FIRE ON THE FENS a gripping crime thriller filled with stunning twists

by Joy Ellis

  ‘I should go immediately, shouldn’t I? Oh, there’s a police car drawing up outside now.’

  Now Melissa Daley sounded less fraught, Nikki decided to leave the rest to Cat. There was just one big question that still needed an answer. ‘You have a sister, Clary?’

  ‘Yes, Clary was going today too, but she pulled out at the last minute. Nothing unusual there, she’s an artist. Sometimes she just does that if she needs to paint.’

  ‘Would you be kind enough to give her contact details to the officer who has just arrived, please? And thank you for your help. I’m sorry to have alarmed you.’

  Nikki ended the call. Clary? Could she be the one in the unit? And why had Melissa not mentioned calling in there earlier? If she had such a bad migraine, would she be running into the Fenlander Park? Most people with migraines could hardly stand, let alone hurry. Confused, Nikki looked around for Joseph. She needed to throw this lot at him and see what he made of it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘So what did our friend the flat-foot want?’ Giles Black flopped down into one of the big soft sofas.

  ‘You’ll find out for yourself, brother. PC Yvonne Collins is coming back to speak to you.’ Tom Black grinned.

  ‘Oh dear, didn’t your boyish charm work this time? You’re not losing your touch, are you?’

  ‘She was a very pleasant woman, actually, though not the best actor. I certainly didn’t buy her story about tracking down the yob that spat at me, but she was nice all the same.’

  ‘So why was she here? You can’t tell me that the police are really interested in that stupid little affair. Checking us out, do you think?’ Giles kicked off his shoes and stretched out his long legs in front of him.

  ‘Certainly was, but all done nice and politely.’ He laughed. ‘I think she quite liked me, so that’s a good start.’

  ‘Then I’ll do my best not to make her change that opinion. By the time she leaves, I’ll have her believing that our whole family are warm-hearted, honest, community-spirited citizens.’

  Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t go completely overboard, Giles! She’s no fool. And don’t be deceived by the old-school policewoman routine. I’m betting she’s as sharp as a knife. She has shrewd eyes. And she misses nothing, believe me!’

  ‘Trust me, little brother. I’ll be the perfect gentleman.’

  Tom looked unconvinced. ‘So, how did the meeting go?’

  ‘Pretty good. I reckon I’ve pulled in another high-profile interested party, so long as our figures reflect my erudite and convincing spiel.’ Giles looked smug.

  ‘Indeed they do, unless you’ve overdone the sales pitch.’

  Giles looked at his brother reproachfully. ‘As if! I was simply brilliant. Lucifer himself would be proud of me, even if my brother isn’t.’

  ‘I know you, Giles. Your enthusiasm is admirable, but you do tend to get carried away.’ Tom disliked having to play spoilsport, the one who always pulled in the reins, and right now, however nice PC Collins was, he really didn’t want her as a permanent fixture in his sitting room. ‘I’m sure you did a great job today, Giles. Now just be polite to the copper, and send her on her way happy, okay?’

  Giles gave a stiff little bow. ‘Consider her gone.’

  * * *

  The day was drawing to a close, but John Carson was still at the scene of the fire. Melissa’s Wishes was now little more than a smouldering pile of twisted metal, partially burned debris and ash — a dream destroyed. He hoped they were well insured and would have the heart to begin again. He supposed that would depend on who had died in the conflagration. Before she left, Nikki had told him that both the owners were accounted for, but a relative of theirs who helped out occasionally was not. John had briefly been allowed to see the body when the forensic team arrived, and he was certain that it was a woman, but because of the extensive burning, even he had to admit he could be wrong.

  He spent some time walking around, talking to the people who had seen the fire from the start. Many had rushed out to try to help, but were beaten back by the ferocity of the blaze as well as the locked doors. He had listened to several comments that all pointed to arson. Those people who did manage to look through the stockroom windows described some of the flames as blue. The material in that unit was not the kind to release a blue flame unless an accelerant had been used. John was sure that when forensics searched the debris, they would find residue of an alcohol-based accelerant.

