The Devil's Dice

by Roz Watkins

He paused and sank deeper into his chair. ‘A kind of motor neurone disease.’

  ‘I’m sorry. How awful.’

  ‘Yes.’ I detected bitterness and resignation in his voice. It was strange how the dark made me more aware of the subtle inflections of tone. ‘It hit the children very hard. Towards the end we couldn’t do anything for her and she eventually suffocated.’

  ‘That’s why Mark can’t abide suffering,’ I said quietly.

  ‘You’re right. Any lame duck that wanders past, Mark’ll take it in. And he won’t let it suffer. It’s better to be dead than suffer, he says. Having seen what Lily went through, I’m inclined to agree.’

  *

  Driving home, I called Jai on the hands-free. ‘Could you check something out?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine thanks, Meg. How are you?’ Jai’s voice was breaking up, but the tone was still clear.

  ‘I’ll probably lose the signal at any moment so just consider the niceties done, can you? A friend of Peter’s and Felix’s apparently got killed in an accident in Cambridge. It could be nothing, but did anything come up in the background checks?’

  ‘Well, we didn’t find that. But Edward Swift and Felix Carstairs, the two partners – they both have criminal records.’

  ‘Really? What on earth for?’ I swerved to avoid a pheasant, his red and gold feathers reflecting my headlights as he ambled onto the road. He should have been safely tucked up in bed in a tree. He wouldn’t survive for long with that attitude. Bred to be easy to shoot, the poor sod.

  Jai’s voice filled the car. ‘Edward for rowdy behaviour outside an abortion clinic and Felix for small-scale dealing of cannabis.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Interesting. Could you check about a student falling off a roof in Cambridge? And I still have a signal. How are you Jai? Are you having a nice day?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been consoling myself with a bit of Epictetus.’

  ‘The stuff Hamilton was reading in the cave?’

  ‘That’s right. I’m only supposed to keep company with those who uplift me.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Yeah. So I’ll be off now.’ The line went quiet. I cursed Jai’s sense of humour. Then he was back. ‘No, it’s all about not getting mithered about stuff outside of your control. And living in the present like a dog.’

  ‘Do we know if he’s always been into this sort of thing? I didn’t notice any other books on philosophy or personal development in their house.’

  ‘I checked with the wife and she didn’t know about it.’

  ‘So, why’s he suddenly reading Stoic philosophy? And has it got anything to do with Tithonus who can’t ever die? Or with him thinking he was cursed? His grandmother thought he was cursed too.’

  ‘He wasn’t killed by a curse, though, was he? Some bugger left poisoned food in a casket in the woods and he ate it. We checked all the other foot sizes. Mark Hamilton’s are huge – size twelve, Edward Swift’s are size ten, Kate Webster’s size five and the two other women size seven. All had wellies present and correct except Felix, which you already know about.’

  ‘So, probably any of them could have worn our wellies except Mark Hamilton or Kate Webster.’

  No answer. Damn. Lost him.

  The countryside around Birchover was eerie in the evening light, random rocks jutting from the hillside like statues that just might come alive at night. I reached the strangely named Via Gellia, not a Roman road as you’d expect from the name but a winding motorcyclist’s death trap which I usually enjoyed driving. The trees loomed over the road, meeting in the middle above it and forming a tunnel. The ground never dried properly, even in high summer, hence the problem with motorcyclists periodically having to be scraped off the tarmac. Tonight the road seemed forbidding and I struggled to see its shining surface. I hoped the head injury wasn’t messing with my vision.

  I finally arrived home, let myself in, and stretched as I hobbled along my tiny hallway. My shoulder ached where I’d wrenched it falling down the steps.

  Hamlet trotted up like a little clockwork toy, his fluffy undercarriage swinging from side to side.

  ‘Come on, let’s feed you,’ I said. ‘And maybe even me too.’

  I did my room checks, cursing myself for being so ridiculous when getting up the stairs was such an ordeal, and returned to the kitchen. The windows would never shut properly, and it was freezing. The boiler fired away ineffectually, sounding like it could take you to Mars but failing to heat the tiny house. I spooned out some Duck with organic vegetables for Hamlet, stuck the kettle on and leant down to rummage in the freezer. Whilst fully intending to cook something wholesome and low carb, I was drawn to pizza and chips. Oh well, it was comfort food, and surely justified in view of my injuries.

