by Roz Watkins
That was all I needed. My nasty internal voices manifesting as a fat copper.
I ignored him and spoke to Jai. ‘And the cache was withdrawn from the website after Peter Hamilton died? From the same log-in?’
‘Yes. So obviously, setting aside activities from beyond the grave, someone knew his log-in details.’
‘Can they tell what computer this person logged in from?’ I asked.
‘They’re looking into it. It’s not necessarily easy.’
‘So, this was definitely directed at Hamilton. It wasn’t a random psycho who took a dislike to geocachers. And if they knew his log-in details, maybe they also got access to the Gmail account that sent the suicide note.’
‘Maybe. And it turns out he logged on every Monday at around 12.30pm, so the killer probably knew that.’
I sighed and pushed my chair back, to put more space between me and Craig. ‘It’s very intricate,’ I said. ‘And whoever did this knew Hamilton quite well.’
‘It’s clever,’ Jai said. ‘I mean, if the dog hadn’t found the body so quickly, the killer could have sneaked back and removed the casket and we’d have had no idea about any of this.’
‘So, who knew him well enough to do it? I suppose his partners, his brother, and his wife would all know he’d be able to solve the second riddle, to get into the inner box, especially as he had Piers on his mind anyway. But it wasn’t too unique to him. It was something quite a few geocachers would have been able to solve, but the chance of the wrong person happening on it and getting past the first riddle was incredibly slim, especially if the original GPS co-ordinates were only on the site for a few hours.’
Craig had been remarkably quiet listening to all this. He cleared this throat and said, ‘Well, that’s all very intelligent but you’re wasting your time. We’ve arrested someone.’
I snapped my head round. ‘What?’
‘We’ve had a confession. Richard’s delighted.’
‘Who’s confessed?’
‘The homeless scrote who’d been supplying Hamilton with drugs.’
‘Sebastian? Really? Why did he kill him?’
‘Probably an argument over money. You know what dealers are like.’
‘But Craig… Are you sure?’ Nothing I’d heard about Sebastian made him seem right for this.
Craig curled his lip. ‘Yes, he’s confessed to doing it.’
‘We have to catch the right person, Craig,’ Jai said. ‘It’s not like in the good old days when you could beat a confession out of a random tramp.’
‘Richard’s not interested in your opinion.’ Craig flounced away.
‘I don’t like the sound of this.’ I stood up. ‘I need another coffee. Have a word in my room, Jai?’
I leapt up and strode to our little kitchen area, banging the fire-door against its rubber stop. I rustled around to find mugs that were only lightly stained and moderately chipped, and made coffee for Jai and myself. Some bastard had been stealing my milk again. You would think in the police force you could leave a pint of milk in the fridge.
When I arrived at my room, the door was shut. I kicked it and it was opened by Fiona, looking furtive.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said.
‘Yep, my room.’
‘It’s okay, come in.’
‘Oh, thanks.’
Fiona ignored my sarcasm and ushered me in, shutting the door behind me.
‘Fiona was telling me about the so-called confession,’ Jai said, taking his coffee and leaning against my desk.
I moved over and sat in my chair. ‘Sorry, Fiona, I didn’t make you a drink.’
‘It’s okay.’ She glanced at Jai. ‘I was just saying they taught us we should be extra careful with mentally ill people and I think that homeless man was mentally ill. Look I’d better go.’
‘Thanks, Fiona,’ I said. ‘Jai can fill me in.’
She slipped out of the door, closing it softly behind her.
‘She even wrote notes.’ Jai lifted a sheet of paper from my overflowing desk. ‘In answer to the question, “What is your name?” he said, “I’m an oxymoron, an intelligent idiot, a confessing fugitive, impudently polite.”’
‘They kind of are oxymorons,’ I said.
Jai gave me the kind of look a proud parent gives their newly toilet-trained kid. ‘I knew I could rely on you to know what a sodding oxymoron is. So, in answer to questions about his whereabouts on Monday, he said…’ Jai glanced down. ‘“I killed Peter. Poor Peter. I killed Peter. He didn’t fall. I’m a compassionate murderer. It was for the best. Am I going to prison? Can I have sausages?”’
