by Joy Ellis
‘I hate to say this, ma’am, but I think we need to go back to Quintin Eaudyke.’ Yvonne looked thoroughly miserable at the prospect.
‘We certainly do. From where I’m sitting, it rather looks as if the menfolk of Quintin Eaudyke didn’t wait for an arrest and a trial, and took things into their own hands, staging his drowning . . .’
Joseph nodded. ‘And actually executing him and burying him in a disused cemetery. Rough justice.’
‘First, we need to confirm that our mystery man definitely is Gordon Hammond. Can you do that for us, Rory?’ Nikki looked at him.
‘No problem at all. Perhaps someone will be kind enough to hunt out the old evidence box with Hammond’s jacket and possessions in it? I’ve already taken a DNA sample from the bones, and you mentioned some blood, Yvonne?’
‘Yes, Professor, on his jacket and on his knife. It’s right here in my old notes. Good thing I was so wordy in those days, there’s a lot of info in the reports.’
‘Haven’t exactly changed then, have you?’ Joseph smiled at her.
‘Shame others can’t do the same.’ Nikki didn’t look at Joseph when she spoke.
Joseph looked uncomfortable. ‘Oh, absolutely, ma’am.’
Nikki frowned and returned to her memo pad. ‘Nice work, Vonnie. There’s very little doubt as to who our skeletal friend is, so we can start making some preliminary enquiries while we wait for positive identification. We’ll work on the assumption that someone in the village knows what happened. Dave, would you please get out that old evidence box and send it over to Rory. Yvonne, I’m going to need a list of the villagers whose children were potentially abused. In fact, we’ll need another list of everyone who was in Quintin at that time, then we’ll sort out who’s dead, alive or gone away. Cat, I’d like you to pull out all the old files and reports on Avril Hammond. The case was never closed. Right, any questions?’
‘Just one, for Yvonne actually.’ Joseph turned to her. ‘How many families do you think were affected?’
‘Oh, well, hard to say without checking the case notes, but most likely ten or possibly more.’
Joseph pulled a face. ‘So, a fair proportion of the village would have liked to see him dead?’
Yvonne gave a wry smile. ‘Except for one man. Cyril Roberts, the local butcher. Other than him, I’d say the whole damn village! From what I recall from our interviews, Cyril was Gordon’s only friend in Quintin Eaudyke, which leaves us with one hell of a list of suspects.’
Cat grimaced. ‘Great! It’s always the same, isn’t it? No suspects at all, as with the Prospero case, or too bloody many, like this one!’
Rory laughed. ‘Not often you get an entire village on the suspects’ list, is it?’
Nikki nodded. ‘It’s a first for me, I have to admit. But at least we can’t complain about having nothing to do, can we?’ She stood up. ‘Meeting over, guys, get to work. And Joseph? If you would stay, please. I want to talk to you.’
* * *
‘Ben Radley is being briefed by the superintendent, Joseph. As soon as he’s finished, I’d like you to show him the ropes. I know he’s been here before, but that’s not the same as working here permanently.’ Nikki wasn’t looking him in the eye, and her tone was chilly. This wasn’t like her at all.
‘Of course,’ said Joseph. ‘Is there anything in particular you want him to start working on?’
‘Fred Cartwright’s daughter. Yvonne has had no luck with the airlines or the local hotels. Not surprising really, Millicent may have got married since she left home, or maybe just changed her name. With no recent pictures of her, she’s not going to be easy to trace. But he can start with that. Check local hotels too, for any visiting Kiwis. We do have Millicent’s maiden name, her date of birth and the year she left for New Zealand, plus an old address in Christchurch. It’s not much, but it’s something.’
‘Okay. Maybe he could check again with the old neighbour. Ask her whether Fred mentioned expecting a visitor, or anything at all about his daughter.’ Joseph paused, still aware of the icy draft blowing his way. ‘Oh, and why don’t we put a notice in the local paper asking for anyone who knows of the whereabouts of Millicent Cartwright to contact us? Ben could deal with anything that comes in from that.’
‘Okay, I’ll leave that with you.’
