“A woman did die, Ms. Welbourne,” Jejeune reminded her reasonably.
“Yes. Yes, she did.” Welbourne hung her head slightly and gazed at the ground. “I’m sorry, forgive me. I suppose people consider even one human life is too high a price to pay to keep any dream alive.”
A train of Jackdaws exploded noisily from somewhere among the ruins down below, churring and clammering as they wheeled around the white sky. Lindy watched their dark shapes as they spiralled up, but for once Jejeune’s eyes didn’t follow the birds. His stare stayed on the rubble-strewn ruins from which they had flown.
“Have you seen anyone on the property this morning?” he asked Welbourne.
“No. Robin is in town for a couple of days. He no longer has any staff on the estate, so there’s no reason anyone else would be down there. I’m sure it’s just a fox or something that’s put those birds up.” She turned to Lindy. “I didn’t mean to sound callous about Erin Dawes’s death. It’s just that we were so close, so close to making at least some small amends for our centuries of awful, narrow-minded, wrong-headed approaches to our forests. Do you know how many intact patches of large forests are left on this planet, Miss Hey? Two — the Amazon and the Congo. Twenty percent of the world’s forests are less than a football field’s length away from a forest edge. I ask you, can you truly consider such a place to be wilderness? So you see now why the prospect of re-establishing a large tract of intact forest here was so important. And why the loss of such an opportunity is so tragic.”
Dom had switched his gaze from the ruins and it was now fixed firmly on Welbourne. Something about her passion seemed to have triggered an instinct in him and he was watching her now, animal-like, his pupils barely flickering. Welbourne seemed unaware of the scrutiny. It was as if she had been waiting for someone to spill this all out to, as some kind of explanation, a justification almost. But for what? For feelings she harboured still about the value of one human life when measured against a regenerated ecosystem? Or for actions she had already taken, based upon those feelings?
As Dom and Lindy walked away from the ridge, it was his turn to be lost in silence. But he had been quiet on their way here, too, she now realized. It was just at the time she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice. She felt ashamed of her selfishness. Of course she would drive him around. Anywhere he wanted to go. If Domenic had suddenly decided he couldn’t do without her company, well then, her inconsequential little press interviews could wait. Her partner needed her, was relying on her. It was all the justification she required.
“So, are you any closer to discovering who killed Erin Dawes?”
Jejeune’s eyes stayed on the ruins as they walked, but not even the Jackdaws were stirring now. “I think so.”
“And you’re convinced it wasn’t Connor James.”
“It wasn’t James.”
“What’s wrong, Dom. You’re not worried about Laraby getting the glory, not after all this time, surely? Isn’t it more important the right person is brought to justice?”
He turned to her. The wind was tousling Lindy’s hair again, and she reached up to bunch it in one hand.
“I think Colleen Shepherd is going to offer Laraby a position at Saltmarsh as soon as this case is resolved.”
“And you can’t see the two of you working together?” Lindy pulled a face. “I suppose you two will just have to try and bury the hatchet. Preferably not in each other.”
“There is no DI position at Saltmarsh. Only a DCI. And there’s only one of those.”
Lindy had stopped walking, and when Jejeune looked back, her face was ashen. She looked so unsteady he was afraid she might fall. He returned and wrapped his arm awkwardly around her shoulders, drawing her in to him. She was shivering slightly despite her heavy coat.
“You can’t tell him, Dom. You can’t hand your position over to Laraby like that. You have to go to Shepherd yourself. Show her you’re the clever one, show her Laraby’s just the buffoon you always thought he was.”
“No, I never thought that. And I don’t think it would make any difference anyway. I think she’s already made up her mind.”
“Then don’t tell them, for God’s sake.” Lindy was shouting now, her anger carrying to him over the winds. “Let him charge the wrong man, then show them he’s wrong. Shepherd would never want him after that.”
“I can’t do that either, Lindy.”
“They need you here, Dom. My God, without you to show them the way, this lot would give the Keystone Cops a run for their money.” She was shaking her head now, fighting off thoughts she couldn’t even voice. He looked at her, so weak and yet so strong, so desperate and yet so resolute.
