Karen stood a few strides away from the group at the centre of the spectacle, in the company of her barman, and turned towards us as we approached, her face a picture of exasperation.
Nathan marched towards the group and was soon calling the shots. “Enough.” He pointed a warning finger at Marcus Farrow who seemed to be having a problem standing up. “All of you, outside now.”
Even Marcus Farrow, drunk as he was, could see that Nathan wasn’t to be argued with, and preceded him out of the bar, still scowling, Carol’s hand clutching his arm, and with Rusty and his companion, arms linked, behind them. Karen and I followed on, trailing them at a distance.
A hubbub of voices rose up behind us as we left the bar, and other patrons in Reception watched in silence as we made our way out onto the street.
“What the hell was that all about?” I whispered to Karen.
“My fault,” she said. “I was stupid enough to let that idiot back in after the last episode. But never again.”
“He started it then?”
“Oh believe me. The moment he saw Rusty at the bar, he went straight in for the kill.”
“What was it about?”
She didn’t have time to go into detail before we reached the rest of the group, gathered around Nathan at the side of his car. “Later,” she said.
Nathan addressed the group as a whole. Marcus Farrow wore his belligerent expression and swayed slightly. “Someone like to explain what’s going on here?” He looked around from face to face, waiting for an explanation.
Rusty’s companion, tearful, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, said, “We were just having a quiet drink, and this madman came out of nowhere, started shouting and calling names.”
Rusty slipped an arm around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze.
I took a closer look at her. Presumably, this was Rusty’s ‘entertaining company’ of the night before. A bleached blonde with dark roots, she wore tennis whites, shorts and t-shirt, now worn and faded. A pair of large cheap-looking pendant earrings of blue glass that matched the blue eyeshadow on her overly made-up face offset the plain style.
Carol Farrow was quick to jump to her husband’s defence. “Watch who you’re calling names.” Her lip curled. “When we need the opinion of some cheap trash, I’ll let you know.”
“That’s enough.” Nathan raised his voice, cutting off any possible rejoinder from Rusty’s date. “Another word from you, and you’ll be joining your husband down at the station.”
Rusty’s companion gasped and clung to his arm, her face a picture of misery. Rusty tightened his grip around her waist and gave her another reassuring hug but said nothing.
While Nathan was still trying to calm the situation, a police patrol car came into view from around the corner and pulled over to the curb by Nathan’s Astra. Lowe climbed out and shot Karen a worried glance, his brows knitted, as he made his way towards us. She answered his look with a tilt of the head and a smile, signalling that she was okay.
Nathan and Lowe exchanged brief nods of acknowledgement before Nathan turned his attention back to the group. Focusing on Rusty, he said, “Let’s hear it from you.”
Rusty seemed unfazed by the situation. Staying calm, he explained how he and his companion, Jenna, had met for a drink in the bar. Within a few minutes, Marcus Farrow, already drunk, had entered with his wife and, on recognising Rusty, presumably following his depiction in the local media, had launched into what Rusty described as a ’foul-mouthed tirade’ about his sister, claiming Rusty was the same sort of ’low life scum’ that she was.
Carol Farrow interrupted. “You have no right to claim my husband was drunk without positive proof.”
Nathan pointed a finger at her to silence her. “This isn’t a court of law. Most of us can recognise a drunk when we see one.” He shot Marcus Farrow a scathing look.
Now it was Marcus Farrow’s turn. “I don’t need to be sober to know scum when I see it.” He pulled free of his wife’s restraining hand and lunged toward Rusty but lost his balance in the act and was grabbed and held in place by Lowe.
“It was this scumbag’s sister got me kicked out of my home.” He was ranting now. “I’ll get even with you.”
Lowe intervened. “You want me to book him, Chief?”
“I’ve heard enough to know how it went down. Take him to the station and charge him with public affray.”
Carol Farrow objected. “That’s a bit harsh. It’s usually just a caution for a first offence. I know the form.”
“But what you don’t know,” said Nathan, “is that it’s not his first offence.” He nodded to Lowe. “Take him away.”
A sharp intake of breath, and Carol Farrow, momentarily taken aback, glared at her husband.
To Karen, Nathan said, “Okay, to use your office?” and when she answered in the affirmative, continued, “Inside the rest of you.”
We all followed behind as he led the way back into the building and across the Reception area to Karen’s office behind the desk.
Inside, Nathan leaned against Karen’s desk and directed the rest of us to a couch and chair against the wall. Carol Farrow made it to the chair while Rusty and Jenna took up positions on the couch. I stayed over by the door and Karen hovered by the desk.
Nathan folded his arms, crossed one leg over the other and, after running his gaze over each of the three people seated in front of him, said, “Now I’d like some sensible answers. What’s this about?”
Carol Farrow took up the challenge. “Marcus is in a very bad place right now. He’s not himself.” she cast a quick glance at the two seated on the couch. “But I’m not sure it’s appropriate to discuss our personal problems in public.”
Nathan accepted the point with a nod. “Then you’re free to go for the moment. But you should make yourself available in case we need to speak with you again.”