She said no more, and Joseph realised he had been dismissed. He took a deep breath. ‘Nikki? Look, about last night, I—’
‘Not now, Joseph. I have a lot on my mind. Can it wait?’
Joseph bit his lip, nodded and left.
This clearly wasn’t the right time for a heart to heart, but it was clear that Nikki had been looking out of her window the night before and seen that red car.
* * *
The door closed behind Joseph and Nikki’s mobile rang. ‘Yes, Spooky?’
‘Just a quick call. I know we asked you for Sunday lunch, but Bliss wondered if you could make it for supper this evening instead?’
There would be nothing to stop her, would there? No cosy meal with Joseph, no intimate chat over a glass of wine. ‘Yes, tonight is fine. But why the change of plan?’
‘I, er, well . . .’
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, not really. Just something Bliss came up with, about what I told you, you know? We just felt we needed to talk to you, sooner rather than later.’
‘I’ll see you around six, if that suits?’
‘Perfect. See you then.’
Nikki hung up, wondering what Spooky and Bliss wanted to talk about. Spooky had sounded odd. Nikki shrugged, and glanced up at the wall clock. She should go and tell Superintendent Glen Woodhall the news about the mystery man. He’d no doubt be pleased at how quickly the corpse had been identified, but not so happy when he heard how many people had wanted him dead.
She gathered up her notes. In the end it would probably all be a process of elimination, and a lot can happen to folk in thirty years. Thirty years of history to dredge through! For a moment, the Prospero investigation didn’t seem so bad after all. At least it was a recent murder. Then she remembered the state of Maddie Prospero’s battered body and changed her mind.
Nikki stared at the closed office door. She should have let Joseph explain. But she had felt so angry, so left out. She was scared of losing it and saying something she would regret. She knew her reaction was totally over the top. It was probably something completely innocent. It was hardly professional to give him the cold shoulder at work either. She just couldn’t seem to help herself. She had not even opened her bedroom curtains that morning, so she had no idea if and when that red car had left. Oh God, this was so stupid! She needed to sort this out before she turned into some kind of bunny boiler. With a fierce shake of her head, Nikki picked up her notes and walked out of the office.
* * *
Dave placed the musty smelling cardboard box on the pathologist’s desk. ‘Sorry about the dirt, Professor. You should see the state of that evidence facility! It took me over an hour to locate it.’ He brushed cobwebs from the sleeve of his jacket and rubbed the toe of a shoe on the back of his trouser leg.
Rory ran a sharp knife around the lid and peered inside.
With gloved hands, he carefully removed an old tweed jacket, laid it carefully on his bench and smoothed it out. It had a heavy, dank smell. Next, Rory took out the evidence bags. These yielded a fob watch, a pearl-handled pocket knife, a handkerchief, a cheap metal bottle opener, a couple of long nails and a length of thick twine.
Rory spoke softly to the jacket. ‘Now, my beauty. What secrets can you tell me, I wonder?’
Dave half expected it to answer.
‘Blood. The good constable mentioned blood. Now, where?’ The pathologist lifted each dirty brown sleeve in turn. ‘Where, oh where. . . ? Ah, here we are!’
Dave followed the professor’s pointing finger. It indicated a small darkening of the material on the front edge of the jacket, close to the buttonholes. Rory raised the flap to reveal a larger irregul
ar stain on the thin lining.
‘Is that it?’ said Dave.
‘Not exactly a bucketful, is it? But it’s plenty for me to work on, and . . . Oh! Do look!’
Taking a pair of tweezers, Rory lifted a single short strand of hair from under the worn and faded collar. ‘Perfect! Root as well!’ Rory positively glowed.
This man should really get a life, thought Dave. ‘How long until you get a profile, Prof?’
‘Patience, dear friend! Patience!’
‘It’s just that I don’t want to spend days chasing around asking questions about the wrong bloke, do I, Prof?’
‘When it’s through, I will deliver it personally into your own fair hands, I promise. Will that do?’ Rory looked at him over the rims of his glasses.
‘So you’ve no idea how long it will take?’ Dave suppressed a sigh.
‘What is time, Detective? “Time travels in divers paces with divers persons.” As You Like It.’
