‘One o’clock,’ Elaine shouted after her. ‘Not a minute later. If I’m late getting to my real job, Titch will kill me.’
‘I won’t be late. I promise.’
It was to be a promise that Lucy Metcalfe would fail to keep.
* * *
‘I can’t believe you’re suggesting Lucy is involved in any of this. What on earth did Matty say?’
‘He said Richard Hargreaves had poor taste in women, with one exception. And that exception was Lucy.’
‘So?’ Delilah snapped. ‘That doesn’t prove anything. Did he say Richard dated her?’
‘Not exactly. Richard contacted her through the website after October’s Speedy Date night. But she sent him a firm no. Apparently he didn’t take offence. He told Matty he’d always known she was out of his league, and he ended up going out with Hannah Wilson instead.’
Delilah threw up her arms in indignation. ‘It still proves nothing.’
Samson wished he could share her conviction. And her loyalty. It would be so much easier to ignore this hunch of his. A hunch that was implicating someone he cared about in murder.
Lucy Metcalfe had rejected an advance from Richard Hargreaves and the man had ended up dead. Now Harry, having also been snubbed, was unconscious but lucky to be alive. Was it possible that Lucy was connected to the others, too?
It was preposterous. The widow of his best friend. Someone he’d known all his life. And the gentlest person you could ever meet.
But the inconsistencies were plain to see and, in cases like this, inconsistencies often led to breakthroughs. Samson wasn’t inclined to ignore his growing concerns.
‘Lucy lied,’ he said. ‘When we were in the pub last night for the darts match. She said she’d never received a date request. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but those papers…’ He gestured at the desk.
‘The papers you saw in my drawer when you broke in here that night?’ Delilah’s tone was even more caustic than usual, her affront at his accusation adding to her normal temper.
‘Yes, those papers. You made lists of all the people who’d been contacted by Richard Hargreaves, Martin Foster and Tom Alderson.’
‘And?’
‘Lucy was on them. On all three lists, along with Hannah Wilson and Sarah Mitchell.’
‘So? It doesn’t mean she killed them.’
‘But why would she lie?’
Delilah shrugged. ‘Maybe you misheard her?’
‘No. She clearly said she’d never had a follow-up after either date night. So much so that Harry, being the kindhearted soul he is, immediately sent her one. As a joke.’ Samson began pacing the floor, thinking about the prostrate form of the auctioneer. Thinking about the fact that he’d almost abandoned him. If it hadn’t been for that firework lighting up the place … He shuddered. ‘Some joke it turned out to be.’
‘Harry sent Lucy a date request? I didn’t know that.’
‘He and Ash thought it would make her laugh,’ said Samson. ‘She fired back with an outright no.’
Delilah clicked on the records for the last dating event, bringing up all of Lucy’s interactions. There, clear as day, was Harry’s request. And less than five minutes later, a brusque refusal.
She navigated back to the data for the October Speedy Date night. Three requests to Lucy, all of them rejected within minutes. All of them with the least tactful of the three reply options. And all three recipients were now dead.
‘Okay,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘There’s a connection, for sure. And it’s weird the way she’s replying so fast, almost taking no time to turn these men down. It also doesn’t seem like Lucy to be so abrupt with them, either. But there’s a hole in your theory.’
‘What?’
‘She had another follow-up after Tuesday night.’
‘You mean other than Harry?’ Samson made to approach the computer but his mobile began to ring. He turned to the window to answer the call. ‘Hi, Danny.’
‘Mr … Samson.’ The constable’s voice echoed in his ear. ‘Sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel our meeting. I’m still at the hospital.’
‘Something wrong?’
‘I hear you know all about it. Harry Furness. Sergeant Clayton has asked me to stand guard outside his ward.’
‘Has he come round yet?’
‘Not that I’ve heard. But the sergeant seems to think he might know something about how the fire started. Seems it could have been deliberate…’
Samson let the silence stretch down the line.
‘Sounds like you might already have thought the same?’ the constable urged.
‘Yes,’ said Samson, rubbing a hand over his face. ‘I’m sure it was deliberate.’
‘Can you tell me why you think that?’
‘Harry was lying in the hallway when I got there. He was only a few yards from the front door, where the smoke was least dense, yet he was already unconscious. Somehow I don’t think smoke inhalation was to blame. Plus, he was lying the wrong way for someone struggling to get out of a fire, with his feet pointing towards the exit. He wouldn’t have been crawling in that position.’
‘Anything else?’ asked the constable.
‘I’d get the doctors to have a close look at the cut on his head, too. Strikes me a flat floor wouldn’t have made that mess, even if he’d fallen hard.’
‘So you think he was targeted?’
‘Yes.’
The blunt reply caused Danny to pause. ‘Is this connected to your suspicions about Richard Hargreaves?’
‘It could be. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you any more than that for now.’
‘Keep me posted, then,’ said the constable. Then he sighed loudly. ‘What a day. A man run off the road by a stolen tractor and left for dead last night, who swears someone was trying to kill him, and now this.’
‘Someone was run off the road?’ Out of the corner of his eye, Samson saw Delilah glance towards him. He turned back to face her. ‘Anyone we know?’
