Blood Ties

by Jane A. Adams

  To the modern mind the idea of prisoners being sold off in lieu of execution is a strange one, but many had their lives gifted to loyal members of James’s court. A man could be worth up to twelve pounds sterling if sold as slave labour in the colonies, though I have doubts that had Catherine really known what would have been in store for her father she would have wished so hard for it. Many died en route, crammed into ships like so much cargo. Those that survived the journey had to look forward to a life of hard labour, little food and regular beatings. The African slave trade has a well documented history; less so is the trade in prisoners from England and so-called indentured labourers: men and women without rights even over their own bodies, a practice that continued long after the official abolition of slavery and, indeed, did not end until well into the twentieth century.

  Although The Lamb was to reopen that night, Naomi and Alec decided to eat, instead, at the pub they had discovered in Bridgewater, a decision largely made on the strength of Sergeant Dean agreeing to meet them that evening when he came off duty and Alec’s feeling that they shouldn’t really do that at The Lamb. Alec surmised that the promise of dinner probably swung the decision for Sergeant Dean. That, and inevitable curiosity.

  Sergeant Andrew Dean was a short man, tending towards the rotund at first glance, but on closer inspection, Alec realized he was round in the barrel-chested way that some power lifters are round, not in a way that denoted lack of muscular development.

  Massive hands enclosed Alec’s as he shook them; Andrew Dean was a man who made use of what Alec thought of as a politician’s handshake. One hand grasped, while the other patted, and Alec found himself checking that his watch was still there when he’d finally been released.

  ‘My wife, Naomi,’ Alec introduced. ‘Good of you to come at such short notice.’

  ‘Well, got to admit you’ve intrigued me,’ Sergeant Dean said. ‘What’s your interest, then? Oh, beer, please, anything that’s not lager. Can’t stand the stuff.’

  ‘Right,’ Alec said and headed for the bar.

  ‘We’re actually here on holiday,’ Naomi said. ‘We got to know Eddy, slightly, and the friend that found him, Susan Rawlins, she asked Alec for advice. It sort of followed from there.’

  Andrew Dean laughed loudly. ‘Being a policeman is a bit like being a doctor,’ he said. ‘You’re never off duty. Must be irritating for you though, love? Coming for a nice break and then getting dragged into this?’

  ‘Oh, I’m used to it,’ Naomi said. ‘Alec and I joined the force at the same time. We spent years racing one another for promotion before I had my accident.’

  ‘Ah,’ Dean said and the sound was filled with meaning. Sympathy, curiosity.

  ‘The force’s inclusivity policies still don’t quite come to keeping blind detective inspectors.’

  ‘Oh, so you were both . . . I see what you mean about racing for promotion.’ He laughed as though the thought amused him.

  Naomi didn’t bother adding that she’d only actually got to acting inspector before her accident had intervened.

  ‘My wife doesn’t have any interest in the job,’ Dean said. He seemed happy with that. ‘She’s got her own interests. Does a lot of gardening.’

  ‘She’s OK with you being late home tonight?’

  ‘Oh, she’s off on a coach trip with her sister. Inspecting the Lost Gardens of Heligan and such. They do it every year, one garden or another. Comes back full of it, she does. Me, I can’t tell the difference between a dandelion and a daffodil, but it makes her happy, so that’s all that matters, isn’t it?’

  The unexpected softness that crept into his voice caused Naomi to slightly shift her opinion of him. External bluster, she thought; gooey-centred, probably. Alec arrived back with their drinks. And they consulted menus, settled down to exchange small talk and continue with their mutual summing up.

  ‘Nothing to suggest it wasn’t an accident,’ Sergeant Dean said. ‘We think he caught his foot in the carpet and fell. I had a quick look around, but everything seemed in order, and Mrs Rawlins, Susan, she said nothing seemed to have been disturbed. The doors were locked, back door bolted. I mean, yes, someone could have just let themselves out the front and the door would have latched behind them, but I saw nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Post-mortem?’

