by Joy Ellis
Nikki glanced across to Cat. ‘It certainly seems that way. We’ll know more after our forensics team have got to work on it.’ She turned to the priest. ‘We will have to take the remains away as soon as the scene-of-crime officers have gone over the area. I imagine it won’t take long. If this is a crime, and it certainly looks that way, there will be little evidence left after the passing of so many years, but I’m afraid we will have to keep the area cordoned off until we know more. We’ll try not to intrude, Father Aidan, but you do realise that when your helpers get home and tell their families and friends, you might get a crowd of rubberneckers?’
‘Poor St Augustine’s! Just when I thought we were getting somewhere.’ The young priest’s shoulders drooped.
The curate patted his arm affectionately. ‘Cheer up, Father. Just think. It might double your congregation!’
‘And it could halve it, knowing my luck!’ He turned to Nikki and smiled ruefully. ‘We’ve been plagued by bad luck over the years. Perhaps you remember coming out here when those vandals smashed the east window? Early stained glass. Irreplaceable.’ He shook his head. ‘Then there was the fire. Apparently it was an accident, but it still did a lot of damage to the south chapel and our collection of embroidered kneelers. Worst of all was the crack in the tower. We had scaffolding up for eighteen months and had to keep everyone out for two of those.’ He forced a laugh and looked dejectedly at them. ‘I always prayed for a parish that would tax my strength and build my spirit, but I don’t remember asking the Good Lord for quite this much!’
‘Well, we’ll be away as soon as we can. Mr Campbell may be right, you know. If I were you, I’d prepare an epic sermon for next Sunday.’ Nikki grinned at him. ‘It might give you the chance to charm your congregation into coming back.’
‘That’s right, son,’ said James Campbell. ‘Let’s try and make something positive out of this grim situation.’ The curate glanced at Nikki and shrugged. ‘Ill wind, and all that?’
Nikki was doubtful, but for the sake of the sad-eyed priest, she smiled encouragingly.
‘Ma’am?’ Joseph entered the vestry, shivered and looked around, as if trying to discover where the draught was coming from. ‘Uh, when you are free, ma’am, Professor Wilkinson would like a word.’
‘On my way, Joseph, I think we’re finished here for the time being. Thank you, Father. Thank you, Mr Campbell.’ Nikki left Cat checking her notes with the two men, and followed Joseph out to the churchyard.
The afternoon sun was low. The shafts of intense brilliance filtering through the trees hurt her eyes. It felt good to be out of the gloomy, cold church. St Augustine’s seemed to have nothing of the peace and tranquillity found in most churches. Yet its pastor and curate were obviously passionate about the old place’s upkeep and future. She glanced back at the austere facade, the stone tower, the Norman arches and the old windows, and decided that Father Aidan’s prayer had certainly been answered. This might well test her strength and spirit too.
She made her way to the grave and spoke to Rory Wilkinson. Another grim-faced SOCO had arrived, duckboards had been placed around the shallow grave and a plastic awning erected over it.
Cat arrived and stood beside her. ‘Has the prof given anything away yet, ma’am?’
‘Well, apparently it’s a delicate operation to remove such an old body intact, and it won’t be easy to get him back to the forensic laboratory. Rory wants to start straight away, and there is no way he will be through before nightfall, so would you arrange for some lights and some uniforms down here?’ Nikki did a remarkable imitation of the pathologist. ‘Now, let’s see . . . it’s a male and it’s very dead. Just allow the professional man to do his job, my dears, and you will have all your answers in the fullness of time.’
Cat grinned. ‘Fine, nothing new there then. I’ll get on and organise the lights and the graveyard shift.’
CHAPTER TWO
Back in Greenborough Police Station, Nikki sat in her office and wondered about Father Aidan’s macabre find. She kept seeing the contorted body and gaping jaw. Although it had happened many years ago, this person had died horribly, and she now had to find out why. Nikki chewed on her bottom lip. She was already working one murder case in conjunction with DI Gill Mercer, whose team was in chaos, and that was giving them plenty of headaches. The brutally murdered body of a local and well-respected business woman had been discovered in her own home, with no forced entry and very little forensic evidence. The killing of Madeline Prospero would certainly take precedence over their mystery man, but the body in the churchyard had captured her imagination.
