CAPTIVE ON THE FENS a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Joy Ellis

  ‘Phew! Lucky kid! How about the friend? Is she still at the nightclub?’

  ‘No. Sophie said the girl had a boyfriend in Kings Lynn. She managed to ring him and he came for her. They are probably a hundred miles away by now.’

  ‘Hopefully. Now you take great care driving back. And Cat? Excellent work with that girl.’

  Nikki replaced the receiver and not for the first time, thought how lucky she was to have such a good team.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Greg Woodhall seemed to have made an attempt to clear his desk. Nikki noticed at least two areas where the veneer surface was actually visible.

  ‘Regarding Sophia Kraja,’ she stated, ‘Uniform has already paid a visit to the gang master that employed Sophia and her friend. He’s showed us copies of their documents, they are fake but apparently pretty good, and as the rest of his Eastern European workers are kosher, we are more or less certain he’s not involved. He did see a man hanging around Sophia on a few occasions, just before she told him she had been offered a better job out of the county. The description fits one or two local villains, and the chap is willing to come in and look at some mug shots.’ She turned to the next sheet. ‘Derby has sent us the preliminary forensic report on evidence retrieved from Sophia’s clothing, and they tally exactly with debris found on the skin and clothes of both Fern and Lilli. Professor Wilkinson is coming over shortly to explain his final botanical results, and he’s pretty certain the pollen will give the precise location of the place where the girls were imprisoned. I don’t know how the hell he’s going to do that, but I have great faith in him.’

  ‘Likewise. If I can, I’ll come and listen in to what he says. Let me know when he gets here, will you, Nikki?’

  ‘Certainly, sir, and I’d just like to mention that DC Cat Cullen’s handling of Sophia was exemplary. She has extracted a massive amount of information without traumatising the girl further, and offered her all the right support. It can’t have been easy to get someone who had been so badly treated to cooperate so well.’

  ‘Duly noted, Inspector Galena.’ Greg looked quietly pleased.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  * * *

  While Nikki was leaving Greg Woodhall’s office, three men sat on a threadbare sofa and fumed over the whereabouts of a fourth.

  ‘I got better things to do than hang around here waiting. Where the fuck is he?’

  ‘Dead right. I’m giving him ten more minutes, then I’m off.’

  ‘Oh really, Lenny? You gonna stand the boss up? I don’t think so.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I don’t like it out here. The quiet gives me the jitters. Gimme a bit of traffic noise, a few air brakes and a factory whistle any day. All these trees and darkness, not my cuppa tea at all.’

  ‘So you won’t be buying yourself a nice little peaceful retreat in the country when you retire then, Len?’ That was Ezra’s dream. Country life, far away from the city.

  ‘Bollocks to that! When I’ve made enough dough, the missus and me are off to the sun. My kind of peace comes with the sound of jangling coins in the casino and rattle of anchor chains from them flash yachts in the marina. Ah yes, and people with money to spend and special requirements, and me so happy to supply them.’ The little man leant back on the sofa and showed a row of uneven, mustard-coloured teeth. ‘How about you, Vic? I know you’re still young, but you got plans?’

  The younger man’s teeth were whiter, but the voracious gleam in his eyes was the same. ‘Oh yeah, I got plans.’ He coughed and spat on the floor.

  ‘Come on then, share ’em with us, Vic.’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘What’s so special about you and your screwball ideas that you can’t tell us? We’re your mates.’ Ezra sounded affronted.

  ‘I ain’t got no mates, and you wouldn’t understand, what with you having shit for brains.’

  ‘Why, you little punk! I’ll fu—’

  ‘Pack it in you two! I hear a car coming. He’s here. He’s not gonna be happy, so cool it.’

  Freddie Carver, leaning heavily on a silver-topped cane, limped into the room and glared angrily at the three serious faces in front of him. There were no pleasantries. The deep voice was low and full of menace. ‘I expected better. You’ve let me and my family down, and you know how much I love my family.’ He carefully dusted one of the plastic chairs that faced the sofa, sat down and leant forward. ‘Now, one at a time, I’d like to know exactly what went wrong. It was a perfectly simple job. You first, Lenny.’