‘That new estate agent from Taylor’s. Stuart Lister. That’s who I was interviewing this morning at the hospital. He’d gone out to meet a prospective tenant at that old farmhouse on Henside Road. When they didn’t show, he headed home and was driving up the big hill before the Goat Lane turn at about nine o’clock, when a tractor came over the top and forced him into a wall. He’s in a bad way, but he managed to talk. What’s really weird is that he swears the driver of the tractor tried to smother him, after crashing into him. He reckons he’s only alive because the Bruncliffe Harriers chose to take their evening run out by Fountains Fell.’
Samson wasn’t listening. He was staring at the computer screen, where Lucy’s data from the Speedy Date night was still showing. Staring at the name of the second date request she’d received.
‘Christ!’ he muttered.
‘What is it?’ The constable was alert on the other end of the phone.
‘I think you might want to tell Sergeant Clayton to put a guard on Stuart’s door, too.’
* * *
Two of them still alive. It was getting risky.
The first couple had been straightforward – a simple push at an opportune moment and accidents had been created. Fatal accidents.
But the farmer. That had taken more planning. The sheep had to be killed. The phone calls to the Parish Council made. And then the death itself.
And now …
Word was all over town that Harry Furness and Stuart Lister were both in hospital, although no one was suggesting there was any link. But it was only a matter of time before one or other of the men started talking.
There was no alternative. It had to be done. It’s what he would have wanted.
She had to be stopped.
* * *
‘Stuart Lister is in hospital?’ Delilah was standing, the shock of the news having driven her to her feet.
‘Someone tried to kill him last night. Ran him off the road with a tractor.’
Face grey,
she put a hand out to support herself on the desk. ‘Is he going to be okay?’
‘Danny seems to think so. He’s talking at least.’
She slumped back into her chair and gazed blindly at the computer screen, the names of the two men hospitalised in the last twenty-four hours staring back at her.
‘We placed them in danger,’ she said, voice small.
Samson sat next to her, a hand on her arm. ‘What else could we have done? There wasn’t enough evidence for the police to get involved. Whereas now…’
‘Now there are two badly wounded men who got their injuries as a result of our recklessness. And Lucy is somehow at the centre of it all. I just can’t…’ Delilah shook her head, dazed by the day’s revelations. Samson knew how she felt.
Lucy Metcalfe. He’d experienced at first hand the innate goodness of the woman. Never having a bad word for anyone, she’d been the only one to welcome him back to Bruncliffe, to treat him like a friend rather than a villain. Even though she, of all people, had reason to see things differently. His behaviour at the christening, his lack of contact with his godson over the years, his absence from her life when Ryan died … She should have been standing at the door of her caravan with a shotgun, not throwing her arms around him and offering forgiveness.
How could a woman of that calibre be involved in murder?
But Samson had witnessed enough as a policeman to know that the world of crime was never black and white. And there, on the screen before him, was evidence that Lucy Metcalfe had a direct connection with the latest casualties amongst the Dales Dating Agency clients – one attacked this morning and the other attacked last night.
Last night …
He slapped his palm to his forehead, wincing as he brushed one of the many grazes that now graced his face.
‘Stuart was attacked around nine o’clock last night,’ he muttered. ‘Lucy was with us in the pub until much later than that.’
Delilah spun round. ‘Of course!’ Relief flooded across her pale face. ‘Which means she can’t have—’
Samson shook his head. ‘It’s not that simple, Delilah. It only means there’s at least another person involved. Someone who is aware of Lucy’s dating responses.’
‘But … why? I’m finding it difficult enough to believe that Lucy is killing people who ask her out. Why on earth would anyone be helping her?’
She was right. It just didn’t make sense. He sighed, rubbing his aching throat, wanting nothing more than to crawl into his bed. Delilah’s bed, as he now knew.
‘Okay, so let’s assume Lucy was telling the truth in the pub,’ he said.
‘About the date requests?’
‘Exactly. Is it possible that she didn’t know?’
Delilah looked sceptical. ‘Not really. When a date request is received, a message is sent to the recipient immediately.’
‘By email?’
‘Email or text. They choose when they set up their account.’
‘Would it be possible for someone to intercept those messages?’
A short bark of derisory laughter met his question. ‘Only in Hollywood. Here in the real world, the short answer is no.’
‘So, if Lucy was telling the truth and she didn’t get those messages, why would that be?’
‘A program malfunction. But I’d have seen that on her data. Or she changed her email address or phone number and forgot to update her account details. It happens sometimes. In Lucy’s case, though, I can tell you she hasn’t changed either in the last few years.’
‘Can you humour me and check her account?’
She nodded, pulling up the relevant data with a few clicks of the mouse.
‘Here,’ she pointed at the screen. ‘Lucy has set up her account so that she gets agency information through her email – notification of dating sessions, subscription payments and the like. But she gets her date requests sent via SMS.’
‘Is that normal?’
‘Totally. Most people want the immediacy of a text message when it comes to the important stuff, like whether or not they’ve been lucky on a date night.’
‘And her contact details are all up to date?’
‘Yes, that’s her email and—’ Delilah blinked. Leaned forward and then frowned.