  He made himself consider the body. It wasn’t a pleasant task, even for someone with his experience. The skeletal structure was largely intact, and the body had assumed the pugilists’ stance, arms raised in defence like a boxer in the ring. He knew this happened because, as the body burns, the muscles contract and the flexor muscles, which are stronger, overpower the extensor muscles, drawing it into a foetal position.

  John knew that although it looked horrible, this could aid identification. The hands tightened into fists, and this sometimes protected the pads of the fingertips from extensive burns, so fingerprints were found. This could be important if the DNA in the burnt bones was too degraded to use. That, and the teeth. Many dental features survive intact while other parts of the body do not.

  They could identify the person quite quickly, as long as they had a possible victim in mind for reference. Maybe this relative? John was overcome by sadness. Losing your business was one thing, but to lose a loved one at the same time . . . He had seen it before, and it was heartrending. He’d also seen homeless people who’d found their way into a building to sleep and perished trying to get warm. He doubted this was the case here.

  John stared up into the rapidly darkening sky. Really, he should let it all go. He was retired. He was getting old. He should be walking his dog, the one he hadn’t got around to buying yet. He should be playing bowls, planning river cruises for the “mature” single. Anything other than this!

  John turned his back on the scene and walked to his car. One day he’d do all those things — perhaps. But right now this particular case needed his input, and he had a feeling that somehow he’d play a pivotal role in catching the man behind it. So, he’d better get his head back into gear and offer the police some creative support, before senility set in.

  * * *

  Yvonne decided to call in at the Black House on her way home. The place drew her back, fascinated her, and so did Tom Black. He had undeniable charisma, and she had warmed to him. She parked outside, convinced that even if he turned out to be a devil-worshipping con man, she’d still find it hard to dislike him.

  ‘You’re getting soft, Yvonne Collins. Time to retire,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Either that, or he really does have demonic powers and he has you mesmerised.’

  Mrs Black once again opened the door. With a resigned smile, she beckoned Yvonne in. ‘He’s in his study. He said he’ll see you there.’

  Giles Black beamed in welcome. ‘My brother told me how kind you’ve been over that nasty little contretemps with those unpleasant youths.’ He pointed to an oxblood leather chair. ‘Sit down, Officer. Can I offer you a drink? I’m sure you must be off duty by now.’

  ‘Driving, sir, regretfully.’

  ‘Mind if I have one? Had a bit of a day.’

  ‘Please, go ahead.’

  ‘So, tea or coffee?’

  ‘Neither, sir, thank you. I’ve just got a couple of questions and I’ll be on my way.’ She produced the photos.

  ‘That one.’ There was no hesitation. He pointed to the same face his brother had. ‘Nasty piece of work. As Max Ehrmann so rightly said, “Avoid loud and aggressive persons, for they are a vexation to the spirit.” And that young man vexed my spirit exceedingly.’

  ‘I’ll be speaking to him, sir, be assured.’ She paused. ‘But I’m concerned that this won’t be the only time something like this happens here. Your brother Tom explained about you being Luciferians, and he told me a little about your beliefs, but I’m afraid the street kids won’t appreciate the difference between y
ourselves and devil-worshipping black magic groups.’ She looked directly at him. ‘If you continue to hold meetings, I’m not sure how we can protect you.’

  Giles looked hurt. ‘Our meetings are perfectly peaceful. Just once a month, and on our special celebration days. You can’t expect us to abandon them, can you?’

  ‘No, of course not, sir. I just wondered if they could be kept a little more low key? Change the dates, maybe? If the gangs don’t know when they are, they won’t be lying in wait when you come out. That, or let us know in advance, and we’ll try to keep an eye open for trouble. Not that I can promise much, with our budgets cut as they are.’

  ‘We’ll survive, Officer. I really appreciate your concern. Part of our teaching is about balancing dark and light, so we’ll find a way, don’t you worry.’

  ‘I do hope so.’ Yvonne wasn’t convinced. Giles was a showman, she could see, all smooth talk. He didn’t attract her like his brother had. Tom had seemed more genuine, despite the silver tongue.

