markby. Today she wore knee-high suede boots with little tassels and a short jacket embroidered with some sort of braid. She looked, he thought, a bit like a hussar. He rose reluctantly to his feet to greet her.
‘Just the person!’ she hailed him cheerfully, as if they’d bumped into one another in the street and not in his vegetable garden.
‘I don’t know what’s brought you, Ms Morris,’ he returned. ‘But I don’t think I can be of any assistance to you.’
‘Not you, Mr Markby! Although any chance of a chat is welcome. But this is the person I was hoping to see!’ She pointed at Josh, who backed away with an expression of alarm. ‘It is Josh Browning, isn’t it?’
‘I got nothing to say to you,’ muttered Josh. ‘What do you want me for, anyway?’
She had reached them now and seated herself uninvited on the bench. Josh shuffled a bit further away from her.
‘Oh, come on, Josh. You must realise yours is a true human interest story! I’ve been checking on you. Readers will love it.’ She smiled up at him encouragingly.
Markby could have told her she was wasting her time. ‘I don’t think he wants to talk to you, Tania,’ he said. ‘Kindly leave. If not, you’ll be trespassing.’
‘Only a civil offence, Alan,’ she returned chummily. ‘As I’m sure you know.’ She turned her attention back to Josh. ‘I called at your home,’ she said, ‘in Brocket’s Row. Your landlady, Mrs Pengelly, said you were working in this garden today. I understand she used to be your foster mother? I’d really love to talk to you about your childhood – and your sister’s. How the two of you found the body. I mean,’ she flowed on, disregarding Josh’s manifest panic and Markby’s rising ire, ‘such a disadvantaged background makes wonderful copy. And then, finding a dead body! How old were you?’
‘Nine,’ muttered Josh, turning an appealing look on Markby.
‘Gosh!’ exclaimed Tania, producing a small recorder. ‘Tell me how it happened.’
‘Switch that off!’ thundered Markby.
She was so surprised at his fury that she obeyed and sat looking at him, momentarily discountenanced.
‘You are attempting to talk to an important witness. It’s completely out of order. It’s interfering in the investigation of a serious crime.’
She rallied. ‘I don’t think so. Anyhow, I’m after the background story, and that’s not interfering with any enquiries that might be ongoing. Speaking of which,’ she hurried on, changing tack and switching her attention to him. ‘Why have the police been searching in the spinney again? What are they looking for?’
‘If you want to talk about that, you’ll have to talk to Inspector Barker,’ he told her. ‘Although I wouldn’t advise it. And by the way, I don’t want to see any more photos of myself in the daily press.’
‘Oh, I don’t need another photo of you,’ she retorted. ‘But I’d love one of you, Josh!’
Josh reacted as if he’d been stung. He dashed into the shed and shu
t the door. ‘I’m not coming out!’ they heard his muffled voice from within. ‘I’m not coming out until she’s gone!’
‘My goodness,’ said Tania, not a bit discouraged. ‘He is shy, isn’t he?’
‘You heard him,’ said Markby. ‘He means it. So, off you go!’
‘Oh, well,’ she replied, still undeterred, ‘I’ll catch him somewhere else. It might be worth talking to Mrs Pengelly again.’
Through the shed door came a roar of anger. But it didn’t bother Tania. She strode off across the garden, the tassels on her boots jiggling, and went through the door into the churchyard. She didn’t close it. Markby got up with an exclamation of annoyance, and went to shut it. He caught a glimpse of her disappearing between the headstones. He returned to the shed and tapped on the door.
‘You can come out, Josh. She’s gone.’
Josh emerged, cautiously. ‘I won’t put up with her bothering Auntie Nina!’
‘She wants a story, Josh, and she’s determined. You’ll have to watch out.’
‘She hasn’t met our Dilys,’ muttered Josh. His forehead creased in a worried frown. ‘Dilys is due out soon. If that reporter woman goes asking my sister for pictures and stories, Dilys will knock her flat. And if she does that, it will violate her probation and she’ll go back inside!’ He turned to Markby. ‘So don’t let her. Can’t you stop her?’
Markby sighed. ‘I’ll have a word with Inspector Barker but I can’t promise anything. However, she’s not going to get her story here. If I drive over to the DIY superstore and buy a good, strong bolt, can you fix it on that door today? Just so we don’t get any more surprises.’
‘Sure,’ said Josh. He scowled. ‘She’s got a bloody cheek, she has.’
Markby, who had never heard Josh use any kind of strong language, stared at him in surprise.
* * *
‘Where are you calling from?’ Caroline Malone asked.
‘From the car park at the filling station. Has Pete left for work yet?’
An Unfinished Murder Page 19