Kennedy 01 - Into the Shadows

by Shirley Wells

‘Do you want another?’ he asked. He was tempted to drink himself to oblivion.

  “I don’t. And you’ll be out of a job if you don’t stop drinking, Max.’

  “I don’t drink much. Really, I don’t,’ he insisted at her raised eyebrows. “I have a Scotch, maybe two, when I get home at night. That’s nothing.’

  ‘When’s your next assessment due?’

  ‘In about nine months’ time,’ he replied, ‘and before you ask, the last one was fine. I’m perfectly fit and, despite living in this madhouse, mentally stable. An ideal man for the job.’

  ‘That’s good then,’ she said in her “I can’t be bothered to argue’ voice.

  She walked over to Holly, who was still lying with her head on her paws. A car drove past and she pricked up her ears, but she soon flattened them again.

  ‘In the morning,’ Jill whispered, stroking those flattened ears, ‘I’ll cook sausages and bacon. We’ll see if that tempts you, eh? If not, I’ll go out at lunchtime and buy you a good, thick steak.’

  Max had thought she was determined to return to her cottage tomorrow. He wouldn’t raise the issue, though.

  The longer she stayed here, the better he liked it - for a variety of reasons.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Jill had walked down to The Weaver’s Retreat, but now, faced with the prospect of going back to the cottage alone, she was wishing she hadn’t.

  A group of them had been sitting at a large table by the fire for an hour. Tony and Liz Hutchinson were managing to be pleasant to everyone else and to one another, although Liz was knocking back the vodka and Jill guessed that would cause problems before too long. Andy Collins was there; he’d had a fair amount to drink, too. Bob Murphy was nursing the same pint he’d bought shortly after Jill arrived. While Andy was talking a lot, Bob seemed happier to listen.

  They were a genial bunch, and there was a lot of laughter around the table.

  Perhaps Tony and Liz would get a taxi. Liz wouldn’t be able to walk far in her heels, and her coat was more fashionable than windproof. If that were the case, perhaps Jill could share a taxi and invite them inside for a drink.

  Tony was sure to be easily persuaded. The prospect relaxed her slightly.

  The cottage was under surveillance, yet she knew it couldn’t be watched every second of every hour.

  Talk, unsurprisingly, soon returned to Jim Brody.

  ‘You couldn’t meet a nicer chap,’ Andy said for at least the tenth time.

  ‘For a thief and a murderer,’ Tony said, grinning. He sobered immediately. ‘Sorry, bad taste. I’m a bit annoyed with him because he stole my gun and got me into all sorts of trouble with the police. But yes, Jim always seemed a good enough sort.’ He looked at Bob. ‘You built that extension of his, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, and he was a pleasure to work for. He didn’t mess you about like some do. They’ll tell you what they want doing, and then change their mind fifty times mid-job. Jim left me alone to get on with it. He knew his own mind, did Jim. And he was a good payer.’

  ‘Molly Turnbull says she always suspected him and Alice of having an affair,’ Liz put in, ‘but I think she’s talking with the benefit of hindsight. I can’t imagine Molly keeping something like that to herself. And why did none of us know about it?’

  ‘Even Olive Prendergast didn’t know,’ Tony said, chuckling.

  ‘What gets me/ Bob said, ‘is that we all sat and listened to Jon’s sermons. I can’t believe he could stand in his pulpit one day and kill his wife the next.’

  ‘That’s what I can’t believe,’ Liz agreed. ‘Vicars, doctors - they simply aren’t killers.’

  ‘It just proves that anyone can kill if provoked,’ Bob said.

  ‘Do you think so?’ Jill asked curiously.

  ‘Well, yes, I reckon.’ He didn’t seem so sure now.

  An icy draught hit them as the door opened, and Jill was amazed to see Don Cornwall walk up to the bar and order a glass of orange juice.

  ‘Don!’ She got to her feet, albeit reluctantly. What the devil was he doing here? ‘Come and join us.’

  He put up his hand in acknowledgement.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she said to the others. ‘Don’s a policeman. I’ve been doing some work with him lately.’