  * * *

  Freddie Carver sat for almost half an hour, listening to nothing but bleating and excuses. True these three were the dregs of his organisation, but he still expected results, not a bungled mess. Between them they had caused him a problem, and not one he could easily rectify.

  He peered at the men and wondered if it would be safer all round to waste the lot of them, recruit some new blood, and start again. He would probably be doing the world a favour. Let’s face it, Lenny was loyal but he was past it now, he should have given up years ago. Ezra’s heart wasn’t in it anymore, and that could lead to sloppiness, and Freddie hated sloppiness. Then there was Vic. Vic belonged in a cage. He was volatile, dangerous and devoid of all feeling, which was exactly why Freddie had employed him. Sadly, that was also the problem. The fox-faced son-of-a-bitch psycho was perfectly suited to the work he’d been given. Unless he was willing to spend an inordinate amount of money, finding someone else with Vic’s skills would not be easy.

  He struck the floor with his cane. ‘Okay. I’ve heard enough. Your excuses are a joke. If you want to keep on working for me, I’m going to give the three of you one last chance to make good.’ He smiled lethally. ‘And I do mean “last” chance. Just one more mistake, do I make myself crystal clear?’ He looked at each white face in turn, and decided they were taking this seriously. ‘Now listen carefully. This is what I want you to do.’

  * * *

  ‘A report from my friend the palynologist.’ Rory waved a printout in the air.

  ‘Come again?’ Nikki looked puzzled.

  ‘A specialist in pollen.’ Rory adjusted his glasses and adopted his best pedagogic stance. ‘Did you know that every one of us will die with pollen up our hooters? It is virtually indestructible, and will remain long after the nasal membranes have turned to dust.’ He did a little sprinkling motion with his fingers.

  ‘Really?’ Even Greg Woodhall looked surprised.

  ‘Absolutely. In fact, archaeologists and geologists have used pollen to reconstruct the vegetation of prehistoric eras, which tells you how invasive and hardy those pesky little grains really are.’

  ‘And what does your report tell us exactly?’ Nikki was already impatient.

  The pathologist waxed lyrical. ‘It tells me that Fern and Lilli were held and tortured in a place of great beauty. There were limestone cliffs, carpets of bluebells, dog’s mercury and ransoms, patches of yellow kidney vetch, all sheltered by the Venus of the forest, the ash tree, and the cloudy white blossom of the bird cherry. The hedges surrounding this place are hawthorn and of even more significance, there is a tulip tree with a magnolia close by, which indicates cultivation — a garden or an estate. Our other findings indicate the presence of Jacob’s ladder and the close proximity of animals — horses to be exact. So, I think my report has given you quite a bit to go on, don’t you?’

  * * *

  Nikki walked into the CID room and saw that Cat was back, talking to a vaguely familiar figure. She looked harder, and realised it was Ben Radley, the detective from Derbyshire. He had said he would like to come back with Cat, but she thought he might well have decided to pound across the White Peak with his colleagues, in pursuit of Fern’s killer.

  She had already sent a copy of Rory’s report to Derbyshire and had spoken to the officer in charge. From the man’s keen interest in what she told him, she was pretty sure that half his force would be out hunting for a magnolia and a tulip tree close to a hawthorn hedge. She smiled to hers
elf, wondering how many police officers would recognise a tulip tree if they fell over it. She had suggested, with a wry smile, that the search teams be issued with photographs.

  Judging by the coat and overnight bag over his shoulder, it looked as if he was planning to stay.

  ‘Hello, DC Radley. Hope our Cat was of help to you?’

  The man beamed at her and nodded furiously. ‘Thank you, ma’am. She was fantastic, did a brilliant job with young Sophia Kraja.’

  Nikki wondered what deep and meaningful conversations had taken place between the two of them as they whiled away the night hours beside the girl’s bed.

  ‘You look a little less stressed than when we last spoke, Detective.’

  ‘Ah yes, well, we are finally getting somewhere, ma’am. It was the frustration, knowing some animal was still out there, and the case all but closed.’ He hung his head. ‘I’m still embarrassed about my outburst. I do apologise.’