She looked up to see Cat Cullen approaching her door.
‘Come in, Cat. I want a quick word, if you have a few minutes?’
‘Everything is sorted at St Augustine’s, ma’am, so I’m all yours.’
Nikki pointed to a chair. ‘Close the door and sit down.’
Cat did as she was told. ‘Trouble, ma’am?’
Nikki smiled at her. ‘I hope not. I just have to ask you a few personal questions.’
‘Ben Radley?’ Cat grinned.
‘DC Ben Radley.’ Nikki sat back and crossed her arms. Ben was an officer from Derbyshire who had been a huge asset on their last case. ‘Well, his request to transfer to the Fenland Constabulary and join Greenborough CID has been accepted.’
Cat’s grin widened. ‘That’s brilliant, ma’am. Really good news.’
‘As if you didn’t know!’ Nikki laughed. ‘Now we have to decide where he goes. You know how things are here. We have two full-time posts to fill. One with our team, since DC Jessie Nightingale and her husband are moving to the Lake District. The other post is with DI Gill Mercer’s team. They’re thin on the ground, so it’s a bit of a battle as to who gets Ben. Plus, we need more floating detectives working cases other than serious crime, so . . .’
Cat was almost jumping up and down. ‘What has been decided, ma’am?’
‘That rather depends on you, my friend.’ Nikki looked at her. ‘Considering your feelings for Ben, we need to work out what would be best for everyone.’
Cat flushed. ‘Er, well, we are not exactly an item, ma’am. More good mates really, only . . .’
Nikki felt for her. She understood Cat’s emotions only too well. ‘You’re both the same rank, so you could work with him even if you were involved, but I have to say it’s not ideal.’
Cat chanced a small knowing smile. ‘Dare I say that I think you may be somewhat familiar with this situation, ma’am? I have an idea you’ve already bought the T-shirt.’
Nikki looked stern, then relaxed into a smile. ‘There are no secrets in this place, are there? I think I’ve known you long enough, my friend, to tell you that Joseph and I have reached an agreement, Cat. I’m his boss, so if our relationship were to develop we couldn’t work together. End of. We have no wish to break up the team, or our friendship. We have both turned down promotion in the past, simply to hold this team together, so we’re not going to jeopardise it now, are we? Anyway it’s you we are talking about. What I need to ask is, could you work with him? By that I mean continue to be a professional, giving as much commitment to the team and turning out the high standard of work you always have? Ben could be a major distraction, Cat.’
Cat nodded. ‘Ben and I have talked about this, over and over. We know we could work together. We did it before on the Derbyshire case and we were really good at it. We have got closer since then, but we’re not about to rush into anything.’ She looked intently at Nikki. ‘Ben has issues, ones that I’m sure you understand about, and I’ve been on my own for a long while now. Neither of us is in any hurry to make big life changes. I would love to have him on our team. Dave will still be with us after he retires, but as a civilian interviewing officer, so we could really use Ben’s energy and expertise in the field.’
Nikki thought for a few moments. ‘Then this is what we’ll do. Ben can join us on a two-month trial. He can help with the Madeline Prospero case, and also with
the mystery man from St Augustine’s. If it works well, he stays. But if either of you, or more to the point, if I think it’s unsustainable, he will still have the opportunity to join DI Mercer or go solo in the CID office. How does that sound?’
Cat nodded eagerly. ‘Perfect. I promise I’ll be totally truthful with you, ma’am, if things get complicated.’
‘I’d expect nothing less.’
‘Ma’am, tell me if you think I’m speaking out of turn, but is the sarge okay? He seems—’
‘Before you say any more,’ Nikki interposed sharply, ‘I have absolutely no idea. He says he is tired after all the stress of his daughter’s wedding, so we’ll allow him that, shall we?’
Cat nodded. She left the office with a decided spring in her step, thinking, no doubt, about Ben Radley.
