Killer on the Fens

by Joy Ellis

  Joseph took the photo from her and looked a little perplexed. ‘Did the hair colour skip a generation?’

  Nikki laughed softly. ‘No. Kathy was my father’s second wife. My biological mother was killed by a hit-and-run driver shortly after I was born.’ She stared at the picture. ‘They never caught the driver, and funnily enough that was one of the reasons why I decided to join the police force. I wanted to make things better. I didn’t want other people to be left with unfinished business and unsolved cases.’ She smiled at the woman in the picture. ‘But hell, I’d love to have had that hair.’

  Tamsin passed her a second photograph. ‘And do you know this woman? Out of that one box of photos, she’s the only puzzle.’

  Nikki took the picture and felt a distinct shiver pass through her, though she had no idea why. She looked closely. ‘I was going to say that I’ve never seen her before,’ she paused, ‘but I think maybe I have.’ Nikki let out a long breath. ‘I was given something today.’ She still had the book from Glenfield in her handbag. She took it out and passed it to Tamsin. ‘The writing inside is my father’s, but how it came to be in his locker is a mystery. And there is a picture in the back. Take a look at it.’

  Tamsin and Joseph gazed at it eagerly. ‘It’s the same woman!’ breathed the girl. ‘So who is she?’

  ‘I suspect her name is Eve,’ said Nikki quietly. ‘And I’m not sure that I can wait for my father’s friend Tug Owen to come up for the funeral.’

  Tamsin stared at the picture. ‘That man there! He’s called Tug.’ She picked out several of the RAF photos. ‘Look, I identified him easily. He’s in a lot of the shots.’

  ‘And he’s standing right next to the mystery woman in at least two of the photos, so he must know her,’ said Joseph.

  ‘Then why did he deny it?’ mused Nikki. ‘He was adamant about it.’ She frowned, ‘and I’m loath to challenge him again over the phone. I guess it will have to wait until we see him.’

  Tamsin shrugged. ‘Maybe she’s not Eve. Perhaps we are jumping to conclusions.’

  Nikki looked at them enquiringly. ‘Would either of you like to place a bet on that?’ She looked up. Two heads were slowly shaking from side to side. ‘Thought not.’

  * * *

  PC Tinker and PC Jenkins sat in the car and took it in turns to cat nap. There was nothing to see on the dark fen, and boredom had set in hours ago.

  As Bob Tinker snored softly, Reg Jenkins got out of the vehicle to stretch his legs.

  The silence out on the marsh was complete. He heard no night birds, no rustling of small animals in the undergrowth, and no traffic noises drifting across from the road. There was no moon and no stars that he could see, just a cover of thick cloud and, not for the first time that night he wondered what the hell they were doing there.

  It was obvious to him that this had been the clandestine meeting place of dealer and pusher, and after the transaction had taken place, Pike the plonker had fallen arse over elbow down the shaft. End of story.

  He walked towards the cordoning that stood out dimly in the gloom, and stopped. Out towards the marsh, he had seen a light. Just a glimmer, then it was gone. He tried to keep his eyes trained on the spot. ‘Bob! Come here, now!’

  Bob Tinker woke up and ambled across. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I saw something.’ Reg pointed in the direction of where the light had come from.’

  ‘In this? How? It’s black as hell.’

  ‘A light. A small point of light. Look! There!’ This time they both saw it. ‘Jesus! Surely there isn’t someone out on the marsh?’

  ‘No one in their right mind would be out there. The tides cause all manner of bogs and deep water pockets in this part.’ Bob peered, searching for another sign of life.

  ‘What should we do?’ Reg felt helpless. No way could they venture onto that soft, marshy terrain at night. ‘Oh Lord, look!’

  A tiny glimmer, no more than a soft lantern-like glow was dancing out towards the farthest point of Flaxton Mere fen. Then suddenly it was joined by another light.

  Reg’s mouth had gone dry. ‘Poachers! It’s their torch beams!’

  ‘Talk sense, mate. No local would be daft enough to go out on the marsh with no moonlight to guide them.’

