What Lies Beneath (Rutland crime series Book 1)

by Adam Croft

  ‘Oh dear. That doesn’t sound very nice.’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘How did it end?’

  ‘A few of the chaps stepped in and threw him out.’

  ‘Do you remember who?’

  ‘If my memory serves me correctly, I think it was Tim, John and Patrick. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered. I imagine quite a few people will have been upset.’

  ‘Not enough to murder him, if that’s what you’re thinking. We don’t get quite that protective over our religion.’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that. Sorry,’ Caroline said.

  ‘Ah. Hang on. Are you the two detectives who came to speak to Peter yesterday?’

  There was no way Caroline could wriggle out of this one. ‘We are. We wanted to come and apologise, actually.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I know you were just doing your job,’ Sheila said, almost conspiratorially. ‘Between you and me, I think Peter’s been quite rattled by the whole thing. He’s been trying to keep the peace for a long time, and it’s been quite upsetting for him to see it come to a head like this.’

  All of a sudden, Caroline got the distinct impression there was far more to this than a simple row over theology. ‘What do you mean, Mrs Tottman?’ she asked.

  Before Sheila could respond, her eye was taken by the returning reverend, who’d taken this moment to rejoin the group.

  ‘It’s good to see you again, Detective Inspector,’ he said, smiling. ‘I received your apology from Chief Superintendent Arnold. Thank you for that. Humility is a great virtue.’

  Caroline forced a smile, but inside she was seething.

  25

  That evening, Caroline struggled to relax. She was having trouble focusing her mind on any one thing right now, and that was a major problem. Being the Senior Investigating Officer on a murder investigation was no small task, and required full attention at all times. But then so did a lot of other things in her life right now.

  Mark, to his credit, seemed to have taken her words the previous evening to heart. He’d seemed genuinely pacified when she looked him in the eye and told him she wasn’t keeping any secrets. She, on the other hand, felt dreadful for her lies. But her concern right now wasn’t for herself.

  She’d come home that day to find a selection of snacks and drinks waiting for her in the ‘fun’ fridge, as they called it, in the garage. Mark had been into town and stocked up on treats from a few of the local independent shops, as well as some Grainstore ciders — a special treat for a warm evening. Fortunately for Caroline, she felt able to stomach cider that evening. Red wine was still very much off the cards.

  She’d tried to engage with the boys after work, and listened intently as Archie and Josh told her about their days at school — Archie more passionately than Josh, but Josh was already fast becoming a teenager before his years.

  A part of her wondered whether she’d been wrong to take on the case. She couldn’t even keep a coherent and related string of thoughts, so how could she give her all to a murder investigation? She felt she’d lost her direction. She’d gone so far down the path of the religious motive, and she was now left questioning its validity. She’d honed in on Patrick Walsh, not enough to find any evidence or reason to arrest him, but just enough to spook him and allow him to potentially cover his tracks.

  That had been her biggest worry. Timing was often the most important aspect of any police investigation. The first twenty-four hours were often known as the ‘golden period’. Major progress within that time period greatly increased the chances of success. But once the first twenty-four hours were over, success rates fell off a cliff. The timing of arrests needed to be carefully done, too. Whilst it was true they could arrest anyone without real reason — and many Senior Investigating Officers considered this to be beneficial as it meant statements made by the arrested person were admissible in court under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act — Caroline took a more cautious approach. She’d learned from experience that moving too quickly could be as dangerous as moving too slowly, especially if a suspect was arrested, then released because of a lack of evidence at the end of their twenty-four-hour custody period, only to then go missing or commit further crimes.

  These sorts of decisions were second nature to her. They weren’t something she ever really thought about — not consciously, anyway. It was almost reflexive. But now, for the first time in many years, she found herself thinking more strategically and carefully about it. It was as if the instincts had gone, the automatic reflexive decisions weren’t firing and she had to actually think things through.

  When she’d taken on the case, she’d felt as if she was towering above it, able to look down and see what needed doing, what course needed to be charted. And now she was halfway down the river, floating in the wrong direction having totally misjudged the currents, without a paddle and with utter confusion reigning free inside her mind.

  It wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with. She was used to being in control, having full confidence and feeling comfortable in her job. But this felt very different. Now, for the first time in her career — although not in her life — she felt confused and completely alone.

  26

  Caroline had always tried to ensure that Sundays were relaxing family days. The nature of police work meant that was far from guaranteed, particularly if shift work was necessary, but that was thankfully rare in Rutland CID.

  She didn’t know if it was just tiredness, but she detected a different atmosphere from usual as Josh and Archie ate their breakfast. The boys were fine — the frostiness seemed to come from Mark. She guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. They hadn’t exactly been close lately, which she recognised but felt powerless to do much about. The further they drifted apart, the harder it was to open up and communicate.

  As a couple, they’d always “got” each other. It was more of an unspoken understanding than anything else, and there’d never been the need for emotional heart-to-hearts or long, in-depth chats. The bedrock of their relationship had been that intense closeness which had meant they didn’t need to talk, but the advent of children had slowly eroded that closeness away until they’d been left with a perfectly functional and happy relationship, but one in which Caroline didn’t feel she was able to open up, even when she needed to.

