Killer on the Fens

by Joy Ellis

  ‘Ah, yes, here we are.’ A sweaty hand pushed the brown envelopes towards him.

  ‘Thank you, boss.’ He picked them up, noting their very reassuring weight. He pushed one packet deep into an inside pocket and waved the other one at Freddie. ‘I’ll take this to Fabian.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’m meeting him shortly.’

  ‘Really?’ The familiar soft, sibilant voice came from behind.

  Monk spun round. ‘Fa—!’ The rest of the name was cut short, because the hollow-point bullet had torn away most of his bottom jaw.

  A second bullet smashed through his left elbow. If he had been a medical man, Monk would have marvelled that the marksman had managed to destroy his humerus, his radius and his ulna, along with various blood vessels, tendons, ligaments, bursa and cartilage, all with a single accurate shot. As it was, Monk was no longer capable of registering anything other than intense pain, although in some tiny compartment of his mind that still sparked with consciousness he did recall why he hated Fabian. It was because Fabian loved his work so very much.

  Through a hazy, bloody mist he saw the bloated figure of Freddie Carver. It was laughing.

  ‘Silly boy, Monk. Surely you knew that no one rips off Freddie and gets away with it? Whatever were you thinking? But credit where credit’s due. Well done for taking care of Karly Baby. If you hadn’t tried to deceive me, I would have been happy to give you this.’ He bent over and pulled the package from Monk’s stained and torn jacket. ‘As it is, well . . .’

  In his last few seconds, Monk thought of the girl with the ruby lips. She was handing him the key to his brand new flat in Granary Wharf.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It had taken Steph almost an hour to sneak onto the airfield. The two police officers in the car up on the sea-bank seemed to be watching one particular area, and she had finally managed to creep past the old pillboxes and into the comparative safety of the overgrown ground around the control tower.

  The place did not frighten her, although she felt that it should, considering what had happened to Pike. But she knew in her heart that it was the temporary resting place of her brother, and somehow that managed to calm her, give her peace. She thought that maybe he was watching over her. She had no idea why she had come here. The notion had entered her head earlier in the day, and she seemed to have had no option but to obey.

  She concealed herself in a small hollowed-out space between a partially collapsed red brick wall and some tall reedy grass. From this spot she calculated that she could see most of the deserted buildings and the police car, but remain pretty well hidden.

  She nestled down, the spiky grass and thistles scratching her legs through her thin black jeans, pulled her fleece jacket around her and considered her situation. There had been no master plan. She was certainly no avenging angel, rescuing her luckless brother where all others had failed. The reason for her journey across miles of farmland, marsh and fen was simple. She wanted to be with Anson.

  Most people wouldn’t understand how she felt about her brother, and why should they? Most people hadn’t had to endure their childhood. Steph never allowed herself to wallow in the miseries of the past. She couldn’t afford to. It had taken all her strength and all her resolve, but she had finally built a new life for herself and Anson, and it was as far from their tainted upbringing as she could possibly make it.

  ‘What goes around comes around,’ Steph murmured softly into the breeze off the marsh, then she gave a harsh little laugh. Her father’s constant abuse had to end somewhere, and it did on the day that he lifted his hand to Anson. And on that day Steph went to the police.

  From then on it was the two of them, but Anson wasn’t easy. As he grew up, she forgave him for as many of his misdemeanours as she could, and chose to shut her eyes to the others.

  She leant back against the remains of the wall. That had been her biggest mistake.

  So here she was, with a shoulder bag containing several small bottles of water, a large bar of chocolate and a family pack of digestive biscuits. Her meagre rations wouldn’t last long, but she was going to stay until they found her brother, and if they didn’t, she couldn’t even contemplate living without knowing what had happened to him, so it really didn’t matter, did it?

  She pushed the bag beneath the leafy branches of an elder bush and looked around. She wanted to wander about, to see if Anson called her to any one particular spot, but she knew she would have to be very careful not to be seen. The last thing she wanted was to be loaded into the back of a police car and taken home again. Not now she had come this far.

  Steph sat on the ground, hugged her knees and rocked slowly backwards and forwards. Home, she supposed, was now here, this sad and lonely spot inhabited only by ghosts of the past — and her brother.

