Strange Blood

by Lindsay Jayne Ashford

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well if you’d tried to follow her yourself she’d have done a disappearing act, wouldn’t she? She certainly wouldn’t have gone straight to her car.’

  ‘Hmm, I suppose you’re right.’ Delva rested her elbows on the table, clasping her hands under her chin as she looked at Megan. ‘Anyway, what did you make of her?’

  ‘Hard to say, really. What did the photo look like?’

  ‘Well she said it was taken at a party. Tessa Ledbury was on a big sofa with a man each side of her and a couple of other people leaning over the back pulling silly faces. The one she called Raven definitely had his hand on Tessa’s knee but I suppose he could have just been fooling around.’

  ‘But she said she had other photos that were more explicit?’

  Delva nodded.

  ‘Did she mention whether this affair was supposed to have been going on when Tessa died? I didn’t catch what she said when she first came in.’

  ‘She said Tessa ended it about a year ago but she reckoned this Raven character was out for revenge.’

  ‘Well,’ Megan said, taking a sip of coffee, ‘If Tessa did have an affair the police need to know. It doesn’t necessarily mean her lover was the killer, though.’

  ‘So what do you think we should do?’

  ‘Give that car registration number to Steve Foy. I don’t particularly want him to know I was in on this, so would you mind doing it?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Delva took the piece of paper Megan pushed across the table.

  ‘The police can check the guy out. I hope for his sake he’s got a decent alibi for last Thursday. What did he look like, by the way?’

  ‘Well he was white, about mid-forties, shoulder length grey hair, slim,’ Delva shrugged. ‘Very intense eyes. Not bad looking, actually.’

  ‘Did you notice a wedding ring?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Delva screwed up her eyes, concentrating. ‘No. I think it was his right hand on her knee, anyway. Why, is it significant?’

  ‘Only from the point of view of his wife, if he’s got one,’ Megan said. ‘Like I said last night, I’m not convinced Tessa Ledbury was murdered by an ex-lover or anyone else she was close to, but I have to be sure of my facts. So while the police are tracking down that red Fiesta I’m going to go back to the house to dig around a bit more.’

  Delva said nothing, staring at the cloud of steam rising from her mug of hot chocolate. There was a faraway look in her eyes.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Megan asked. ‘Do you think Des is going to be pissed off about you not getting the story?’

  ‘Oh no, it’s not that,’ Delva said. ‘I just can’t help thinking about what this is going to do to Richard Ledbury. Poor sod’s been through enough already without finding out his wife was having an affair.’

  ‘He might already know,’ Megan said. ‘Tessa might have confessed when she broke it off.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you could be right.’ Delva cupped her hands around the hot drink as if she were trying to warm herself. ‘But wouldn’t he have told the police?’

  ‘Not necessarily. If he forgave her for the affair he might not want to admit the possibility that the murder had anything to do with her ex-lover. He could be in a state of denial about the whole thing and if he is the grief over her death would just compound it.’

  ‘Yes, I see what you mean.’ Delva raised the mug to her lips and drank mechanically, her eyes fixed on the tablecloth. ‘The way he went on about her when I was interviewing him, it was as if she was some sort of saint. It made me feel quite envious, actually. I was thinking what a fantastic relationship they must have had and wondering how come I never get to meet guys like that.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Megan drained her cup. A short time ago she would have empathised wholeheartedly with that sentiment. But now was not the time to tell Delva about Patrick. She pushed her cup and saucer aside. ‘It doesn’t sit very easily with all this Sunday school teacher stuff, does it?’ she said.

  ‘No.’ Delva leaned back in her chair. ‘Supposing he doesn’t know,’ she said, thinking aloud, ‘If the police track down the lover and find out he’s got a cast-iron alibi, would they still tell him, do you think?’

  ‘They’d have to.’ Megan shrugged.

  ‘Then it’ll be my fault.’ Delva’s voice was almost a whisper.

  ‘Your fault? Why on earth do you say that?’

  ‘Because if I hadn’t agreed to meet that stupid woman none of it would have come out.’

  ‘You know that’s not true!’ Megan shook her head. ‘I was listening to her, Delva, she’s lowlife! If you’d said no she’d have gone to someone else. The police would have got to hear about it sooner or later.’