  ‘But they’ve lived here all their lives, they know these treacherous spots.’

  ‘And that’s why you won’t find a poacher out there. Think about it! The tide is about to turn and the ground gets waterlogged quicker than you can run! Believe me, if anyone is out there, they are in big trouble!’ Bob gathered himself. ‘I’ll get the loudhailer. We’ll to try to warn them.’ He ran back to the car, threw open the boot and returned, already shouting a warning across the dark fenland.

  As his shouts died away, the lights returned. Again Bob’s voice bellowed into the night, but the strange lights still danced across the watery land.

  ‘Stop.’ Reg’s voice was shaky. ‘You ever heard of the will-o’-the-wisp?’

  ‘The jack-o'-lantern. Yes, it’s methane gas. Is that what we’re looking at?’ Bob stared again at the flickering lights.

  ‘Dunno. Some say they are corpse candles, heralding a death. Then others recko—’

  ‘Oh fuck, what’s that?’

  ‘What’s what?’ Reg gulped, having just frightened himself with talk of corpses. Then he heard it, and there was no denying it was the sound of a laugh. Not a hearty guffaw, but more of a low, throaty chuckle.

  This time both men retreated to a position close by the car, where they stood rooted to the spot. ‘Any ideas, Reg? And I mean sensible ones?’ Bob’s voice held a distinct tremor.

  Reg opened the driver’s door and looked at his crew-mate. ‘Answer me this. Has this weird shit anything to do with why we’re stuck out here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Will anyone believe us?’

  ‘Absolutely not. We’ll get told we’re no better than old Miss Quinney. A pair of prats who’ve been spooked by scary stories.’

  ‘Then get in the car and lock your door! Shift change is in half an hour and then we are out of here. This never happened, right?’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Karl picked up his bunch of keys from the hall table, and pulled on a thick sweater, knowing it would be chilly in the bowels of the derelict buildings. He pushed his cell phone into the pocket of his slacks and quickly looked around before leaving. Finding the back door open the night before had unnerved him. He had even done a recce of his home before he turned in, to check that there was no one concealed in his wardrobe or under his bed, ready to nick his plasma screen as he slept.

  Now, in the light of day, he laughed at himself. Tiptoeing around, opening cupboard doors and peering under beds. What a plank!

  He looked at his watch and saw it was time to go. The old wallet of Flaxton Mere keys was still in the glove compartment of the car, so, with a last glance around, Shine went out through the utility door and into the gloom of the double integral garage.

  He pressed the remote button on his car key, and saw the BMW’s lights flash. He opened the driver’s door and slipped in comfortably behind the leather steering wheel.

  Although he would never admit it, the latent schoolboy in him was quite looking forward to this adventure, even if it had to be in the company of a zealot!

  He reached forward to activate the electronic garage door system, and gagged loudly as a terrible force squeezed his windpipe. Both his hands flew up to his oxygen-starved throat and ineffectually tore at whatever was exerting that bone-crushing pressure. Apart from the fear at the realisation that air passages and blood vessels were closing down on him, there was a roaring noise in his ears that filled his whole pain-wracked world. His ability to move was failing, although in his final attempt to free his airway, he was still just about able to register a fingernail tearing from its bed. His body was rigid, but his legs thrashed against the car. Then, as his protruding tongue seemed to swell to an impossible size, a welcome blackness descended over him.r />
  * * *

  Monk stood in his backyard and hoped the smoke from the incinerator would not draw attention to what he was doing. If his plan went well he would soon be moving from this grim part of town, and into something more suited to his tastes. His rent was paid up for another three months. By the time it was due again, he would have invested his money from Freddie, sold on his share of the shipment, and be ready, willing and able to change his lifestyle. Not that he wanted too much change — he liked living alone. In his line of work you didn’t need someone watching your every move, and if he were honest with himself, he didn’t like sharing his money. Women were a drain on resources, so when he needed a bit of carnal satisfaction, it was easier to buy it. It was worth it not to have a woman nagging him to decorate or to take her shopping.

