by Anita Waller
‘Is she with Granddad David?’
It occurred to Pilot that he could very easily be lumbered with awkward questions here and it briefly crossed his mind that maybe he should burst into tears and leave the room but he didn’t.
‘Yes, I’m sure she is.’
‘But he’s in the ground. We went to his grave with the ring.’
‘The wreath, Grace. It’s called a wreath. And it’s only Granddad’s body that is in the ground. His soul is in Heaven as is Aunt Freda’s.’
‘Soul?’ This was from a wide-eyed Olivia.
‘Look girls, I just need to go and make sure Mummy’s okay, make sure she’s stopped crying. Please keep your jumpers on. Aunt Freda would have loved to see the pair of you in them. Wear them for her. Mummy will explain about soul when she’s feeling better. Don’t forget to ask her, Grace, will you?’
‘I won’t, Papa.’ Grace was now very serious.
He watched them climb the stairs back up to the playroom then went to find his wife. She was with Ken and Brenda who were all helping themselves to tissues from an almost empty tissue box.
‘Tea, anyone?’ he asked, and they all nodded.
‘Are my girls all right?’ a tearful Lauren asked. ‘They looked so lovely in Freda’s jumpers and I just felt pole-axed. Have you made sure they know they haven’t done anything wrong?’
‘Oh yes, my love. Completely. Erm ... just one issue, though. You might want to think about souls and such-like. Mmmm. It sort of cropped up. I’ll make the tea, shall I?’
Chapter 33
Dunbar gazed at the whiteboard with its assortment of pictures and words. His own office was quiet but he was all too aware of the cacophony of noise in the outer one where everyone involved with the case was working.
He knew he had to go back to the beginning. He was missing something and whatever it was, everyone else was missing it, too.
He started with Angel’s escape. He looked once more over the interview with the Wainwrights but they couldn’t have been anything more than totally random. Angel had chosen their red door; they hadn’t enticed her in first. They had repeated everything Angel had said as far as their memories held out and he spent some time looking down that part of the interview but it revealed nothing new.
The file was thick; he began turning over pages, reading until his headache began to really surface. He could find nothing.
He stood and went to his coat hanging behind the door. In the inside pocket he hoped to find painkillers. There were none. He went out into the main office and asked if anyone had any and Sarah Miller waved a strip in the air.
‘Thank you,’ he said taking them from her and popping two tablets out.
‘You’re welcome; I’d just taken two myself.’
‘You working on anything specific?’
‘Is there anything specific? You want me to concentrate on something?’
He sighed. ‘Not really. I’m reading through everything. We are missing something but whatever it is, it’s staying hidden. How the hell did he get into Moorgate with that gift? What’s his plan for Freda Andrew’s funeral? Because I can’t believe he’ll let that go by without doing something. It’s just so damn frustrating.’
‘Then let’s try to outthink him. Let’s be there first this time.’
He looked at her for a long moment and said ‘Come into my office. I’ll clear the desk.’
She followed him, grabbing a pen as she left her own work-station. His version of clearing his desk involved stacking everything on it into a big pile and putting it on to the floor. He then handed her a large notepad and sat down facing her.
‘Okay. Ideas?’
She opened the pad and wrote the date on the first page while she gathered her thoughts.
‘Is Grace going to be there?’
‘No, they wouldn’t take that risk.’
‘Then the main focus of our protection has to be Hillside or Moorgate, wherever she will be. Because the only thing that seems to be a constant throughout all this is that he wants her back with him. God, sir, that doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘No it doesn’t. So you think he won’t be at the funeral?’
‘I think he could probably work it out that Grace won’t be there and he will have the possibility of getting his Angel back from the house. I think we have to get Grace, Olivia and Noah away from here, get them into a safe house with their Nanny – Jess is she called? – and take that stress away from everyone while this funeral is going on.’
She scribbled down some more notes but made no reference to them.
