THE FOURTH FRIEND a gripping crime thriller full of stunning twists

by Joy Ellis

  Marie gave Klink a final cuddle, shook hands with Silas and walked back to her car. ‘Thanks, Carter, for letting me share today!’ she called back.

  ‘There’s no one I’d rather have shared it with. Drive carefully.’

  Marie knew this wasn’t true. He would much rather have shared it with Tom, Matt, Jack and Ray.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  After the hush of the quay, the CID room was a buzz of noise and activity when Marie returned.

  ‘Glad you are back. Where’s Carter?’ Jackman looked behind her.

  ‘I left him on the boat. I guessed you wouldn’t mind. I think he wanted a bit of time to himself. It was all pretty emotional.’

  ‘Best thing all round. We’ve had some developments.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Max and Robbie, along with some uniforms, have gutted the Holland Cottage, and they found a box containing five ponytail wigs and a bag of cheap horn-rimmed glasses. We have had further confirmation from Harvey Cash in Spain that Suzanne was indeed abusive, and he’s prepared to swear to it. So it all puts Tom Holland very much in the frame for his wife’s death.’

  ‘The kind and gentle giant?’ Marie whispered.

  ‘Looks that way. Even the gentlest people can be pushed too far.’ Jackman scratched his head. ‘Let’s get a coffee. I want to tell you something else.’

  They walked along the corridor to the vending machine. For once, the area was quiet.

  ‘That website demanding we do something to find Suzanne’s killer has reared its ugly head again.’ Jackman gave her an exasperated look. ‘It appears they want our cooperation to, as they say, put our side of things. The super told them that it’s an ongoing investigation so we are not at liberty to join in their bunfight. I don’t think it went down too well.’

  ‘It’ll go down even better if they find that we are looking at the dear departed and much loved Tom Holland for her killer.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ He passed her a coffee. ‘My worry is, if it is Tom, or one of the other friends for that matter, how on earth are we going to find her body when all of them but Carter are dead?’

  ‘And he certainly won’t help if we tell him we suspect his best mate, Tom. He honestly believes that Tom will haunt him until he finds Suzanne’s killer. This is not good!’

  ‘And worse, that creep Ralph Doolan is definitely off the hook. His friend, well, his alibi, has surfaced, and swears they were in a Peterborough club that night.’

  ‘Proof?’

  ‘True to form, our Ralphie made a pass at a barmaid. He was thrown out and barred. Apparently it’s on record.’

  ‘Wonderful. Just wonderful.’

  They walked back to the CID room. Rosie told Jackman he had a call, and he hurried off to take it.

  Marie sat down at her desk, wondering where all this was going. Her phone ringing broke into her thoughts.

  ‘Thanks for being there today, Marie.’

  ‘No, thank you, Carter. I felt privileged. And I met a new friend, so that was nice.’

  ‘Silas?’

  ‘Oh, him too. It was Klink I was thinking of.’

  Carter laughed. ‘That really was a first. You have no idea how honoured you are. He can be a devil with strangers.’

  ‘Silas?’

  ‘No! Klink!’

  They both laughed again. For the first time in ages, Carter sounded easy and natural. Getting the Eva May back where she belonged seemed to have calmed him. Before she could say anything more, Rosie hurried over and pushed a scribbled note in front of her.

  She nodded at Rosie and told Carter she’d ring him back.

  ‘Something going down?’ asked Carter.

  ‘Alan Pitt has just rung the DI. He says he’s on his way in to see us. He’s remembered something else.’

  There was a short silence before Carter spoke. ‘Then let’s hope it’s something that will get things moving at last. Keep me up to speed, won’t you? Speak later.’

  Marie hurried over to Jackman. ‘Did he say any more than that?’

  Jackman shook his head. ‘He wants to speak to us privately.’

  ‘Now we know that Ponytail wasn’t Ralph, this could be very interesting.’

  Jackman looked worried. ‘Actually I’m terrified. Aren’t you?’

  * * *

  Sam could not settle. The afternoon was hot, and even an hour in his favourite bird hide failed to hold his attention.

