Murder Between the Tides

by Campling Michael

  “Could that be a reference to the Matthew who worked at the hotel?”

  “He wouldn’t be in Roz’s books though.” Dan switched tabs and studied Roz’s website. “Anyway, Roz doesn’t have a Matthew or a Belinda. Oh, and there’s no Herbert. But hang on. There’s a Bertie the beaver, and that’s short for Herbert, so it could fit.”

  “And a beaver’s home is called a lodge.” Alan made a note. “I think we’re getting somewhere. Now for the first part. The cart drew on without a virtual hero.”

  “The word ‘without’ often means you’ve got to remove some letters,” Dan said.

  “Of course! I don’t know why I didn’t see this straight away, but take some letters from cart drew on and you get Cardew. Edward’s pen name was staring us in the face.” Alan scribbled on his pad. “And the letters you have to remove, are T, R, O and N. Tron. And there’s our virtual hero.”

  “Cardew Lodge,” Dan murmured as he pulled up Google maps and started a search. “There’s a Cardew near Carlisle. It’s a hamlet. Edward said he lived in the countryside, but according to Charlie, Edward’s hideaway is somewhere between London and Bournemouth.”

  “Do you remember when we met Edward in Newquay?” Alan asked. “He was going on about living in the countryside, and he said something about a train chugging along and church bells.”

  “That’s right! It’s coming back to me now. But did he say chugging? I thought it was chuffing.”

  Alan furrowed his brow. “What’s the difference?”

  “Chugging could be a modern diesel, but chuffing might mean a steam train.”

  “Unlikely,” Alan said. “There are only a handful of working steam railways in the country.”

  “That’s why we need to remember exactly what he said.” Dan closed his eyes for a second, summoning the memory of the first time he’d met Edward. “The church was called Saint… James’. At least, I think that’s right.”

  “That’s a common name for a church,” Alan replied. “But he also said something about the scent of lavender, didn’t he?”

  “That’s right.” Dan’s fingers blurred across the keyboard, and as the results appeared, he grinned. “There’s a steam railway in Hampshire: the Mid-Hants Railway, also known as the Watercress Line. It’s not far from Winchester.” Dan checked his list of stations. “Edward took a train that went through Winchester. If I search nearby for Saint James’s church.” He looked up. “There’s a Saint John’s church in a place called Alresford. It’s close to Winchester, there’s a station for the steam railway, and guess what! There’s a place where they grow lavender. That has to be it.”

  “Is there a Cardew Lodge?”

  “Not listed, but Edward knows how to go to ground. He’s hardly likely to hang out a sign.”

  “It could be what they call a cherished address,” Alan said. “Like this place. It wasn’t always called the Old Shop.”

  “I know. The first time I tried to order something online, the address was rejected. It took me a while to work out it was officially Number Two, Fore Street.”

  “So, what’s our next step?” Alan asked. “We can’t very well drive all the way over to Hampshire and wander around looking for a house called Cardew Lodge.”

  But Dan’s only reply was to raise an eyebrow.

  MONDAY

  14 December

  CHAPTER 35

  Dan parked his Toyota RAV4 on the main road that ran through the small Hampshire town of Alresford. Sitting next to him on the passenger seat, Alan checked his watch. “Three hours it’s taken us to get here. I hope it’s going to be worth it.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Dan replied. “Let’s stretch our legs. If nothing else, we can find somewhere to grab a coffee.”

  “Or an early lunch,” Alan said hopefully.

  “Possibly. It depends how we fare in our search for the lodge.”

  Alan looked doubtful, but he kept his thoughts to himself, and they set off, strolling through the town, admiring the Christmas decorations adorning the eclectic range of shops. Soon, they discovered what they were looking for.

  The distinctive oval sign advertised the presence of a post office within the Co-operative supermarket, and Dan and Alan headed inside and went straight to the post office counter.

  From the other side of the glass screen, a young woman looked at them inquiringly and said, “Good morning. What can I do for you today?”

