A Deadly Thaw

by Sarah Ward

  ‘I’m looking for Lena.’

  Kat snorted. ‘We’re all looking for Lena. Join the club. How did you get into my house?’

  He looked confused. ‘Your house? I thought it was Lena’s. She left a key with me once. Years ago. She said she lived by herself and wanted someone else to have a key. When she got married, I offered to give it back to her, but she told me to keep it.’

  ‘The house belongs to both of us. We were left it between us when my mother died. Lena’s never wanted to move and I stayed here while she was in prison.’

  The man winced.

  ‘You know about her conviction, then. You said in Whitby that she just disappeared. Stopped coming. You knew she’d gone to jail.’

  The man looked unhappy. ‘Lena and I got to know each other over the years. She first came to the town as a teenager, although I didn’t know her then. When she was working, she started renting the cottage next to me. She was a pale wraith of a thing. I used to just knock to see if she was okay. This was before she was married.’

  ‘Did you have a relationship with her . . . um . . . do you have a name?’

  ‘I’m Daniel. Daniel Frears. And no. I didn’t have a relationship with Lena.’ Something in his voice struck a sour note.

  ‘You sure?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not for lack of trying on my part, I have to say. In the early days, I mean. She just wasn’t bothered and I didn’t push it. I got used to us being friends.’

  ‘And after she got married?’

  ‘Nothing really changed. She still came to Whitby just as regularly and I’d still see her. We’d have a glass of wine at mine.’

  ‘What did she do? In Whitby, I mean?’

  It was the man’s turn to look at her in astonishment. ‘She painted, of course.’

  Kat snorted. ‘Not many flowers in Whitby.’

  He looked confused. ‘Flowers?’

  ‘The flowers that she painted. Not many of them in Whitby.’

  ‘But she didn’t paint flowers. Not the canvases I saw.’

  Kat stared at him. ‘That’s all she bloody does paint. Come upstairs and have a look if you don’t believe me.’

  She led him up to Lena’s studio and pulled out some of the large canvases leaning face to the wall. Against the white background were the usual blue daubs, frozen and stark.

  Kat watched him examine them.

  ‘These are completely different to what I saw her paint in Whitby. She painted figures. I mean people. Men and women embracing. She painted passion. And pain. She was better at it there. These are okay but not as good as the Whitby ones.’

  Kat’s head was reeling. Lena had always painted flowers. It was her thing. The thought that her sister had another side was bewildering. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. There aren’t many of them. She was a really slow painter but what she produced was good. It all stopped when she went to prison, of course.’

  Kat scrabbled to clear her mind. ‘So what are you doing here?’

  ‘I told you. I’m looking for Lena. I haven’t heard from her, and I’m worried.’

  ‘You know she’s missing. I told you when I saw you. She’s disappeared.’

  ‘I know. I thought she’d come to Whitby. It’s always been her escape. Somewhere to go when she felt down. I waited, but she never came.’

  ‘When did you last see her?’

  He put one of the canvases back down. ‘I can’t answer that. I’m sorry, Kat, but some things can’t be told.’

  Wasn’t that what Lena had said to her? When the police had come to question her about finding the real Andrew Fisher? Not everything can be told.

  Kat could feel the fury rising again. ‘There’s one question you can answer me. According to a very nice police detective working on this case, Andrew Fisher was seen in Whitby about four years ago. Given that you clearly know more about my family than I do, I’d like you to tell me what he was doing there.’

  55

  Sadler had chosen the White Swan because it was quiet. It played no music and had no quiz nights. It was given over to the consumption of drink, and the preference for real ales over bottled beer meant that the clientele was largely past the age of forty.