‘Not quite as I’d like it, Professor, but I suppose we can’t have it all ways, can we?’
Rory grinned at him. ‘I’ll get all this photographed and see what else we can find out for you.’
Dave muttered his thanks and turned to leave.
‘It is Friday tomorrow, Detective, so tomorrow afternoon, if you are very lucky, alright?’
Dave gave him an exasperated smile and pushed through the doors.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Spooky and Bliss lived in a three-storey apartment over a gift shop in the middle of Greenborough town. The cobbled lane where the Victorian building was situated was called Salem Alley. Spooky loved it and thought the name incredibly cool. Bliss had looked into its history and had only come up with a reference to sallow or willow trees. No mention of witches at all.
Every time Nikki walked down the narrow lane, she was transported back to Victorian times. At some points, the old buildings practically touched each other at roof height. Spooky was always saying that Tim and Dougie, who lived opposite, could easily clean her windows if they leaned out far enough.
Before Nikki rang their bell, she glanced into the mullioned window of the gift shop. It was full of trendy, colourful things that drew your eye and had no useful purpose whatsoever. Interesting presents to give, but not so thrilling if you were on the receiving end.
‘Come on up! Dinner awaits!’ A tinny voice from the speaker made her jump. The door released with a clunking sound, and Nikki traipsed up the twisting flight of stairs.
‘Hey, Little Miss High Security! I could have been anyone! You opened the door before I even said who I was.’ Nikki tried to assume a suitably policeman-like expression.
‘Saw you coming, Detective Inspector, ma’am! Our front bay window looks down to the end of the alley.’
‘Oh, rats! Here, have this bottle of wine for being so observant.’
‘Very nice! This looks a damned sight better than what I’ve got in the fridge.’ Spooky grinned and added, ‘The dog hasn’t seen you for a while so look out for a big welcome.’
This was followed by an excited yelp and an elderly collie came skidding across the polished floor boards, sending rugs scattering in every direction.
Nikki bent down and cuddled the excited creature. ‘Oh and I’ve missed you too, Scully. Still being starved, I see.’
‘Right, you two go take a pew in the lounge while I see if Bliss needs a hand to dish up.’
Nikki sank onto a deep, soft couch and gazed around the room. There were candles on every surface, and clusters of pebbles and crystals. One wall was given over to a huge tapestry hanging from an oak pole, and the floor-length curtains were of a similar tapestry design. It was a lovely old room at any time, but Nikki liked it best in autumn and winter, when there was a roaring fire in the grate.
Nikki settled back and marvelled at how relaxed she always felt in the company of these two women. She spent most of her time dealing with criminals, liars, cheats, bullies and occasionally some truly evil people. This couple was a real antidote to her working life. There was no pretence with them, you knew exactly where you were. It made Nikki feel safe.
She heard footsteps on the stairs. ‘In your honour, we are eating in the rarely used dining room. So, if you would please like to join us?’ Spooky made a sweeping bow and led the way down.
The dinner was absolutely delicious, reminding Nikki of how much she missed Joseph. ‘Do you know, I’d forgotten what home-cooked food was until Joseph arrived in Greenborough. The Indian takeaway loved me so much they used to send Valentine’s cards. I think I would have starved if it hadn’t been for my microwave.’
‘Shame on you, Nikki Galena! Dreadful things. They nuke every ounce of goodness from the food.’ Bliss tried to look stern but failed. ‘Want some more coffee? Then we can go back to the lounge and talk.’
Settled once more on the sofa, Nikki waited for someone to speak. Clearly this was not an easy subject to broach, and the women remained silent.
Scully crept up beside Nikki and pressed against her. She pushed her grey muzzle into Nikki’s hand and gently licked her fingers. Stroking the dog and looking at no one in particular, she said, ‘So who’s going to tell me what’s worrying you, then?’
They both began to speak at the same time, and then stopped.
Nikki took charge. ‘Okay, Bliss. You first.’
Bliss smoothed her long multicoloured skirt, and looked up. ‘It’s about the members of the Briar Patch Club. We’ve been talking about what they might be up to.’ She paused and gazed across at Spooky. ‘I have an idea my little drama queen here may be wrong about them turning into vengeful angels. On reflection, I believe they are meeting because they are frightened. I think they are forming a watch committee because they believe that Maddie’s was not a random killing.’