  Dan summoned a warm smile and checked the woman’s name badge. “Good morning, Beryl. I was hoping you could help me.”

  Beryl tilted her head to one side. “In what way?”

  “I have a Christmas card I want to deliver, but I’m having trouble finding the address.”

  “You could always post it,” Beryl said with a smile. “It’s what we do.”

  Dan chortled. “Yes, but I really wanted to deliver this by hand. It’s for an old friend.”

  “Show me the address, and I’ll see if I know it.” Beryl indicated the slot beneath the screen. “Pop your card through. I can tell you by the postcode.”

  “I don’t have it with me,” Dan replied. “Alan, do you have that card?”

  Alan held out his hands. “No. Perhaps you left it in the car.”

  “Yes. That’s right. It’s in the car. And it wouldn’t have been much help, anyway. I don’t have the postcode.”

  “Okay, so do you have the address?” Beryl asked.

  “Yes. It’s Cardew Lodge, Alresford.”

  Beryl blinked. “No street name?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. That’s all I have.”

  “Then there’s not much I can do to help. I’ve never heard of a Cardew Lodge. There’s a Cardew House, could that be it?”

  “No, I’ve already tried there,” Dan said. “I called them on the phone.”

  Beryl frowned. “You called someone to ask if they were the person you want to send a Christmas card to.”

  “I know it sounds silly,” Dan replied, “but, you see, erm…”

  “He’s delivering cards for his mother,” Alan put in. “And I’m afraid she’s getting a bit forgetful. She’s made rather a muddle of her Christmas card list, bless her, but she’s very keen not to leave anyone out. I’m sure you understand.”

  Beryl’s smile was back. “I see. Well, I’ll try and help. As I say, I don’t know of a Cardew Lodge, but give me a second. My senior colleague is busy in the store room, but he’s lived here for a long time. If he doesn’t know where it is, it probably isn’t there anymore.”

  “Thank you,” Alan said smoothly. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “No problem.” Beryl sauntered away from the counter, disappearing through a doorway at the far end of the shop.

  “If my mother could hear what you just said about her,” Dan muttered to Alan, “you’d soon discover that she’s still as sharp as a tack.”

  “I had to say something,” Alan protested. “If you hadn’t blurted out that you’d already called that other—”

  “Sh!” Dan nodded toward the doorway. “She’s coming back.”

  Beryl had a spring in her step as she returned to the counter. “You’re in luck. Trevor knew all about it. He’s drawn you a map.” She slid a slip of paper across the counter. “You can’t miss it. It’s a big place, but it’s fairly new. That’s why I didn’t know the name.” Beryl wrinkled her nose. “Mock Georgian according to Trev, and it’s got a stone wall all around it. Must’ve cost a fortune.”

  “Yes, probably.” Dan took the paper and studied the simple map. “Thanks for this. You’ve been very helpful. Is it in walking distance?”

  “I’d drive if I were you,” Beryl replied. “It’s a little way out of town.”

  “Right. Thanks again.” Dan gave Beryl a grateful smile, then he and Alan headed for the door.

  “She was nice,” Alan said.

  Dan grinned. “Yes. Prompt and efficient. You can tell we’re that bit nearer to London.”

  “What are you talking about?�
��

  “Back in Devon, that conversation would’ve taken half an hour, and we’d have been forced to listen to Beryl’s life story. And then we’d have been introduced to Trevor, and unless I’m much mistaken, he’d have given us a lecture on Georgian architecture and the evils of gentrification.”

  “Nonsense,” Alan protested, but he knew when Dan was joking, and he chuckled.

  Back in the car, they’d only driven for ten minutes when Alan pointed through the windscreen. “There. That must be it. It’s the only entrance.”

  Dan spotted the open gateway set into the high stone wall, and he guided the Toyota between the gate’s twin pillars. A tarmac driveway took them on a winding path through a series of neat flower beds, the soil punctuated by rows of short bare branches.

  “Roses,” Alan said. “It’ll be a picture in the summer.”