‘He’s still after the sausages then. I’m surprised they’ve maintained the quality.’
‘He’s clearly a nut-job. And then they asked him how he killed Peter, and he said, “Killed Peter, yes, killed Peter.” Apparently his competent adult woman intervened at that point but Craig carried on, and eventually he said something about poison. But I mean it’s all over the internet about the poisoned cake. He didn’t say anything else relevant. Nothing about the casket or anything.’ Jai shook his head. ‘It’s so not him.’
‘Yeah, unless he’s capable of Oscar-winning performances, he doesn’t sound like a calculating killer.’
‘Agreed. And there’s something else makes me think there’s more to this than a drugs deal gone wrong. Look what’s landed on your desk.’
I put my coffee down at speed. ‘What?’
‘Peter’s will and life insurance details. In paper copy, like the olden days.’
‘So, go on, what have we got?’
‘Well, it’s interesting.’ Jai spread the papers on my desk. ‘The life insurance only pays out for suicide if you’ve had the policy for at least five years. Which obviously they haven’t. So, it is just about conceivable he killed himself and made it look like murder.’
‘Okay…’
‘And according to the will, the wife gets most of it, with some to the siblings. There’s also the big fat policy made out to his two partners. There was a critical illness policy and a permanent health policy too, paid for by the firm. Belt and braces. But, the really interesting bit.’ Jai paused and looked at me.
‘What, Jai, what? This isn’t The X-Factor results.’
‘There’s a large bequest in trust for Rosie Carstairs.’
‘Felix and Olivia’s strange daughter?’
‘That’s the one.’
Chapter 25
I knocked on the rather fine, oak-panelled door of Felix and Olivia’s barn conversion. It opened slowly and at first I didn’t see anyone, but then the top of a head and some blue eyes edged out from behind it. Rosie.
‘Oh, the detective,’ she said, stepping sideways. ‘Dad’s at work and Mum’s poo picking.’
‘I’ll just have a word with your mum then. She’s what?’
‘In the field. Picking up horse poo. I’d have helped her but I’m feeling a bit tired. I’m having a lie down.’
I imagined the thought of picking up horse poo would bring most teenagers over a bit tired. I scrutinised Rosie’s pale face. Why would Peter leave a large bequest to his friend’s daughter? Was that Felix’s haughty nose? Or could it be Peter’s? I’d only seen Peter dead, of course. Blue eyes were recessive so that didn’t help us much.
I told her I’d go and find her Mum, and she pointed me in the direction of the furthest field (of course) situated up a steep hill (naturally). At least there were no precipices involved.
It was a bright, fresh day, the sun poking out intermittently from behind fast-moving clouds. Even while scooping up piles of horse manure, Olivia looked like something out of Country Living magazine, with her stylish Puffa jacket, topped off with an artfully arranged scarf and long, straight hair with just the right amount of dishevelment.
She looked up. A smudging around her eyes suggested she’d not slept. ‘Oh. Hello. Is it true Peter’s sister’s dead?’
Curse Twitter. It was out already. ‘I’m afraid so. We don’t
have any details yet.’
Olivia took a step towards me. ‘But she was murdered?’
‘There’s no reason to treat it as suspicious at the moment.’
Olivia opened her mouth as if about to say something, then shut it again. She picked up her scraping equipment and took a step away from me. ‘So, what was it you wanted to see me about? Do you mind talking to me while I finish this off? I need to get it done.’
I agreed, and offered to push the wheelbarrow, which was surprisingly heavy. ‘Where was Felix on Sunday afternoon?’
‘I’ve no idea. I was out all day with a friend. He didn’t tell me what he’d been doing. Working probably. You don’t think he…’
I looked at her retreating back. Felix’s friends and loved ones weren’t exactly leaping forward to vouch for his good character.
‘I assume you know that in Peter Hamilton’s will,’ I said, ‘there’s a substantial bequest left in trust for your daughter.’
Olivia came to an abrupt halt. ‘Oh. Yes, it’s a bit awkward actually. You haven’t told Felix, have you?’ She hunched over and scraped at the ground with repeated strokes.