  ‘In a couple of days, I suppose. I can check, but he’s not going to be a priority case so he’ll just be on the normal list.’

  ‘Can you have a word, ask them to take a look out for micro-bruising?’

  ‘Micro-bruising? What is this? An episode of CSI?’

  ‘It would have developed by now,’ Alec pressed on, disregarding the tone. ‘It’s just possible—’

  ‘You think he was pushed,’ Dean said flatly.

  ‘I don’t actually think anything. I just promised Susan I’d check things out.’

  ‘Because, of course, us local country bumpkins can’t be trusted.’

  ‘No one’s saying anything of the sort,’ Naomi intervened. ‘Could someone hand me the pepper please? Thanks, Andrew. What Alec is saying is, no one would have thought anything of it, but Susan is convinced there was someone else there that night. It’s bothering her and as she’s the one coping with all of this single handed, trying to find family and taking on all the arrangements . . . Well, a bit of reassurance wouldn’t come amiss, you know.’

  Andrew Dean was not entirely mollified. ‘I can ask,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Anyway, what makes her think the old man had a visitor?’

  ‘Oh, you must have noticed the teapot and mugs? Well, apparently Eddy was meticulous about tidying up. She’s convinced he must have had someone visit and that Eddy didn’t have time to clean up before he died. It worries her.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  Naomi could feel him running back through his mental account of the night, trying to recall if he’d even noticed the mugs on the kitchen table. ‘So, he had a visitor. That doesn’t mean his visitor shoved him down the stairs.’

  ‘No, of course it doesn’t. Another drink?’

  ‘Better make it a soft one. I’ve got to drive home. Look, I’ll give Mrs Rawlins a call in the morning, tell her she’s got nothing to be concerned about. Accidents like this happen all the time.’

  ‘And will you give me a call when the PM has been done?’ Alec said.

  ‘You’ll still be down here then?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Naomi told him sweetly. ‘Two more weeks, probably. We’ll have to have dinner together again before we go. Maybe you could bring your wife next time.’

  ‘So,’ Naomi said as they drove back to the farm. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think our Sergeant Dean likes a quiet life and that’s what he usually gets. I’m sure he did have a quick glance around downstairs, checked everything was locked up tight before he left and so on, but I doubt, until tonight, it even crossed his mind that what he saw wasn’t necessarily the whole story. Susan would have told him about the frayed carpet, probably said how often she’d warned Eddy, and he’d have thought no more about it. Just a tragic accident.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll talk to the pathologist?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alec said, ‘I think professional pride will force him to. Not that he’ll mention being prompted, of course. By then it will have become all his own idea, but that doesn’t matter so long as he asks – and so long as he then calls me, I’ll be willing to forgive him his other sins of omission.’

  ‘You think he will call you?’

  ‘Ah, now that’s another matter. I think he’s just hoping we’ll cut our holiday short and go home. That’s probably what I’d be thinking in his place.’

  Naomi laughed. ‘What will you tell Susan?’

  ‘I think, more to the point, will be what Susan will tell me. And that will be that she’s now feeling foolish and hopes we didn’t think she was being hysterical, and that while she’s grateful for my help so far, she’s fine to carry on without it.’

  Naomi nodded. ‘You could
be right,’ she said. ‘It’s bad enough losing a friend, but to think someone might have deliberately taken that life away is often so much more difficult to come to terms with. She’ll want to back off from that. Want you to as well.’

  ‘Which, of course, I can’t now,’ Alec said.

  ‘Which, of course, you can’t,’ Naomi agreed.

  TEN

  A quiet few days followed. They ate at The Lamb in the evenings, toured the countryside during the day, asked politely after Susan’s welfare in the evenings. They were told that she was coping, though there were two evenings when she left her undermanager in charge and when, he confided, she didn’t even want to answer the phone, never mind face the customers.