“I can’t, Dom. Not after all that’s happened lately, the explosion, the, the …” she flapped a hand from the wrist. “I don’t think I could face leaving here. Could you? Leave this place, this landscape, the birds?” She searched the skies frantically, but maddeningly she couldn’t find a single bloody bird to make her argument for her. The skies were as empty as her soul.
“You need to get out of the cold. Let’s go back to the car.”
But Lindy stood for a long time, looking out over the empty fields of Oakham. Apart from the ruins of the manor house, it was a landscape that offered no shelter. Not from the elements. Nor from anything else. Domenic stood close by, not looking at the land, but at her. It occurred to him she had not asked him who the real killer was. Perhaps, to Lindy, it no longer mattered.
48
Jejeune climbed in the Range Rover’s passenger seat and handed a brown paper bag to Maik. “Your jacket. The one you brought to the airport for me. Lindy had it dry cleaned.”
Maik nodded his thanks and set it on the seat behind him. “She’s not available to drive you today?”
“She’s in Norwich for a meeting. Last minute.”
Maik nodded approvingly. No prior notice of her agenda. Jejeune noticed Maik’s expression, and raised the question with his eyebrows.
“There might be a lead on Hayes, sir. There’s a report he’s been seen in a village near Peterborough two days running. Around a church that’s known to help out ex-cons, refugees, illegals, and the like.”
A brief look of alarm passed over Jejeune’s features. But Lindy was safe enough today, in a public location, in the company of others. Should they go to the church now? They had no evidence against Hayes, but perhaps if they took him off-guard by showing up unexpectedly, he might slip up, say something or do something that could lead to his arrest. But Hayes was clever. He wasn’t prone to making mistakes, and if they got it wrong and alerted him that they were on to him without being able to hold him, he would be gone. No, Jejeune decided. He would want better odds than a spontaneous visit based on a possible sighting could offer. He would want confirmation that Hayes was staying at the church, at the very least, before he acted.
Maik seemed to read his mind. “I’m trying to get verification, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”
Jejeune gave him a small smile of appreciation. “Any chance we could take a run up to Oakham? I’ve not seen a Barn Owl for a long time. If that one’s around the ruins, I wouldn’t mind a look.”
It wasn’t like Jejeune to use a bird sighting for obfuscation. It was usually the other way round. But Maik though he’d better be sure, just in case. “Oakes won’t be there, sir. He’s informed us he’ll be in London for a couple of days. Seems he wasn’t sure whether the requirement to inform us of his travel plans was still in place, so he thought he’d err on the side of caution.”
Jejeune nodded. “I know he’s not there. Did he say why he went to London?”
“No. But I think it may have been to fire a high-priced solicitor.” Maik waited. “So, Oakham still?”
Oakham still.
Jejeune stood in the shelter of the one remaining wall of the great hall, the main building that had once dominated the manor house complex. At the top of the wall, short sections of the upper storey survived,
weathered stone punctuated by window openings that gazed like unseeing eyes over the surrounding fields. Above, Jejeune watched a bird circling over the ridge, effortlessly drifting on the high winds.
“Rare?” asked Maik.
“No, but it’s not for the want of trying.”
Maik looked puzzled.
“It’s a Marsh Harrier. I was looking to see if I could make it a Rough-legged Buzzard.”
Maik gave a short nod, as if he might understand, but both men realized he was fooling no one. “That owl doesn’t seem to be around either.” He looked at Jejeune. “Anything else we might want to be looking for out here?”
Signs of human habitation, thought Jejeune. But it was cold even now, under this empty blue sky, in the half-shelter of these walls. At night, the temperature would plunge and it would be punishing out here. Refuge in a church would be a better option.
“Do you know where Amendal met the IV League members to hand out their drones?”
“The Big Deal. James’s boat.”
Jejeune nodded, as if he might already know this information. “It would be interesting to find out what the weather was like that day.” He looked across at Maik. “Don’t you think?”