  * * *

  Tamsin sat at Joseph’s home computer, with her own laptop to one side of her. One screen was full of archive material that she was using as a point of reference, and the other moved frenetically up and down as she scrolled through different sites.

  ‘We need Nikki,’ muttered Tamsin. ‘And some background on her father.’

  ‘I think the murder enquiry might put a lid on that idea.’

  ‘Damn.’ Tamsin hit the keys aggressively. Then she thumbed through some of the old letters from Frank Reed’s boxes. ‘Well, I’ve managed to identify another link in the chain.’ She turned round and looked at Joseph. ‘According to letters from friends and colleagues, Nikki’s father had a desk job with the MOD until,’ she leafed through the letters, ‘eight years ago.’

  Joseph nodded. ‘Sounds about right. Nikki said he only gave up work when the first signs of Alzheimer’s began to manifest.’

  ‘There’s mention in one of Tug’s letters that Frank must be “Very pleased to be working with one of the old crew again. Especially her!” Eve, maybe?’

  ‘Maybe, and if that’s the case, Nikki is right. Tug does know about Eve, even if he’s denying it. Where does he live?’

  ‘Up until the last letter, a place called Fenton Magna, in Dorset.’

  Joseph grunted. ‘Bit too far away for a quick visit and a quiet word.’

  ‘Then phone him. And ask him about this as well.’ Tamsin pointed to some papers. ‘There are two more memos here from Eve Anderson, and both have the reference RAF FM.’

  ‘Mm.’ Joseph walked over to the window and looked out across the marsh. They were getting into murky waters. They needed to find what the MOD’s post-war interest in Flaxton Mere was. Which would be an impossible job for a civilian, and difficult for a police officer. No one in their right mind took on the MOD. At best it was a waste of time, and at worst, you could find yourself in deep shit. He turned back to his daughter. ‘Right, Tug Owen seems like our only option right now. But do me a favour, and check out the phone listings for his number. I don’t want to bother Nikki when she’s a man down and has a murder to solve.’

  Tamsin gave him a searching look. ‘You can’t wait to get back to work, can you?’

  ‘I’d be lying if said no. We’re a team, and a good one. A murder case needs a full complement, but,’ he looked at her with love in his eyes, ‘and this is a very big “but,” there is nothing, and I mean nothing, that I’d rather be doing right now, other than spending time with my lovely daughter.’

  He was a little sad that Tamsin didn’t reply. But then she didn’t say anything negative either, so he took it as another baby step forward.

  He went to the kitchen. He needed a strong coffee before ringing Wing Commander Frank Reed’s best buddy. When he returned to Tamsin, she had started on yet another box.

  ‘I’ve got Tug Owen’s number from an online directory site. It’s on the table.’

  Joseph thanked her, placed a mug of coffee beside her and picked up the number. This could be tricky. He didn’t want to put the man’s back up, and if he was protecting some dark secret, there was no telling how he would react.

  ‘Dad?’

  Joseph looked at his dau
ghter. Her expression was both thoughtful and worried. ‘What have you found?’

  ‘Something I wish I hadn’t.’ Tamsin passed him a scuffed, leather-bound notebook.

  He took it and leafed through it. It wasn’t a diary, but each page was crammed with a mass of notes and dates and little scribbled pictures. Joseph sighed. It didn’t take long to understand what had upset Tam. The dates spanned two decades, and the repeated references to EA made Joseph’s heart sink.

  ‘Nikki’s dad was involved with Eve, wasn’t he?’ Tamsin had stood up and was looking over Joseph’s shoulder at the book. ‘Look, “EA’s appointment today, worried sick.” And, “EA late for rendezvous. Getting difficult for her. Wish it was over.” I don’t think we need an interpreter to get the gist of that, do we?’ She touched her father’s arm. ‘What the heck are we going to tell Nikki?’

  ‘Nothing. Well, nothing until I’ve spoken to this Tug.’

  ‘If he really was such a solid mate, he’ll certainly know if Frank was having an affair.’ Tamsin frowned. ‘Bastard!’

  ‘It happens, Tam. I’m not defending him, but he never left his wife or Nikki. Maybe he saw sense before it was too late.’