  Each of the three gathered around the circular table was, for different reasons, slightly out of place in the pub. Palmer had clearly never been there before. In Sadler’s opinion, he was more likely to frequent one of the bars on Bampton High Street. His well-cut clothes looked too smart for the basic bar. Connie, on the other hand, had made herself comfortable. She was sitting with her short thin legs stretched out in front of her and her arms behind her head. Her confidence and mischievous look had attracted a few glances from some of the men sitting at the bar, who clearly weren’t used to women taking such enjoyment in the masculine space. Sadler was known to the landlord, who gave him a brief nod when he entered, but he never felt comfortable in pubs and could never think what to drink. He had settled for a glass of red wine. Palmer and Connie were drinking beer.

  ‘What was that all about?’ demanded Connie, as usual skipping the preamble.

  Sadler tasted the wine and frowned. ‘I honestly don’t know.’ And he didn’t. He was as perplexed as the others as to why Llewellyn had called them into the office. ‘I could have briefed him myself on our progress regarding Philip Staley. Once you’d updated me, of course.’

  Palmer looked like he might sulk, but curiosity got the better of him. ‘It was strange though. He seemed to be pumping us for information. What was he talking about when he talked about the “fourth cock-up”?’

  ‘It’s not the term I would have used. There have been four mistakes, or, if not mistakes, then problems in this case. Llewellyn, in his usual fashion, has called them “cock-ups”.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ said Connie. ‘The misidentification of Philip Staley in the original investigation; the killing of the real Andrew Fisher; the disappearance of Lena Gray; and, finally, the dropping of rape allegations against Staley.’ She beamed at them both, her hands still behind her head. ‘A quartet of cock-ups.’

  Sadler was amused but made an effort not to show it. He could feel his mood lifting. ‘Don’t remind me. I was around for all four of those mistakes.’

  Connie dropped her hands and leant forward. ‘They’re not your fault, and two of them I wouldn’t even describe as mistakes. Okay. This misidentification of Philip Staley. That is a massive fu—’ Connie caught Sadler’s eye and changed her mind, ‘mistake. However, the killing of Andrew Fisher? That’s murder and not our error. Letting Lena Gray give us the slip? Well, that’s a mistake, but as much mine as yours. I interviewed her. I should have spotted she was giving us the runaround.’

  ‘And as for the rape accusation,’ Palmer said, after taking a sip of his pint. ‘Is that a blunder? If the victim withdraws her accusation, even now, there’s not much we can do.’

  ‘But measures are in place now to ensure that it is less likely to occur. And quite right.’ Connie drained the rest of her beer.

  The group fell silent, and Sadler could feel two pairs of eyes on him. Connie, as usual, articulated his thoughts. ‘There’s something fishy going on.’

  Sadler picked up his wine glass and took a large gulp of the musty liquid. ‘Yes. It would appear so.’

  56

  Daniel sat in the kitchen with his head in his hands. In front of him was the empty can of cold beer that he’d finished in three swift gulps. ‘It’s actually been hard keeping it all in. I live by myself now in Whitby. I’ve had girlfriends, lots of them, but Lena’s always exerted this fascination over me. Over the years, coming and going from my life. If she’d been a regular girlfriend it might have fizzled out long ago, but it was the enchantment of the unobtainable. Can you understand that?’

  Kat had calmed down, and her professional curiosity kicked in. ‘Of course I can understand that.’ But has it helped you? she thought. Is your life better for it?

  ‘For a long time she wa
s quite distant from me. She’d come in for a drink, but I never found out anything about her. That never really changed but we did get closer. Despite the distance, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘So you knew her for, what, ten or so years?’

  ‘Twelve or thirteen. Right up until she went to prison.’

  ‘Did you visit her there?’

  Daniel stood and went to the fridge. ‘Do you mind if I have another?’ He reached inside and took out another can. ‘I would have visited her but times were limited. She wanted to see you during those times.’

  Kat frowned. ‘I didn’t get that impression over the years I was going there. We never talked about anything of any consequence. She didn’t even seem particularly pleased to see me.’

  ‘I’m not sure if this helps, me saying this, but she was always very protective of you. She wouldn’t talk about you at all.’

  ‘But you knew about me?’