‘You’re right. I’ll go see them tonight. But I’ll just speak to Pilot and Lauren – oh and Jess, of course. I’ll have to reassure Jess that it will be a safe house and she will have protection with her at all times. I don’t want anyone else in the family to know.’
‘Why not?’ Sarah stared him in the face almost daring him not to answer her.
‘Because...’ he hesitated as if deciding whether to say his thoughts aloud.
She showed him the note on her pad that she had just written.
Treverick has to have an accomplice, someone close to the family or in the family. Security men? Police?
The mood at Hillside was sombre. Brenda wasn’t taking Freda’s death easily and Ken could only stand by helplessly and watch her crumble. He hugged her when she needed a hug, kissed her when she needed a kiss but he felt it wasn’t enough.
He was scared. He couldn’t imagine a life without Brenda and she had aged overnight. He covered her with a soft throw and kissed her head. She had gone for a rest in their bedroom but had quickly fallen asleep.
He closed the door quietly and then took the unusual step of leaving what they laughingly termed The Buckingham Wing. He went through to find Pilot.
Pilot was going through his mail, sitting in front of his computer. Mail and newspapers were now delivered daily by one of the officers who sat in the police car all day. Nobody was allowed up the drive, other than family members.
‘Sorry to bother you, Pilot...’
Pilot looked up in surprise. Since Ken and Brenda had moved in, they saw less of them than when they lived at Stonebrook Cottage.
‘You need something, Ken?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Just a bit of company really. But you’re busy, I’ll go.’
‘I’m not busy. More filling in the time to stop me thinking. Come on. I’ll make us some tea.’
They moved into the lounge. The tree was flashing its lights and everything appeared normal. Ken could hear the chatter of children’s voices and the hum of a vacuum cleaner; he guessed the rest of the family were upstairs.
Ken sat down and waited for Pilot. He came in from the kitchen carrying a tray with a teapot, cups and plate of biscuits.
‘Eat,’ Pilot ordered, ‘because if you and Brenda are anything like us, food hasn’t been much in our thoughts since yesterday.’
Ken smiled. ‘You’re right. I can’t get Brenda to have anything. She’s sleeping now and I simply didn’t want to sit on my own. When you’re on your own, you start to think and then you end up crying and I’m from Yorkshire and Yorkshiremen don’t cry. But this one did yesterday.’
Pilot nodded. ‘Me too. We’re going tomorrow to make the funeral arrangements and I can’t tell you how much I’m dreading that. I’ve been going through her ‘afterlife’ envelope – that’s what caused the tears – and I’ve got the list of songs she wants and she wants everyone to wear something red. One little piece of paper made me smile. It was inside a sealed white envelope and she gave it me a few weeks ago, certainly before she was shot. It simply said she wanted Treverick in the coffin with her.’
Ken laughed. ‘God, she can even make us smile after she’s gone.’
They sat without speaking for a while until Ken stood up to leave and go back to check on Brenda.
‘I’m worried about her, Pilot.’
‘Brenda?’
Ken nodded.
‘They were so
close; Brenda and Freda and when something like this happens you start to question your own mortality. I think she’s doing that. We’ve never considered death really and Treverick is making us do that.’
‘I have no answers, Ken. When he killed Dad it was almost too much to bear but the thought that he might just be smart enough to get to Grace, or indeed any of the kids, would be unthinkable.’
Dunbar replaced the receiver and winced. He had so much respect for Mark Carter, always had done from the first day he met him. Now he had just brought that respect into question by asking him for a complete list of his employees; office staff and field operatives.
Mark had hesitated and then said,
‘Yes, of course.’ He hadn’t needed to ask why, it didn’t take a genius to work out that Dunbar suspected somebody of something and this was the information he needed to begin this aspect of the investigation. Mark stared at the phone for quite some time and then pulled the keyboard towards him. He loosened his emerald green tie before beginning to type. He could easily have copied and pasted the information but forcing himself to write the list from memory focussed his mind. He wanted to ensure it was accurate, didn’t want Dunbar coming back to him asking for more. He wondered how Dunbar would take to being told he might want to look at his own staff.