  Delva sighed, pressing her lips into a thin line. ‘And it’s better for him to be told by some sympathetic policewoman than to see it splashed across the front of one of the tabloids,’ Megan went on. ‘In fact you’ve probably done Richard Ledbury a big favour handling it the way you did.’ Megan sat back and folded her arms. ‘Listen, if you want I’ll phone Steve Foy. I’ll tell him you phoned me first because you weren’t sure what to make of her.’

  ‘No, it’s okay, I’ll do it,’ Delva said. ‘There’s something I want to ask him anyway.’

  Megan looked at her.

  ‘I want to know where Richard’s staying so I can send some flowers.’

  Megan started to say something but thought better of it. ‘Delva,’ she said instead, ‘Let me know what Steve says – about the woman, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, right, yes.’ Delva was in another world. She stood up and reached for her coat. ‘I’ll phone you later then, okay?’

  Megan watched her walk off across the precinct. ‘Don’t get involved, Delva.’ She whispered the words like a prayer.

  *

  The net curtains left a gap at the bottom of the window. Easy to watch the passers by. There was a foot. A shapely leg in sheer black tights. Or stockings? Shifting the net inch by inch revealed more. Travelling upwards from the legs, a tight-fitting skirt. Too tight. A bulge where the stomach squeezed over the waistband. A T-shirt that showed the ridges where the bra dug into the skin. Her breasts wobbled as she walked, hair blowing over her face. That familiar feeling. Blood rushing, buzzing in the ears. She was the one.

  Chapter 5

  ‘Auntie Megan!’ Emily flew along the hallway like a miniature tornado.

  ‘Hello monkey!’ Megan limped into the house with Emily clinging to her right leg. ‘Where’s your baby brother?’

  ‘He’s asleep!’ Ceri’s head appeared round the kitchen door. She was a slightly shorter, paler-skinned version of Megan. Her dark hair was cut in a sleek bob which revealed silver hoop earrings. The nose stud she had once worn was long-abandoned.

  ‘Oh, I thought he might be – good job I didn’t ring the bell, then.’ Megan replaced Ceri’s door key in her bag. Her sister had told her to use it any time she called round but she only really felt comfortable about letting herself in unannounced when she knew Neil wasn’t going to be there.

  ‘Would you like a coffee? I’ve just put the kettle on.’ Ceri took off the rubber gloves she was wearing and tossed them into a cupboard under the sink. ‘I’ve just managed to get the house straight. Wednesday is my housework day now. Did I tell you they asked me to do another morning at Pendleton?’

  ‘No. Since when?’ Megan perched on a high stool, hoisting Emily onto her lap.

  ‘Last week. One of the lecturers has gone in for an emergency hysterectomy and she won’t be coming back until September. I’m doing Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays now.’ Ceri poured hot water into two mugs and handed Emily a beaker of juice.

  ‘Is it the same hours?’ Megan grabbed a piece of kitchen roll and held it under Emily’s chin as she tipped the beaker almost vertically into her mouth.

  ‘Yes, nine ‘til eleven. Neil’s going to look after the kids when he’s on a late shift, otherwise they’ll go to Pendleton nursery.’

  ‘
Is that the one by the school?’ Megan felt a stab of anxiety.

  ‘Yes – I was lucky to get in. Most of the nurseries round here have got waiting lists.’ She opened a tin of biscuits and offered Megan one.

  ‘No thanks. I really pigged out in Dublin.’

  ‘Aah yes, Dublin!’ Ceri’s eyebrows wiggled up and down. ‘Emily, why don’t you go and put Cinderella on the video?’

  ‘I want to play with Auntie Megan.’ Emily’s mouth turned down and a little frown line appeared above her nose.

  ‘I’ll come and play with you in a minute, I promise,’ Megan said. ‘I’ve just got to tell Mummy a story first. A story for grown-ups. Then it’ll be your turn.’

  *

  ‘So how old is he, then?’ Ceri was on her way upstairs in answer to a wail from the baby. Megan followed her.

  ‘Have a guess.’

  ‘Well if he’s one of your PhD students, I suppose he could be as young as twenty-two. Your auntie’s a wicked woman, isn’t she Joe?’ Ceri lifted the baby out of his cot and handed him to Megan.

