“It’s all right. I’ll pick them up next time I’m in the area.”
“You two enjoy your evening.” Alice winked and went to the other side of the bar.
“She’s quite a character,” Finch remarked. “How on earth did you become friends with her?”
“Alice’s husband was the one who was found in the fishing nets. I’ve spent quite a lot of time with her over the past week or so. I’ve grown to like her a lot. We have quite a lot in common.”
“Poor woman, it must be awful for her. She seems to be handling it quite well though.”
“She hadn’t seen him in ten years. She pretends not to care, but I think she’s hurting inside. Even though she hides it well.”
Finch’s phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He took it out, looked at the screen and frowned.
“Answer it, if you like,” Taylor told him.
Finch left the pub to take the call.
“Sorry,” he said when he returned, “I have to go. Duty calls. Nasty case needs tackling now. I’ll send the report over to you first thing in the morning. Thank you for the company. I really enjoyed it.” Without further explanation, he left.
“I want to know everything.” Alice was at Taylor’s table as soon as the doctor had exited.
“There’s nothing to tell, honestly. Dr Finch is a colleague. He’s a pathologist.”
“A what?”
“He examines bodies. Finds out what happened to them.”
“What a horrible job. Who would want to do such a thing?” She sat down at the table. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not.” She wasn’t sure if she should tell Alice about the outcome of the investigation.
Alice spoke first. “I want to ask you something. Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’d love it if you could come and celebrate it with me. What with Milly gone and Eddie and Barbara not being much company, I’d only end up spending it on my own with the jackdaw. I’ll cook us a lovely meal. Maybe a nice joint of beef. Unless you’ve already made plans.”
“No, I rarely have plans. It sounds great.”
“Six o’clock, then.” Alice smiled.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” She’s going to find out sooner or later, Taylor thought. It’ll be in all the papers tomorrow, so it’ll be better if she hears it from me first.
“We’ve found the man responsible for Stanley’s and Milly’s deaths,” she said.
“Oh my.”
“It looks like it was Dennis Albarn.”
“Dennis Albarn?” Alice looked shocked. “But he died in the fire.”
“It appears he killed himself.”
“But why?” Alice drained her port in one go. “Why would Albarn do such a thing? Stanley was his best friend and Milly never did anything to him.”
“We’re unsure as to the details, but we think Stanley and Dennis got into a fight, it got out of hand and Albarn killed your husband. We can only assume that Milly witnessed the whole thing and Albarn disposed of her to keep her quiet. Then Albarn’s conscience got the better of him and he killed himself.”
“By blowing his house up?”
“I don’t think that was meant to happen.”
“So it’s all over?” Alice said. “I don’t have to worry about being the next victim?”
“No. But are you all right? This must be quite a shock for you.”
“I always knew Albarn was a bad lot,” she said. “I don’t know what to think, to be honest. I’m just relieved it’s all over. We can all get back to normal again. You don’t realise how important it is to preserve the status quo when you get to my age.” She looked stunned. “I’ll see you tomorrow at six,” Alice said, and hurried off.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Taylor knew it was going to be chaos at the station when she arrived but she was totally unprepared for what she encountered. A huge crowd of reporters had gathered outside. Some of them had even camped out for the night, by the look of things. Several TV crews had set up and she’d have to run the gauntlet to get to the station door. She braced herself for a barrage of questions.
“DC Taylor!” A man held a microphone so close to Taylor’s mouth, she was tempted to take a bite out of it. “What was it like working on such a complex case?”
“No comment.” They’d get their information soon enough from the press conference.
“I believe you were the only one from Trotterdown involved in the investigation?” asked a young woman.
“Everybody here was involved. And I’m from Edinburgh.”
Where do they get their information from? she wondered, and barged past them inside the station.
The two PCs White were deep in conversation by the front desk. They stopped talking as soon as Taylor walked in.
“Get over it,” she said and went on walking. “It’s all over.” She carried on down the corridor towards the office she shared with DS Duncan. He was staring blankly at his computer screen.
“Morning, Sarge.”
“I can’t figure this thing out.” Duncan pressed keys helplessly. “Ugh. No idea what’s going wrong.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to send an email and every time I send it, it comes back telling me it’s bounced.”
“Let’s have a look,” Taylor bent over his shoulder. “There’s your problem. You’re sending to ‘com,’ not ‘co.uk.’”
“Thanks. It always gets me, that one. Congratulations on the investigation, by the way. You did us all proud.”
Taylor wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve got a bit of a cold.”
“No, you realise you’ve just paid me a compliment?”
“You did well. I give praise, where praise is due.”
“Thanks, Sarge.”
Taylor headed to the canteen for a cup of tea. Duncan’s words had cheered her up as much as they’d surprised her — he was the last person she expected to congratulate her. Her high spirits disappeared when she walked into the canteen and saw DCI Warren James sitting by the window with Carrick, Southern and Brown. They had the whole room to themselves.