  It had certainly been far less eventful than the previous Sunday, and part of her felt slightly uneasy at having the day off. She was perfectly entitled to it, but she felt her presence would be much more welcome and needed at work than it was at home. Mark was reading a magazine on the sofa, the boys were playing in the garden and she was milling around, tidying up and doing very little. Rest days were important, but she didn’t half feel guilty when they came around.

  The concept of a ‘rest’ day was almost laughable to her. Even if she could entomb herself for six months and hibernate, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t emerge feeling rested. It was an intense, long-term exhaustion which couldn’t be cured by a day off spent rearranging the teabags.

  ‘Dad, can you come and play football with us?’ Archie asked, poking his head through the gap in the patio doors.

  ‘Yeah, in a bit. Let me just finish this.’

  ‘Mark, you’re reading a magazine,’ Caroline said, watching as Archie moped back towards his brother on the lawn.

  ‘Yeah, and I’m not just going to stop in the middle of an article because someone demanded it. He didn’t even say please.’

  ‘He’s six.’

  ‘Exactly. He should have some manners by now. Why don’t you go and kick a ball around with them? You’re not doing much. I’ll be out in a bit.’

  ‘I’m on a rest day, Mark. You’re the one who said I work too much and need to relax.’

  ‘Alright, calm down. What’s this all about?’

  ‘What’s what all about? I’m just saying put a bookmark in the fucking magazine and go and play football with your son, alright?’

  Mark closed the magazine and slid it ont
o the coffee table.

  ‘What’s the matter, Caz?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re not fine. You’re snappy. You don’t look good.’

  ‘Oh, thanks.’

  ‘You look pale. Exhausted.’

  ‘Yeah, you can leave it there, thanks, Mark.’

  ‘Alright. Alright. I’ll leave you to it.’

  She watched as he stepped out into the garden and jogged across the lawn, listening to the shrieks of delight from Archie as their football team was complete.

  The rest of the day passed without note. Caroline tried to keep away from Mark and the boys as much as possible. She knew she wouldn’t be much good to them in her current frame of mind, and was likely to wind Mark up further. Still, it wouldn’t be long before she could get back to normal. Once the case was closed and passed on to the CPS, much of the stress would be lifted. And her meeting on Thursday morning would — she hoped — put one particular chapter of her life to bed, once and for all.

  It was something she hadn’t told Mark. A secret she’d kept from him. Another one. But she’d had good reasons. She always had good reasons. Everything she did, everything she said, everything she didn’t say — it was all to protect Mark and the boys. She’d never wanted anything else, and she was unwavering in that.

  There were some couples and families who believed you couldn’t truly be close unless you knew absolutely everything about a person. But Caroline knew that wasn’t true. She recognised that true closeness came when you didn’t need to know everything about another person because you loved, knew and accepted them anyway. She’d never been a fan of drama; she didn’t need the spotlight shining on her. She just got on with things. She’d rarely seen the need to sit down and waste time talking about something when she could be actively fixing it and getting it sorted instead.

  By the time the evening had rolled round and the boys were in bed, she’d resolved to spend a couple of hours watching a film with Mark. That had been easier said than done. Although she was trying her hardest to focus on the screen and follow the storyline, her mind kept wandering.

  She pulled out her phone and opened the Photos app before bringing up the picture Dexter had taken the other night in the Wheatsheaf. She looked at the image, deep into the eyes of Patrick Walsh and silently asked him what he was hiding. There was something about the man that made her feel very uneasy, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She’d get there eventually — she knew she would — but so far it was eluding her.

  ‘You okay?’ Mark asked, not taking his eyes off the television.

  ‘Yeah. Fine.’

  ‘Want a top-up?’ he said, gesturing towards her empty glass on the coffee table in front of them.

  Caroline put her phone down on the arm of the sofa. ‘Yeah. Good idea,’ she said. ‘I’ll get them.’

  She stood up and walked to the kitchen with the empty glasses, a thousand thoughts running through her head. Sooner or later — somehow — she needed to find a way of organising them. Because otherwise she was in real danger of becoming a liability to herself, not to mention everybody else.

  27

  Caroline was no more a fan of Mondays than anyone else, but this one signified a fresh start. She was determined to make this week her week, and it was going to start with Patrick Walsh.

  Walsh had finally agreed to come in and speak to Caroline in a voluntary interview. She was keen to stress to him that he wasn’t under arrest, but she knew she could play that card at any time that suited her.

  He arrived shortly after ten o’clock — something which riled Caroline straight away. So far as she could see, he had no reason to be late and she was certain he’d only done it as a power play. They sat down in the interview room — a far more formal setting than Caroline would’ve liked in this instance, but it was all they had.

  Having settled Walsh in with a cup of tea, Caroline started with some gentle, casual questioning as Dexter sat next to her and took notes.