  ‘Bloody hell, Ceri, I’m not a cradle snatcher!’ she protested, stroking Joe’s blond, downy hair. ‘He’s only five years younger than me, actually. And he’s not my PhD student – he changed supervisors before we got together.’ She felt as if she was rehearsing for next week’s interrogation. ‘He spent ten years with the Dutch police before coming to Heartland.’

  ‘Hang on, I’m confused. He took you to see his relatives in Dublin, but he was in the Dutch police?’

  ‘Yes, it is confusing. His Mum’s Irish and his Dad’s Dutch. He lived in Dublin till he was ten, then they moved back to Holland.’

  ‘And he’s single? No complications?’

  ‘Only by the skin of his teeth.’ Megan shifted Joe onto her hip, rocking him gently. ‘He was engaged to a girl in Holland before he came to Heartland, but he broke it off.’

  Ceri’s eyes widened. ‘Wow! Must be serious about you then?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ Megan laughed off the remark. Past experience had made her very wary of admitting her true feelings, even to herself. Ceri leaned towards her sister and sniffed. ‘Oh, Joe, you don’t half pong! Can you lie him on the change mat while I get a clean nappy, Meg?’

  Half an hour later Megan was sitting in Ceri’s living room, a Noddy book by her side and Emily fast asleep on her lap. ‘I’m going to have to go in a minute, Ceri,’ she said, ‘I’ve got to go back to Pendleton.’

  ‘To that woman’s house? The one who was stabbed?’

  Megan nodded. ‘I’ve been there once already today but I want to have another look. I called there before I came to you but the place was empty.’ She looked at her watch. ‘The police said they’d make sure someone was back there by three o’clock.’ Megan lowered Emily’s head onto a cushion and slowly eased the rest of her small body onto the sofa.

  ‘I knew her, you know,’ Ceri said quietly.

  Megan’s head whipped round. ‘Knew her? You mean she was a friend?’

  ‘No,’ Ceri sighed. ‘Just knew her by sight, really. She used to go to the same Mother and Toddlers group I took the kids to before I started lecturing. I think I only spoke to her once or twice.’

  Megan frowned. ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Bit of a loner, really,’ Ceri said. ‘She only had one of the kids with her. Little boy. Must have been her youngest. She never seemed interested in talking to the rest of us – that’s why most of us were there, to get a bit of adult conversation – but she just sat on the floor among the toys and played with him.’

  ‘How long ago was this?’

  ‘Hmm, Ceri pursed her lips. ‘It was just after I’d had Joe, so it would have been about eighteen months ago. I remember trying to talk to her about what boys were like as babies compared to girls. I gave up after a couple of minutes because she just gave monosyllabic replies to everything I said.’

  ‘Was there anything else about her? Anything unusual?’ Megan stared intently at her sister. ‘Her appearance, I mean. What did she look like?’

  ‘Well, she was quite pretty. Quite smartly dressed, for a mum.’ Ceri glanced down at her clothes and shrugged. ‘Not the usual shapeless tracky bottoms and sweatshirts most of us wear when we’re likely to get puked or dribbled on every five minutes!’

  Megan’s eyebrows lifted. ‘So what did she wear?’

  ‘Designer stuff, I suppose,’ Ceri said. ‘She wore jeans, but they were always very expensive-looking ones. And little jackets with matching shoes. That was one thing I always noticed about her. I’ve only got a couple of pairs of loafers I wear in the daytime – black and navy to go with everything – but Tessa seemed to have a different pair every week.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Megan got up and slung her bag over her shoulder. ‘Do you go to Pendleton precinct much? Apart from picking the kids up from nursery, I mean?’ ‘Sometimes, yes,’ Ceri said. ‘There’s a nice café there – the coffee’s much better than the crap they serve in the college.’

  ‘Hmm. You will be careful, won’t you, Ceri?’

  Ceri frowned. ‘Why? You don’t think the killer’s prowling around there, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Megan sighed and stared at the carpet. ‘It’s possible. The woman who died could well have been stalked by someone who saw her at the precinct. It was the last place she was seen alive.’

  Ceri shuddered. ‘Poor woman. I can’t bear to think of her kids, left without a mother when they’re so young.’

  ‘I know.’ Megan put out her hand and stroked Emily’s shoulder.