  Alec had been right in his assumption. She’d been polite and thankful for their involvement, but now wanted to get everything dealt with and put behind her. She was embarrassed by her own worries and hopeful that Alec would let things be. Alec duly backed off, but Naomi could tell he didn’t like it and that his own feeling of unease was growing.

  The phone call from Sergeant Andrew Dean came out of the blue. Alec had left him several messages, but had not had them returned.

  ‘He wants to meet up,’ Alec said. ‘Lunchtime.’

  ‘Then let’s go. It must be nearly that. Did he say what for?’

  ‘No, but he didn’t sound happy.’

  They met him in the same pub where they’d had dinner. Naomi and Alec, having further to go, arriving just after. Dean, who was now seated on the furthest side of the bar, was nursing a pint. Alec paused to get them all drinks before joining him. The barrel body seemed ill-suited to sitting on a bar stool, and when Alec suggested they adjourn to a table, he agreed. ‘Didn’t know if you’d be able to see me,’ Sergeant Dean explained. ‘It gets a bit busy in here come lunchtime.’

  Busier, Alec thought. Still not exactly crowded; though, he supposed, it depended what you were used to. ‘So,’ he asked as they seated themselves. ‘What did you want to tell us?’

  Dean took a long gulp of his beer and then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He was frowning. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘It’ll be common knowledge by evening, but I wanted you to have a heads-up and thought maybe you could be on hand for Mrs Rawlins too. She’s going to be upset. I’ve arranged to meet her later on this afternoon.’

  ‘Eddy was pushed,’ Naomi guessed.

  ‘Ah, no. He wasn’t pushed. He was hit and then he fell. It wasn’t obvious because when he hit his head on the tiled floor, it obscured the original wound. There was blood and bits all over the place so it wasn’t possible to tell what was what. Then, when the doc cleaned him up and had a closer look, there it was. A long dent that transected the bash from where he’d smashed his head on the tiles.’

  Naomi sipped her drink, trying to hide her smile. Sergeant Dean’s mix of technical and vernacular language amused her, despite the seriousness of the news.

  ‘So, someone hit him. Was that the cause of death?’ Alec leaned forward across the table.

  ‘No. COD was definitely the fall. He might have had a concussion from the first blow but it had hardly broken the skin. The doc reckons whoever hit him wasn’t very good or very committed. Like, they didn’t put any force behind it.’

  ‘So, they weren’t angry with Eddy. It wasn’t a fight.’

  ‘Don’t look that way. More like they hit out but it wasn’t something they really understood – not the violence, I mean. Like, they hesitated first. I mean, doc reckons it would still have laid him out for a second or two, but that’s all. It wasn’t enough to kill him.’

  ‘But he fell anyway and he died.’ Alec frowned. ‘So he wasn’t pushed.’

  ‘Not down the stairs, no.’

  Alec looked up sharply. ‘But?’

  ‘Well, if he’d been pushed down the stairs then that micro-bruising you told me to look for would have been here, on the shoulders, right?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Well, there was bruising all right but it was all down here.’ He indicated the length of his arm. ‘And then here, on the temple. Where it was obscured by damage done when he landed. So, Doc and I thought about it and he did a bit of experimenting with his assistant and we think what happened was this. Eddy was at the top of the stairs. Someone shoves him into the wall, right on the corner. Shoves him hard and he bruises his arm, hits his head. He’s stunned, he falls. He hits his head at the bottom and he dies. And we know he fell with a lot of momentum. No grazes anywhere, see, he didn’t slide. He bounced off that wall and he fell outward. Crash.’

  Alec was almost glad that Naomi could not see the arm-waving actions with which Sergeant Dean demonstrated such an action.

  ‘Do you think he disturbed someone upstairs?’ Naomi asked. ‘Did you check the upstairs for signs of entry when you were there?’

  For the first time that afternoon, Sergeant Dean seemed hesitant. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I didn’t like to go trampling about upstairs. I checked the scene downstairs and made sure it was all secure, but the paramedics and then the ambulance was there and it all seemed very straightforward at the time, you know?’

