The Crooked Shore

by Martin Edwards

  Daniel didn’t know what to make of Melton’s reference to guilty secrets. The man seemed to regret his words as soon as they spilt out of his mouth. He’d piqued Daniel’s interest.

  Like a cautious online dater arranging a first meeting, Daniel had proposed a rendezvous at a public venue. Instead of a restaurant or bar, he’d opted for his favourite second-hand bookshop in the Lakes, a short drive from his cottage and an easy hop from Bowness for Melton. Even if their conversation proved to be a complete waste of time, he’d have a good excuse to browse the shelves and tuck into a fat slab of cake in the cafe.

  A quick search of the Greengables website confirmed that Kingsley Melton was indeed their representative in this part of the world. Daniel clicked ‘Our Team’ on the drop-down menu and was rewarded with a brief CV and a thumbnail photograph. Melton had clocked up many years of experience in a family retail business before moving into estate agency. In the photo, he looked haggard and hollow-eyed, as if he’d just read a damning structural survey.

  The suicide at Strandbeck had received acres of coverage. After reading the newspaper reports, Daniel began to understand Kingsley Melton’s reticence. The journalists had hung the man out to dry. While taking care not to libel him, they’d chosen direct quotes which conjured up a picture of a self-absorbed buffoon whose failure to act in time had cost a man’s life. Daniel had enough experience with the tabloid press to suspect the truth was more complicated. Chances were that the poor devil had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  ‘What have you got against Kingsley?’ Tory asked in a lazy drawl.

  She poured herself another gin and tonic. Logan sat beside her on the sofa, still drinking his first. In Tory’s company, he paced himself. Vital to keep a clear head. What poison might Melton have dripped into her ear?

  ‘I told you, I came across him at that care home. His mother was an old witch. I did my best with her, played all her favourite songs from the shows, but she became madly jealous whenever I paid attention to any of the other residents.’

  Tory ran her fingers through his silky hair. ‘I can understand it. Any woman would be reluctant to share you.’

  ‘Well, darling,’ Logan said, ‘now you’ve got me all to yourself.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die,’ he said.

  ‘You haven’t answered my question. Why do you loathe Kingsley?’

  ‘He made trouble for me.’ He closed his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to tell you this, but he tried to touch me up. I had to tell him where to get off. Make it clear I wasn’t interested. Obviously.’

  ‘Naughty Kingsley.’ She giggled. ‘I ought to be shocked, but I can’t say I’m totally surprised. You’re such a hunk and he’s extremely repressed.’

  ‘Very.’ Logan said, ‘Though he’s not as innocent as he looks.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘When I rebuffed him, he took revenge by spreading all sorts of stories about me.’

  ‘Not casting doubt on your virility, I hope,’ Tory said, kissing his cheek. ‘Not that anybody in their right mind would believe him.’

  ‘Worse than that,’ Logan said mournfully. ‘He claimed I was on the make, only out for myself. I played the piano to the old dears out of the goodness of my heart, but he did his best to turn that against me. Claimed I was trying to chisel money out of one of the residents. Honestly, I could have sued him for slander.’

  ‘Naughty Kingsley.’

  ‘Nobody believed him, thank God,’ Logan said. ‘As it happens, I was offered money gifts, several times, but I never accepted a penny. I felt bad about saying no. It seemed ungracious, but somehow it didn’t seem right to pocket their cash. For me, it was a point of principle.’

  ‘You should have said yes,’ she said. ‘It would have given the old folk pleasure.’

  ‘The manager of the home said the same, but I stood firm. I couldn’t bear anyone thinking I was on the make. That’s why Kingsley’s slurs left such a bitter taste.’

  ‘From what he told me, that mother of his has a lot to answer for. He should have had the guts to break away, instead of frittering his life away tied to her apron strings.’

  He grinned. ‘Chained to her broomstick, more like.’