  Sam had retired willingly from a life of research. He had had enough of the academic world, and had chosen instead to become a simple birdwatcher, a lover of wildlife and a gardener. He spent hours watching the visitors to his wild garden feeding, pollinating or simply resting in the shade.

  But now he was back in his office, surrounded once more by books and papers. He had been reluctant to return to the dusty room and the dustier tomes it held. But Sam wanted to be there for Laura Archer.

  She had been his best student, his shining star. Sam had never had children, but if he had, he would have wanted a daughter like Laura. Gradually, he had become a father figure for her, especially since he’d retired and she had embarked on her own career.

  Sam smiled, rather smugly. He was proud to have put her on the right path. She was a very good psychologist, and her work on trauma was already well respected.

  His own field had been memory, in all its different forms. It had fascinated him since his schooldays, and although he was now more involved with social communication among starlings, it still did.

  Sam thought about his meeting with the infamous Carter. It had left him confused.

  He now understood a little of Laura’s problem. Without a doubt, Carter was a very charismatic man, even in his agitated state. He exhibited both strength and weakness at the same time. The look in his eyes pleaded for your help, and then he withdrew and locked you out.

  Sam Page, Professor of Psychology at University College, London, Fellow of the British Psychological Society, and highly respected author of over 600 scientific papers found himself totally at a loss.

  Laura had said she was missing something, and now he knew exactly what she meant.

  He was also pretty sure that it would be up to him to find out what that something was. With a grunt of annoyance, he went back to his studies.

  * * *

  Jackman and Marie tried hard to appear calm, but the interview room almost crackled with nervous tension.

  ‘I woke up very early, around four, and found myself thinking back to the night that woman went missing.’

  Jackman knew they shouldn’t hurry Alan, but he desperately wanted him to get to the point.

  ‘I remember walking along the towpath worrying about my dog. If I were to die, I mean. I knew my wife would look after him, but I do all the walking, and he needs his walks.’ He paused. ‘That was when I realised I wasn’t alone.’

  ‘The man with the ponytail and another man,’ Marie prompted.

  ‘Yes, and then I remembered what one of them said — well, some of it anyway.’

  Jackman leaned forward.

  ‘I heard him mention a name. Not a person’s name . . .’

  Jackman stifled a curse.

  ‘It was a place name. Amsterdam.’

  Jackman straightened in his chair. He felt Marie tense beside him. ‘What about Amsterdam?’

  ‘One of them said, “And we must still go to Amsterdam.” Then the other seemed to remonstrate with him, hence the heated conversation. That was when I decided to slope off.’ He looked at them apologetically. ‘I’m sorry it’s no more than that, but I suppose it might help?’

  Jackman wasn’t sure if help was the right word, but it certainly pointed in a very definite direction. The five friends were going to Amsterdam.

  ‘I’m sure I didn’t dream it,’ Alan went on. ‘Does it mean anything to you?’

  ‘Thank you, Alan. We can’t say anything at this time, as I’m sure you will understand, but you have certainly helped us narrow down the field.’

  After Alan P
itt left, Jackman and Marie sat on in the interview room, each worrying over what they had just heard.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Marie asked.

  Jackman looked hard at her. ‘Do what we should have done a long time ago. Stop trying to be kind, and interview Carter.’

  * * *

  ‘His phone is not picking up, sir.’ Marie stared at her own phone for a moment before ending the failed call. ‘Maybe he’s working on the boat.’

  ‘Is there a signal out there?’ asked Jackman.

  ‘Fairly good one, considering where it is.’ She looked at him anxiously. ‘Shall I go and look for him?’

  Jackman shook his head. ‘Now I think about it, maybe tomorrow will be better. It will give me time to work out what to ask him, instead of wading in, all guns blazing. We’ll talk to him first thing in the morning.’

  Marie had to make do with that, although she was very worried about Carter being out of contact. She returned to her desk and began, yet again, to go over the sequence of events.

  ‘Robbie, got a moment?’

  ‘Sure, what’s the problem?’

  ‘You know more than me about what happens in an abusive relationship. We know that Tom Holland left the marital home to stay with Ray, but if Suzanne had contacted him, would he have gone back, even after he had made the break?’