  ‘Of course. I knew Lena had a sister. She seemed proud of what you had done with your life but she never really wanted to talk about you.’

  ‘Not interested.’ Kat’s tone was bitter.

  ‘I really don’t think it’s that.’

  ‘So what changed? You implied, just now, that you and Lena did get closer.’

  Daniel fiddled with his can. ‘In 2004, Lena came to me for help. I got a phone call in the middle of the night. Just after midnight I think it was. Or maybe a bit later. I’m not a night owl. She woke me up when she rang.’

  ‘September 2004?’

  ‘Yes. She rang me to say she’d just killed a man.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Yes. Just like that. She still had her wits about her, you know. She’d driven to a phone box across town to call me. So nothing would come up on her mobile or house phone records. It was the first time I’d heard her like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Completely focused on what she wanted doing.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘When she called, I thought she’d want me to help get rid of the body. Which, you know, I probably would have done. Probably.’

  ‘But she didn’t want that.’ Kat could see where this was going. ‘She wanted you to hide Andrew Fisher.’

  ‘So you know.’

  ‘Well, I’ve guessed. The police have a lead that Andrew Fisher was holed up in Whitby, at least for a while.’

  Daniel stared at the can of beer. ‘She had a plan. A pretty good one, actually. She said that if she pretended the next morning that she’d woken up next to her dead husband, it would take them a day or so to work out that a murder had actually been committed. Which would give us a chance to get Andrew up to Whitby and any other affairs sorted out before she was arrested.’

  ‘What about the deception? Didn’t she think that the police would work out that they had the wrong man?’

  ‘I think she did, but that never happened. It surprised us both. I hid Andrew Fisher for the first few months. Until the spring of 2005. He stayed in my house. Didn’t go out unless he was wrapped up in a hat, scarf and so on. It was winter, so it was pretty easy to do.’

  ‘And after that?’

  ‘He moved into a house the other side of the river. Where the tourists don’t venture. I sort of kept an eye on him. Only for Lena’s sake. He was pretty self-sufficient.’

  ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘I don’t know. For ten years or so I never bothered. Lena wouldn’t see me in prison and Andrew’d made a life for himself in Whitby, I think. I’d occasionally see him in a pub. Or walking about the town. We tended to ignore each other. Too much history.’

  ‘But why? Why did you help her?’

  Daniel reached forward and took a sip of his beer. ‘I’ve told you the answer to that. Because I’d have done anything for Lena. Don’t ask me how he ended up dead in Bampton. I last saw him at the beginning of April. He was alive and well then.’

  Kat said nothing. She allowed the silence to settle around her. Daniel was watching her. He was a huge bear of a man. Long limbs, a solid torso. It was no surprise that Lena had chosen him to depend on.

  ‘You haven’t asked me the key question.’

  Kat sighed. ‘That’s because I’m not sure I want to know the answer. Okay. I’ll ask it. Why? Why did Lena kill someone in her bed, pretend it was her husband and then send him up to Whitby to hide?’

  Daniel’s smile was grim. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

  57

  Sadler left them at ten. He had looked at his watch and made his excuses. Connie looked after him with a sardonic eye. ‘It’s not even as if he’s got far to go. He only lives around the corner.’

  ‘As, in fact, do you.’

  ‘Opposite direction though.’ She wondered how Palmer knew where she lived. ‘Funny case this is turning out to be.’

  He turned to her. ‘I don’t want to talk about the inquiry. It’s one bloody thing after another with this investigation. What happened to those simple cases that you see on TV? You know, the ones you can solve in two hours?’

  ‘Oh, those.’ Connie had moved on to brandy and Coke, and she took a long gulp from her glass. ‘You want an easy life? You can always go back into uniform. Climb the greasy pole. Go for an inspector post.’

  ‘Now you sound like Joanne.’ His voice was sulky.

  Here we go, thought Connie. I’m going to get his marital woes. Again. At least she never got this with Sadler. But it was Palmer’s weaknesses that held the key to her attraction to him. It made him more human. ‘Problems still?’