‘No. Perhaps you could explain why Peter left money to Rosie.’
‘Well, I’m sure you’ve guessed.’ She straightened, and rubbed her lower back. ‘Peter thought Rosie was his daughter.’
‘And is she?’
‘Well, possibly.’
Bingo. I knew it.
Olivia walked to a group of trees. I followed, struggling to push the wheelbarrow over the rutted ground.
‘I don’t know for sure.’ She was talking at the ground. ‘I know it sounds bad. I had a one-off liaison with Peter, and I started going out with Felix soon afterwards.’
I plonked the wheelbarrow down next to Olivia. ‘And then you found you were pregnant?’
‘Yes. And I mean, both Felix and I naturally assumed the baby was his. And if she is Peter’s she must have been born late because it was more than nine months since the thing with him.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, a little bit more.’
‘Didn’t you want to know for sure?’
‘I never even doubted she was Felix’s. She doesn’t look any more like one or the other of them. I don’t know why Peter suddenly started going on about her being his daughter.’
‘When did he start going on about it?’
‘Oh, about six months ago. Maybe a bit longer. He seemed to get it into his head she was his.’
‘Is that why you were visiting him at his house, when he worked from home?’
Her head snapped up. ‘God, you can’t do anything secretly these days. Yes, it was. We weren’t having an affair or anything. Just trying to decide what to do.’
‘Does Felix know anything about this?’
‘No. And I don’t see why he has to find out.’ She paused and shuffled loose hay on the ground into a pile.
A horse wandered over and nudged the wheelbarrow, threatening to tip it over. I felt slightly protective of the barrow, but there wasn’t much I could do to influence the half-ton creature.
‘Oh, bloody hell, Sam.’ Olivia touched the horse on his chest and he tucked his nose in and backed up a couple of inches. ‘Now he thinks I’m going to play with him.’ The horse leant forward and grabbed Olivia’s scarf with his teeth. She yelled and snatched it back, but not before I’d seen the purple bruising around her neck.
I caught her eye. She knew I’d seen. ‘The sod bit me,’ she said. ‘He didn’t mean it, just wanted attention.’ She wrapped the scarf tight again. ‘Like he did just now, but he misjudged it.’
I opened my mouth. An impenetrable force-field had shot up around Olivia. I let it go.
The horse gave us an I’d-never-bite-my-mum look and marched off.
‘No, it’s better Felix doesn’t know,’ Olivia said. ‘I’d prefer to work on the assumption she’s his. It makes life a lot easier for all of us, okay? He’s her father, he brought her up. What good would it do now, raking up a lot of ancient history, when Peter’s dead anyway?’
‘Are you sure he didn’t find out?’
She looked at me with those clear eyes that had gazed out of Peter’s Cambridge photographs. ‘You don’t think…’
‘Did his behaviour change before Peter’s death? Or his attitude to Peter?’
‘Look, he can be a bit… difficult. I think I’d have known if he’d found out.’
‘Olivia, if he’s aggressive—’
‘It’s fine,’ she snapped. End of that subject.
I sighed. ‘What about Rosie – does she know anything?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Olivia, we’re going to have to talk to Felix about this,’ I said gently. ‘This is a murder investigation.’
She shot me a look that was hard to interpret but if I had to guess, I’d say she was scared.
*
I managed to parallel-park in a tiny space on the main road through Eldercliffe – reversed in and everything. I deserved a round of applause. The town was bustling with old and young, kids and dogs, prams and pushchairs. I crossed the marketplace and dragged myself up the hill and into the health centre.
Vivian was on reception, leafing through a magazine with a rainbow on its cover. I’d checked and we had received a complaint about Kate Webster helping a patient die, and police had indeed sniffed around, but it had come to nothing. I wondered if the complaint had come from Vivian. She shoved her magazine aside and confirmed that Dr Webster was back at work and had finished seeing patients for the day, so I could safely interrupt her without keeping the diseased of Eldercliffe waiting. She told me to go straight through to Consulting Room 4.