  Tory laughed. ‘I’m glad you’re not jealous just because he and I …’

  ‘I always want to tell you the truth,’ he said quietly, ‘even if it isn’t easy. And if I’m absolutely honest, I am a teeny, teeny bit jealous. I mean, I know you’re a free agent. A strong, independent woman.’

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured.

  ‘You can do whatever you want, of course. It’s just that when I think of his bony claws fumbling with your lovely body …’

  He broke off to give a theatrical shudder.

  ‘He was just a dalliance.’ She planted a wet kiss on the cheek. ‘Not young and handsome like you. Not special. Kingsley is just such a sad individual. I suppose I took pity on him.’

  ‘You’re so generous,’ he said. ‘You only see the best in others.’

  ‘I’m no saint,’ she murmured.

  He slipped his hand inside her blouse. ‘Luckily for me, darling.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Louise Kind was a smart lawyer, a former corporate executive now pursuing a career in academe. A pity, her brother thought, that she’d never shown much evidence of legal caution in conducting her personal life. Unsuitable men had come and gone; shortly after she’d followed Daniel’s lead and moved up to the Lake District, a lover with whom she’d had a tempestuous relationship had been murdered.

  She and Hannah liked each other, perhaps a case of opposites attracting, but lately, Louise had betrayed signs of impatience with their failure to settle down together. Once after a couple of drinks she’d demanded to know whether he meant to pop the question before Hannah got bored and found someone else. He never came up with a satisfactory answer. The truth was that Hannah was as wary of long-term commitment as he was of rejection.

  As the crow flew, it was only a few miles from his home in Brackdale to Wordsworth country, where Louise had recently bought a cottage. By the meandering roadways of the Lake District, the drive took a good forty minutes and he spent them wishing he hadn’t accepted her invitation. At her best, Louise was good company, but after spending most of the day sleeping off his jetlag, he felt in no mood for small talk with someone he’d never met. Even if that someone was a fan of his books.

  He rounded the bend at Penny Rock, so called because the cost of blasting through to put in the old turnpike road had added a penny to the rates, and Grasmere came into view, a low sun shining on the water. The sight lifted his spirits. He’d dropped lucky. During his trip to the States, the weather in Cumbria had been at its foulest, but his return had coincided with forecasts of a mini-heatwave.

  The Rothay curled through the centre of the village, and the road crossed the river close to the churchyard where Wordsworth and members of his family were buried. He wondered how close Louise had come to death when she’d fallen into the water. They both owed this woman Alex a debt of gratitude.

  His sister’s timber-framed eco-cottage was one of half a dozen perched on a rise above the lake, less than a mile from the heart of the village and the tourists who milled through narrow streets where Wordsworth, Coleridge, and de Quincey once strolled. The development was pitched at purchasers who wanted an environmentally friendly home and were prepared to pay over the odds for it. Second-home owners were barred, and car users tolerated only because public transport in the Lakes was so patchy.

  The cottage had a terrace looking over to Grasmere. Louise and her saviour were sitting at a table, sipping something long and cool. As he parked, they raised their hands in greetings. He’d brought flowers for both of them, but as he approached the terrace from the gravel path he stopped in his tracks.

  Louise hadn’t done Alex Samaras justice. She was gorgeous.

  ‘I was tempted to bring along my collection of your books,’ Ale
x Samaras said. ‘I’d love to get them personalised. On reflection, I decided to give you due warning. So you’ve got time to think up a suitable message.’

  Her teasing smile showed perfect white teeth, her doe eyes were large and wide. With an oval face framed by long dark brown hair with bangs, and a tall, sinewy, androgynous figure clad in a white shirt and faded jeans, she bore a faint resemblance to Jane Birkin in her younger days. Demure yet provocative, laid-back yet mischievous.

  ‘You do realise,’ Louise murmured, ‘the signed ones are worth much less than the rare unsigned copies?’

  Alex laughed. Daniel had already discovered that when she claimed to be a fan of his writing, she wasn’t merely being polite; her questions displayed a surprisingly detailed knowledge of his books. What struck him most was that she was a generous listener, absorbed in everything Louise said as well as his own attempts to explain what he loved about history.