“There’s our girl.” James’ voice echoed. He had obviously forgotten about the scene he had caused in the hotel the night before.
“Sit down,” he told her. “We’re going through our strategy for today. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I’ve done this plenty of times before.”
“Strategy?” Taylor sat next to DC Brown. “I thought the case was closed.”
“You’ll soon learn — case closed is often just the beginning. Now comes the gauntlet that is the fourth estate.”
“The press,” Carrick clarified.
“I know what the fourth estate means,” said Taylor.
“Nowadays,” James continued, “solving the crime is just one aspect of our jobs.” Clearly, one of his lengthy soliloquies was on the cards. “The crimes have been solved and now we have to make sure we’re seen in a favourable light. Our PR is as important as the rest of our performance.”
This idiot really does love the sound of his own voice, Taylor thought.
“We all need to be on-message.” James was far from finished. “We need to be singing from the same song-sheet. We’ll be running through our key points and making sure we’re all coordinated. Sorry about last night, Taylor, by the way. I tend to get a bit over-enthusiastic when an investigation is wound up.”
Is that the apology Southern was talking about? He might as well not have bothered.
“As I said,” James went on “we have the whole day to prepare ourselves. The press office has a few ends to tie up — press materials and whatnot. So we’ve called the press conference for six this evening.”
“I can’t make it,” Taylor said, “I’ve got plans.” She was due to celebrate Alice Green’s birthday with her.
“Cancel them.”
“I can’t. I promised.”
“You will be at that p
ress conference.” James said. “You were part of the team. Your presence is required. You were the representative of Trotterdown in all of this. Your colleagues are relying on you.”
Taylor was stuck. She didn’t want to let Alice down but her whole career could go up in smoke if she didn’t do what he said.
“I’ll be there.” She’d have to find a way to let Alice down gently.
*
The next three hours were possibly the most painful of Taylor’s life. By the end, she was exhausted and still none the wiser about the right and wrong way to address the press. After the first hour of James’ lecture, she almost dozed off. Only the subtle nudge under the table from DS Southern had kept her awake. When the ordeal was over, everyone was given the rest of the day off to ‘get themselves ready’ (Warren was clearly heading for a haircut before facing the cameras). Taylor headed straight for Killian’s office.
He was staring out of the window when she knocked and entered.
“Back to normal again,” she said. “It’s good to see you back in here.”
“It’s good to be back. I suppose you’re here about your leave. I haven’t forgotten.”
“I was thinking about two weeks starting tomorrow.”
“No problem. Planning on getting away?”
“Definitely. A nice break somewhere warm and far away.”
“I envy you. I can’t remember when I last had a proper holiday. That’s all a bit in the past for Megan and me.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Better. She may be allowed home in the next few days. It’s not right at home without her. I’ll send the leave forms through to admin. I believe James has organised the press conference for six this evening?”
“Yes. I’m dreading it. I’ve got a feeling he’s going to parade us in front of the press like prize cattle.”
“Smile and wave. It’ll be over before you know it.”
“If you say so. I’ll see you there.”
“I’m not invited. It’ll be fine and then you can enjoy a well-earned break. We’ll miss you around here.”
Taylor left past PC Eric White in reception without saying a word. There were still hours before the press conference. She got in her car and drove straight home, where she turned on her computer. Dennis Albarn’s autopsy report was the only new email. She opened it and read it carefully.
Albarn had suffered extensive burns to most of his body. His internal organs had been boiled by the intense heat. Taylor shuddered. She read the whole report and scrolled back up to the top. There has to be something here, she told herself. She read it again. Albarn’s heart had stopped beating before he was engulfed in flames. She didn’t understand some of the terminology. She took out her phone and dialled Dr Finch’s number.
“Finch,” he answered. He sounded tired.
“Jon,” Taylor said, “can you talk?”
“Have been able to since I was eighteen months old. That’s twice in two days you’ve phoned me. What can I do for you?”
“I’m reading the autopsy report now. Can you translate something for me?”
“Hold on. Let me get to my computer.”
She heard rustling on the other end of the line.
“Are you still there?” she asked.
“Just clearing my desk a bit. Fire away.”
“There’s something here that doesn’t make sense.”
“Which part?”
“Inhalation analgesia negative. What does that mean?”
“When the central nervous system is shut down by some external cause, it loses the ability to function. The receptors that normally allow us to feel pain are basically turned off. It’s called analgesia — pain relief. But Albarn’s central nervous system didn’t do this.”
“Once again in English, please.”
“OK, try this. Dennis Albarn’s heart didn’t stop beating as a result of the fire or the gas in the house.”
“How did he die, then?”
“I’m afraid the body was in such a state there wasn’t much left for us to go on. The only thing I can say for certain is that he wasn’t killed by the explosion or by gas inhalation.”
“And the team from Exeter are aware of this?”
“Of course. They had access to all the reports.”