  Armed with pizza, chips and large quantities of tomato ketchup (one of my five-a-day) I retreated to the slightly warmer living room with the laptop, and googled geocaching. Jai had been right. It was apparently a kind of treasure hunt, where participants used GPS systems to hide containers, called caches, which other participants then found. A typical cache was a small, waterproof container containing a logbook with a pen or pencil. The geocacher entered the date they’d found it and signed it with their code name. Sometimes the cache contained items for trading, usually cheap toys.

  So, it made sense if Peter Hamilton had left the little compass in return for the cake. He may have wondered why there was no log book, but it probably wouldn’t have worried him, and maybe he left the dated piece of paper instead. And the cake looked shop-bought and had a long sell-by date so, although it might be unusual to leave cake, he wouldn’t have had any reason not to eat it.

  My mind wandered to how I’d felt on the high footpath. I’d never been scared of heights – slightly uneasy perhaps, but not scared. That was all I needed. The flashbacks returning and now a fear of heights too. Surely if I’d been going to develop a phobia, it would have happened at the time, not twenty-five years later.

  Chapter 18

  I woke after a difficult night. When I peered into the bathroom mirror, I was expecting the Elephant Man to gaze back at me, but I actually looked relatively normal. I chucked down some more of my hospital pain killers, pulled on clothes, and hobbled down the steep staircase.

  I made tea, sat at the table with my mug, and called Jai.

  ‘Sorry I lost you yesterday. Is there any progress with the geocaching thing?’

  ‘We’ve got people checking the relevant websites and seeing if any of his contacts are into it. It turns out there’s a thing called a mystery cache where you have to solve a puzzle, either to get the co-ordinates where the box is located or to get into the box when you get there.’

  ‘So the answer to the puzzle could be the code to get into the casket?’

  ‘Yep, that’s what I reckon. We really need to find out if he went on any geocaching websites. The hairy geeks are looking into it.’

  ‘You mean our esteemed Digital Media Officers?’

  The weak sunshine highlighted dust motes in the air and smeary marks on the window. Once this case was over, I’d do a spot of cleaning. ‘I think we should talk to his wife again,’ I said. ‘Would you come with me? I was going to go straight there this morning. I’ll ring in to the Station.’

  *

  Jai lived in a flat on the outskirts of Matlock, surrounded by other recently separated males. He was waiting outside when I turned up.

  ‘Alright?’ I said, the normal Derbyshire greeting, which should be followed by a repetition of, ‘Alright?’ rather than an actual answer.

  Jai shunned the greeting convention. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just got the post. Letter from the solicitor. How can the nice person you marry turn into an evil psycho-bitch from Hell?’

  ‘Maybe she was always an evil psycho-bitch and you just didn’t see it?’

  I’d heard about Jai’s ex-wife from Fiona. Apparently she judged other women according to a formula involving their husband’s earnings divided by their clothes size. Jai was well
out of it. If he was going to be shunned by his family for marrying a non-Sikh, he could surely have chosen someone more worthy.

  Once we were in my car and on our way, Jai reached to flip on the radio. Alanis Morissette’s ‘Ironic’ came on.

  ‘It’s not bloody ironic, is it?’ Jai said. ‘Rain on your wedding day.’

  I laughed. ‘No, Jai, it’s not. It’s just a tad unlucky. And a traffic jam when you’re already late?’

  ‘Par for the sodding course, I’d say.’ But he’d perked up a bit.

  ‘Isn’t it ironic?’ warbled Alanis.

  ‘No, it’s not!’ we shouted.

  Alanis faded to a conclusion. An image of Kate Webster’s god-awful, cliff-hovering house slid into my mind. I realised I didn’t want to be in it, hanging over the side of the quarry. I’d still go, but I felt the need to share my pain. Should I tell Jai? Would he tell Craig later so they could add this to the string of piss-taking options? I decided to risk it. ‘I’ve been feeling a bit weird about heights,’ I said. ‘You know, since I dived head-first down those steps.’