  ‘I insist on an inscription with a touch of mystery. To Alex – she knows why. Or is that too much to ask?’

  ‘What author could possibly resist?’ He turned to his sister. ‘So, this accident. Why on earth were you out walking a dog if the conditions were so rotten?’

  Louise put on a sad face. ‘Seemed like a good idea at the time.’

  ‘Those words will be carved on your tombstone.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’ve never been as frightened in my life. I was simply trying to be a kind neighbour. Wendy next door sprained her ankle and was worried sick that her dog wasn’t getting the exercise he needs. I volunteered to help out, but Max is young and full of beans, a real handful. I took him for a walk after a storm when the grass was wet through. To cut a long story short, we both finished up in the river. The difference was, I didn’t mean to lose my footing, and I couldn’t haul myself out. The shock was terrible and the water cold as ice. I’ve never known the Rothay so swollen. If not for Alex, I’d never have survived. She showed up in the nick of time.’

  Alex shook her head. ‘You’re making too much of it. You’d almost reached the bank. Even if I’d not been there, you’d …’

  ‘Pay no attention to her,’ Louise said. ‘She’s far too modest. Don’t be fooled by that skinny frame. One of her hobbies is martial arts.’

  Alex laughed. ‘Yes, I can look after myself, you don’t want to mess with me. Put it down to a misspent youth. I adore climbing, diving, sailing …’

  ‘I’d love to sail,’ Louise said wistfully.

  ‘I promise to take you out in my dinghy one of these days. Anyway, that night, I had to make do with a gentle jog along the riverbank. I heard a loud splash. Poor Max, whooshing into the water.’

  ‘Then an even louder splash,’ Louise said ruefully. ‘That was me, losing my balance and toppling in after him. You know how grateful I am. It turned out to be my lucky day.’

  ‘Mine too. All the more so, once I found out that your brother was Daniel Kind. Incredible, I’ve been a fan for ages.’

  ‘How long have you lived in the Lakes?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘This time around? Less than a year. It feels like coming back home. You won’t guess it from my accent, but I grew up a few miles from here. What’s really spooky is that I once met your dad.’

  Daniel blinked. This woman was full of surprises.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Actually, that’s how I got interested in you. Your books, I mean, I don’t want to sound creepy. I was living in London and needing a break from city life so I came up here. I knew the landlord of a pub in Oxenholme, The Old Junction, from way back. He was short-handed, so I helped out behind the bar a couple of nights a week. Not for the money but for the company. That’s where I met Ben; it was his local. He’d not long retired from the police force and he was at a loose end. As you do, we got chatting.’

  ‘I bet you did,’ Louise muttered. ‘Our father always had an eye for a pretty girl. That was his undoing.’

  ‘Oh, there was nothing like that.’ Alex giggled. ‘He was more than twice my age. I could tell he’d once been a good-looking fellow, but he’d started putting on weight and drinking too much. All the same, I felt sorry for him.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘He didn’t seem happy.’ Alex paused, studying their reaction, ‘Obviously he missed being a policeman, all that camaraderie. He was a keen gardener, but he liked to get out of the house, said his missus didn’t want him under her feet all the time. What was her name, the second wife? Cheryl, was it?’

  ‘Cheryl, yes.’

  Louise’s features froze into a pale mask. Ben Kind had abandoned his wife and children to come up to Cumbria with Cheryl. He’d got a divorce and remarried, and his ex-wife had broken off all contact with him. She’d never forgiven Ben for his betrayal. Neither had her daughter.

  Daniel had hero-worshipped his father from afar, clinging to a fantasy that one day there would be a reconciliation, but he’d not even learnt of Ben’s death until after his funeral. Cheryl had seen to that.

  ‘Sorry, that’s why I didn’t mention it before. I was afraid of upsetting you.’

  ‘I’m not upset.’ Louise’s tone was muffled, and for a dreadful moment, Daniel thought she was about to cry. ‘I mean – it was a wretched time. Once that dreadful woman got her claws into him, we all suffered.’