Nikki sat back and let out a long sigh. The way she had described her relationship with Joseph made it sound so very agreeable, so comfortable. In truth, it was far from that. She and Joseph never really talked about their feelings, about the undercurrent of tension between them. Why? They were so close in other ways. She sighed again and dragged her thoughts back to work. She looked forward to having Ben Radley on the team. He was a tough nut and certainly not pretty to look at, except for the most gentle and compassionate eyes that she had ever seen. Like her, Ben had lost a daughter. Nikki swallowed, thinking of Hannah, her lovely girl. She tried hard not to imagine what Hannah would have been like now, how she would have looked, what she would be doing with her life . . . for Hannah’s future had been snuffed out.
‘Ma’am?’ Joseph appeared in the doorway. Nikki was grateful for the distraction.
‘There’s someone waiting to see you downstairs. She’s been there a while and the desk sergeant says she doesn’t want to talk to anyone else. She says you know her. Her name is Spooky?’ Joseph looked perplexed. ‘Or did I get that wrong?’
‘No, you were right first time.’ Nikki was smiling. ‘I haven’t seen her for months, even though she lives in town. She came in as a probationer when I was still in uniform. We played doubles at badminton for the division. Shit hot, we were.’
Joseph laughed. ‘That I’d like to see! So she’s a copper?’
‘No. In the end she went down the IT route.’ Nikki shrugged. ‘But it was the right decision. She’d have made a damned good police officer, but she’s way too clever with technology to waste her talents banging up drunks and chasing villains.’
‘I’ll go get her, shall I?’
‘Thanks, Joseph. And ask one of the others to send in a couple of black coffees, would you?’
Joseph nodded and left.
Nikki stared at the closed door. She was worried about Joseph. That’s why she’d snapped at Cat. For days now he had seemed preoccupied, and had none of his usual enthusiasm for work. Something was wrong. For once it wasn’t his daughter, Tamsin. The week before, Tamsin had married PC Niall Farrow, a brave young officer who loved Tamsin to bits. At present they were enjoying a romantic week in Paris. When they returned, they would start work on renovating their new home, an old Fenland cottage way out on Jacob’s Mere. No, this time it wasn’t Tamsin. But Nikki had a damned good idea who it was.
Just prior to the wedding, Joseph’s ex-wife, Laura, had suddenly reappeared and was showing no signs of moving on. Unfortunately. Nikki wasn’t jealous. Nikki had never been that. She simply didn’t like Laura.
Nikki sighed. It was as if something had drained Joseph’s batteries and stolen his bright inner light. Joseph looked . . . she struggled to find the right word. Depleted, that was it. Nikki had never seen him like this before. She knew that he had been to hell and back over the past few years with some very traumatic and dangerous cases, but his training in the military in Special Ops, followed by a year spent travelling, had taught him how to cope. Most of the time, he was calm and in control, even in the direst situations. In fact, Joseph was one of the coolest men Nikki had ever met, and she wanted him to stay that way.
* * *
‘Not bad, Nikki, not bad! But where is the highly polished oak desk with the banker’s lamp and the silver photo frames? I’ve watched plenty of crime films, and this,’ Spooky indicated the modern laminate desktop and the rickety bookcases, ‘is definitely not up to standard!’
‘It’s Lincolnshire, Spooks, not LA! Great to see you! May I ask what brings you to my little empire?’
Spooky grinned broadly, and plonked herself into Nikki’s only other chair.
An officer entered and placed two steaming beakers on her desk. Nikki thanked him and turned to her visitor. ‘Before you ask if it’s freshly ground, it’s bog-standard instant coffee served in a polystyrene beaker.’
‘My favourite! And black! You remembered!’
‘So, Spooky. To what do I owe the pleasure?’
Spooky looked down, and then ran a hand through her thatch of short, dark hair. She lifted her head. Her eyes betrayed deep anxiety. ‘Two things, actually. I was going to ring you at home, maybe even pop out to Cloud Fen one evening for a chat, but you work such bloody grim hours, and it’s kind of official stuff, so here I am.’
Nikki regarded the blue jeans, the old but well-cared-for suede boat shoes and the vintage rugby shirt. As usual, Spooky looked more like a teenage boy than a thirty-eight-year-old woman.
‘Official?’
‘First, my boss has suggested that I interview for a particular post that our company has been offered. It’s a brilliant promotion, and really stimulating stuff, totally my field of interest, if you know what I mean . . .’
‘And the downside? There has to be one.’