  ‘At least you never cheated on Mum,’ Tamsin said quietly. She added, ‘You were just in love with your precious career.’

  Joseph lowered his head. ‘There was more to it than that, Tam. It was complicated.’

  ‘Mum said the same thing.’

  For a moment Joseph thought his daughter was going to open up about why she had chosen to cut him out of her life, but she just picked up her coffee, sipped it, then said, ‘You’d better phone Tug Owen.’

  * * *

  ‘Excuse me, Niall. That’s the second time you’ve gone all moody on me since I got back to the station. What’s the matter?’

  Niall looked at Yvonne anxiously. ‘Would you be prepared to go along with one of Constable Niall Farrow’s amazing and mind-blowing hunches?’

  Yvonne frowned. ‘You mean the kind that has no connection to logic or reason?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Fine. Spill the beans.’

  ‘Ah, now here we have the problem. I’m not sure that I have any beans to spill, but I need to go back to Flaxton Mere.’

  ‘Right.’ Yvonne looked him full in the face. ‘And this is something that is really, truly bothering you?’ He didn’t have to speak. One look at his tight lips and his definite nod told her everything. ‘Then we should tell DI Galena.’

  ‘What if I’m wrong? I’ve nothing concrete to tell her.’

  ‘If anyone understands the importance of hunches, it’s the inspector.’ Yvonne picked up her hat from the table. ‘So if you won’t tell her, I will.’

  * * *

  As Yvonne and Niall arrived at Flaxton Mere, they saw two white-suited SOCOs moving in and out of the store where the footprints had been found.

  ‘Have we got time to see what they’ve come up with?’ Yvonne asked.

  Niall nodded miserably. ‘Sure. DI Galena’s not here yet, and my big hunch could be a crock of shit anyway.’

  ‘Ah, Batman and Robin! Welcome to the Cocaine Kid’s hidey-hole.’ The SOCO on duty grinned as they approached. ‘And guess what? There were two sets of prints on the floor. We’ve lifted them both, and one is a much bigger shoe size than the light trainers you lot noticed. We’ve photographed them and from the difference in stride, we reckon your second visitor is much taller than the first.’

  ‘Two people?’

  ‘Yup, and there were a lot of prints. This was no one-off visit. We’ll get this stuff back to the lab and see what the experts can tell us.’ The SOCO placed the sealed evidence bags into a plastic case and loaded it into the back of his car before stripping off his protective suit. ‘Right. Well I’m through here. See you!’

  As he drove off, Yvonne looked at her partner and said, ‘Okay, let’s hear what’s bugging you about this dreary place.’

  Niall strode off in the direction of one of the pillboxes. ‘It’s something to do with these things.’ He stood outside the first one, took a deep breath and ducked inside.

  This time Yvonne followed, and was immediately confronted by a wall of graffiti. She smiled, understanding that Wayne may well be a Wanker, but what Shaz had had to do to become a Yum-Yum Girl, left her wondering.

  Niall was stamping around, kicking piles of debris from one side of the pillbox to the other. ‘There’s nothing here. How many of these things were there?’

  ‘Five. The last one we looked at, the one where you bumped your head, that was bigger and it had that wall inside.’

  Niall smacked the side of his forehead. ‘You’ve got it, Vonnie!’

  ‘I have?’

  ‘Yes! I bumped my head, I dropped my torch, and I thought I’d bust the glass. Considering the thickness of the concrete it was lucky it didn’t shatter.’ Niall was almost running across the waste ground. ‘Come on!’

  ‘And your point being?’ Yvonne trotted after him.

  ‘There’s a smaller one, near the boundary fence. And it’s got a different kind of floor! Okay, it might be nothing, but there are enough passages and underground places in this dump to warrant checking it out. It could be another tunnel.’

  As they approached the old wartime defence, Yvonne felt a shiver course through her body, and she instinctively reached out and stopped Niall from charging inside. ‘Be careful. This doesn’t feel right somehow.’

  They went in with caution, not speaking, but each trusted the others’ instincts. Yvonne stamped on the floor with her regulation black shoe heel. It felt pretty solid to her.