  While they talked, she tried to memorise all the things on display in this rather impressive office. She filed everything away in her mind, to be considered later, hoping to notice something that would tell her these people were not what they seemed. ‘Do you have many members in your group, Mr Black?’

  ‘Around fifty, give or take. But we are growing, and more followers are joining us all the time.’

  ‘What do you offer these followers, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Yvonne was curious.

  Giles settled back in his chair. ‘Hope, PC Collins. We reject dogma. The “official” religions have been the cause of wars and devastation throughout history. Instead, we offer an ethical life that supports creativity, success, freedom, excellence, individuality and enjoyment. What more can you ask for? We believe that we human beings are masters of this planet. We don’t believe in Lucifer as a God, but rather as an enlightened being that can teach us wisdom. We are subservient to no one.’

  ‘So, you don’t worship Satan, as has been suggested?’

  He laughed. ‘Sorry to disappoint, but ask any Luciferian, or anyone from the Church of Satan for that matter, and they’d tell you that worshipping an evil entity is deranged. We’re certainly not psychopaths. Far from it.’

  Yvonne suddenly wanted out of this place. He seemed to be sincere, but something told her it was a well-rehearsed spiel. He’d done his homework, she’d say that much. But if he had something criminal to hide, he would have.

  ‘Have I converted you?’

  ‘Not exactly, though I can see its appeal,’ Yvonne said diplomatically.

  ‘You could do worse, Officer. It can be very lucrative.’

  Thanks, chum, but I’ll survive on my police pension if it’s all the same. Yvonne smiled. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Black. You’ve been most helpful, and I’ll keep you posted about the result of my interview with the youth who attacked you.’ She stood up, and accepted the outstretched hand.

  As she shook it, she saw the tiny flame orange tattoo, the fireball. A family thing? Or something else?

  She climbed back into her car and pulled out her notebook. While it was fresh in her mind, she made a drawing of the tattoo that both brothers sported on their arm. Yet another late-night search on Google. That, and a quick check on what Luciferians believed in.

  Were they really so benign?

  * * *

  Melissa Daley had insisted on going to the Fenlander Enterprise Park to see for herself exactly what had happened. Her visit lasted just moments, and then she turned her back. Cat and Ben escorted her home in tears.

  Nikki and Joseph arrived to find her still sobbing.

  Cat nodded towards the door and Nikki followed her out into the hall. ‘I can’t trace the sister, boss. I’ve tried her home and her studio, and, zilch.’ Cat kept her voice down. ‘Melissa doesn’t know about the dead person found inside her unit. We decided to wait until the husband gets back. He’s en route and should be here quite shortly.’

  ‘I agree, but I do need to talk to her. A witness, a friend who knows her well, saw her hurrying into the estate not long before the fire. I have to know what that was all about.’

  ‘She’s well upset. I’d be very surprised if she had anything to do with the fire.’

  Nikki felt the same. Melissa was certainly not crying crocodile tears. ‘Maybe I’ll have another word with this friend of hers before I wade in and cause more havoc.’ She went outside, found the number for Helen Hawker, and called her.

  ‘Helen, I have to ask this. Are you absolutely certain it was Melissa that you saw?’

  ‘Oh yes. Mel has a very distinctive jacket. It’s a sort of long parka coat in bright tomato red, with a rusty coloured fur-lined hood. And she always wears jeans and trainers. It was Mel, I’m certain of it.’

  ‘Without appearing rude, can I ask if you have good long distance vision?’

  Helen paused. ‘Fairly good, although I do wear distance glasses to drive. But it was Mel, honestly.’

  Nikki thanked her and rang off. A slight doubt niggled at her. If Helen had been dealing with a client, she wouldn’t have had time to put her distance glasses on. Could she have been mistaken and seen another woman in a red coat? She would need to tread carefully.

  Back in the lounge, she debated as to whether she should broach the subject or wait for Devlin to arrive. The fact was, someone had died in that fire, and that meant murder.

  ‘Mrs Daley, I’m sorry to have to ask questions at such a difficult time, but I’m afraid I have no choice.’

  Melissa looked up and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Whatever I can tell you, although I don’t know how I can help.’

  ‘You never went into the unit this morning? Not at any time?’