  ‘Forget it, Ben. Now I suggest you get Cat to show you everything we have at this end. There might be some little nugget of information from the reports on Lilli that would help your team. Oh, and I’m going to free up DC Cullen to act as liaison for the rest of this investigation.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am, I appreciate that. I’ll be going back in the morning. I have a friend en route from Grimsby who is picking me up, so I’ll get done all I can tonight.’ He gave her an almost shy smile. ‘And I will see you again. I owe Cat here a slap-up meal.’

  Cat grinned. ‘Dead right! And you better not forget.’

  He briefly touched Cat’s shoulder. ‘As if! Now, if there is somewhere I could freshen up? Then we can get down to work.’

  ‘I’ll take you,’ Dave offered, and the two men left the room.

  Nikki wondered if she was the only one who knew that Ben could easily have accessed all the information that they had on Lilli directly to his computer. There had to be another reason for his trip to Greenborough, and Nikki was pretty sure she was looking at her now.

  As the door closed, Nikki turned to Cat. ‘Is there anything going on here that I should know about, Caitlin?’

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘Cat?’

  ‘Absolutely not! He’s twice my age!’

  ‘Wrong. He can’t be more than ten years older, and age is irrelevant anyway. Is he still married?’

  ‘Ma’am! Honestly!’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Divorced, actually. His marriage fell to bits after his daughter died.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Nikki saw Cat’s cheeks begin to redden, and decided she’d had enough fun for now. ‘Right. Now I’d like to discuss tulip trees with you.’

  * * *

  Joseph has closed the door to his office, something he rarely did, but he wanted a few quiet moments to look over Gill Mercer’s files on the disappearance of Dina Jarvis. He knew that he should be chasing Freddie Carver, and the last thing he wanted to find in this folder was another dead girl, but even so, something drew him to it like a magnet.

  He read for a while, then sat back and considered the things that Yvonne and Niall had told him. Dina was apparently gregarious, friendly, and had been seen in a steamy clinch with a man. That could describe hundreds of girls in Greenborough, but it did give him an insight into what her naturally exuberant personality might lead to.

  ‘Sarge! That Jarvis bloke is back downstairs, and DI Mercer is in court today. Would you see him, please?’ The young PC was almost begging.

  ‘Playing up again, is he?’ Joseph closed the file and stood up. Perfect timing, even if it did mean taking a load of flak. ‘On my way.’

  In the interview room, Dominic Jarvis had either run out of steam, or decided to take a completely different approach with Joseph.

  ‘Thank you for talking to me, Sergeant.’

  Joseph narrowed his eyes. ‘No problem. In fact I was thinking of calling on you tomorrow.’

  ‘Please do. Come anyway, I do have a pretty comprehensive file on what I suspect happened to Dina.’

  I bet you do, thought Joseph and envisioned boxes of paperwork, newspaper cuttings and computer printouts. ‘So how can I help you today, Mr Jarvis?’

  ‘Well, because you never followed up my information about Dina knowing that Lilli girl, I did a little investigating of my own, and I think I know where they met.’

  Joseph tried not to show it, but he felt a tiny thrill of excitement.

  ‘I think it was when Dina did some temping for a vegetable produce company called Dewflex. She and one or two of the other girls would go to a cocktail bar after work some nights. It was called the Hot Sox. Do you know it?’

  ‘It’s closed now, but yes, it was down Herring Alley.’ Joseph would have called it a sleazy dive rather than a cocktail bar, but who was he to judge? ‘Did Lilli work at Dewflex too?’

  ‘I think so. Dina had a picture taken at a birthday party at the bar, and that’s where I recognised her from.’

  ‘Have you got that picture?’

  ‘Sadly no. I went through all her things last night, but it wasn’t there.’

  ‘Have you kept a lot of Dina’s possessions?’

  ‘Oh, everything, officer. Her room is exactly as she left it. Her clothes are still in her wardrobe and her cupboards. Nothing is touched. It wouldn’t be right, not when . . .’ He stopped.

  Joseph understood. Jessie Nightingale had said the same thing. How could she get rid of his precious things when she didn’t know what had happened to him? Joseph exhaled. ‘Look, Mr Jarvis, this is rather off the record, but I will come and see you tomorrow, and I will look into her disappearance again. Just do me one favour, and keep this to yourself for the time being, okay?’

