Hunted on the Fens

by Joy Ellis

  Joseph was in an uncharacteristically sombre mood when he arrived at Cloud Cottage Farm.

  As Nikki spooned out the food onto plates, he opened a bottle of rosé wine and sighed. ‘She was pretty tearful when she woke up. I’ve never seen Cat like that. I don’t know what I expected, but it was kind of shocking.’

  ‘And what was she like when you left?’

  He poured wine into their glasses. ‘Better, I guess. Joking about her injuries, but there was an undertone. She’s scared, Nikki.’

  ‘Of course she is.’ Nikki handed him a knife and fork and sat down. ‘Scars may look very dashing on a bloke’s cheek, but she’s a pretty young woman. Hey, I’m no spring chicken, but I’d be shit-scared at what I’d look like.’

  Joseph gave her a half grin. ‘You’re far from being an old boiler yet. I have actually heard it said that you are a very attractive woman.’

  Before she could remonstrate, he sat heavily on the old pine chair, then picked up his glass and raised it in a salute, ‘Here’s to Cat, and her swift recovery.’

  Nikki touched her glass against his. ‘To Cat.’

  As they ate Nikki told him about her trip to the Waterside Quay apartments. ‘I see what you mean about luxurious. Everything was operated by remote control, even the curtains.’

  ‘You could easily become a great fat slob, just sitting on your nappa leather couch, pressing buttons for everything.’ Joseph took a forkful of beef and black beans. ‘But you’d have no history, or the living warmth of a crackling log fire, would you?’

  ‘Could we not talk about fires?’ Nikki frowned. ‘When I got home tonight I felt really weird, just imagining someone skulking about in my garage with intent to destroy.’ She shivered. ‘Crash and burn. I know it’s only a phrase, but it sounds horribly threatening, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Considering what’s happened, yes, it does.’ He gave her a concerned look. ‘I don’t think you should stay here alone.’

  Nikki shook her head dismissively. ‘It was a warning, and I’ve taken it on board. I’ll be mega-careful, Joseph, but I’m not being driven out of my home by that shite!’

  They continued eating in silence, until Nikki’s mobile rung.

  ‘Ah, my favourite detective inspector! I do hope I’m interrupting your supper.’

  Nikki smiled and pressed the loudspeaker button on her phone. Professor Rory Wilkinson, their forensic scientist and Home Office pathologist, had entered Nikki’s brief list of friends some five years ago after a particularly harrowing case. Rory was a sensitive man, considering the work he did. He managed to combine high camp and black humour with compassion. And that, Nikki reckoned, was no mean feat.

  ‘Perfect timing, Rory. Joseph and I are just sampling the Sichuan peppercorn shrimp.’

  ‘How simply lovely! Did you know that there was a fascinating study done regarding prawns and shrimps feasting around sewerage outlets?’

  ‘One more word about that, Wilkinson, and I’ll hang up.’

  ‘But it’s so interesting! Still, onto the serious stuff . . .’ His tone altered. ‘First, I am so sorry that one of your boys bought it today, but he’s safe with me now and as you know, he’ll be shown every respect and kindness here.’

  He wasn’t being facetious, and Nikki knew it. ‘Thank you, Rory. We appreciate it.’

  ‘My pleasure. It’s the least I can do. Now the second thing is about the person who used your car boot to write his memoirs. Sorry to tell you, but it is human blood.’

  ‘Oh shit!’ She looked across to Joseph, who was deliberately taking a long, slow swallow of wine. ‘Any clues as to who donated it?’

  ‘Give me time. I’ve sent a sample off for DNA analysis, then we’ll run it through the data bank to see if we can find a match. I’ll keep you posted. Now go back to your Chinese. And by the way, I lied about the shrimp.’ The line went dead.

  Nikki closed her phone and shook her head. ‘Impossible man!’

  ‘But a clever, no, a brilliant and highly intelligent man too,” said Joseph.

  ‘Add infuriating to that list.’

  ‘Oh yes, and he’s the best wind-up merchant I’ve ever met.’

  They stopped almost mid-sentence. Nikki said, ‘Human blood, huh?’

  ‘Worrying.’

  ‘Very worrying.’