  ‘The more the merrier,’ Liz said. ‘Besides,’ she added to Jill in a stage whisper, ‘he’s got a really cute bum.’

  Jill spluttered with laughter. “I can’t say I’ve noticed.’

  Yet she had noticed how Cornwall cared about his appearance, and she’d noticed a few females give him admiring glances. And yes, the suits he wore did show off a good body.

  ‘The very chap,’ Tony told Don Cornwall as soon as everyone had been introduced. ‘We’re a bit divided here.

  Doctors, vicars, and the like - we don’t believe they’re killers. Bob, here, thinks anyone could kill if provoked.

  What do you think?’

  ‘Are you a detective?’ Liz asked before he had a chance to reply.

  “I am, yes.’

  ‘So do you think anyone could be a killer?’ Tony persisted.

  “I suppose so, yes,’ Cornwall said, having considered the matter. ‘Any idiot could poison someone. It’s easy enough to fix the brakes on a person’s car, too. And so long as you’re not squeamish, you could shoot someone. Any fool can pull a trigger.’

  ‘That’s just the mechanics, though/ Tony pointed out.

  ‘What about mentally? Do you think anyone is capable of taking someone else’s life?’

  ‘Probably. Yes,’ Cornwall said. ‘Most wouldn’t have the brains to get away with it, though.’

  ‘Getting away with it is a different matter altogether,’

  Bob said. ‘Few get away with it. Jim Brody didn’t.’

  ‘It’s not just reading a police procedural and learning about forensics/ Cornwall went on, ‘it’s having the intelligence to think things through carefully, to act methodically, and put that knowledge into practice.’

  ‘God, what creepy talk,’ Liz said, pulling a face. ‘Let’s talk about something more cheerful or we’ll all be having nightmares. Let’s have another drink, Tony’

  Jill couldn’t have agreed more.

  ‘What are you doing out here anyway, Don?’ she asked curiously.

  “I was passing through,’ he replied, cagily Jill thought, ‘and thought I’d stop for a drink.’

  What did that mean? There was no need for him to be in Kelton Bridge at all.

  She knew she was bordering on paranoia now but, in the morning, she was going to have a good look at Cornwall’s police assessment record. He couldn’t - No, she’d had too much to drink and her imagination had gone into overdrive.

  Don Cornwall was a lot of things, but he couldn’t be a killer.

  She knew very little about him. He wasn’t married, he’d lived in Newcastle-upon-Tyne for years but had applied for a transfer. When Jill had asked how he knew the area, he’d said, “I used to have family round here.’ She hadn’t pressed the matter, and he hadn’t elucidated. He had a strange admiration for murderers who could get the better of the police. And, of course, he also had inside knowledge of forensic procedures.

  But, no. Cornwall couldn’t have killed Anne Levington and the others. He couldn’t have put those red roses on her kitchen table.

  ‘So what’s the perfect murder weapon, Don?’ Tony mused. ‘Poison? A bath of acid?’

  ‘You’ll have to leave me out of this debate/ Bob said, laughing. ‘Some of us have an early start in the morning.’

  “Me, too,’ Jill said with undue haste. “I don’t suppose I can beg a lift, can I, Bob?’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied immediately, ‘so long as you don’t mind the van. It’s filthy.’

  Jill didn’t mind at all, and it wasn’t as dirty as she’d feared. It also meant she could ask Bob to hang around while she went inside her cottage for the set of drawings she wanted to give him.

  “I reckon Sherlock
Holmes and Dr Watson will be there till throwing-out time,’ Bob remarked with amusement as he drove them along Pennine View.

  ‘Not the most cheerful of subjects, was it?’

  “I hope Liz isn’t paying too much attention. If Tony comes up with the perfect murder, she might just put it into practice.’ He gave her a sideways glance. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t funny. Not with poor old Jim locked up in a cell.’

  ‘Dreadful thought that, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is,’ he agreed, slowing the van to a stop by Jill’s drive.

  ‘Will you come in for a minute, Bob? A coffee or something?

  I’d like to give you those plans.’

  ‘OK. Yes, thanks.’ He killed the engine. ‘A quick coffee would be good, although I really do have an early start in the morning.’

  ‘Oh? Busy?’ she asked, as she took her keys from her bag and let them into the cottage.

  ‘I’m having a couple of days in Dublin. A chap who used to work for me lives over there now and I’ve been promising to visit for a couple of years.’

  ‘Very nice.’

  ‘Had any winners lately?’ he asked, following her into the kitchen.

  ‘Nothing spectacular,’ she told him with a laugh, ‘although I did have a couple of quid on Son of Sailor and that raced well. Not a very good price, though.’

  She put the kettle on while he looked through the drawings.

  ‘Nothing too difficult here,’ he said, folding them and putting them back in the envelope, ‘and it should make a difference to this place. It’s a nice cottage - lovely spot.’

  ‘People always tell me it’s too remote,’ Jill said, handing him a cup of coffee, ‘but I like it. It’s good for the cats, too.

  I wouldn’t want to be too near a main road.’

  There was no sign of her cats at the moment. It had rained earlier so it was good mousing weather.

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ he said curiously, smiling, ‘how come the celebrated psychologist spends half her time in the bookies?’

  She laughed at that. ‘Ah, it’s terrible for my image, isn’t it? All my father’s fault. As a kid, I hung around while he was choosing horses to back, and then I’d be as excited as can be waiting for the results to come through. My mother, of course, was horrified. Let’s take our coffee into the sitting room/ she suggested, changing the subject. ‘It’s warmer in there …’

  She didn’t want to think about her mum right now. The surgeon had found a tumour, a benign tumour, thank God, and had removed it. Mum still wasn’t well, though. Jill was convinced she was keeping something from them.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Jill had only been in the office for an hour, and twice Cornwall had asked if she was OK.

  ‘You seem a bit tense and jumpy,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ She gave him a smile. ‘No, just tired probably.

  I sat up reading until late last night.’ In truth, she’d spent the night wondering about him. She was determined to get hold of his career details.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ she added. “I need to go and see Max about something.’

  She was surprised to find Max sitting at a clear desk, and then she saw the leaning towers of paperwork on the floor.

  ‘Filing?’ she asked, and he smiled.

  “I wish I could file the lot in the bin. So what brings you here?’

  ‘I’d like a word with you sometime. Not here, though.’

  He frowned. ‘What’s up?’

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want to discuss it in the building.’

  He was surprised, but he didn’t comment. “I can grab an early lunch. Say an hour?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Meet me in the car park in an hour then.’

  Feeling better, and guessing she was getting everything out of proportion, she went back to her office.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Cornwall asked again.

  ‘You’re not going down with something, are you? Several people have been off with this flu thing.’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. Really.’ She knew she had to tell him something. ‘It’s personal. I’ve agreed to have lunch with Max and I’m not sure I’ve done the right thing. I don’t like mixing business and pleasure.’

  ‘Ah.’ That was all he needed to know. ‘You and Max used to have a thing going, didn’t you? Lived together, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, we did.’

  ‘It always ends in tears/ he said briskly. ‘Business and pleasure never mix well.’

  ‘Do you speak from experience?’ Jill asked.

  ‘Only other people’s.’

  Max already had the engine running when Jill arrived in the car park, and she climbed in, grateful for the car’s warmth.

  He drove them a mile or so away, parked the car and then turned in his seat to look at her. ‘So what’s the problem?’

  There were so many problems, she didn’t know where to start. ‘God, how long have you got?’ she asked with a smile. ‘I’ve lost all confidence I ever had, haven’t I?’ she murmured. “I used to be good at offender profiling, but not any more.’

  ‘You’re still good,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘but yes, you’ve lost confidence. You know how you feel, but you’re too scared to say so because of what happened to Hill. There are dozens of blokes out there who fitted your profile, Jill, and we would have arrested any one of them who’d been with the murdered girl.’

  “I know that.’

  ‘What’s really bugging you?’

  ‘Don Cornwall/ she said softly.

  She told him how he’d come into the pub last night, and how he and Tony had talked of the perfect murder.

  ‘And what the devil was he doing in Kelton anyway?’ she asked. ‘He said he was just passing, but that was crap.