  As the fire died down, he threw in the information and photographs that Freddie Carver had given him. Karl Shine’s smiling face blackened and bubbled, then curled into strange tortured shapes before succumbing to the heat. He prodded the glowing ashes with an old hoe, mixing and turning until nothing recognisable was left.

  It had been so easy! Just a little bit of careful thought, and job done. And he had Fabian’s cut as well as his own! Freddie would be well pleased. That fat git had no time for procrastinators. Speed and efficiency was what he liked and you only got one chance with Freddie. One mistake and you were off the payroll, one way or another.

  Monk placed the lid on the galvanised bin and walked away. Depending on how long it took for Shine to be discovered, he would soon be making one last visit to Freddie to collect those well-earned wages.

  * * *

  Nikki flopped down at her desk and switched on her computer. She had checked with uniform and there was no word on the streets about Anson Taylor and with Pike still sedated, she was at an impasse. She had just begun reading through the reports from the night before, when the phone rang and she heard Joseph’s voice.

  ‘Tam and I have just uncovered a pretty weird coincidence in one of these boxes of your father’s, Nikki.’

  ‘But we don’t believe in coincidences, do we?’

  ‘We don’t, but it can’t be anything else.’

  Nikki heard the rustling of paper, then Joseph said, ‘Your father has some papers in a leather folder. They look a bit official, but as you’d said it was okay . . .’

  ‘Get on with it, Joseph.’

  ‘They refer to RAF Flaxton Mere.’

  Nikki sat bolt upright. ‘What! He was never based locally, and Flaxton is a Second World War station. Dad flew Harrier jump jets for heavens’ sake, and I can’t see too many of them taking off from that dump!’

  ‘We can’t make sense of it, Nikki, but there is also a memo. It’s some kind of contact details, and there’s a name at the bottom, someone called Eve Anderson.’

  ‘Eve,’ whispered Nikki. ‘Now why do I feel so uncomfortable that she’s connected in some way to that scary bloody airfield?’

  There was a pause. ‘We feel the same. I get the feeling that there is more to that place than we know about. Tamsin is going to start checking the internet. Luckily she’s shit-hot with a keyboard.’

  Nikki’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s great, but as soon as I’ve sorted things out here, I’m going to get hold of that history society, and we’ll go there ourselves. Uniform said they were happy to help and that they know the place better than anyone including the owner, so I want the full tour with nothing held back. Want to come?’

  Joseph spoke softly to his daughter, then said, ‘Okay, what time?’

  ‘I’ll collar one of the historians and get back to you.’

  * * *

  Nikki saw Joseph’s car already parked on an area of concrete hard standing close to the old watchtower. Next to him was a small battered Renault Clio and a flashy vintage motorbike.

  As she locked the car, she saw that Joseph and his daughter were in conversation with a grey-haired eccentric-looking man, and that there were three other men beside the little Clio, all chatting animatedly. ‘Great,’ she murmured to herself. ‘A bloody coach party.’

  As she walked towards them one of the men stepped forward. He seemed familiar in some way. He could have been anything from forty to fifty plus, his dress was sporty-casual and his greying hair was thick and wavy, although neatly cut with a floppy fringe and a side parting. And there was a twinkle in his eye that made him look quite boyish, whatever his true age.

  ‘I know you,’ she said bluntly.

  The man stuck out a hand and grinned at her. ‘And I know you, DI Galena. We’ve been on more than one shout together, from different sides of the emergency services, of course.’

  Nikki concentrated her thoughts for a moment, then said, ‘Ah, Blue Watch. You’re a firefighter.’

  ‘Spot on. Simon Flower, brother to that old windbag over there.’ He pointed fondly towards the grey-haired man who Nikki now knew to be Joshua Flower. ‘But although I’m still with the fire department, I’m an investigator now.’

  ‘And an aficionado of desolate and dreary derelict airfields?’

  ‘No, you’re referring to my brother.’ He laughed and the eyes sparkled. ‘And generally this place would not interest me one iota, but it does have a fascinating history and a few surprises too.’

  Nikki frowned. ‘Like what?’