‘What?’
‘That’s not her mobile number.’
A fizz of adrenalin shot through Samson. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes. Hers ends in 2001, the year Nathan was born. That’s how she remembers it.’
‘So whose…?’
Delilah was already scrolling through her contacts on her mobile. She paused, then turned to him, face blanched, hand over her mouth. ‘It’s Nathan’s.’
* * *
It was perfect. He’d love it.
Actually, she didn’t know if he’d love it or not. Two months ago she would have been confident of her ability to please her son. But as the days had started to darken into winter, so Nathan had become more reclusive, and Lucy Metcalfe had begun to feel like she was living with a stranger.
A brooding, sullen stranger who bore little resemblance to the carefree boy she’d brought into this world.
And she was hoping to change that with a cake?
She let the lid fall, swamped by an urge to swipe the box and its contents across the caravan.
‘Sod it!’ she muttered, brushing away the tears that were stinging her eyes. She had to get back to work. She tied a bow across the middle of the box and left it on the table along with a card, so he’d see it as soon as he came home. Then she gathered her coat and bag and stepped out of the door.
She didn’t hear a thing. Just felt the hand across her mouth, the scratch on her neck, and then her legs gave way beneath her.
18
‘Nathan?’
For a second Samson saw the young replica of Ryan standing in the doorway of the barn up at High Laithe, expression as sullen as the storm brewing in the distance. And more than anything, he wanted the suspicions that were forming to be wrong.
‘Is there any chance you’re mistaken?’
‘None,’ Delilah said, hand still trapped over her mouth as though stifling a scream. ‘Nathan has been getting Lucy’s date requests.’
‘Could Lucy have slipped up entering the number?’
Delilah gave him a disbelieving look. ‘And what? Nathan never thought to tell his mother of her mistake?’ She shook her head.
‘But how did he hack into her account?’
‘Because Lucy, like a lot of people, used the same password for everything. I’ve told her time and time again that she needs to be more security conscious…’ Her voice trailed off in despair.
‘In that case, how come she didn’t notice? Wouldn’t she have got email notifications every time she got a date request?’
‘Not necessarily.’ She clicked the mouse and pointed at the screen. ‘Look. Email notifications were switched off. Probably Nathan covering his tracks. Lucy had no way of knowing what was going on.’
‘But Nathan…’ Samson felt sick.
‘He was never happy about the date nights. He kicked up when he first heard Lucy was going. Said it was disloyal to his dad—’
‘Wait a minute!’ Samson started pacing the floor. ‘Are we seriously suggesting Nathan killed three men and left two others for dead, because he didn’t want his mother dating? Don’t you think we’re jumping to conclusions?’ Then he turned to her, relief on his face. ‘No … no, it can’t be Nathan! He didn’t even know his mother went to the last Speedy Date night. Lucy told me at the darts match how awful she was feeling because she’d kept it a secret from him.’
Samson’s attempt to allay her fears faltered as Delilah bit her lip.
‘He did know. He saw the list of entrants on my computer when he called in last week. I didn’t say anything at the time – I never thought … oh God!’ Tears flooded her eyes. ‘He’s just a child. How could he—?’ A groan slipped from her.
‘What?’
‘Last n
ight,’ she whispered. ‘Lucy went home to watch Dirty Dancing.’
‘And?’
‘She only did that because she had the caravan to herself. Nathan was out.’
It took him a moment. Then he saw the significance of what she’d said. Nathan, a typical farm boy, able to drive from an early age. He’d have had no trouble handling a tractor …
‘He could have attacked Stuart Lister.’ Samson’s words triggered the tears that had been building.
‘I shouldn’t have suggested Lucy took part,’ said Delilah, wiping the back of a hand over her wet cheeks. ‘I thought it would do her good, get her back into life a bit. But it was too soon for Nathan. I should have seen that.’
‘This could still all be an innocent mistake,’ said Samson. ‘Let’s call Lucy. Find out where Nathan is, and we’ll take it from there.’
Drying her eyes, Delilah reached for her mobile. After five rings Lucy’s answering service kicked in. Delilah left a brief message and then tried the cafe. Lucy answered on the second ring. Only it wasn’t Lucy at all.
‘Elaine? I’m looking for Lucy. Is she there?’ An explosion of muffled chatter came in response, triggering a look of alarm on Delilah’s face.
‘Okay. I’ll let you know if I hear from her. Bye.’ She hung up and took a deep breath and Samson realised she was struggling to control her panic.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘That was Elaine. She said Lucy went home from the cafe over an hour ago. She was supposed to be back by now to relieve Elaine, but she hasn’t returned. Elaine’s been calling her. There’s no response.’
Samson was already heading for the door. ‘Keep trying Lucy’s mobile,’ he said, ‘and try and find out where Nathan is.’
‘And you?’
‘I’m going up to High Laithe.’
Delilah was rising from the desk before he’d even finished speaking. ‘I’m coming, too.’
‘No!’ He crossed the room to place both hands on her shoulders. ‘Stay here, Dee. If there’s trouble up there, you don’t need to be part of it.’
She sank back onto her chair.
Date with Death Page 25