  ‘Over here, Von!’ Niall dropped to his knees and began scraping at the ground. ‘I bloody well knew it! Look!’

  As she watched, he lifted a large sheet of something that looked like a plaster-covered loft hatch, and revealed a heavy wooden trapdoor beneath.

  ‘Hold it, Niall! Not without the guv’nor. And we should call for back-up.’ Her shivers had turned into full-blown tremors. ‘I’ll ring her mobile and get her ETA, and I’ll go and get Bob and Reg from the squad car. Don’t lift that hatch until I get back! Understand?’

  Niall knew there was no arguing with her.

  * * *

  Nikki had been parking her car beneath the watch office when she got the call, and within ten minutes five officers were staring down a steep flight of stone steps.

  As their torch beams met in a small, empty room, Niall began lowering himself down. ‘Hey! Someone has been using this place, there’s a lantern. Come down, the stairs are safe.’ Niall pulled on gloves and tried the lantern. Instantly the whitewashed room sprang into life. ‘There’s no dust or dirt here. What do you make of it?’

  ‘It’s more a case of what do we make of that.’ Nikki pointed to the only other thing in the room. A solid wooden door, with freshly oiled hinges and lock.

  PC Bob Tinker moved across to it and tried to turn the handle. ‘Locked. And I wouldn’t like to put my shoulder to that. We’ll need an enforcer.’

  Yvonne eyed it up and down, then looked at their beefy colleague, Reg. ‘There is a shovel in the boot of our vehicle. Do you think you can smash that lock?’

  A big smile spread across Reg’s face. ‘Oh yes, I should think so. I’ll go fetch it. And, ma’am, should I radio in while I’m above ground?’

  Nikki paused. ‘Let’s find out what we’ve got first. Just get the shovel for starters.’

  The lock flew halfway across the room and to the screeching sound of splintering wood, the door ceased to be a problem. Niall moved forward with the three others close behind him, and slowly pulled it open. ‘More steps.’

  ‘What the f . . . ?’ Reg’s whispered enquiry tailed away.

  ‘What in heaven’s name is this place?’ Niall was making his way down the steps, shining his torch from one side to the other.

  Moving closely together, Nikki, Yvonne and the others followed him. When they reached the bottom step, they stopped and lo
oked around.

  ‘It’s a crypt, isn’t it? An underground chapel.’ Nikki could hear Niall swallowing.

  ‘Look at that ceiling! It’s vaulted like a church, and there are candles all over.’

  ‘Which means it’s being used.’ Yvonne’s voice had a slight tremor.

  ‘Black magic?’ Reg offered. ‘So where’s the altar?’

  ‘More like a religious cult. The candles are cream, not black.’ Niall sounded dazed.

  They slowly moved away from the steps, beams of light bouncing off the pale stone of the ancient walls.

  ‘Oh God! What is that?’ Yvonne’s powerful light was glinting on something distinctly un-churchlike — high-tech, and made of steel. Four other beams met hers, and there, centre stage, stood a mortuary table.

  ‘I think we’ve just found your altar, Reg,’ said Nikki.

  ‘Some bloody altar! This is like something out of Frankenstein!’

  ‘Yeah, all we need is some creepy freak playing the organ!’ Bob said with bravado.

  Niall had moved away from the small group, past the table up on its raised stone pedestal, and was looking through a massive archway.

  ‘Ma’am?’ His voice sounded hollow and his tone immediately stopped the banter. ‘I think it’s time to get back up.’

  Nikki and Yvonne moved to his side and stared at the scene in front of them.

  ‘It’s . . .’ whispered Yvonne. ‘My God, it’s a cemetery.’

  Through the archway, and several feet lower than the area in which they stood, was another vaulted chamber. Nikki didn’t need her torch to see, as four huge candles were already burning, one in each corner of the crypt.

  Nikki’s hand flew to her mouth as she gazed at the coffins. Lines of them, stacked on stone ledges, one above the other, from the dusty stone floor to the shadowy roof. Some, the higher ones, were old rotting caskets that belonged to a bygone age, in heavy dark wood with ornate brass fittings.

  And below those, row upon row of identical plain wooden coffins.