  ‘So what’s your connection with the Clifton family?’ she asked, starting to move things on.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, how do you know them? How often do you see them? On what grounds? That sort of thing.’

  ‘I met Alice through the church. I see them through the church. That’s about it.’

  ‘You don’t see each other socially outside the church?’

  ‘Sometimes, yeah.’

  ‘What about Roger?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Were you friendly with him?’

  ‘I’m friendly with everyone.’

  ‘How friendly are you with Alice Clifton?’

  ‘Well, Roger asked me to keep an eye on her and support her while he was away travelling. I kept in touch with her, checked in on them occasionally. That sort of thing.’

  ‘He asked you to do that?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Sounds to me like you and Roger were pretty close friends, then,’ Caroline said, knowing full well from what the reverend had told them that this wasn’t the case.

  Patrick shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s a church thing. If you’re in that circle, you tend to trust other people who are too. We Christians tend to be pretty trusting and forgiving.’

  Caroline nodded slowly. ‘You make quite a lot of your faith, don’t you?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You seem to mention it at every given opportunity. Almost as if it’s a handy get-out clause for you. You couldn’t possibly be guilty of anything, because you’re a Christian. Is that it?’

  He looked between the two of them. ‘Sorry, am I under suspicion or arrest or something? I was told this was an informal chat.’

  ‘It is. We can make it formal if you’d prefer.’ Walsh stayed silent. ‘Would you say religion is an important part of your life?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘I would, yeah.’

  ‘How important?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Would you have said Roger was a religious man?’

  ‘Not particularly, no.’

  ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘What more do you want to know? He wasn’t particularly religious.’

  ‘What, so he was silent on the matter? Didn’t get involved? Loudly opposed it? What?’

  ‘It just wasn’t really his thing. That was his choice.’

  ‘Were there ever any disagreements over it? Did he ever, perhaps, get a bit vocal in his opposition to it? Did he cause any issues at all?’

  Walsh seemed to think about this for a few moments. ‘I dunno. Possibly. I don’t really remember.’

  ‘You don’t remember? You’ve got no memory of whether or not a man — someone you were close enough to to be trusted to look after the welfare of his family while he was away — at any point, at any time, kicked off and caused major disruption over his views on religion, something which plays a major part in your life?’

  Walsh shrugged. ‘People disagree and fall out all the time.’

  ‘Did you fall out with Roger Clifton?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘No, I did. Did you fall out with him?’

  ‘Not particularly, no.’

  ‘Not particularly?’

  Walsh sighed. ‘Look, if you think something happened that I’ve forgotten about, I’d appreciate it if you could let me know the details and see if it jogs my memory. To be honest, I don’t like the way you’re behaving. This was meant to be an informal chat, something to help you guys out and find out who killed Roger. But instead you’ve subjected me to some sort of Stasi interrogation. If you want to arrest me, arrest me. I’ll call my lawyer and we’ll go down that road. Otherwise, if it’s quite alright with you, I’m going home.’

  Caroline and Dexter left the interview room feeling they’d got no further in the investigation. If anything, it felt as though they’d gone backwards. They made their way back to the incident room and Caroline sat down at her desk before Sara Henshaw came boundin
g up with far more enthusiasm than Caroline felt.

  ‘Good news, boss,’ Sara said. ‘We’ve been analysing Roger Clifton’s laptop. I think we might have a pretty strong lead.’

  ‘Go on,’ Caroline said, her interest piqued.

  ‘It’s all pretty normal and above board, except for one thing. Someone sent Roger a threatening email almost exactly a week before he died.’

  ‘What kind of threatening email?’

  ‘I’ll read it to you. “How do you sleep at night? You’ll pay for your family’s actions one way or another. Scum like you deserve to rot in hell.”’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Caroline exhaled. The religious connotations of “rot in hell” were too many for her to ignore, but now wasn’t the time to push that particular angle again. ‘Are we able to trace it?’

  ‘Not me personally, but yes. The originating IP address was Oakham Library.’

  ‘Wow. Okay. And we have the date and time it was sent, yes?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Then we need to request CCTV footage from the library. At the very least, we’ll be able to narrow it down to people we know were inside the library at the time.’

  ‘Already done. They’re going to pull the footage and get back to us.’

  ‘Who are? The council?’ Caroline asked. Sara nodded in return, and Caroline filed this away in her mind. Roger’s links to the council were worth remembering.

  ‘There’s a slim chance they could narrow it down to the specific machine at their end, but they didn’t make any promises. The computers aren’t particularly top of the range, and anyone with a bit of knowhow could mask things fairly easily. But if they had that much knowhow they’d have used a VPN and not risked getting caught on CCTV.’

  ‘Sorry. Acronym overload, Sara.’

  ‘Virtual Private Network. Basically, every computer has an IP address. That’s its position on the internet, if you like. Now, with a VPN, rather than me sending you an email and it bouncing from my machine to yours, it goes via dozens of other computers on the way, making the location of the original sender impossible to work out. You can usually only see the IP address of the last machine involved, which won’t be the one the email was actually sent from.’