She rose to leave without answering, more subdued than she had been, and I stood to one side and opened the door for her.
Karen said, “Please tell your husband he’s no longer welcome at the Fairview.”
Carol hesitated, stared at Karen for a moment, and then swept out of the room without answering or acknowledging any of us further. I closed the door behind her.
A collective sigh of relief went around the room but it seemed Nathan hadn’t finished yet. To Rusty, he said, “It might help if you kept a low profile.”
His tone was accusatory as if he were blaming Rusty for the situation he’d found himself in. For the first time, I realised how much he disliked Rusty.
Rusty fixed him with a cold stare and said, “I’m not the one at fault here.”
They held each other’s gaze, the enmity between them almost tangible.
Nathan turned to Karen and said, “Everything okay here?” She confirmed that it was, and he said, “I’ll leave you to it then.” To me, he said, “I need to go back to the station. Can you make your own way from here?”
I told him I was okay with that and he went on his way.
I sank into the chair vacated by Carol Farrow and said to Rusty, “I have to say, you handled that very well. I wish we could all stay that cool in the heat of a fight.”
He grimaced and said, “When you have a past like mine, especially a criminal record, it’s not a good idea to upset the status quo. The past has a habit of catching up with you.”
I snorted. If anyone knew how true that was, I did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“He’s still in bed?” Nathan glanced down at his watch. “It’s eleven-thirty.”
The incredulity in his voice didn’t surprise me. Nathan had never understood why anyone wouldn’t choose to leap out of bed, ready and raring to go, the moment the sun climbed over the horizon. Well, not unless there was good reason to stay in bed. And there was one good reason I could think of that was fast becoming a distant memory. I sighed inwardly and tried not to think about my own carnal needs.
It was the day after the fracas at t
he Fairview and Nathan had called round to bring us up to date.
“Jenna stayed over,” I said.
“What?”
He didn’t sound too pleased at that. I hoped because it was a reminder of what he was missing.
“You were the one who told him to keep a low profile. I guess this is his way of following your advice.”
He grunted. “I need to speak to him but first I’d like to hear your assessment of the interviews you looked at yesterday.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Can we talk outside?” He headed towards the back door.
“Wait.” I grabbed his arm. “The alarm.” I scooped up my keyring from the coffee table and used the attached remote to turn off the alarm by the door.
“Is that working okay?”
“Yep. And your guys are patrolling regularly out front. So we’re all safe and snug in our little nest.”
Another grunt, and he led the way out into the garden. I followed him down the path to the large overarching beech tree, and we settled ourselves into the rattan chairs in its shade.
High above a flock of starlings passed by in formation, a stark black wing streaking across a clear blue sky, and nearby a bumblebee ceased its droning long enough to settle into the head of a foxglove before taking off again with its prize of gathered pollen.
It should have been a time to relax and enjoy the many pleasures of the season. But here we were, settling down in a garden full of summer’s heady scents and sultry sounds to discuss the details of a brutal murder. An ironic setting for such a depressing task.
“We should be enjoying each other’s company on a day like this,” I said. “Not dwelling on the macabre.”
“Work first, I’m afraid.” And then a doleful look. “Maybe that Accountant would have been a better bet after all.”
“I don’t think so. I know when I’m well off.”
“I know this isn’t what you expected to return to. Neither of us did. Sometimes the world gets in the way.” There was a faraway look in his eyes. One I’d seen before. And once again, I wondered what was on his mind.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He came back to the present. “It will all work out in the end. But for now…” He straightened up and adopted a more positive tone. “…we need to concentrate on the present. So what do you have for me?”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t.”
I talked him through my observations, pointed out the lack of anything to help progress the case, and confirmed my character analysis of both interviewees; John Farrow’s enmity towards his son, and Carol Farrow’s unquestioning support of him.
“What about you?” I asked. “Any further developments?”
“That’s why I’m here. We’ve had some feedback from the recent press report. Mia’s tattooed man. We have a more recent sighting.”
“You have a description?”
“A witness claims to have seen that tattoo.”
I wasn’t impressed. “Lots of men sport similar tattoos. Women too for that matter.”
“Maybe. But this tattoo is particularly distinctive. A large red and green serpent running up the right arm. But more importantly, the guy was seen talking to Candy Bayliss not long before she was killed. Seems too much of a coincidence for it not to be the same man.”
A sudden thought struck me. “You think he’s still around?”
“I’m sure he is. My theory is that the renewed publicity drew him back when he realised he’d killed the wrong woman, and he tracked her down again. And just like before, his intention was to flush out Naylor. And after all the recent publicity, the killer knows his strategy worked and Rusty is back here too. That bullet was more than just an empty threat.”
I let this sink in while I considered the implications. “So Rusty could be in even more danger than we thought?”
“Exactly. Which is why I need to speak to him. To impress on him the need to be extra cautious. You both need to be on your guard while Rusty’s staying here.” He glanced at his watch again. “I really would like to speak to him, Mikey. Do you think you could rouse him?”