‘It’s here. A specialised IT unit, staffed by civilians and working for the entire Fenland Constabulary. Thing is, well, I know things are different now, with sexual equality and all that, but, oh hell! I wondered if you’d have a problem with me working here, if I get the job of course, me knowing you, and being rather obviously gay, I mean?’ The words came out in a rush.
Spooky looked thoroughly wretched. Nikki had, in fact, seen her name on the list of prospective candidates, and she respected her for taking the trouble to ask how she felt about it. Most people would just have gone after the job. With a laugh, Nikki said, ‘Go for it! And good luck. I’ve seen the spec on some of those new systems. They look fascinating even to me, and I’m no computer boffin like you.’ She paused. ‘And, Spooks, you should know by now that I have absolutely no problem with anyone’s sexuality.’
‘I just didn’t want to cause any complications for you. You’ve got a brilliant position here, Nik, and as I’m sure you’ll remember I have been known to be a teensy bit outspoken.’
‘Well, I do recall that you never came to any harm through beating yourself up. But, Spooky, I don’t believe personal issues belong in the work place. I’m a damned good detective and you’re an amazing techie. I can’t see that sexual orientation, religion, weird hobbies, or anything else for that matter, has anything at all to do with our work.’
‘I feel much easier hearing that, Nikki. I promise I won’t turn up for work in a Gay Pride sweatshirt! All I need now is to get through the interviews.’ Spooky looked as if she had just been given a shot of something highly stimulating. Her face glowed and her dark eyes shone with excitement.
Nikki looked thoughtfully at her. ‘Although I have no idea why you should think that I would have a problem with you working here, you would have let that job go, wouldn’t you?’
Spooky shrugged. ‘Naturally. I’m very aware that the force isn’t quite as accepting of things as some would believe. We were good buddies, and it wouldn’t do to mess up an old friendship for the sake of some job.’ She put on a terrified face. ‘And besides, Bliss would kill me!’
Nikki laughed. Angie Blissett, Bliss to everyone who knew her, was a real character. Whenever Nikki thought of Bliss, she imagined the tinkling of finger cymbals and a cloud of fragrant incense. To look at, she was about as different as it was possible to be from her partner. She had a tu
mbling mane of curly auburn hair and wore flowing skirts and bright colours. Bliss was a nurturer, the peaceful, grounding influence that was just what Spooky the tech freak needed. ‘You said there were two reasons for your visit?’
Spooky sipped the coffee and grimaced. ‘This is truly awful!’ Then she lowered her voice and said, ‘Yes. It’s about Madeline Prospero.’
Nikki tensed. ‘You knew her?’ The Prospero murder case was into its fourth week now, and so far they had come up with a big fat zero. Why would a well-known, well-liked, well-off business woman have been murdered in her own home?
Spooky nodded. ‘Not best mates, but, yes, I knew her. The thing is, I might know a thing or two about her that you guys don’t.’ She ran her long narrow fingers through her hair and looked horribly worried. ‘I don’t want to drop anyone in the brown stuff, but Maddie was a really nice person. She didn’t deserve to die like that.’
‘No one deserves to die the way she did. If there is anything you can tell me about her, I’d be really grateful. I have precious few leads at present.’ Nikki sat forward.
‘Has anyone ever mentioned a place called the Briar Patch to you?’ Spooky asked.
Nikki puffed out her cheeks. ‘Mmm. The name does ring a bell. Ah yes, it’s a drinking club, isn’t it? The sort of place a few “like-minded” people get together for a glass of vino and a chat?’
Spooky nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s it — well, sort of. It’s situated down a quiet, dimly-lit Greenborough alley. Extremely low key. Only a very select few know about it. Definitely no loud music, riff-raff or diesel dykes! It’s been going for years now and Maddie was a regular.’
‘Madeline Prospero was a lesbian?’ Nikki’s eyes widened.
‘I thought that fact might not have surfaced. It certainly wasn’t common knowledge. You probably do know that Maddie’s father owns a very lucrative business and that she was his number one honcho. He’s a miserable old git who makes the Victorians look positively hedonistic. He would have died a thousand deaths if he had found out about his darling daughter’s penchant for the ladies, plus he would have thrown her out. No job, no home and no inheritance. It was most certainly in her best interests to keep her predilections to herself.’