  ‘Like a shot, Sarge. I can’t tell you how many times my friend went running back when she called him. It was horrible. From the outside you could see exactly what she was doing, but all he could say was, “She’s sorry for what she’s done. She swears it will never happen again.”

  ‘But it did.’

  ‘Every time. And it got worse.’

  ‘Why do they go back?’ Marie could not get her head around it.

  Robbie leaned against her desk. ‘It’s like Stockholm Syndrome. The victim identifies with the aggressor and even goes so far as to defend her behaviour.’ He shrugged. ‘My mate was totally controlled by his girlfriend.’

  ‘So, even though Tom was supposedly out of the picture when Suzanne went missing, in fact she could have called him, and he’d have gone back.’

  ‘I would swear that if she said she wanted to talk, said she missed him, she loved him and all that, he would have gone.’

  ‘But he never talked to Carter about his problems,’ she mused. ‘I find that odd.’

  ‘Shame, guilt — and would you confide in a copper?’

  ‘I would confide in Carter. I mean, they were so close, more like brothers.’ She thought for a moment. ‘So why ring Ray?’

  ‘Because Carter was working a case. Tom couldn’t have gone to him. Something about being on obo, I think. He just wasn’t there.’

  Marie didn’t like what was going through her mind. She would have to check it out. Where exactly was Carter when Tom ran away from home? There would be an incident log of whatever case he was on, and it would also be in his detective’s diary. He would have to hand it over if requested, but she wondered if she could look at it without his knowing. Even if she couldn’t, Jackman might be able to check what cases were running at the time. ‘Thanks, Rob, and by the way, what happened to your friend?’

  ‘He died of an overdose.’

  ‘Oh my God! I’m so sorry.’ Marie felt terrible. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘It was ten years ago now, Sarge. It was recorded as an accidental death, but she killed him alright. Slowly. Until he couldn’t take any more.’ He looked at her intently. ‘If you ever come across one of these women, Marie, don’t be fooled. They don’t want help — they don’t think they need it. Abusive personality types are bullies, narcissists and psychopaths. Believe me, I know.’

  ‘And Suzanne fitted that definition?’

  ‘Read Harvey Cash’s statement. There’s little doubt.’

  Marie thanked Robbie and went off to find Jackman.

  She told him what Robbie had said to her. Jackman said, ‘I know exactly what case Carter was on, and so do you. At the time, he was with the drug squad on the Heron Bank job.’

  Marie threw up her hands, ‘Of course! The big cocaine haul from that fishing boat!’

  ‘Carter worked mainly with DC Rusty Gates on that. It did entail hours of surveillance.’ Jackman pursed his lips. ‘I could get hold of Rusty. He’s working as a civilian now out of Peterborough. His diary could tell us where Carter was.’

  ‘I hate to be doing this, sir. I really just want to be sure in my own mind that Carter is telling the truth. In my heart, I don’t believe for one minute that Carter is lying, but . . .’ Marie sighed deeply.

  Jackman’s voice was full of compassion. ‘I know, Marie. This is hell for you, isn’t it?’

  ‘It isn’t good, sir.’ She swallowed. ‘God, I know he’s been a chancer and at times he’s bent the rules out of all recognition, but he’s always been on the right side, if you know what I mean. He’s made some staggering arrests and cleaned some serious shit off our streets. He’s not bad, he’s just . . .’

  Jackman gave her a rueful smile. ‘He’s just unconventional. Sadly, that does not always go down well with our senior officers, or the hierarchy that we now have to operate under.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s getting late. Get off home, Marie. We’ll tackle this in the morning, okay?’

  Marie decided that for once, she wasn’t going to argue.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  At around two thirty in the morning, Sam Page heard a hedgehog grunting. He got up, pushed his feet into his slippers and padded to the bathroom.

  The hedgehog wake-up call was becoming a nightly occurrence. He was pretty sure they had set up home under some garden trimmings that he had set aside for a bonfire.

  Halfway along the hall, Sam froze.

  Bonfire! Burning!

  He hurried back to his room and found his dressing gown. Then he went to his office.

  An hour later he had a list of questions and several bulletpoint references scribbled on a sheet of paper. He was pretty sure he would not be able to sleep again. His brain was firing on all cylinders and he couldn’t slow it down. He went to the kitchen, made a hot drink and sat in his favourite chair looking out over the garden, and waited for the dawn. He had a feeling that no matter how early he rang her, Laura would be pleased to hear from him. Especially as he believed he had made that vital connection, the one that had evaded her for so long. That thing she said was missing.

  * * *

  Marie’s phone rang at 3 a.m., and for the first time ever, she decided not to answer it. Then her conscience kicked in. ‘Marie Evans.’

  ‘Hi. I know I promised not to do this to you again, but . . .’

  ‘Carter? You do know what time it is?’

  ‘Mmm, but this time I really need to talk to you.’

  Marie caught something in his voice. She sat up and pushed the duvet back. ‘What’s wrong?’

  She heard an intake of breath. ‘I have to tell you something, Marie, and then I have to ask you a favour.’

  ‘Well, at least I know you can’t be asking for money, so go ahead.’ She meant to sound upbeat, but she was anything but.

  ‘I’m not proud of what I’m going to tell you, but I need to tell someone, and who else would I talk to?’

  ‘Me, but I’m not sure I want to hear it.’

  Carter was silent for a moment. ‘I’ve done something terrible.’

  Marie felt the tension build inside her.

  ‘I’m going to tell you what I’ve done, and try and explain why, then ask you the favour. And, Marie, I won’t ask anything of you that isn’t strictly above board. I want to tell you the truth. Then you must tell the authorities.’

  ‘You’re scaring me.’

  ‘I scare myself sometimes.’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘But here goes. You know that as soon as I got back to full duties, I desperately wanted to get onto the Holland case. Then we had the trouble with Leah, so that put paid to that for a while.’ He took a breath. ‘What I have to tell you is that it was me who pai
d Danny Hurley to take the flowers, the chocolates, and the cards and all that shit.’

  ‘What?’ Marie yelped.

  ‘I wanted to cause a furore, so that the team would be overstretched and I would be brought onto the Holland case. But it totally backfired on me. I never dreamed in a million years that Ruth Crooke would ask me to help her!’

  ‘I don’t understand, Carter. You put her through hell!’

  ‘Which is exactly what she’s done to me for most of my working life! She’s held me back and made sure that I never get promotion. After the accident, she almost had me pensioned off. I wanted to get my own back and make her suffer. But never, never once did I think Leah was in danger. I swear I never knew that Danny was obsessive.’

  ‘That’s why you were so bloody sure it was a storm in a tea cup! And . . .’ The penny dropped. ‘That’s how you caught him out!’

  ‘It was touch and go, Marie. I nearly shat myself when I found out what he was up to.’

  ‘So it wasn’t Cannon family retribution?’

  ‘Sorry, it was just me.’

  ‘And your old headmaster? Sidney?’

  ‘Paid him to cover up for me.’

  Marie saw Carter leaning over the older man, whispering in his ear, and handing him a bundle of notes. A lot of notes, too many for a simple bit of info from the streets.

  Marie exploded. ‘You lying bastard! Do you know, I can almost appreciate your twisted thinking. But you’ve spent days lying your head off and playing me like a bloody violin! That’s the bit that fucking hurts, Carter!’

  ‘I’m sorry. Truly I am.’

  ‘Oh good! That makes it all better, doesn’t it?’ Marie didn’t think she’d ever been so angry.

  ‘I wanted to tell you, but then it went so badly wrong. I was shocked to the core, and scared stiff.’

  ‘That kid could have finished up dead, all because of your bloody games,’ she snarled.

  ‘Don’t you think I know that? I’ve thought of nothing else.’

  ‘How could you be so stupid?’ Already, the fire was dying. ‘And lie to me that way?’

  ‘That’s what I hated most. It was unforgivable.’

  ‘Yes, it was.’ She exhaled. ‘And now you have the gall to say you want a favour? I don’t think so. I’ve had it with you, Carter. I thought I knew you. Well, I certainly don’t know what’s going on inside your head.’