  They ate in silence for a while, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Joseph suddenly said, ‘Hey, before I drink too much, what about your father’s car? Do we need to go collect it from somewhere?’

  ‘Relax. It’s here. I brought it back for safe keeping months ago. It’s under a tarpaulin in the big barn.’

  ‘Then we better check that it starts.’

  ‘It should be fine. I turn the engine over every so often, and it was serviced only recently.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Joseph, helping himself to more jasmine rice.

  ‘A right old workhorse. A Montego Countryman estate. Dad bought it new in 1994, and he never bought another car after that.’ Nikki smiled at a sudden memory. ‘Actually he did buy one more car, but that was an old VW Beetle that he bought for a bit of fun as a renovation project. He loved the Countryman and he used it for absolutely everything. I should have got rid of it ages ago, but now I’m glad I didn’t.’

  ‘How about tax and insurance?’

  ‘I think they are all up to date. I’ll check it as soon as we’ve eaten.’ She gave Joseph a sad smile. ‘Dad is a stickler for everything being done by the book, typical ex-RAF, and I guess I just kept it going so as not to let him down. I reckoned that while I still owned the car, it was down to me to keep it in order.’ She grimaced. ‘It was lucky the fire starter didn’t choose the barn instead of the garage for his little escapade.’

  ‘I get the feeling he knew exactly what he wanted destroyed, and the barn is a bit too far from the main house. There would have been less threat to you, and as he wanted to scare you, he chose the garage.’

  Nikki sipped her wine. ‘You’re probably right.’ She placed the glass back on the table. ‘I can’t help but wonder what will come next, because I’m sure he has a plan.’

  ‘I’m certain he has, but as we have little or nothing to go on yet, I don’t know how we are going to stop him.’

  ‘I’d feel happier if I knew the whereabouts of Stephen Cox. The thought of him skulking in the background won’t leave me.’

  Joseph stabbed a prawn with his fork. ‘Where did you say he’d been seen?’

  ‘Cyn City.’

  ‘Then why not call in and have a word with Cynthia. She owes you one as I recall, after that pervert kept threatening her clientele as they were leaving the premises. You nailed him a treat. I’ve never seen the inscrutable Madame Cyn so happy.’

  ‘Good idea.’ She looked at Joseph thoughtfully. ‘How much have you drunk?’

  ‘One glass, why?’

  ‘And I’ve hardly touched mine. Let’s go into town after our meal, and catch Cynthia when we know she’ll be at the club. And we can give the old bus a run to clear away the cobwebs from its crankshaft.’

  ‘Hey, a retro ride! Yeah, I’m game.’ He turned back to his meal. ‘And by the way, why aren’t you eating the shrimp?’

  * * *

  Nikki always referred to it as a dive, but Cyn City was actually one of the most expensive clubs in the area. The decor was opulent South East Asian, with massive pictures of the Bangkok skyline lining the walls. They varied from the incredible futuristic tall buildings at night, to a huge reclining golden Buddha, and the ornate, gilded temples along the Chao Phraya River.

  It was not the kind of club that police officers frequented, and both Nikki and Joseph took perverse delight in walking brazenly through the door.

  ‘Inspector! And Sergeant Easter! What a surprise! Are you trying to get my club a bad name?’

  Cynthia Changtai did not look the part. She could have been a highflying business woman, some kind of executive, or an anchor-woman for a TV news channel, but she was Cyn City’s owner and m
anager, and she ruled it with both panache and a rod of iron. She was around five foot three, had glossy black hair and the darkest of almond-shaped eyes. Tonight she was wearing an elegant navy suit with a pure white silk shirt underneath.

  ‘Sorry.’ Nikki gave her an amused smile. ‘I thought I heard an intake of breath as we came in.’ She glanced around. ‘My, it’s just like looking through the pages of our mugshot gallery.’

  ‘Let me get you both a drink. Over here.’ Cynthia led them to a secluded seating area to one side of the bar.

  ‘Get us neatly out of sight, huh?’ Joseph was also enjoying the visit.

  ‘Well, I do have my reputation to think of.’ Cynthia raised a beautifully shaped eyebrow. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Just a fruit juice for me, thank you. I’m driving.’ Nikki slid into the banquette and sat down.