Maik sighed inwardly. Here they were again, back in the land of hidden queries and half-revealed thoughts. After the bright sunshine of Laraby’s see-through procedures, it was like a veil of mist was descending on the investigation again. He knew the role Jejeune had been assigned in this case. What he didn’t know was why the detective was suggesting Maik should find out about the weather that day when he could easily have done so himself.
A skein of long-necked birds flew in low and landed in the fields in the distance, and the two men watched as they started foraging amongst the wheat stubble. Pink-footed Geese, from the gathering at Snettisham, where Jejeune had taken Maik on a couple of occasions to see the roosts of tens of thousands. From somewhere, nowhere, the idea came to Maik on the keening winds that scoured the barren landscape.
“If we knew, sir, about the weather, do you imagine it would strengthen the case against James?”
Jejeune shook his head slowly. “No, Sergeant, I don’t think it would.”
And there it was, as clear as if Jejeune had drawn a chalk diagram on the walls of these ruined buildings. James was not the murderer. They had been led away from the truth by a trail of breadcrumbs. But the question all along was not where they were going, but who was leading them. And the only man who had thought to ask that question was standing right in front of him.
Jejeune’s approach became clear now, too. Whether he needed it or not, Marvin Laraby would be unlikely to listen to advice from the DCI, of all people. But he might listen to Danny, if he was told in the right way. Only Danny had to know how they had gotten there. And not just for Laraby’s sake. The prosecution, too, when the case was finally brought to trial, would need Maik to be able to walk them through it. Because for an investigating officer to admit he had simply been given the answers by somebody who wasn’t working the case was never going to hold up in a court of law. So Jejeune was going to lead Danny Maik, and Danny, in turn, would lead Laraby.
“Sometimes the smallest of differences make the biggest impact, Sergeant. Like the DNA report on the bag of disguise items, for example. Did you read it?”
Maik had been with Jejeune long enough to know where the value lay in his questions.
“I was told about it. I didn’t read it.”
Jejeune nodded. “The report said the moustache had spirit gum on the back of it.”
“It’s what actors use to attach prosthetics to their face. It would have been suspicious if it didn’t have any. But the report said it hadn’t been possible to recover any DNA from it.”
Jejeune shook his head. “No, Sergeant. The report said there was no DNA on there to recover.”
Maik looked around the collapsed rubble, laying like so much melted wax around the bases of the walls of the old building. It was hard to envision the beauty and the splendour that had once existed here. Now there was nothing but the bare bones, the shell of this once-magnificent building, strewn all around them. It was what they did, thought Danny. They walked into the ruins of people’s lives, Jejeune and him and the others, and tried to reconstruct pictures of the past, of how things were before everything began to fall apart.
It was what he would do now, and what Laraby would get credit for, and what Shepherd would admire. And meanwhile, the person who had unravelled it all would stand on the sidelines, watching the man drafted in to replace him, the man occupying his office, receive all the praise. The accolades wouldn’t have meant anything to Jejeune himself, Maik knew, but watching someone who held you in such undisguised contempt collect the fruits of your labours, that would be hard for anybody to take.
“This business with Laraby, sir,” said Maik, without taking his eyes off the ruins. “I wouldn’t ask normally, but given the history between you …” Maik faltered awkwardly, and Jejeune saw this was difficult for him. Perhaps he would have even helped the sergeant out, if he could. But he had no idea where Maik was going with this.
“It sounds like getting on the wrong side of Ray Hayes is not a decision you should take lightly,” said Maik finally. “I’d just want to be sure I was doing it for the right reasons.”
Jejeune gave a short nod of understanding. “Our personal history, Laraby’s and mine, doesn’t come into this, Sergeant. Ray Hayes is a dangerous criminal who intends to do Lindy harm. You’d be doing it for the right reasons.”
He knew he could have left it there. It would have been enough for Danny. He would have gone along with Jejeune now, whatever the cost. But he deserved more. The stakes were high, and he should have the whole picture.
“The case involving the Home Secretary’s daughter,” began Jejeune, speaking so quietly the winds threatened to snatch away the words, “Laraby didn’t come out of it looking very good. In fact, he was disciplined, lucky to keep his job. There were people, powerful people, who wanted to see me promoted over his head.” Jejeune looked uncomfortable. “They made it difficult to say no.”