  Simon Flower’s smile broadened and Nikki couldn’t help but notice that he was extremely attractive, considering his probable age and the dangerous kind of work that he’d done. ‘I’d better leave that to my brother to explain. This place is his baby.’ He pointed in Joshua’s direction. ‘Come on. Let me introduce you to the History Boys.’

  Simon did the honours, and Nikki found herself surrounded by eager faces and names that she recognised from the list provided earlier by uniform.

  ‘Before we go into the buildings, Professor Flower, what can you tell us briefly about this particular station?’

  Joshua took a deep breath, then said, ‘Well, it was originally a fighter station with grass landing strips, but it was brought up to date in the 1940s with the typical A-plan concrete runways and dispersal pans for heavier bombers. As you can see, they scattered the hangars, sheds, stores and defences well away from the main control room, which was damned sensible, because if one got hit, at least the others wouldn’t go up with it.’

  Nikki noticed that Joseph was staring at Joshua Flower and listening with real interest. Even she realised that he was not the crumbly old bore they had expected, and although the man was passionate about WWII history, he explained everything in a manner that held their attention. He was certainly eccentric, but compared with some of the dry-as-dust academic speakers that Nikki had suffered in the past Flower could almost be considered a ray of sunshine. He had a kind of charisma that drew you in and held you there.

  ‘Well, other than the stuff that you posted yourself, there is nothing much about it on the internet,’ said Tamsin. ‘Unlike some of the other stations, where there are pages of information.’

  ‘Just so, young lady, and that’s because this place is something of an enigma.’ He tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. ‘It has secrets.’ Flower smiled cryptically. ‘Oh yes. It has a long history, but I’ll make it simple. Originally the RAF decided to turn it from a small fighter station into what was called a decoy site, to protect some of the larger fields. It was to have dummy planes and landing lights, and they even planned to spray the ground to make it look like an A-plan runway. But when they looked closely at the location and the land available, they changed their minds. Initially they had believed the land to be too low and silty, and too close to the marsh to be safe, but ground studies showed that the site was higher and far more stable than first thought. So they allowed the “dummy” rumour to spread, but in reality they began to construct a major airfield.’ He glanced around at his entranced audience. ‘And there is a wonderfully preserved area beneath the main control room. We discovered it when we began researching and mapping the plac
e for historical reference. It is almost as it was during the war, only the paraphernalia that would have been there is gone.’

  ‘It’s one of the reasons that we want to preserve it,’ chipped in a man named Selby. ‘There are very few places left in such incredibly good order. It would be absolute sacrilege to destroy it.’

  ‘And the owner wants to do that?’ asked Joseph.

  ‘He says he wants to restore it, Detective, but we believe otherwise. We know he already has plans to build prestige housing, and we also know that once he begins, he’ll want more and more, and our old historical military buildings will go under the wrecker’s ball.’

  ‘Can he do that?’ asked Tamsin.

  ‘He owns the land. He can do whatever he wants. There is no protection order at Flaxton Mere. He could rip it to shreds any time he wanted.’

  Joseph nodded. ‘And what do you know about him?’

  ‘Karl Shine? Not a lot, although we try to keep him sweet, because he allows us access. He has no objection to us researching the place, and he lets us come and go pretty much as we wish. He’s even given us keys for the padlocks.’ Flower shrugged. ‘But that could change very quickly when he starts his project.’

  ‘That’s why our group is fighting to get something legal in place, to protect the watch office, the control room and the bunker,’ added Selby vehemently. ‘And fast.’

  ‘By the way, as you’ve just mentioned Shine,’ Simon interjected. ‘He was on the blower last night ringing round some of the club members to try and get a “guided tour.” He insisted that it had to be this morning, so as I was free, I came out on the bike, but the silly sod didn’t turn up.’

  ‘Did you ring him?’

  ‘There was no answer. Just a recorded message.’

  ‘Funny,’ murmured Nikki to Joseph. ‘Uniform said that Shine’s red BMW has been out here from dawn till dusk since Pike’s accident, but the car’s certainly not here now, is it?’

  ‘Something must have cropped up, or maybe he just forgot,’ said Joseph doubtfully.