  I don’t trust him, Max. I want to know something of his background.’

  Max thought for a moment. “I don’t know much about him,’ he admitted. “I do know that he applied to come here about five, maybe six years ago.’

  Her eyes widened at that.

  ‘Jill, he might be a lot of things, but he’s no killer. He’s bright, he’s doing well. He’ll be Chief Constable one of these days.’

  ‘He’s not popular,’ she pointed out.

  “I know.’

  ‘Mind you, that might be just his way. He’s very anti-me because he thinks I go running to you with any information I might have. He still hasn’t forgiven me for going to see Janie Fisher with you. It’s a clash of wills, I suppose.

  He thinks I’m holding out on him and I’m convinced he’s holding out on me.’

  “I’ll see what I can dig out,’ Max promised.

  ‘Thanks.’

  He gazed at her for several moments. ‘So are you all right back at your cottage?’ he asked at last.

  ‘Fine.’ The reply was automatic. ‘Well, it’s OK,’ she said carefully. ‘Last night, I was going to get a taxi home with Tony Hutchinson ‘

  Max’s eyebrows shot up at that.

  ‘And his wife,’ she added. ‘Tony’s a show-off and a general pain, but he’s not a killer. And yes,’ she added with a rueful smile, “I am sure of that.’

  ‘Killer or not, Jill, don’t spend any time alone with him. OK?’

  “I didn’t,’ she explained. ‘As it turned out, I cadged a lift with Bob Murphy’

  ‘Good. Keep away from Hutchinson. I mean it.’

  Max fired the engine, but didn’t drive off. ‘Hey, try to relax/ he said. ‘Your place is as safe as anything now.’ He gestured to a building across the road. ‘Do you fancy a coffee?’

  ‘Please.’

  He was right; she must try and relax. It wasn’t only Don Cornwall, though, and the delivery of those roses. What worried her more than that was that she’d lost the ability to do her job. OK, so she hadn’t wanted to return to the job, but she had been good at it. Now, a kid of five could make as much progress as she had. Before Hill was arrested, she’d felt as if sh
e actually knew Valentine. She had truly believed that if they’d met in the street, she would have recognized him. Now, she couldn’t get into his mind at all …

  On the way home that afternoon, Jill stopped at Ella’s bungalow.

  As soon as Ella opened the door, Jill was treated to a broad smile, but there was no mistaking that Ella had been crying.

  “I heard Tom had gone into hospital,’ Jill explained, ‘and I thought I’d call round to see if there was anything I could do.’

  ‘Bless you. Come in, Jill, come in.’

  ‘How is he?’ she asked. ‘And what exactly is wrong?’

  Ella automatically headed for the kitchen, but Jill’s words stopped her in the doorway.

  ‘He’s sworn me to secrecy,’ Ella said with a sad smile.

  ‘He doesn’t want any fuss so -‘ She swallowed hard. ‘So if you hear he has terminal cancer, you didn’t hear it from me.’

  ‘Oh, Ella, no.’ Jill could have sat and wept with her.

  She’d only met Tom once, but even if she hadn’t, she would have known just how much he meant to Ella. He was responsible for Ella’s happiness, for her acceptance of life’s knocks, for her sense of fun.

  ‘Ella,’ she said again. ‘I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.’

  After the scare with her mum, and Jill still wasn’t sure all was well there, she knew just how terrifying the c-word was.

  ‘Don’t you start,’ Ella warned, ‘or we’ll both be in tears.

  Seriously,’ she added, “I haven’t told a soul except you.’

  Jill felt honoured, and touched. It was funny how she’d hit it off with Ella.

  ‘And all I’ve been doing,’ Ella said, ‘is going through our old wedding photos. Do you want to look?’

  Jill hadn’t planned on stopping, but she couldn’t refuse now. Her own plans for the evening were very trivial compared to poor Ella’s worries.

  ‘I’d love to.’

  They went and sat in the sitting room where a couple of photograph albums lay on the table.

  ‘Everyone has their own problems,’ Ella said briskly as she opened one of the large albums, ‘so I shouldn’t complain.

  I’ve had a good life with Tom.’