He began the list with Linda Chambers, the woman he employed in the office. He had recruited Linda into his business purely because he had been impressed by the organisation of the files and other paperwork he had taken on when he had inherited the post she had held with John Thornton. He had found out at a later date that Amy Thornton had actually forced her out of the secretarial position she had enjoyed for some time and in a way he hoped that employing her would ease his conscience a little.
Although Dunbar had only requested a list, he decided to add all the contact details on a separate sheet. He had nothing to hide and he was damned sure his employees didn’t either. The vetting he applied to anyone who worked for him had to be intense; the nature of his business demanded nothing less.
He started to list his field operatives beginning with Alan Shimwell, his most trusted worker who had died along with David Farmer. He wasn’t sure why Dunbar wanted the list – he had simply said list everyone who at any time has had connections with the surveillance and protection detail at Hillside and Moorgate. Alan Shimwell had been at the top of his choices for that work.
Linda Chambers (office)
Alan Shimwell (d) Guy Pridmore Sam Marks
Iain Dunne Joe Bachelor Bob Adams
Luke Stones Dom Stones Linc Stewart
Will Dawson Martin Acker Martyn Pearson
Gerry Williams Anthony Harvey Dave Bailey
Dan Gibson Jim Brooks Jay King
On a separate sheet of paper, he copied and pasted all the personnel contact details, printed everything off and put the four sheets into a large brown envelope. He emailed Jake Dunbar to say it was ready for collection, and sat back and waited.
Dunbar’s emailed response was almost immediate.
Can you email the file, please?
His response was just as fast.
No, would prefer that you collected the package.
He had no intention of sending such personal information via email and he made sure to put a warm smile of welcome on his face when Dunbar arrived. It would do no good to antagonise the man, he thought. And he hoped Dunbar might open up about the direction of the investigation if they met face to face.
‘Thank you for calling, DI Dunbar. I just thought it safer to hand them over to you. Anyone can read emails and there is a lot of data in this file.’
‘No problem, Mark. I needed a chat anyway.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes – I didn’t want you to think we were targeting your business in any way. We’re going to be questioning everybody who has had any contact at all with anyone in the Farmer extended family. And this includes our own men and women on the force. And, of course, the family.’
‘That’s fine,’ Mark said. His tie had now resumed its normal knotted position and he was the consummate professional. ‘I’ve given you a list of my people and then on separate sheets I’ve given you their contact details. I will get in touch with all of them to explain you will need to see them. I don’t need to ask them to cooperate fully – they will.’
‘I don’t doubt for one minute that they will,’ Dunbar laughed. This was a totally professional outfit and Mark was king.
‘Can I offer you a coffee? Tea?’
‘Coffee would be good, thanks.’
He sat down opposite Mark and watched him pour two mugs from the percolator.
‘So, am I any nearer getting my men back?’
‘What do you think?’ Dunbar sighed. ‘He’s like the bloody Pimpernel, isn’t he?’
Dunbar took a sip of his coffee. ‘You have biscuits to go with this?’
Mark pulled open his desk drawer and produced chocolate digestives.
‘Help yourself,’ he said and placed them where they could both reach.
‘Ok, now we’ve got chocolate inside us, let’s think. Knowing everything you know about Treverick, where would you hide if you were him? Where’s your bolt hole?’’
‘Close to Grace,’ Mark said promptly. ‘She’s like a drug to him and he needs his fix. He’s not going to let her go, you know. Only death will stop him.’
‘We can but hope,’ was Dunbar’s dry response. ‘So we’re talking Padstow? Rock?’
‘Rock’s not that big, harder to hide there. My guess would be Padstow, but it is only a guess. He could be in Torquay, Newquay or somewhere like that where it’s big enough for him to hide in plain sight. Cornwall’s a big place, DI Dunbar.’