  ‘Like a vertigo thing?’

  ‘A bit. But if you mention this to Craig, I will, in all seriousness, kill you. After disembowelling you.’

  ‘I’d never do that.’ He sounded quite hurt.

  ‘Sorry. It’s… Oh, don’t worry. Anyway, I was just thinking about Kate Webster’s house jutting over the edge of that sodding quarry.’

  ‘You’ve got me to hold your hand.’

  I looked round at Jai, and he reddened slightly.

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  I drove up the narrow lane out of Eldercliffe, my car engine grunting with the strain, and pulled into the parking space by Kate’s house.

  Kate appeared at the door with dishevelled hair, in a dressing gown. ‘It’s a mess in here and I’m not up, I’m afraid. Maybe you could make an appointment to come back later?’ You only got that kind of comment from the middle-class suspects.

  ‘We’d prefer to come in now, if that’s all right. We don’t mind about the mess.’ I inched my foot inside.

  ‘Okay, whatever.’ She moved away from the door into the hallway. It had degenerated visibly since we were last there. Dust and hairs drifted in loose clusters over the floorboards like dandelion clocks and the air was sweet with the smell of decaying cut flowers.

  We followed Kate into the living room. The TV blared. Kate shuffled over and switched it off.

  ‘I was watching Extraordinary People.’

  ‘Oh, I watch that,’ I said.

  ‘These two girls have only got one body between them. They seem so happy. Even have boyfriends.’

  ‘I remember that one. Incredible.’

  ‘Puts my problems into perspective.’

  I did the same as Kate. There’s nothing like two girls sharing a body or a man with ten stone testicles to make you pull yourself together when you’re feeling a bit hard-done-by.

  ‘Right,’ Kate said. ‘How can I help? Do you want tea?’

  ‘Yes please, shall we go into the kitchen?’ I had to get away from that picture window.

  We walked through and settled ourselves around her beautiful kitchen table, which was made of a selection of different coloured, faded, aged planks. I was coveting this woman’s furniture again.

  I ran my hand over the waxed table-top. ‘So, what did you think about the suicide email?’

  ‘Well, at first I assumed it was from him, obviously. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised it wasn’t his style. I think someone must have hacked his account.’

  ‘Did anyone know his password?’

  ‘Well, he wasn’t that careful.’

  ‘Do you know it?’

  She pulled her dressing gown tight around herself. ‘He uses a few different ones. I’d have a good chance I think, yes. You do know if I’d murdered him, I wouldn’t be saying he didn’t commit suicide, don’t you?’

  I smiled, processing all the negatives. ‘Yes, we got that. Did Peter ever go geocaching?’

  ‘Oh, that stupid thing with co-ordinates?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ My pulse quickened. She was going to say yes. We were onto something. Finally.

  ‘Yes,’ Kate said. ‘He used to check for caches and find them on walks at the weekend, or sometimes on his lunch break on Mondays I think, if they were nearby.’

  Bingo. I glanced at Jai and saw a look of triumph flit across his face. ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Thanks. Did you ever go with him?’

  ‘Why? Has this got something to do with his death?’

  ‘We’re looking into it.’ I hoped she’d be satisfied with my complete non-explanation.

  ‘Oh, thanks for clarifying that,’ Kate said. ‘That’s on a par with East Midlands Trains telling you the train’s delayed because it was late leaving the last station.’

  I smiled. ‘We can’t say at the moment. Did you ever go with him?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Fair enough. Well, no, I never did. But he used to go with Felix and Edward about once a month, and one or more of their wives too, I think. Oh, and Mark sometimes used to go with them.’

  ‘Do you happen to know which website he looked at?’

  She tapped long fingers against the table. ‘No, but I’m sure your people will be looking at his browsing history.’

  ‘Did you ever go on the geocaching websites?’

  ‘No. I left him to it. I always thought it was a bit odd.’

  ‘Did Peter ever mention a friend called Sebastian?’

  She looked up sharply. ‘What, from his Cambridge days?’

  ‘We’re not sure. Who was he?’