  Relief suffused the man’s face, and he nodded fast. ‘Yes, of course.’ He stood up. ‘I knew you were different, Sergeant. You know how to listen.’

  You hardly give anyone much opportunity to do anything else, thought Joseph. He thanked Jarvis and showed him out.

  As he walked back up to the CID room, Joseph wondered if he had made a mistake by encouraging Jarvis, but even if he had, he knew he would go anyway. He wanted to see Dina Jarvis’s room.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The man sat at the same table, reading his usual pile of newspapers. The comings and goings in the pub did not interest him, they never did. As he paid for his beer, Maggie flashed him that smile, the one that said, “You’re welcome, because you spend money here, but frankly I wish you didn’t because I don’t like you and I don’t trust you.”

  He didn’t blame her. Although he tried to keep himself clean, he knew that his worn clothes and unfriendly demeanour didn’t make him the best advert for her cosy public house. He looked towards her, and saw she was chatting with a couple of the regulars. Her conspiratorial manner, leaning forward over the damp surface of the bar and half whispering, made him pay attention.

  ‘The police are swarming all over Ashwood Manor. Heaven knows what they are looking for. Bob said they were arriving by the dozen!’

  ‘That’s odd. They were up at the Old Hall at first light this morning. Didn’t stay long, but I saw at least twenty men there.’ The old man, wearing an even older wax jacket, looked puzzled. ‘Can’t have found what they were looking for though, if they’ve moved on to Ashwood Manor.’

  The man’s gut tightened, as if he had been punched hard. The police? Here? His mouth was dry, and he fought back the impulse to run from the bar. They mustn’t find him! Whatever happened, they must not see him. But where could he go? He certainly didn’t dare run away. He took a deep breath, steadied his hand and lifted his glass. He couldn’t let this lot know how worried he was. He needed to think, but he couldn’t do it here. He had to get back and check his lodgings. He had been thorough, but had he been thorough enough? There might be something the police could find. No fingers, that was for sure, but something else maybe?

  He waited five long minutes, then carefully folded the papers and took them to the bar. ‘All yours, Maggie.’

  �
�Thank you, sir. See you tomorrow.’ Her smile was forced.

  Maybe, Maggie, or maybe not.

  * * *

  Just as Joseph was planning on going home, Yvonne and Niall knocked on his office door.

  ‘Sarge? Got a minute?’

  Joseph thought Yvonne looked much too bright for the end of a long shift.

  ‘We’ve got something we think you’ll like.’

  That explained it. ‘Come in, if you can both get into this cupboard.’

  ‘Freddie Carver.’

  ‘Wouldn’t say he was something I liked, but . . . ?’

  ‘We’ve finally got a snout that has inside knowledge of Freddie’s comings and goings.’

  ‘Really? Nice one, you two.’

  ‘The first thing he tells us is that Freddie made a little trip to Derbyshire last week.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘He was too smart to let anyone know exactly what he was up to, but our snout says he drove him to Ashbourne, then Freddie left him there and went on alone. Returned about two hours later, then our guy drove him home.’

  ‘Ashbourne was where Sophia was found! I’m bloody sure he’s involved with those dead girls.’

  ‘Wouldn’t surprise me at all, Sarge, but proving it could be difficult. Have the Derby lot found that geographical location yet?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge, it must be like looking for a needle in a haystack. How many coppers do you know who could identify a tulip tree?’

  ‘None,’ said Niall, ‘and I include myself among them. Oh yes, there is something Vonnie and I have only just unearthed. It may be nothing, but twice a year, regular as clockwork, Freddie leaves his beloved third wife and assorted kids, goes off alone, and stays away overnight. No one knows where he goes, and he has made it very clear that they are never to ask about it.’ Niall stared at Joseph. ‘What does that sound like to you?’

  ‘An anniversary? A duty visit?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s exactly what we thought.’ Niall gave Yvonne a little nudge and she took over.

  ‘We’ve been trying to trace Freddie’s family history. His mother has been brown bread since the late seventies, but I’ll be damned if we can trace his father.’