  “The grounds are certainly on a grand scale,” Dan replied. “I feel like I should be wearing a tie and driving a Jag. Edward must’ve done well for himself.”

  “We’ll see. This might not be his place, after all.”

  The drive brought them to a curved area beside a large house, and Dan parked next to a dark-blue Range Rover.

  “It looks like someone might be home,” Dan said. “Let’s go and say hello.”

  Climbing from the car, Dan paused to admire the house. Even from the side, the place seemed to have been built to impress. Constructed from mellow brick, the house was impressively tall, with large windows ranged across three storeys. A neatly trimmed creeper clung to a wooden trellis, but the twisted vines were bereft of leaves.

  Dan and Alan made their way to the front of the house.

  “Wow,” Alan murmured.

  “Quite.” Dan didn’t know if the architecture was Georgian, mock or otherwise, but the front aspect of the house called to mind a time of opulence. The porch was picked out in white, its triangular pediment supported by two pillars of smooth stone, and the great wooden door was painted in flawless gloss black. Dan pointed to the brass plaque mounted beside the front door. Its highly polished surface was etched with two words: Cardew Lodge. “At least we’ve found the right place.”

  “Yes,” Alan said. “But if this is Edward’s house, you were wrong about him hanging a sign.”

  Like the plaque, the doorbell was made from gleaming brass, and Dan gave the button a firm push.

  Inside, a dog barked, and Dan and Alan shared a look. But when the door was opened, they saw that there was nothing to fear. The red setter that squeezed its way into the widening gap studied them with a soft eye, then it raised its nose and sniffed hopefully, as if they might have brought food.

  “Really, Clarence, have some manners,” someone said, and the door opened fully to reveal an immaculately dressed woman in her fifties. Wearing a long tweed skirt, accompanied by a pale-green cardigan over a white blouse, the woman looked every inch the refined country lady, complete with a string of pearls and matching earrings. Her hair was medium length and stylishly silver-grey, and she peered down at them through spectacles framed in tortoiseshell, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes.

  “Oh, hello,” she said, her tone polite rather than unfriendly. “How did you get in? Was the gate open?”

  “Yes, it was,” Dan replied. “I hope we’re not disturbing you.”

  “Mm? Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am working. I really must have a word with the gardener. He’s forever leaving the gate open. It really is too bad. Now, whatever it is, I’m not interested, so if you could leave by the way you came in, that would be appreciated.”

  “This will only take a second,” Alan said. “We’re looking for Edward Hatcher.”

  The woman froze, then slowly, she removed her glasses, letting them hang from a slender chain around her neck.

  “My God!” Alan breathed. “Edward?”

  Dan looked from Alan to the lady in front of him, his mind filled with a jumble of competing sensations.

  The woman shook her head. “He’s not at home.” Her voice was unsteady, but she cleared her throat and replaced her glasses, regaining her composure. “Please leave.”

  “I’m sorry, but I know it’s you, Edward,” Alan insisted. “I don’t want to upset you, but we came to find you, to check if you were all right.”

  The woman sighed, and this time, when she removed her glasses, it was as if Edward appeared before them. “I should remember to take my reading glasses off before I open the door,” he said, his voice sounding unnaturally deep now that it had returned to its regular register. “I can’t see beyond the end of my nose when I’ve got them on. But my mind was elsewhere.” He paused. “You’d better come inside.” He stepped back from the door, and Alan led the way, Dan following meekly behind.

  “Come along, Clarence,” Edward said, marching through the elegantly appointed hallway, heels tapping on the parquet floor. “Let’s show our visitors to the front lounge.”

  Clarence trotted happily alongside its owner, and Dan and Alan trailed along behind.

  They followed Edward into a spacious lounge, the centre of the room dominated by a tan leather sofa and a pair of matching armchairs. Edward took an armchair and gestured toward the sofa. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” Then, as they sat down, he added, “If that’s at all possible.” He offered them a weary smile. “I know this must all look very curious to you.”

  “No,” Dan and Alan said at the same time.