“Thank you. I owe you a drink.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Call me any time.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
What the hell was going on? Taylor left her computer and went outside for some fresh air. In a few hours’ time DCI James was going to stand in front of a hoard of journalists to bask in the glory of a successful investigation. There was no way she could tackle him before the press conference — her life wouldn’t be worth living. On the other hand she wasn’t sure she could sit through a press conference full of self-important pronouncements when she knew for a fact they were nothing more than speculation.
She needed something to take her mind off everything. For some reason she remembered the annoying law lecturer with his “Dr Livingstone, I presume” attempt at a joke, and she grinned. She went back to her desk, took a deep breath and emailed her bank details to the company who owed her Danny’s commission. Then she booked and paid for ten days on a small boat going up the Nile.
This time on Wednesday I’ll be far away from everything, I may not find the source of the Nile — and it looks as if I won’t find the solution here either — but at least I’ll be doing something completely new.
Buoyed up by her decisiveness, she decided to go into town, buy Alice Green a birthday present and drop it off. She could spend a few hours with her and then go on to the press conference.
*
It was easy enough to find a bottle of fine port — she couldn’t go wrong with that — and she even found what she hoped was a suitable card to take over to Alice’s house in Polgarrow.
She exchanged a few words with Eddie Sedgwick, who was pruning his roses in his front garden, and knocked on the door. Alice opened it, looking rather confused.
“Hello, dear, but you’re rather early. I haven’t even put the roast in the oven yet.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it. I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that I have to attend a press conference at six. I’m sorry, I couldn’t get out of it.”
“That’s all right, love. Come in. Is that for me?”
“It is. Happy birthday. I didn’t know which one you normally drank.”
“Not this one.” Alice examined the label. “This is the expensive one. I’ll have a drop or two of that later.”
“I hope I haven’t put you out.” Taylor followed her inside. “I only found out about the press conference a few hours ago.”
“Plans change. I learned that a long time ago. Would you like some tea?”
“That would be lovely.” She sat down at the table in the kitchen and Alice busied herself with making tea.
“Morning,” the jackdaw shrieked. “Morning.”
“He hasn’t learned how to say afternoon yet. It’s a shame about the press conference, but I suppose all your hard work ought to be recognised.”
“It’s hardly recognition. I’m dreading it. That DCI from Exeter is an arrogant egomaniac.”
“Men. Too much testosterone. They never grow up, really.” She poured the tea into two china cups and handed one to Taylor. “So it’s all over? It’s back to normal again? Apart from Milly not being around, that is. Albarn is going to rot in hell for what he did.”
“It … yes, it is.” I’m here to celebrate her birthday, Taylor thought. And she seems so relieved. I can’t tell her my misgivings.
“So what about that lovely beef, then?” Alice changed the subject. “When can you make it?”
“Tomorrow? The minute this press conference is over, I’ve got two weeks off. I’m flying out on Wednesday for a ten-day trip up the Nile.”
“How lovely. And you’ve earned it. You deserve a holiday. Tomorrow sounds perfect. Come at lunch, since you’
re not at work? And I’ll make us a nice pudding too.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Even though Taylor arrived at the station an hour before the press conference, the car park was already full and news crews were setting up outside the building. It was going to be a long night, with the biggest story to hit the local news in — well, possibly ever.
The two PCs White and DS Duncan were standing by the entrance as she went in. Eric White spotted her, tapped his namesake on the shoulder and they both started to clap. DS Duncan joined in. She could feel her face turning red.
“Stop it,” she told them. “It’s embarrassing.”
“You’re famous,” Thomas White said. “You’re going to be in all the papers.”
“I’m dreading it. DCI James is going to make a whole song and dance about it — I’m sure of it.”
“James is an arsehole, but you have to admit, he gets results,” Duncan said.
“I can’t wait for it to be over. I’m off up the Nile on Wednesday.”
“Lucky bugger,” Eric said.
“Is Killian here?”
“He was headed up to the canteen last time I saw him.”
“Well, I need a cup of tea.” She didn’t, but she wanted to see him.
She found Killian sitting by himself in the canteen. “All set?” he asked her.
“No. Journalists make me panic.”
“I’ll let you in on a trick I learned a long time ago,” Killian said. “When you’re in front of a large group of people, don’t picture them as people.”
“Don’t tell me. Imagine them naked?”
“That’s ridiculous. No, when you see all the faces before you, imagine they all have faces like pigs.”
“Pigs?”
“With their tiny eyes and hairy snouts. It works for me.”
“I’ll give it a go.” The idea amused her. “I’ve got a feeling the DCI is going to do most of the talking anyway. James really loves the sound of his own voice. Anyway, I’ve booked a ten-day cruise up the Nile. I’m leaving on Wednesday.”
“Just what the doctor ordered. Send me a postcard.”
“At least tomorrow we’ll be free of the Exeter crew. I can’t wait for things to get back to normal again.”
THE BEEKEEPER a gripping crime mystery with a dark twist Page 17