  He picked up his glass. ‘I should never have got married. It was all right when we were engaged. At least I had some say in decisions we made. Now she just tells me what’s going to happen. Like she’s decided to come off the pill.’

  ‘If you don’t want a baby yet, you’ve got to tell her. You know what this job is like. It’s her that’s going to bear the brunt of bringing up the child. She needs to know that.’

  ‘Do you think I’ve not tried?’ he hissed. ‘She’s decided to have a baby. And I don’t get any say in it.’

  Connie smiled into her glass. Poor bugger. She wondered how he’d be when his expensive suits began to be marked with baby sick. The thought made her snigger. He saw it, and his eyes narrowed. ‘You were right, you know. When you suggested I call off the wedding. I was just too pig-headed to see it.’

  ‘You’re too conventional, Palmer. You never would have backed out. Just as you’re going to let Joanne have her own way about the baby.’

  ‘Well, if she wants to get pregnant, we’ll have to have sex.’

  She leant towards him. ‘You not getting it at all?’

  ‘Nothing. Not. At. All.’

  Connie snorted into her glass. ‘Join the club, but at least I’m single. How’s that come about?’

  ‘She’s too tired in the evenings. Actually, so am I.’

  ‘It’s different for men.’

  ‘Well, as I said, if she wants a baby, it’s not going to happen by itself.’

  Connie, for the first time, noticed a coldness in his voice. ‘Don’t you love her?’

  ‘Probably, but it’s not how I expected it to be.’

  Only probably. She really was better off single if that was the best it got.

  ‘Remember before the wedding, when I asked if I could stay at yours?’

  Here we go. ‘Yes. I do. I remember saying no.’

  ‘I meant it only platonically. I just wanted to stay with a mate. You know, from work. Who understood what I did all day. It’s not changed anything, has it?’

  Connie smiled. ‘Not for me it hasn’t. You’re still the same irritating bugger you were before you had your pre-wedding wobble.’

  To her surprise, he grabbed her hand. ‘As long as things are still the same. I wouldn’t want anything to change between you and me.’

  She tipped her glass to her mouth to see what was left. Not much, just ice cubes. She poked them with her finger. ‘Nothing’s changed,�
�� she said, without looking at him.

  ‘Do you think I should have married someone in the business? You know, another copper?’

  Connie grimaced. There were a few married couples in the station, but she wasn’t clear if or how they ever saw each other. From what she could see, once the kids came, it was the women who resigned while the men carried on with their jobs as normal. Not for her.

  ‘Did you have anyone in mind?’ It came out more flirtatious than she’d intended, and she saw Palmer’s eyes widen.

  He leaned in towards her. ‘You said no last time.’

  She turned in her seat to face him. ‘It was the week you were getting married.’

  ‘Weren’t you a bit sorry, though? I mean, that it never happened?’

  Connie looked down into her glass. ‘More than a bit.’

  58

  Kat put Daniel in the spare room downstairs. There was a ratty old sofa that was just about big enough to accommodate his long limbs. She heaved a large quilt from the airing cupboard, and he heaped cushions from the various chairs for pillows.

  ‘Will you sleep?’ she asked.

  He looked dog-tired. ‘Probably. You?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  He smiled at her. ‘You look like your sister, you know.’

  ‘So everyone used to tell us. Less so now. We’re rarely seen together.’

  ‘Are you with someone? Boyfriend, I mean?’

  Kat thought of Mark. ‘There’s someone I like. A lot. But it’s complicated.’

  ‘Oh, I know all about those relationships. Does he make you happy?’

  ‘Yes, he does, but the timing is terrible. I need to concentrate on finding Lena and finding out what’s going on.’

  At the mention of her sister, he turned away. ‘Lena is a keeper of secrets. Hers and others’. If you really want to know what happened in 2004, you need to unlock the past.’

  As she left him settling into the sofa, she picked up her phone to check for messages and wondered if Mark was thinking of her too.