Spooky nodded. ‘I agree with Bliss. I reckon that they are scared shitless worrying about who will be next.’
Nikki weighed this up. ‘So why not come to me — well, to the police? I know that some of these women have no wish for their sexuality to be broadcast throughout Greenborough, but we would do our best to be discreet. If they think they are in danger, well, surely . . . ?’
‘With respect, Nikki, what if there was a leak? How would you feel if you were one of those women and you saw a headline declaring to the world that the redoubtable Detective Inspector Nikki Galena was a dyke?’
Nikki knew exactly how she would have felt. ‘Mmm, point taken. But I would like to know why they consider themselves to be in danger. It seems that Madeline Prospero was indeed the target and not just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, but there was nothing at the scene to indicate that some homophobic creep was trying to pick off influential lesbians one by one.’
‘I might be able to tell you more after Monday.’ Spooky sipped her coffee. ‘I had a text message that there was going to be an urgent meeting at eight thirty next Monday night at the Patch. It said all members should make every effort to attend.’
‘Sounds promising, doesn’t it?’
‘It does, and I’ll make sure I’m there. But I also heard that the elite women, Sylvia Caulfield and her close friends may be meeting again at her home beforehand.’
‘I wonder why?’
Bliss folded her arms. ‘It must be to decide how much to divulge to the members at the meeting on Monday.’
Spooky shrugged. ‘Yeah, it’s probably a case of “how much do we tell the children?” And I have no chance of gatecrashing that one.’
‘Well, just go the main meeting then. Will you ring me as soon as it’s over?’
‘Try and stop me. The thought of some weirdo spying on us is giving us both the screaming abdabs. We’ve even rigged up a code with the two gay guys opposite — you know, Tim and Dougie? If we hitch up the left hand lounge curtain onto the window catch, then call the Old Bill!’
Nikki laughed. ‘What were you planning on doing? Telling your intruder to have a seat while you just go and adjust your drapes?’
&
nbsp; ‘Don’t mock! So far it’s the best we could come up with!’ Spooky looked put out.
‘I’d keep thinking, if I were you! But seriously, don’t get too worried. There really is nothing to indicate that the killer is after anyone else in the group. Just go to that meeting and find out why the women are so troubled, okay?’ Nikki smiled. ‘What does it feel like to be a copper’s snout?’
Spooky grinned. ‘I prefer to be called an undercover sleuth, thank you! Hey, in the movies they get paid, so what’s all this worth, guv’nor? A pony? A ton? A grand?’
‘Would you settle for a pizza or a family-size tub of ice cream?’
‘Deal!’
Bliss stared in horror. ‘You’re not serious! Do you know how many preservatives they put in those things?’
‘Joke, Bliss! If Spooky comes up with something good, I will take you both to the best restaurant in town, with the freedom of the menu. How’s that?’
‘We’ll hold you to that. And by the way, Ms Dead Clever Detective, supposing you suggest something better than our lifted curtain sign?’
‘I guess it’s not that bad really, but if I were you, I’d agree on an object you could place on the window sill, then remove if you needed help. You can easily pretend to knock it over if someone takes you by surprise.’
Nikki looked around and saw a good sized chunky candle on a flat base. It was scarlet, orange and white, and would be easily visible from across the street. ‘This would do. But I really don’t think it’s necessary, you know.’
‘You are most likely right, but thank you. And Tim and Dougie are dying for a bit of drama in their lives! They’ll really enjoy seeing all those hunky young uniforms dashing down the alley!’
‘Tell them not to hold their breath. We only have two good lookers, and they’re not in uniform.’
They chatted for a while, and then Nikki remembered her trip to Zena Paris’s antique shop. She told them about her sighting of the daunting Zena. The two women fell about laughing.
‘That wasn’t Zena! That was her manageress, the delectable Miss Harriet Page aka Harry the Rottweiler!’ Still giggling, Spooky ferreted around on a shelf and returned with a photo album. She found what she wanted and turned the book around to show Nikki.