Brodie was starting to sympathise with Seth Creegan. “I’m sorry about that Sarah but it was urgent. Now we need to run a couple of errands.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“I’m afraid you can’t,” said Cass when she got to her feet. “It’s work-related. We’re not going shopping.”
Sarah scowled at her. “If it’s to do with me I’ve a right to be there.”
“It’s really best if you’re not, it could compromise our entire investigation,” replied Brodie.
“And what exactly are you investigating?” she said, plonking herself back down on the couch, slopping vodka all over her skirt and not seeming to either notice or care. “I need this resolved before the girls come back next week.”
“I understand the urgency and we’re doing everything we can. Hopefully we’ll have it all tied up before they come home.”
“I just called Mark while you were whispering in the kitchen. He’s coming round to talk.”
“Will you be alright alone with him?” said Cass.
“I think so. He’s never been violent to me in all the years we’ve been married and I find it hard to believe he’s going to start now.”
“Call us if you need us,” said Brodie.
“I’ll be fine, as long as Seth stays away from me.”
“He will. He knows the consequences of getting too close.”
Sarah appeared surprised by the coldness in Brodie’s tone. The corner of Cass’s mouth lifted. He could seem like the friendliest, most laid-back bloke in the world or he could seem like the coldest, hardest bastard that ever walked the earth. It was all in the look in his whisky eyes, the tone of his voice, the aggression in his stance. Subtle yet extremely effective. It gave Sarah confidence in his words.
“Well I’m glad. Seth’s got a thick head and sometimes it takes a while for things to sink in,” she said disdainfully.
“He’s got the message, I made sure of it.”
“If anyone’s The Carver it’s him, not Mark.”
A thought occurred to Brodie. “Do you know if Seth’s artistic at all?”
“Artistic, that Neanderthal?” Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Actually, come to think of it he is very good at drawing. I saw some sketches he did once, they were really good but that was a few years ago, I don’t know if he kept it up. Like I said, I try to have as little to do with him as possible.”
“Has he ever been into woodworking? Either him or Mark?”
“I don’t know about Seth but Mark used to be. He has a shed out back that he used to practice in.”
Both Cass and Brodie blinked at her. “He does?” said Brodie, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Does he still use it?”
“Yes. Why?” she frowned. “Is it important?”
“No, just curious,” he said casually. “Mind if we take a look?”
“I don’t but you might not be able to get in. It’s padlocked and Mark has the key, I don’t know where he keeps it.”
“That won’t be a problem,” he smiled.
Sarah gave him an odd look before getting to her feet, too tired to probe deeper. “I’ll take a shower and smarten myself up. I don’t want Mark thinking I’m letting myself go just because he’s not around.”
“We’ll be off after we’ve taken a look at the shed,” said Brodie. “We’ll leave through the garden so you can lock up behind us.”
Sarah followed them to the back door and slammed it shut behind them. Brodie paused to listen to her lock up before wandering across the immaculate lawn towards the shed, which sat brown and squat at the bottom of the garden.
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we opened that up and found lots of souvenirs in there,” said Cass. “Case closed, a murderer’s caught and we can go home.”
“It would be fucking fantastic but I doubt it’s going to happen.”
“Allow me to dream, won’t you?”
They reached the shed and walked all the way around it, assessing it.
“There’s not enough room to hold a person here for a couple of days and there’s always the chance Sarah or one of the girls might find them,” said Brodie.
“Plus the walls are thin and any screams would be heard a mile off,” commented Cass.
“True.” He stared at the padlock. “Not a problem,” he said, taking out his little toolkit.
He had the padlock off in under thirty seconds and pulled the door open.
“Oh,” he said, disheartened. It was filled with nothing but garden implements. His sharp amber eyes spotted something in the corner so he stepped inside and crouched down. “Wait a minute, what’s this? Looks like wood shavings.”
“There’s something else,” said Cass, pulling on a pair of latex gloves - which she and Brodie both habitually carried in their pockets - and manoeuvring a pair of folded-up deck chairs away from the wall. “Brodie, you really want to see this.”
Brodie straightened up and his jaw dropped. “Bloody hell.”
It was a large section of smooth, planed wood, about eighteen square inches in size. The surface of it was carved and the image was Sarah’s face.
“Woah, it looks alive,” said Brodie.
“It’s gorgeous. Mark’s really talented,” said Cass. “Does this mean he’s The Carver?”
“Not necessarily but it’s shot him straight to the top of the suspect list.”
“Above Seth?”
Brodie thought about it then shook his head. “No, Mark’s not a serial killer.”
“It’s looking like he might be.”
“No, I’m not wrong.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
“If we broke in here then someone else could have done the same to plant this.”
“Possibly but only the killer would do that.”
“Which means he knows Mark has this shed and he likes wood carving.”
“Seth.”
“That’s more like what’s going on here.”
“Is this a threat? Could Sarah be on his hit list?” said Cass, gesturing to the carving.
“All The Carver’s victims have long dark hair and dark eyes. She’s the complete opposite. They could just have done the carving to convince everyone Mark made it, it’s obvious he’s crazy about his wife.”
“Or Mark’s The Carver.”
“No he’s not, trust me.”
“I do. I just don’t want you ignoring one possibility because of your gut. You’re not infallible.”
“I know but…oh hell, I don’t know. Let’s get a few pictures of this and the wood shavings then lock it back up.”
After both he and Cass took pictures of the incriminating evidence on their mobile phones they erased any trace of their presence and locked the shed back up.
“So where are we off to next?” said Cass as they strode back across the garden, around the side of the house and onto the drive.
“First of all I’m going to return this and get my Astra back,” replied Brodie, gesturing to the Ford Focus.
Cass frowned at the gleaming car. “Why? It’s much better than your clapped-out rust bucket.”
“Because I love my clapped-out rust bucket. We understand each other.”
“You make it sound like it’s alive.”
“She is alive, to me.”
“I don’t know why you keep it,” she said as they got into the hire car. “You’ve got plenty of money, get yourself something decent, something you can rely on to start in the morning and that won’t let you down when you really need it.”
“She’s never let me down yet and she’s got character. I like that in a car.”
“The only character that car has got is knackered. Stop being so bloody tight and spend a bit of cash.”
“I’m not tight and I don’t need to spend because there’s nothing wrong with my car.”
“On your head be it. One day you’ll want to make a quick getaway, you’ll start the engine and the whole sodding thing will collapse.”
“We’re picking up my car. If you don’t like it you can hire your own.”
“Okay. Can I put it on expenses?”
“No,” he retorted.
“Then I’ll stick with yours. Just don’t blame me if we need to go somewhere in a hurry and the engine explodes.”
Brodie let it wash over him, she was always on at him to get a better car but he loved his Astra, it was familiar, comfortable. For someone who’d had little stability in his life it meant a lot.
“Where are we off to then?” said Cass as they left Sarah’s house behind, deciding to drop the subject of the car.
“To talk to some people from Sarah’s early life. Who are they?”
Cass gave a wry smile and pulled a notebook out of her jacket pocket. She was one of those rare women who didn’t carry a handbag. Instead she always wore a jacket with pockets capacious enough to carry everything she needed. Her job could be a dangerous one and it was necessary to have both hands free to fight. She couldn’t be worrying about keeping hold of a bag.
“Parents Richard and Joy Tindell,” she recited. “Unfortunately they’re both abroad with the grandkids at the moment so we can’t talk to them but she does have a paternal aunt in Cheshire. Spinster. Lives alone with lots of cats. A bit doolally by all accounts. Aggressive. Charged with throwing one of her cats at a neighbour she’d been feuding with. Apparently a tree of hers was overhanging into the neighbour’s garden.”
“She threw a cat at them?” frowned Brodie. He’d heard of many strange things in his time but that was new.
“Barmy, isn’t it? She can’t love animals that much if she’s prepared to use them to bash people over the head with. The charges were dropped by the neighbour who moved away shortly after that incident. Apparently she was scared of Elspeth Tindell, most of her neighbours are.”
“Because of her preference for hurling cats about?”
“No. Apparently that was a one off. Just for weird, unstable behaviour in general - shouting in the street, physically threatening people, filling her front garden with piles of rubbish. She’s had several run-ins with neighbours and the council over it but apparently she’s got that particular problem under control now. When she was a teenager she used to get into a lot of fights too, not just with other girls but men too. By all accounts her right hook is legendary so bear that in mind.”
“I will. How old is she now?”
“Sixty six. She’s older than her brother and much more notorious. Her brother Richard, Sarah’s dad, is the quiet one. Complete opposites.”
Once again he was impressed by her thoroughness. If it had been left to Christian or Ross to do the research he’d have been lucky to get an address. “She sounds like the one we should start with.”
“Why are we looking into Sarah? I thought she was the victim in all this.”
“She is but I think it might help to get a bit of background on her too. Seth told me she exaggerated about her life, told a few wee porky’s, which makes it worthwhile looking at her more closely.”
“Fair enough but I think we should still be digging into the murder of the Creegan patriarch, I would love to know who really did it.”
“You don’t think Mark’s responsible?”
“I don’t know, probably, but now doubt’s been thrown onto the matter it would be nice to know for sure. When am I going to meet the rest of the Creegan clan? I can’t wait for that one.”
“Soon. Crazy cat lady first.”
CHAPTER 10
The woman who greeted them at the front door wasn’t the crazed, wild-eyed harridan they’d both been expecting with untamed grey hair, torn clothes and a feral expression. Instead Elspeth Tindell was a very-respectable, elegant lady with a string of fake pearls around her throat and her silver hair coiled into a bun. She was dressed immaculately in a light pink blouse and skirt, a black cardigan draped over her thin shoulders. It was hard for Brodie to imagine her punching anyone, she looked almost frail. A fat black cat with evil green eyes sat at her feet, staring at them.
“Can I help you?” she asked politely.
“Hello Ms Tindell, my name’s Brodie MacBride and this is my associate, Cass Carlisle. We’re private investigators working on behalf of your niece, Sarah.”
“I’m well aware of my niece’s name thank you,” she sniffed. “Anyway, I’ve not seen her in weeks. She’s too busy to visit her old aunt.” Elspeth stuck her Roman nose in the air. Even the cat looked haughty.
“She’s had some trouble lately. We wondered if we could come in to discuss it with you?”
“What can I do? She doesn’t tell me anything anymore.”
“It would really help if we could discuss her early life with you.”
The neat, refined exterior cracked slightly when Elspeth smiled viciously. “Little Miss Prim in trouble, is she? Come on in then, please.”
The house was as much a surprise as Elspeth herself. Despite her long history of hoarding and cat collecting the bungalow was spotless and didn’t smell of cat piss. Brodie almost tripped over a large fluffy grey specimen on their way through to the small lounge, which was spacious only because there was hardly anything in it - a television on a stand, an armchair, a beige two-seater couch and a small coffee table. There was nothing else, not even a picture hanging on the wall.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Elspeth in her cool, distinguished voice. “You’re thinking I must have nothing because it looks so empty when you couldn’t be further from the truth. I had a small problem with hoarding at one point, so I went into therapy. Now I can’t bear to have anything around me. It’s as much a torment as the hoarding. At least when I was surrounded by my things I didn’t feel so alone.”
“Are you lonely Ms Tindell?” said Brodie.
Her lips pursed and her light blue eyes, so like Sarah’s, flashed. “Tea? Coffee?” she asked in a hard voice.
“No thank you,” they replied in unison. Neither was willing to take a drink from this peculiar woman who - despite how nice and normal she looked - made them uncomfortable.
“No, not there,” barked Elspeth when Cass started to lower herself into the armchair.
“Sorry,” she replied.
“That is Buster’s seat,” she said, practically shaking with indignation. The three of them watched as another furry, bloated specimen jumped up onto the chair and threw Cass a snooty look before settling down, curling up into a fat ginger ball.
“Is it alright if we sit on the couch?” said Brodie.
“No, that’s where I sit.” With that Elspeth plonked herself down and three more furry balls appeared out of nowhere, jumped up onto the couch and settled themselves around her.
As there was nowhere else to sit Cass and Brodie were forced to remain standing. Despite their superior positions somehow Elspeth managed to retain her air of authority.
“So, what has Sarah got herself into now?” she said eagerly.
“Her and Mark are experiencing problems,” Brodie began, deciding to keep his reply as vague as possible.
“What’s that to do with me?”
“In order to help Sarah we need a bit of background from someone who understands her and knows her well.”
This satisfied Elspeth. “Well get on with it then. Don’t just stand there like lemons. What do you want to know? Although I don’t think anyone will ever really understand Sarah, she’s a complicated girl.”
“What was she like as a child?” opened Brodie.
Elspeth’s smile was wistful. “Beautiful. Long blond hair, huge blue eyes, she looked like a little doll.” The smile fell. “None of us were impressed when she cut all her hair off when she was sixteen. She’s kept it short ever since. Broke her mother’s heart, she used to love brushing it.”
“Did she do well at school?”
“She did average,” replied Elspeth, long bony fingers stroking the black cat, which purred like a Harley, its bright green eyes fixed on Brodie. “She was nothing special at anythin
g, no real discernible talent, but not stupid, not by a long way. She was always more interested in boys than her studies. A right little flirt, used to worry her mum and dad rotten. I’m amazed she didn’t end up with a teenage pregnancy the way that little tart carried on. Richard - that’s my brother - had to keep turning boys away from the door, he even kept a baseball bat handy.” Elspeth shook her head. “Caused them nothing but worry their entire lives.”
“Are you close to your niece, Ms Tindell?”
“Call me Elspeth. Ms Tindell makes me sound old.”
Brodie was becoming entranced by her long bony fingers, the only thing about Elspeth that actually looked witchy. They writhed at the cat’s fur much too hard but the animal appeared to be enjoying it. Was it possible for a cat to be a masochist?
“What are you staring at?” frowned Elspeth when she caught him looking at her hands.
“Me? Nothing,” he said, forcing his gaze back up to her face. He must stop doing that. “Did she get into any trouble when she was young?”
“Nothing serious. If she ever got up to mischief she’d just flutter her eyelashes and everyone would melt. Her parents were far too soft to punish her, especially her dad, he doted on his little princess. Still does,” she scowled.
“Do they have a good relationship?”
“She’s their only child so they’re close.”
“Are you close to her?”
“Used to be but when I began having issues she didn’t like to be around me anymore, I made her uncomfortable. She drags the kids and Mark along to visit me once every few months but I know none of them really want to be here, which is fine by me because I don’t want them here.”
Brodie got the feeling pride was talking, she actually seemed to be a little hurt.
“What do you think of Mark?” said Cass.
“He’s a cabbage. Yes he’s handsome and rich but he’s such a wimp. He lets Sarah and the girls walk all over him and I’ll tell you something else, those two kids are brats, spoilt rotten. I told Sarah she’s only setting herself up for a fall because they’re going to grow up into nightmares. I pity the poor men who marry them.”
Unfinished Business Page 13