  ‘Listen, Meg, don’t worry about me – I’m nearly always with someone when I go to the café.’ Ceri stooped to gather up the toys scattered on the carpet. ‘Quite a few of the students go there after the lecture – there’s usually at least half a dozen of us.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief.’ Megan bent down and pecked her sister on the cheek. ‘You take care, you hear?’

  *

  When Megan had gone Ceri plonked back onto her chair, ashamed at having had to lie to her sister. How could she tell Megan about Justin? How could she explain that she, too, had fallen for one of her students? A student who was only twenty-one years old and thirteen years her junior?

  Megan thought everything was back to normal between her and Neil. Thought she’d forgiven him for going after one of his much younger work colleagues when she was pregnant with Joe. How could she ever explain to Meg that now she’d got this job she suddenly felt like a real person again?

  She picked up Emily’s Barbie doll and started plaiting its hair. Before, she had been stuck in the house all day changing nappies and felt as if no one in their right mind could possibly fancy her. But now it was different. She felt a wave of excitement at the thought of seeing him tomorrow. Revenge, she decided, was very sweet.

  *

  It was ten past three when Megan pulled up outside the Ledburys’ house. Before she had chance to ring the bell the door was opened by a uniformed officer.

  ‘Doctor Rhys?’ He sounded even younger than he looked.

  ‘Yes. Is D.S. Todd here?’

  ‘No, it’s just me, I’m afraid.’ He stood aside as Megan walked in. ‘He was here a few minutes back but he’s been called out.’

  ‘Oh? Any idea what for?’

  ‘Not really, no. I was on traffic duty when they radioed me to come over. The rest of the team are out doing house-to-house.’

  Megan wondered if Dave Todd was off on the trail of the woman in the red Fiesta. She had suspected as much when she called earlier and found no one around. Perhaps it had gone further than that now. Perhaps Tessa’s ex-lover was about to be hauled in for questioning.

  ‘Did they tell you why I was coming?’ Megan put her bag down on the kitchen table.

  ‘They said you wanted to do a more detailed inventory of the house.’

  Megan nodded. ‘Do you mind if I potter around on my own for a bit?’

  For a while she wandered from room to room, o
pening drawers and cupboards. She felt a surge of guilt as she rummaged through clothes that still bore a faint smell of perfume. She wondered what sort of life the contents of her own pockets would conjure up. Would they give her away? She thought of the post-it notes Patrick often left in obscure places for her to find when he wasn’t around. Silly, romantic messages that she would stuff in the pockets of her dressing gown or whatever else she happened to be wearing when she found them.

  But if Tessa had ever been the recipient of love-letters there was no evidence of them. Megan looked in old handbags and beneath the paper liners of the drawers. She searched bookcases in the living room and bedrooms, shaking out the books in case anything had been tucked inside the pages. But there was nothing.

  She paused for a moment in the hall, catching sight of a wooden rack tucked under the staircase. Ceri had been right about Tessa Ledbury’s multi-coloured shoe collection. There were seven adult-sized women’s pairs. In cream, pink, navy, black, red, brown and turquoise. Most were of a similar style; leather pumps with flattish heels. Conservative, Megan thought. Nothing that could be described as sexy or alluring. She stooped to pick one up, noticing as she did so that all the shoes had a slight bump in the same area of the toe section. The shape of Tessa’s toes imprinted on the leather made her far more real than the mutilated figure Megan had seen in crime scene photos. With a shudder, she replaced the shoe and walked away. The last room Megan searched was the conservatory. After flicking through a photograph album she noticed a collection of cookery books tucked into a storage space beneath the wicker coffee table. She began taking them out and shaking them until she came to a cardboard ring-binder at the bottom of the pile. Inside were dozens of clear plastic wallets containing recipes cut out of magazines. They had been put in back-to-back so that recipes appeared on both sides as you turned them over.

  As Megan flicked through she noticed something. She stopped and pulled out the contents of one of the wallets. Concealed between the glossy recipes was a piece of white, narrow-ruled paper that looked as if it had been ripped out of a notebook. There was a diagram drawn in biro, with notes scribbled alongside. At the top were the words Rite of Beltaine and underneath was a rectangle with the word Altar inside. Megan read what had been written next to the rectangle: