by Will Carver
‘Looks like I’ve missed Mr Tambor.’ Pace lifted the plate with the toast off the table slightly with one finger. ‘Must be at work already.’ He added this knowing that it wasn’t the case. Her back remained turned.
He did now recall what his dead phone would have reminded him. That Constable Reynolds had mentioned a Liv Dunham had called, frantic at the whereabouts of her partner. She was floating. Drifting. Preparing him breakfast in the morning on the chance that he would walk back through her door. Hoping he hadn’t jilted her. Hoping that he would see the error of his ways, understand that she was the best thing in his life, hoping so desperately that he was not dead in the woods somewhere.
H o p e.
She was falling through a dream. A waking nightmare. And the only way to jolt her back to reality was with something real. Pace knew that.
‘His mother was found in her home this morning.’
There was a silence as Liv’s mouth opened wide, she tried to inhale but nothing happened. Then she said, ‘Oh, May,’ and began to cry. Her hands moved forward to support her weight on the kitchen work surface. The tears were whispered so Mrs Beaufort had no idea that Pace had just broken the news.
Liv turned around, more beautiful with the colour of sadness in her cheeks.
‘Was it quick? Did she feel any pain? I mean, she hardly ever leaves … I mean, left, the house. She’s had a tough time recently. I told Oz we were putting too much pressure on her to come out for the wedding but he wouldn’t listen.’
Pace could have answered with a yes and a no and he would not have been lying. But he had her almost where he needed her. He just had to shock that poor woman into talking about Oscar. She was the link. He knew it. He could feel it. I twisted his heart a little more.
‘This is not your fault, Liv.’ He was gaining her confidence, forcing some familiarity by using her given name. ‘And it is not Oz, either. Mrs Tambor was shot at her front door. She may have been lying there for a couple of days.’
Liv slid her back down the cupboard that housed cleaning products and a first-aid kit. And a plastic bag with fifty scrunched carrier bags inside it. She was crying. There was no sound from her mouth but tears fell from her eyes down her reddening cheeks.
‘I’ve been trying to get hold of her for days. I’ve left so many messages. That should have told me, you know. She was always there. If I got the answering machine she called back almost straight away. Because she never went out.’
Pace allowed her to wallow for a minute. It was affecting her. She was yet to be touched by the darkness. But, now, it was inside her house. She had let it in.
I’d already done enough to Liv Dunham. She didn’t deserve what was coming. Pace did.
Instinctively, he checked over his left shoulder.
‘I know this must be hard for you, but I have some questions that I really need answering. Are you okay to do that?’
She nodded slightly. Pace had dropped into a squat so that he was at her level.
‘By all accounts, it seems that Mrs Tambor was a well-liked and respected member of this community. I haven’t been back in town long, but all the information I have received leads me to believe that she was one of the good ones.’
‘She was.’ Liv sniffed.
‘Was there anyone who maybe didn’t feel that way about her? Not all families get along.’
‘She was a good woman, Mr Pace. A church-goer until a few years ago, but sometimes people lose a little faith when someone they love is taken from them so suddenly. I can’t think of anybody who would want to hurt her, though. Not May.’
‘What about Oscar? Had he had any confrontation with anybody? A small town like this, could be somebody wanting to besmirch the family name or get to him.’
‘What? What are you asking me?’ Pace had lost a little of her trust. He knew he had struck a nerve by mentioning Oz.
‘Most of my job is to eliminate the information that is not useful, not relevant. That way I can really hone in on the things that will crack a case. Sometimes that means asking a question so that I can put a strike through it in my notepad. You are on the inside. You know more than anyone.’ He looked Liv straight in the eyes.
‘No. Nothing like that,’ she confirmed, allowing herself to relax into the questioning.
‘Where is Oscar Tambor, Ms Dunham?’ He dropped the informality. He didn’t have time. Not even a little.
A NOTE ON TIME
When people say, ‘Well that’s two hours of my life I’m never getting back’, they’re right.
You don’t get it back.
This is also true of the good times, the defining times.
For me, time does not end.
Liv forced herself to stand up, the small of her back resting against the kitchen counter. ‘He…’
‘Where is he, Ms Dunham?’ His voice was quiet. It was more menacing that way, but his reason was not to disturb the vitriolic Mrs Beaufort who probably had her ear pressed firmly to the wall.
‘We had a fight.’
‘When?’
‘Monday morning. Nothing serious. Stupid stuff. Practicalities. He needed a passport for our honeymoon. He’s never had one. Never been abroad. I mean, we’re only going to France. Paris and Provence, nothing spectacular.’
Preward, she thought. And almost choked on the word.
‘Did he say where he was going?’ He was keeping his questions succinct now, letting her speak. Letting her give up the information.
‘No. He left. He took the car and left. I assumed he just needed to cool off, you know. It was just a silly fight. But added to the pressure of organising a wedding the whole town will be attending. Some of them are looking forward to it more than we are.’ Her eyes darted a line through the wall to the spot where Mrs Beaufort was sitting, impatiently.
‘And he hasn’t tried to contact you since Monday morning?’
Liv paused. She hesitated for just a second.
And her lack of words was as incriminating as the lack of biscuits in May Tambor’s kitchen.
‘You called the police station the night that he did not return. Is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Constable Reynolds said that you were very upset. That you claimed your fiancé had gone missing. You feared for him. You were worried. He used the word frantic.’ She turned her head away. ‘You then called again to follow up the claim when he hadn’t returned after another day. Is that right?’
She didn’t answer.
‘Is that correct, Ms Tambor?’ He probed her. He was pushing and pushing.
‘Yes. I called again.’
‘Then, suddenly, you decided it wasn’t worth pursuing any more. You didn’t call back after the third day. What was it? You’ve given up on him?’
‘No.’
‘You believe there’s somebody else?’
‘No.’
‘You think he’s dead.’
‘No.’ The final refusal was louder than the others. Pace looked over his shoulder again.
The kettle had boiled and clicked off at some point and the first drops of rain were peppering the kitchen window.
He had broken her down, that sweet unknowing schoolteacher. But it had pulled her fully back into reality. There was an honesty in that.
And it was only ever truth that would lead through that fear of the darkness and whatever lies beyond.
TIME
It was all Faith Brady had wanted. A little time. To come to terms with what she had decided. Perhaps to gain the bravery needed to take her own life.
Dorothy Reilly needed time. Time to get around. Time in between her job and her hobby of throwing food at her mouth to move properly and exercise, to plan her meals.
Owen Brady had time to recover. He was still alive. He had a son. But it was more time to suffer.
Inspector Anderson will wish he had a few more minutes.
Pace wishes he could turn it back.
And the Hadleys and Mrs Beaufort and Annie Harding, Darren, the florist, F
ather Salis, the Ablett brothers. Time was their enemy.
SOME THINGS THAT HAVE BEEN SAID ABOUT TIME
The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.
Time is money.
Time waits for no one.
Time is the most valuable thing a man can spend.
The key is not spending time but investing in it.
The Ordinary Man was taking time away from those children. He was giving the mothers none to make a decision. But that is exactly how long it should have taken to make the correct call. It should never have even been a choice.
I am watching everyone, and most people think they have no time. They are putting more into the jobs they don’t want than the family they had planned so long for. They say they can’t go for a run or to the gym but set aside time for television soap operas and sitting. Their houses are untidy but they spend four hours a day on social media or tapping pictures of sweets on their phone screen until three identical types line up.
I have been around forever. I have time. I can make mistakes.
Humans, you do not have this luxury.
So stop behaving like you do.
It is killing you.
PURITY AND HONESTY
Liv explained the calls she had received with as much precision as she could manage in her delicately drifting state. Pace was concerned about the information she had given up on that first phone call. The caller would undoubtedly realise that she was alone. He would have to assign some protection to her. If this was some kind of smite at the Tambor name, she was about to enrol herself into that camp.
But, as she spoke, as truth upon truth hit him in the face, Pace saw pins being pushed and strings being stretched all over the town of Hinton Hollow. The position at which they all crossed only led to one place.
Liv Dunham was unattainable. More than a woman with two young sons and a husband that worked too late, too often. Even more so than the couple whose fizzle was frazzled after a decade of love. She was days away from marrying her school-time sweetheart. She had been with only him. She was purity.
She was the greatest scalp of all time. The war-winner that dwarfed all battles before it.
But it would require something special to obtain that prize. Something different. Maybe removing her fiancé, not killing him, just keeping him at a distance, giving him just enough food to survive.
Detective Inspector Pace had one question on his mind.
‘Liv. Do you know Charles Ablett?’
‘Well, yes. He and his brother run the local estate agency over in Roylake.’
‘And RD runs the diner, Mrs Beaufort runs the clothes shop and Maggie is the florist. Anyone could give me that information. How well do you know him?’ When were people in Hinton Hollow going to understand that time was not on the side of justice. Wasting it only served to help the man with the gun.
All the men. All the guns.
‘As well as anyone else, I guess.’ She took a sip of her tea. Mrs Beaufort’s cup was getting cold on the side. And she was growing increasingly restless in the lounge.
‘Honesty is the only thing that will help me catch this guy and get Oscar back to you. You’ve done so well telling me about the calls but I need to know about your relationship with Charles Ablett.’ Liv could see in his eyes that the term by the book did not apply to him. He was going to find the truth whatever it took.
‘I think the word “relationship” is perhaps a little strong for my acquaintance with Charles. I know him like most women know him in this town. He’s a sleazeball who tries it on with everyone. Anyone with two feet and a heartbeat.’ She looked around at Mrs Beaufort’s teacup and winced. How long will this questioning go on for?
‘He’s made advances towards you?’
‘Sure. He’s tried to flatter me in the queue at RD’s. He’s rubbed up against me a few times in The Arboreal after a few drinks. I never even told Oz about that. I didn’t feel comfortable. Charles Ablett gets bored. He wants what he can’t have. That’s all. How is this related to Oz? Or May?’ Her eyes glistened with the promise of fresh tears and the rain beat harder against the window.