  ‘I do understand,’ Alex said earnestly. ‘It’s only natural, this bitterness. He confided in me, just a little bit, told me about his regrets.’

  Daniel felt torn. For his sister, talking about the past reopened old wounds, but he’d always wondered about his father’s life after he and Cheryl moved up to Cumbria. The insights he gleaned from Hannah were precious, but mostly limited to their working relationship. He always longed to learn more.

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘It was rather sad. He felt he’d messed up his life.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m afraid his second marriage was unhappy.’

  ‘You’re dead right,’ he said grimly. ‘Cheryl was having an affair with the man she worked for.’

  ‘Ben found out,’ she said. ‘I think he was glad to have someone to talk to that he could trust. Like he said, he didn’t stop being a detective just because he’d retired from the force. I don’t know what would have happened if he’d lived.’

  ‘Cheryl and her boss got together after Dad died.’

  ‘Ah, that I didn’t know.’ She sighed. ‘I’d seen you on the TV from time to time, and chatting with Ben prompted me to look for your books. I bought History Repeats Itself the day he died. I was going to ask if he’d mind sending it to you for a signature. Knowing how it hurts to lose a father you love, I hoped it might be a way of bringing the two of you back together.’

  ‘Generous of you.’

  His voice was raspy with emotion. Talking to this woman brought back memories. Louise was silent, staring out over Grasmere. She’d barely touched the champagne.

  ‘I wasn’t behind the bar that night,’ Alex murmured. ‘I was due to go back to London the next week, and I’d been reading a script my agent had sent. When I heard that Ben had been killed, I could hardly believe it. The landlord of The Old Junction told me he’d been drinking heavily. It was a dark evening and I suppose his head was in a fuddle as he walked home. The accident happened on a narrow lane with no pavement. So terrible that the driver who hit him never stopped.’

  ‘Yes,’ Daniel said curtly.

  ‘I’m sure it was deliberate. You can’t run someone over like that and not know exactly what you’ve done.’ She shook her head. ‘I often wondered … if an ambulance had been called sooner, would he have survived?’

  Daniel said, ‘If only they’d caught the bastard who did it.’

  ‘Everyone deserves justice,’ Alex said. ‘Presumably the police did what they could. But it wasn’t enough. They let him down. One of their own. I was tempted to play detective myself and find out the truth. But I didn’t know where to start.’

  For a few moments nobody spoke. Louise lifted the bo
ttle again, but Alex put her hand over her glass.

  ‘Better not. I don’t want to get tipsy and make a bad impression.’

  Louise left them while she went off to make coffee, and Alex plied him with questions about his writing. Her eyes sparkled as she listened. Daniel couldn’t help finding her enthusiasm as intoxicating as the champagne. He reminded himself that, even if she was currently resting, she was still an actor. Tonight she was simply playing another part: the admiring fan. Even so, he was only human. He couldn’t help feeling flattered.

  ‘You’re going to kill me!’ Logan panted.

  Tory laughed as she climbed off him. They were on her vast leather sofa. Their lust had been so intense that they’d undressed each other before they could make it to the bedroom.

  ‘Life in the old lady yet, eh?’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ he gasped. ‘You’re not old.’

  Her eyes feasted on his lean, hairless chest. ‘Compared to you, I’m ancient.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ He was getting his breath back. ‘I prefer women of the world.’

  ‘Nice phrase,’ she said. ‘Much kinder than cougar. Let alone wrinkly hag.’

  ‘You’ve got nothing to prove. Trust me, you’re perfect. Experienced, passionate …’

  She blew a kiss. ‘You’re so good for my morale.’

  ‘Seriously, girls my age never satisfied me. So selfish and immature.’

  ‘Don’t get the wrong idea, sweetheart. I’m no do-gooder. Believe me, I’m pretty satisfied myself.’

  He looked up into her eyes. ‘Promise?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  Suddenly his body stiffened and he averted his gaze.

  ‘Hey, Logan! What’s the matter?’