  ‘A bottle of Singha would be great, Cynthia.’ Joseph moved in opposite Nikki.

  ‘Cheap round.’ The woman called across to the bartender, then sat down next to Joseph.

  ‘I can guess why you are here.’ Her voice was clear and precise with only the slightest hint of her Thai ancestry.

  ‘I need clarification of the rumour.’ Nikki looked at the other woman intently.

  ‘I’m sure you do, Detective Inspector.’ She held a finger to her lips, and waited as the barman placed their drinks in front of them.

  When he had gone, she carefully poured Joseph’s beer into a sparkling tall glass, passed it to him and said, ‘He was here last week.’

  Nikki felt an icy stab of cold between her shoulder blades, and she shivered. ‘You saw him yourself?’

  ‘I spoke to him.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘He’s not a man I encourage to drink here. You know very well, Inspector, that my clientele are, well, somewhat varied. But he and his kind are not welcome. I made sure that he realised that fact.’

  ‘You threw him out?’ Joseph’s voice rose an octave. ‘Respect!’

  ‘What did he say to you?’ asked Nikki, sipping tentatively at her drink. ‘Did he say why he’s here?’

  ‘I gather he has business to attend to. Although what that is, I don’t know.’ She looked directly at Nikki. ‘You should know that he does not look like he did before.’ She touched the side of her face. ‘Extensive and expensive surgery I should think. He still looks disfigured, but he would no longer scare children and small animals.’

  ‘Was he alone?’ Joseph asked.

  ‘No, although the two men he was with were not known to anyone here. One of them was foreign, either German, or Belgian or maybe Dutch. He didn’t speak much so it was impossible to tell. The other was English, with that distinctive accent of the North East.’

  ‘Geordie?’

  She nodded and took a delicate swallow from the highball glass that she held. ‘That’s right. I did not like them, Sergeant. Not one bit.’ She smiled at Joseph. ‘And in my business I need to be able to read people very well.’

  ‘I’m sure you do.’ Nikki gave a cold laugh. ‘As most of your punters have criminal records.’

  ‘Everyone needs somewhere to go to relax, to unwind, even criminals, Inspector. And my clients and I have a very clear understanding. No drugs. And partly because of that, we have no trouble here, as you guys are fully aware. They play by my rules, and they are very well looked after. They cross me, and they find somewhere else to drink.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘And there aren’t too many places like this.’

  And that was true. Cynthia had once told Nikki that she offered access to a wide range of services for her regulars. “Sometimes people need something to make their lives a little more pleasurable, but they don’t know what it is.” Cynthia had smiled knowingly. “They just want organising, and because of the hedonistic streak in my Thai genes, I know exactly what they want. And I’m a very good organiser.”

  Nikki found it hard not to like Cynthia Changtai. She was a powerful woman, totally in command of her little empire. And it was true, they never had calls to disturbances at Cyn City. Other than the problem with the weirdo that Nikki had swiftly sorted out for her, Cynthia and her very able employees took care of most things in-house.

  ‘I doubt he will come back, Inspector. I’m certain that he understood my warning, but . . .’ She shrugged. ‘If he does, would you like me to contact you?’

  Nikki nodded. ‘Anything you hear or see, please ring me. I’d appreciate it very much.’ She finished her drink and stared at the empty glass. ‘We should go, so your patrons can breathe easily again.’

  Cynthia smiled at them. ‘They’ll survive.’ Her smile faded. ‘You need Stephen Cox out of your life, Detective Inspector. Until that happens you will never move forward.’ She stood up and gave them a small and courteous nod of the head. ‘I must go now. I have a lot to do.’

  Nikki thanked her. But they walked out with no amusement in their expressions and no swagger in their step. The knowledge that he was back had draped a dark pall over their town. Cynthia had been correct. Nothing would be right again, until he was gone forever.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The edges to the marsh lanes on Cloud Fen were a lush green mix of grasses, reeds and nettles, delicately decorated with clouds of tiny white lacy flowers of Queen Anne’s lace or, as the locals said, kecksie. Usually this would have brought a smile to Nikki’s face, but this morning, even though the day promised to be clear and sunny, the drive into work had been tinged with sadness. As soon as she had started the old car, Nikki had been enveloped in memories. Memories of her father as a younger man, and of Hannah.