  Melissa looked confused. ‘No, I told you, I had a migraine. I get really bad ones, they knock me off my feet.’

  Nikki looked at her eyes. They were not just red from crying, and they had dark rings underneath. She wasn’t lying. ‘This might seem very odd, Mrs Daley, but I understand you own a red parka coat, with a fur-trimmed hood?’

  ‘Yes. What’s this all about?’

  ‘Please, bear with me. Can I see it?’

  For a moment, Nikki thought Melissa was going to object, then she stood up and went out into the hall. ‘It’s here. Although why on earth you want to . . . oh.’ She stopped, staring at the clothes hooks beside the front door. ‘It’s gone.’ Then she rolled her eyes. ‘Clary! She’s always taking my things. I swear she lives in a world of her own.’

  Nikki’s heart sank. Helen Hawker must have seen Clary, not Melissa. ‘Excuse me for one minute, please. I need to have a word with my colleague.’

  She beckoned to Joseph and hurried outside. There, she told him what she believed.

  ‘It’s still not absolute proof that it is Clary in that building. She could have called in, then left again. I know it’s a long shot, but until we have evidence . . .’ Joseph shrugged. ‘So what do we tell Melissa?’

  ‘I think it’s time to tell her that someone died in the fire, and as her sister is not answering her phone, we have cause for concern,’ Nikki said.

  Joseph frowned. ‘Before the husband returns?’

  Just then, a car swung into the drive and a man jumped out, staring anxiously at the police vehicles.

  ‘Police? What on earth is going on? Mel? Is my wife alright?’

  ‘Mr Daley? Devlin Daley?’

  ‘Yes, yes. What’s happened?’

  Joseph stepped forward. ‘Your wife is fine. She’s indoors waiting for you, sir. But there’s been an incident at the industrial estate where you have your business premises. A fire.’

  Devlin Daley froze for a second, then ran past them into the house.

  Joseph squeezed Nikki’s arm. ‘Give them a minute. This is pretty awful news, without the coming bombshell. Let Ben and Cat get the first part out of the way, and then we’ll do the deed.’

  Nikki nodded. It would give her breathing space to decide what to say. Sh
e sighed. Whatever words she used would cause anguish.

  After a short wait, they went inside.

  Very gently, Nikki explained what they’d found, and their fears for Clary. Dev shook his head vehemently.

  ‘It won’t be Clary. You’d have to know her to understand. She flits from here to there with no regard for time, or for letting you know what she’s doing. She sometimes paints all night and sleeps all day. She disappears for days on end. She misses meals.’ He threw up his hands. ‘She’ll be somewhere, but she won’t have gone to the unit. She helps us out sometimes when we’re busy, but she hates it. She can’t stand formal nine-to-five hours, she’s too creative, too carefree.’

  ‘And she doesn’t have a key to the unit,’ Melissa added calmly.

  Joseph’s look said, Damn! We got it wrong.

  ‘How many keys are there, please?’ Nikki asked.

  Dev answered. ‘Three. We have one each, and there’s a spare.’

  Nikki asked to see them, and Dev went off to the kitchen. He came back with two sets of keys.

  ‘Mine, and the spare. Where’s yours, Mel?’

  ‘In my coat pocke—’ She fell silent.

  Nikki’s eyes narrowed. ‘The red coat? The one that Clary took last time she was here?’

  Melissa nodded mutely.

  Dev drew in a loud breath. ‘She took your coat? When?’

  ‘Last night, I suppose. I never noticed, with the migraine and everything.’

  ‘Mrs Daley, a woman who was mistakenly identified as you was seen heading for the unit, just before the fire. She was wearing a red parka with a fur-trimmed hood, jeans and trainers.’ Nikki hated having to say this. ‘And now we know that she had possession of the key, we have to consider the possibility that she did go there.’

  In a strangled voice, Melissa said, ‘This can’t be happening. Oh please, not Clary!’

  Hugging his wife, Dev kept saying, ‘But she’d have no reason to go there! Why? It doesn’t make sense.’

  Nothing makes sense, thought Nikki. Is Clary going to be another Ronnie?