They both reached for another biscuit and laughed.
‘Will more chocolate help our brains work better?’ Mark asked.
‘I think mine’s stopped. I was having a chat with one of my WPCs and she came up with something, an idea, which I had been tentatively tossing around in my mind and dismissing. When she came up with it, it all made sense. She must eat more chocolate than me,’ he added ruefully.
‘Hence the lists,’ Mark said, nodding thoughtfully.
‘Hence the lists … and I will be grateful if you can let all your employees know that we’ll be coming to see them over the next couple of days. I know it’s not going to be easy because they work days and nights, so I’ll be ringing you pretty regularly to find out where each of them are. I don’t want to go getting them out of bed when they need sleep. And I have no intention of talking to them when they are at work; they need all their attention to be focussed on what they are doing.’
‘Well, when you want to speak to Linda Chambers, she works in the office across the corridor from this one.’
‘Linda Chambers? As in Linda Chambers, John’s ex secretary?’
‘Yes. She works for me now. Very efficient. Only works three days a week so check with me first to make sure she’s here.’
‘She here today?’
‘Yes, all day today. Pop in and see her.’
Dunbar put down his cup and stood. ‘Thanks for the coffee, Mark. I’ll be in touch shortly. And thanks for this.’ He waved the envelope.
‘No problem,’ Mark said. ‘And if you need to chat about the situation at any time, I’m here. You know it will go no further. Might be better than a young WPC showing you up!’
Dunbar laughed. ‘Thanks. I might just take you up on that. I’ll just say hi to Linda and I’ll be off.’
Mark sat back and the smile disappeared from his face. This was really dragging on and Dunbar was bound to be getting flak from his bosses but he was up against a man who could work comfortably outside the law, make complicated plans, build bombs, acquire guns; all for Angel.
Mark closed his eyes. Time for thought.
Dunbar knocked on the door across the corridor and opened it slightly. Linda looked up and smiled.
‘DI Dunbar! Good to see you.’
‘And
you, Linda. How’s your mum these days.’
She laughed. ‘No different at all. I still live with her; I tell her it’s because she needs looking after, but it’s not that at all. She washes, irons and cooks for me.’
‘I must go, but its been nice to see you again.’ He nodded his head at her. ‘Take care.’ He quietly closed the door.
Chapter 34
It took a lot longer than a couple of days for Dunbar to speak to all of Mark’s operatives and to check their credentials. At some time, most of them had worked in the police force and several had lived outside the Devon/Cornwall area before moving to Padstow. The Stones brothers, Luke and Dom, had been a pleasure to deal with, and so funny. He had personally interviewed them, catching them both before they started their evening shift at Moorgate. There was only a year between them in age and they had worked for the police in Warwick for some time before coming back to Cornwall. Their mum had hated them living so far away and when she found out Carter Security was recruiting, she had phoned Mark to arrange an interview for her boys.
Mark had been intrigued and when they had arrived together, he had interviewed them together and offered them a job together. Mum had been very pleased.
They answered all of Dunbar’s questions together and when the interview was over he drove away with a box full of scones made by Mum.
He slowly worked his way through everyone else on the list and came up with nothing that caused any ripples of unease. Mark had been right in saying how thorough his vetting system was.
And so, Dunbar began to work his way through his colleagues. This was harder. Some of them didn’t like being called to account, while others were only too happy to comply. But, he found nothing.
The only ones left in the melting pot appeared to be family members and friends. He felt sick at the thought but knew he couldn’t ignore any avenue. These people had to be visited and interviewed but with the funeral one day away, he decided to postpone the distasteful task until it was out of the way.
The morning of the funeral was a bitterly cold but sunny January day. Everyone waiting around outside the crematorium was shivering. The funeral cortege arrived on time and slowly the room filled. Freda had been popular; this was mainly through her many years of service to the medical practice and her involvement in a number of community activities. She would be missed.