  ‘There were no open windows when I went there with Susan,’ Alec said thoughtfully.

  ‘Well, then. Maybe that visitor he had. The mugs were still on the table when I let SOCO in today. Did you touch them, either you or Susan?’

  Alec thought. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m almost sure not.’

  ‘Well, if you could drop in, we’ll make sure we’ve got your prints for elimination.’

  Alec nodded. ‘So the cottage is a crime scene now.’ He wondered if anyone would bother to go into Karen’s room, or if they would, as he had done, just stand on the threshold. Would anyone notice the pocket of the dressing gown? Should he mention it?

  ‘You said this would be common knowledge by evening?’

  ‘Papers,’ Dean said. ‘It’ll be in the evening news.’

  Alec felt oddly deflated as they drove back to see the farm. They had promised to give Susan a ring after Sergeant Dean had spoken to her – he was planning on taking a female officer with him and had declined Alec’s offer to be there with a slightly affronted tone.

  ‘You wish you could get involved, don’t you?’

  ‘A bit of me does,’ Alec admitted. ‘A part of me feels annoyed that I was right. I’d have been happy enough to be told that Eddy died of a freak accident and the world isn’t really full of people doing unpleasant things to other people. Sometimes it feels like you can’t get away from it, however far you go.’

  Naomi’s burst of laughter seemed inappropriate but she couldn’t help it.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘However far? Alec, we’ve driven a couple of hundred miles, not crossed continents.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  She choked back the laughter. ‘Yes, I know what you mean. But it’s not our investigation. It’s a local matter and you can’t get involved. Not unless Susan still wants your help tracking down relatives or something.’

  ‘Oh, I doubt they’ll need looking for, not when this makes the news. They’ll be turning up in droves, wanting to know what the old man left and if they’re entitled. When they find out they’re not, they’ll be looking for compensation for mental anguish or some such.’

  ‘My, we are feeling jaundiced, aren’t we?’

  ‘Well, yes. One of us is anyway.’

  She reached out and touched his arm. ‘They might not hear about it,’ she said. ‘We can be pretty sure that Eddy and his wife and daughter travelled a long way from their family, in metaphorical terms at any rate. Who knows how far they came in real miles?’

  Evening brought pictures on the local news of Eddy’s cottage and a lone policeman standing outside. SOCO, it seemed, had been and gone, and just a pathetic band of white and blue tape now defined the scene. The lone officer had been left there to keep press and public at bay and to take the inevitable flowers from friends and strangers who, now they knew the cause of Eddy
’s death, needed to express their additional grief.

  Alec had spoken to Susan on the telephone. She was deeply upset; understandably so. And guilty. What if she had encouraged Alec to get more involved? Would they have already known what had happened? Would they have already caught whoever did this to her friend?

  Alec thought that unlikely. He’d had nothing to go on – nothing but a vague feeling based on the presence of an earlier guest, who may, or may not, have had something to do with Eddy’s death.

  She would not be reassured.

  ‘Have you spoken to the solicitor at all?’ he asked her, and her response helped him to understand this additional guilt.

  ‘He’d made a will,’ she said. ‘Left a few bits and pieces to friends. He’s left the house and everything else to me. Alec, I don’t know what to do. I had no idea.’

  ‘Look,’ Alec said gently, ‘you obviously meant a lot to him. He’d known you a long time and you’d always looked out for him. I suppose he felt he’d like to return the favour.’

  ‘But I feel so bad. What if the family turn up and contest?’

  ‘What did the solicitor say?’

  ‘That the will was watertight. That Eddy made his feelings very clear and no one can contest it and have a hope of winning, but Alec—’

  ‘Take it,’ Alec said. ‘You’d become his family. Say a big thank you and honour what he wanted.’

  She was silent for a moment but then, ‘Thank you, Alec. That’s what the solicitor said. I just wish it had all come about differently and I was finding this out in twenty years’ time or so. It just doesn’t seem fair.’