  Kate fiddled with a strand of dark hair. ‘Oh, you know Peter…’ She paused. ‘Sorry, you didn’t know Peter. Somehow he managed to befriend this homeless guy when he was in Cambridge. I don’t really know how it happened but it’s typical Peter. If someone talked to him, he’d be too polite to ignore them. I think Sebastian started chatting to him one day on Parker’s Piece and it turned out they both came from round here. So they hung out together a bit. It was the summer of Peter’s second year, after the exams.’

  ‘And had Peter kept in touch with him?’

  ‘No, it all fizzled out. And of course Felix hated Sebastian. Thought he had a crush on Olivia. He was insanely jealous about her.’

  Kate jumped up to get us tea.

  ‘You were saying Felix hated Sebastian,’ Jai said, once Kate had sat back down.

  ‘Yes.’ She crossed her legs and adjusted her dressing gown. ‘And Peter wasn’t too sorry to let the friendship go, because he found Sebastian’s glue-sniffing friends unnerving. Ironically, Felix didn’t mind them, but then Peter said Felix always maintained a few dodgy friends so he could get hold of drugs when he wanted them.’

  ‘Sebastian sounds an interesting character.’

  ‘Yes, I think it was a bit of an eye-opener for Peter. Sebastian’s main aim in life was to get arrested. He liked being in police custody because he got fed sausages.’

  It was good to know we were doing all right by our criminal underclass.

  ‘So, was Peter ever scared of Sebastian?’

  Kate frowned. ‘No. He found him a bit strange I think, but never threatening.’

  ‘Okay, could we ask you about the recent increase in the life insurance on your husband,’ I said, gently again.

  Kate fiddled with her hair, combing a knot with her fingers. ‘It was at his instigation,’ she said. ‘It was actually because we were planning to have a baby. And he’d been talking to his granny. She’s always been a doom-merchant. I can see it looks suspicious, but also a bit too obvious, don’t you think? If I was going to do it? I’m not stupid. And we did it on me too, not just him.’

  ‘It’s for nearly a million pounds. A lot of money, especially when you don’t have kids yet. Did you have immediate plans?’

  ‘Yes. Well, we did. Peter got cold feet about a year ago but he was coming round again. And life insurance is actually
still quite cheap at our age and we thought we should sort it out now. Once the baby was on the way, we’d have other things to focus on.’

  Kate stood and walked to the kitchen window, turning her back on us. ‘This is actually quite hard to talk about.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘We have to ask these questions.’

  ‘So,’ Jai said. ‘We heard you went and stayed with your parents in Bakewell for a while? Were you and Peter having problems?’

  She whipped round and spoke to Jai. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, are you playing Bad Cop? Who said that? My parents are dead. I went to install a burglar alarm at our holiday cottage.’

  Obviously Felix had got completely the wrong end of the stick, which seemed consistent with his level of interest in Peter’s personal life. ‘You have a holiday cottage in Bakewell?’ I said.

  ‘Yes. It’s an old windmill. It was too much hassle to rent it properly so we just use it to get away, and let friends and family stay there – Peter’s partners and Mark, mainly.’

  ‘You like high places then.’ I felt a little odd.

  ‘I always used to. Although this house – well, I don’t feel so good about it now. But the windmill’s stunning. You can go right up to the top. There’s a spectacular circular room up there with huge windows overlooking the moor.’

  I tried to look enthusiastic.

  ‘We were thinking of re-instating the milling mechanism actually,’ Kate said. ‘We’re both interested in that sort of thing. There’s still the space in the tower for it and a hole in the floor of the upper room. Anyway, that won’t happen now. So, no. No serious problems with Peter. I only went for a few days.’

  ‘Okay, that’s fine.’ I hesitated. ‘Peter’s grandmother mentioned someone being pregnant – could that be you?’

  She looked confused for a moment. ‘Oh, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Right. Thanks. Just one more thing. The paper we took from the fire – that you said was scrap. It had a word on it in Peter’s handwriting – Tithonus. Does that mean anything to you?’

  Kate breathed in slightly before saying, ‘No. Nothing.’

  ‘Are you sure? Why would Peter write that word?’

  ‘I really have no idea. A crossword maybe?’