  “How you live your life is entirely up to you,” Dan added. “We’re just glad that you’re okay. When you disappeared from Newquay, we were worried. But now, perhaps, we can understand why you left in such a hurry.”

  “You think you have all the answers, do you?” Edward said. “How clever you must be.”

  “Forgive me,” Dan replied. “That sounded condescending. All I really meant to say was that I can understand why you were so upset by the note you received. It said that your secret was about to be revealed, and presumably you were keen to keep your private life to yourself.”

  Edward’s eyebrows flickered upward. “You’ve got that part right, I’ll admit. But you don’t understand. You can’t.”

  “You don’t owe us an explanation,” Alan said, but Edward shook his head.

  “I shouldn’t have been so hasty to disappear. But old habits die hard, and for too many years I lived on my wits. When you’re undercover in the field, you learn to smell trouble, to fear discovery. When you walk into a room, you check the exits, and you always have an escape route in the back of your mind. Always. As soon as you get an inkling that things might go wrong, you do a disappearing act. It’s the only way to stay alive.”

  Edward sighed, his gaze losing focus. “But it wasn’t until after I left the service that I realised there was another side to my character, another way I could live my life. I started writing, and the first character I created was myself. You see, to me, Max Cardew has always been female. Her identity and the work go hand in hand. The arrangement has served me well, but it’s always been private. There’s simply no need for anyone else to know about it.”

  “Tim knows?” Dan asked.

  Edward nodded. “Tim and I go back a long way. I knew he’d never deliberately tell anyone about me, but when I got that note, I assumed he must’ve let something slip. I was sure that Brian had cottoned on and sent that note to taunt me. We’ve often quarrelled, and he can be very childish.”

  “Brian spoke up for you when you disappeared,” Alan said. “He was upset. And he has a heart condition. Did you know that?”

  “Oh dear.” Edward’s shoulders slumped. “Poor Brian. I owe him an apology. But after everything that’s happened…”

  “You must’ve heard about Dominic Rudge,” Dan said. “The note you received was intended for him. Tim sent it to the wrong room.”

  “Ah! It all begins to make sense.” Edward’s eyes clouded. “I was sorry to hear about that business with Tim on the roof. When I heard the news, I felt dreadful. I’m partly to blame; I show
ed him how to open the doors. I shouldn’t have done it, but I was showing off, making a point. On my first night at the hotel, I had a drink with Tim in the bar, and he got me talking about my days in the service. Looking back, I can see that he led me by the nose, but at the time it seemed harmless enough. He asked about opening locked doors, and I bragged about how easy it was. He challenged me to prove it.”

  Alan was on the edge of his seat. “What did you do?”

  “I simply watched one of the staff opening a door off the lobby, and I bet Tim that all the combinations in the hotel were the same. People are lazy, you see. But Tim insisted that we try it out, and by then I was in high spirits, so I agreed. I don’t know what possessed me.” Edward shook his head, smiling. “We were like a couple of schoolboys sneaking out of the dorm after lights out.”

  “He showed you the door that led to the roof,” Dan suggested.

  “Yes. If only I’d known what he was planning, I’d never have gone along with it, but it’s a little late for regrets. I should’ve known better.”

  “And the same combination would’ve been used for the hotel’s store rooms and broom cupboards.” Dan said.

  “Presumably.”

  “So when you left the hotel, were you, by any chance, dressed in overalls?” Dan asked.

  “I was sorely tempted,” Edward replied. “No one ever notices the maintenance man, but I saw him, and he’s about my height. I could pass for him any day of the week, but the truth was much simpler. All I had to do was slip into the guise of my female alter ego. If I’m away from home for more than a day or so, I generally carry a few things with me. It’s a nuisance to carry so much luggage, but for me it’s a necessity.”

  “And no one noticed you walking out?” Alan asked.

  “I was cautious. From the first floor landing you can see the front desk. I waited until that buffoon sloped off to play online poker, then I marched out of the front door and no one gave me a second glance.”

  “Incredible,” Alan murmured. “Not even the journalist?”

  “He ignored me completely.”