“I suspect Jenna has already taken care of that. But I’ll see what I can do to get him out of bed.”
Nathan tutted and raised his eyes heavenward as I rose from my chair. I grinned down at him and headed back up the path to the house. I got the distinct impression he didn’t appreciate my sense of humour. Nathan followed on behind and I left him standing in the living room while I went upstairs and knocked on Rusty’s bedroom door.
Sounds of movement from inside and then the door opened a few inches and Rusty’s bleary-eyed countenance peered out at me through the gap.
“Sorry to interrupt your morning exercise,” I said, “but the Chief is downstairs. He needs to speak with you.”
Rusty groaned. “Be right there,” he said, and closed the door.
A few minutes later, the three of us were seated around the coffee table in the living room, and Nathan filled us in on the details of the witness statement. Rusty was pale and drawn. Though I couldn’t tell if it was a reaction to what he was hearing or overenthusiastic lovemaking.
Rusty said, “Did your witness get a good description of this guy.”
Reluctantly, Nathan confirmed they hadn’t. “He was wearing a grey sports jacket with the hood up. Given how hot it’s been over the past few weeks, that in itself is a good indication that our man didn’t want to be recognised. Fortunately, his sleeves were rolled up and that distinctive snake tattoo was on display. The description of it matched the one we got from Mia Ludlow.”
“Not very clever of him,” murmured Rusty.
“Quite so,” said Nathan. “Lucky for us he’s not too bright.”
I said, “What were the circumstances?”
“Our witness took particular note because she knew Candy - or rather, Lydia Carrington - by sight and saw her being confronted by our man in what she described as an aggressive manner.”
“Where was this?” I asked.
“In the High Street. It looks as if he interrupted Candy during a shopping trip.”
I said, “I presume he was trying to get her to open up about Rusty’s whereabouts.”
“That’s the theory we’re working on. And then later killed her to draw Rusty his way.”
“And it obviously worked,” I said.
Rusty said, “So what now?”
“We’re stepping up surveillance and we’ll be on the lookout for any suspicious activity but I’m sure you’ll appreciate that this being the holiday season, we have a lot of strangers in town. So I’m just asking you to be extra vigilant, take care of yourself.”
There was a gasp from the direction of the stairs and we all turned in unison towards the sound.
Jenna stood at the bottom of the stairs, ashen-faced and trembling. I’m not sure how long she had stood there or what she had heard, but she must be wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Barely able to keep a grip on the large wooden crate I was carrying, I staggered out of the storeroom, and just managed to reach the door of the adjoining room before it slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor with a dull thud. The flimsy sheathing shuddered within its frame, and a cloud of dust rose up around it.
I leaned against the wall, suppressed a sneeze as I wafted away the dust, and gulped in some air.
It was later that day, and I’d been summoned to the Fairview to help Karen with what she’d referred to as a ‘helping hand’. A forklift truck might have been a better bet.
Once I’d caught my breath, I called back to her, “Remind me again why I’m doing this?”
“Because you’re a good and faithful friend.” She appeared in the doorway of the larger room next door, her hair tied back and tucked into a pair of brand-new dark-blue coveralls that matched my own, and carrying a dirty Hessian sack tied at the neck with thick cord.
“Nice try,” I said, “but shouldn’t you be trai
ning your future husband to do the grunt work?”
The Fairview’s annexe at the back of the main building was a later extension, comprised of two rooms, and currently used for storage. The room I’d just stumbled from was the larger of the two, the one Karen had designated as additional living space for her and Richard.
In a feeble attempt to wriggle out of another bout of heavy lifting, I’d argued that her present quarters, small and cosy as they were, would be much more romantic. But no luck there. Stubborn as ever, she was having none of it. And so here we were, heaving crates and other assorted containers from one room to the other. It was the sort of work no sane person would consider doing in the middle of a heatwave. But far be it from me to point out the obvious.
Karen said, “It can’t have escaped your notice that our men are busy right now. Otherwise, I’m sure Richard would be only too happy to help.”
Fair comment. Both Richard and Nathan were conspicuous by their absence at the moment. “Can’t say you didn’t warn me about policemen. I’ll listen to you next time.”
“That’ll be the day.” She dropped the sack at my feet. It hit the floor with a jangle and raised more dust. She returned to the larger room, leaving me to do the storing.
“At least we have each other for company while they’re playing cops and robbers,” I called after her. “Not sure it’s what I signed up for though.”
I picked up the sack, dropped it on top of the crate and, with my foot against the crate’s side, pushed the whole lot through the doorway.
This room was a smaller version of the one next door. It was also dingy, damp, and with a tiny barred window that let in little light.
Containers of all shapes and sizes were already packed within its narrow confines. But with some judicious planning, we would just about manage to pack the rest of the crates and sacks into this smaller space.
Karen called back, “It’s a bit more than cops and robbers. But I share your sentiment. And besides,” she added, “you were the one who started this whole thing off.”
I made my way to her, wiping my sweaty hands on my overalls. “If I’d known the consequences, I might have had second thoughts.”
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