  Her dad had been a rock when Robert had left them. She had never had to worry about Hannah getting to and from classes or trips, or any of the fun things that kids wanted to do. When the police force had thrown a spanner in the works for Nikki, her dad was always there for her. And that made it even harder when the dementia had taken hold. Suddenly she had to be the rock, and as things got worse for her father, Nikki had felt as if she had two children to care for.

  Right now she wasn’t sure how she had ever managed to hold down her job and juggle her dad and her child. Nikki didn’t want to remember those distressing, anxious and exhausting days before her father went into fulltime nursing care. And now when she visited, he hardly ever recognised her, and that broke her heart. So, she preferred to recall the happy times. Like those when her father would turn up at the weekend, picnic packed in the back of the car, and they would drive off, anywhere and everywhere, all singing their hearts out as he drove. He called them “Granddad’s Misery Tours” because young Hannah always mispronounced the word mystery. Sometimes he would ring and tell them to pack a bag, they were going north. That meant they were going to the holiday cottage for a couple of days. It belonged to an old RAF buddy of his, and was close to the beach at Runswick Bay, just north of Whitby. It was Hannah’s favourite place, and they spent long, happy hours on the beach hunting for shells and ammonites.

  Nikki knew she should be grateful for having such happy moments in her life, but remembering them now made her loneliness and grief seem even worse.

  As she drove into Greenborough, she tried to channel her emotions somewhere different, and she thought instead about Robert. Her jaw tightened. Her wonderful ex-husband had let them down more times than she could count. She had become immune to it, although she never stopped feeling hurt for Hannah. But she would never, never forgive him for not attending Hannah’s funeral. She gritted her teeth. He had sent flowers, a huge, vulgar and totally unsuitable tribute to his ‘beloved’ daughter, but had declined to make the trip. According to his email, it would be “far too distressing for him to fly in all the way from the States, knowing that he would never see his beautiful child again.”

  ‘What bullshit!’ growled Nikki. Robert Galena had seen Hannah only once when she first went into the coma, and had never returned. She had dealt with the whole horrible process without one iota of support from the girl’s father.

  Nikki pursed her lips and blew out air. She w
as glad it was all over. She had nothing to thank him for and now, finally, he could be permanently relegated to the place where he belonged — in her past. Nikki would never have to see his handsome, horrid face again.

  For the first time that morning, she smiled.

  * * *

  ‘You are going to need another officer, Nikki. With Cat out of action and Operation Windmill ongoing, I’m going to have to find you a temporary detective to fill the gap.’ Superintendent Bainbridge rubbed hard on his chin. ‘Problem is . . . I don’t have one right now.’

  ‘Can I make a suggestion, sir?’ Nikki asked hopefully. ‘Could uniform spare two constables? I was thinking of Yvonne Collins and Niall Farrow. We’ve worked together before, they know exactly how my team operates, and it won’t be for long. Cat was hardly out of theatre and she was asking if she could come back in as a desk jockey.’

  ‘I believe it, although in reality her sick-leave will be considerably longer than that.’

  Not if I can help it, thought Nikki. For Cat’s sake and for our own.

  Rick nodded slowly. ‘I can arrange that for you. I’ll speak to their duty officer.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I’d appreciate it.’ Nikki looked at her old boss and saw his tired, deep-set eyes and the grim droop of his mouth. ‘I bet you’ll be glad when the day arrives when you can hang up your handcuffs, sir.’

  ‘I never thought I’d say it, Nikki, but it can’t come soon enough.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve seen the best years, times when we were looked up to and respected, but now . . . ?’ The shake of the head continued. ‘Policing has changed beyond all recognition. Now young men and women can’t walk down the street and know that they are safe. Those two young officers yesterday were buying cakes, for heaven’s sake. Now one is dead and the other in hospital. No, I’ve got three weeks left and I’m damned glad I’m going.’

  ‘I’ll miss you.’

  Rick smiled at her. ‘At least you don’t need someone to remind you of why we do the job. You have good values, Nikki. Don’t let the budget-jugglers and the civilian administrators knock them out of you. Without tough ‘proper coppers’ like you, the force would disintegrate.’