The room was small, with a desk pushed up against the wall, so Kate’s view was of a chart about STDs and a poster exhorting her to give up smoking. She gestured to a seat next to the desk. She looked pale and thin, and her skin had lost its previous milk-and-honey look.
I felt vulnerable. Probably the smell. I reminded myself no one would be weighing me or asking me to lie on the bed and spread my legs.
‘How are you?’ I asked, sitting down with my knees clamped together.
‘Not great. I thought it would be better to be at work but it isn’t. They all seem like a bunch of malingering whiners today, with their non-existent illnesses and desperate need for attention.’
‘Yes, maybe it’s a bit early to be back.’
‘Have you made any progress on Beth? Do you think it was an accident?’
‘We’ve no reason to think it wasn’t.’
She paused. ‘I suppose you’re here wondering if I knew about Rosie.’
‘Partly, yes.’
‘Well, I didn’t.’ She picked up a blood-pressure machine and repeatedly squeezed and released the bulb like a stress ball. ‘Not until I saw his will. Then it was pretty damn obvious. I knew he had a soft spot for Olivia of course, but the father of her child? Jesus.’
‘Peter never said anything to you about Rosie?’
‘No. Nothing. I can’t believe he was so damn secretive. I knew something was up. But this? It’s been going round and round in my head, driving me nuts. He had a bloody child by another woman and he didn’t think to tell me. I’ve realised he was actually a bit of a bastard, and now I can’t even confront him because he’s dead. Oh God, that sounds awful.’ She fanned herself with her hand. ‘Christ, is it hot in here?’
‘Warmish.’ It wasn’t that hot.
‘Sorry, excuse me!’ She leapt up, kicking her chair backwards into a metal bin, and shot out of the room, dropping the blood-pressure monitor on my foot. I picked it up and squeezed it a few times. I turned to read about STDs.
A few minutes later, Kate appeared in the doorway. ‘Sorry, just came over a bit queasy.’
‘You are pregnant, aren’t you?’
She froze by the door, then pushed it firmly shut behind her and sat back down. ‘Oh, what the hell. Yes, it turns out I’m pregnant. Snooping old Vivian on Reception guessed too. Great timing, eh?�
��
‘So, Peter’s grandmother was right?’
‘Yes, the mad old bat.’ Kate’s eyes watered. ‘I’m pregnant and I’ve got no one to share it with. No husband, no family.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Your parents died when you were young, didn’t they?’
‘Yes, there was a car accident.’ She twisted her mouth as if trying not to cry. ‘I haven’t had much luck.’
I kept my voice low and soft. ‘So, both you and Peter lost parents at a young age?’
‘Yes, I suppose it was part of the reason we got on.’
I put the blood-pressure monitor on the table between us. Kate glanced at it, then picked it up and gave it a squeeze.
She continued, her voice harsh. ‘Dad broke his neck. Survived three miserable, grotesque years, begging to die most days. And of course Peter’s mum. It doesn’t get much worse than that.’ She folded her arms. It made sense that she was tolerant towards euthanasia. I wondered if my moon-faced religious visitors had ever spent three years nursing someone who was desperate to die.
‘And I have to move house,’ Kate said. ‘Before the baby’s born. I’m sure you think I’m being silly, but how could I let a baby be born into that?’
‘What do you think’s going on with the house? You don’t really believe it’s cursed?’
‘No, of course not. But something’s wrong there. I don’t know what, but I’m not taking the risk with my baby.’
Chapter 26
I looked up from my computer to see Jai barrelling towards me. He threw himself into my visitor’s chair and wheeled himself over. ‘So… Beth Hamilton. PM says she died from the fall. Surprise surprise. There were no defence wounds and no suggestion anyone else was involved. But of course if someone just shoved her straight off the cliff, there wouldn’t be any wounds. And she was only small.’
‘Right.’
Jai tapped his fingers on the chair arm. ‘Nothing at the top of the cliff either, but the scene was a mess, and you don’t find much on rock anyway. As you pointed out, there are hardly any houses, and no one saw anyone. And there’s nothing relevant on any CCTV, but again, there’s not a lot round there.’