‘I’m not sure yet. I’m still gathering information. Did you ever give him reason to believe that he stood a chance with you?’
‘Did I lead him on? Of course not.’ She stood up straight. Angry but hurt.
‘No flirting for fun after a few drinks yourself?’
‘What are you trying to say, Detective?’
‘Have you ever taken things further with anyone besides Oscar Tambor?’
‘I think that’s quite enough, don’t you, Mr Pace?’ The sound came from behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Mrs Beaufort standing in the doorway to the dining room.
‘Mrs Beaufort, these are difficult questions, I know, but they need to be asked and I beg you not to interfere any more with police business.’ Pace spoke calmly to the old lady but Liv sensed an element of threat that she had never before heard directed at Mrs Beaufort.
‘I have your tea.’ Liv tried to divert the conversation but nobody was listening to her.
‘You are barking up the wrong tree, Detective. Charles Ablett couldn’t possibly have something to do with Oz’s disappearance. You should know that better than anybody. You’ve seen this happen before.’
She turned and walked back into the lounge.
Liv Dunham and the detective stared at one another, neither wanting to be the first to speak – either about Charles Ablett or Mrs Beaufort’s cliffhanger. Liv held out Mrs Beaufort’s tea. Pace took it from her and they both followed their elder in to the next room.
LIGHT/DARK
The Tambor house was not that big. Mrs Beaufort had heard everything they had said. And she didn’t have her ear pressed to the wall.
A part of her was resistant to interfering with the interrogation in the kitchen and another knew that she had information that might prove valuable. Information that she and a few others had held on to.
Mrs Beaufort was weak and the darkness was constantly stroking her like a beloved pet. The pain in her chest had settled into a dull throb rather than the shooting daggers that had assaulted her earlier when she had found her friend stuck with brain matter to her hallway floor.
This was now a fight. She had an internal struggle that was more than her battle with stable angina. Mrs Beaufort had to wrestle with her shadow self to do what was right, no matter how much it hurt her, irrespective of the history she would have to dig up.
Maybe I was temporarily distracted. Maybe she was just tough. Maybe light will always defeat the dark. Maybe the shadowless Tambor/Dunham residence gave her an advantage. Whatever it was, Mrs Beaufort forced herself from that seat. She broke free of her shackles and she marched to that kitchen doorway. She did not rest her weary body against the frame. She stood dead centre. An old but robust woman. The real Mrs Beaufort.
And she told that man, that ghost who flew back into town on a gust of wind and ash that it was enough.
She had something to say.
She was important to Hinton Hollow.
And he should shut up and listen.
RIPPLES
Three generations of Hinton Hollow sat in that living room.
‘Mrs Beaufort, what are you not telling us?’
‘It’s time for you to be quiet, Mr Pace. There are things that are known in this town and there are things that only a privileged few can know.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘This has been sitting on the side for a while, hasn’t it, dear?’ She directed her question to Liv Dunham, who was sat on the two-seater sofa with the detective. Mrs Beaufort was on Oz’s leather recliner. Liv had always hated that chair. She nodded. A little embarrassed.
‘Hinton Hollow is special. It is different from anywhere else. That is why we stay here. That is why we choose to walk. That is why we support one another through all manner of situations.’
Pace found her romanticising of the town somewhat sickly and confused.
‘But we are not perfect. We have secrets and we have danger. I have grown up here with the power of the river. I have known the woods for over eighty years and I have been wary. Hinton Hollow is what it pledges to be, but nowhere and nobody is perfect. You can feel an evil on a nightly basis if you simply travel to our borders. The Split Aces club would be an excellent place to start.’
Pace made a mental note. The club was seldom mentioned by people in The Hollow because it was viewed in the way Mrs Beaufort had expressed.
‘On the other side of town, there is the Ablett business. You are right to be cautious of both men, but I do not believe they could have taken Oz. I know this makes you think of Julee, Detective.’
Liv looked at Pace who had dropped his own gaze to the floor. He did not like to discuss Julee with anyone, least of all her grandmother.
‘Most of the community see the crossroads as the heart of our town. The bustle, the business, the sense of belonging. But that is not the case. We are the brain, the mind. We have built that part of the town ourselves. The woods are the heart. They pulsate with a presence. You can feel it. Everyone has felt it. The trees were here long before even I took my first step.’
‘This all sounds very haunting but what does it have to do with Oscar Tambor? How does it help me find a man who shoots children in the face and chest?’ Pace looked at his watch. As captivating as it was, Mrs Beaufort’s story sounded like a children’s cautionary tale. Don’t go into the woods or you’ll get lost.
‘This is the fourth time I know of that something like this has happened. Somebody goes missing. They are taken. Then the evil presents itself to the town. It is followed by great winds and a storm.’ Mrs Beaufort put a hand to her chest and closed her eyes.
‘You think there is a pattern? That this keeps happening? You think that Julee leaving is somehow related to Oscar Tambor disappearing? I really don’t have time for this.’ Pace stood up. Liv was not so hasty in her judgment.