Maik said nothing. In the distance, the fields of wheat stubble stood empty now. He hadn’t seen the geese leave. He wondered if Jejeune had.
“The whole situation — Laraby’s humiliation, my promotion — it led to problems in his marriage. Not abuse,” said Jejeune quickly, “nothing like that, but … perhaps there were already problems.” Jejeune seemed to consider this for a long time. “Perhaps not. In the end, his wife left him. She moved to Canada.” Even he couldn’t suppress a small smile at the irony. “So, did I break up Marvin Laraby’s marriage, Sergeant? No, I didn’t. But was I responsible for it breaking up?” Again, Jejeune seemed to weigh the question heavily in his mind. “Yes, in part, I suppose I was.”
Maik pointed at a bank of gunmetal clouds rolling in low over the fields. “If that owl’s got any sense, it’s going to be staying where it is for the time being. Perhaps it’s time we were on our way, sir. You all right on that leg over this section?”
“I’ll see how I get on.”
But he knew Maik would be there if he needed him. He always was.
49
The disappearing sun was laying trails of pale pink on the water. Though it was still only late afternoon, the temperature was starting to drop. There would be a hoar frost tonight, and in the morning these tiny, fragile blades of grass at their feet would be sheathed in white, brittle to the touch.
Despite the biting winds coming in off the water, Jejeune had been standing at the edge of the cliff for a long while. Lindy stood a couple of steps behind him, slightly off to one side. The setting sun was a show she enjoyed from this vantage point in all seasons, but she was not watching its gradual slide toward the horizon today. She was watching Domenic as he stood there, motionless, staring out over the sea. She knew what it signalled and her sadness was overwhelming. She felt as if something had broken inside her. She wasn’t sure she was
a complete person anymore. So much of her seemed to be missing. Domenic was drinking in the view, trying to draw it into his memory, to store it away, hoping he might be able conjour it up again sometime when the real thing was no longer available.
Their talk earlier, in the cottage, in front of the hearty fire burning in their hearth, had been nothing more than sifting through the ashes of another fire, one that had already burned itself out in their hearts some time before. Lindy had tried, as she always would; optimistic, irrepressible Lindy. But there had never been any possibility she would win this time.
“You know?” she had asked.
Is there any room for doubt? she was asking him, any uncertainty that might keep you silent until Laraby has processed the arrest of Connor James? But she already knew that answer. She had known it since the moment her world imploded on that wind-ravaged hilltop above Robin Oakes’s property. Domenic was sure. And he would not stay silent. Perhaps she had hoped the magic of this place, the sunsets and the mesmerizing, endless motion of the seas, and the untracked, limitless trails of the coastline, might be enough to persuade him. But she knew in her heart it would not. Nothing would. Nothing could.
“So Laraby gets his revenge, finally.”
Domenic had shaken his head, staring into the flames. “I don’t think that’s what this is about, not entirely. I think he really likes it here. And his interest in Lauren Salter seems genuine.”
“But you can’t deny he’s going to get some satisfaction from taking your position away from you.”
“No, I can’t deny that.”
One more try? Why not? What did she have to lose?
“You can still prevent this, Dom. You could let it happen. Let Laraby charge Connor James with the murder of Erin Dawes.”
“Could I? Allow an injustice to take place, when I had the power to prevent it? Could I do that and still call myself a police officer? I’m not sure I could.”
He had looked at her, and she knew it was the other consideration that would never permit him to withhold his findings, even if Lindy somehow found a way past the armour of his personal integrity. To put Saltmarsh Constabulary in the position of having to release a second suspect would do more than damage the reputation of the people he worked with. It could destroy the credibility of the investigation; make them look as if they were prepared to charge anyone and everyone out of desperation. It would do the defence counsel’s work for them, making a case of reasonable doubt for whoever the CPS eventually prosecuted, before the first piece of evidence was even heard. Robin Oakes had already been charged and released. If Domenic allowed Marvin Laraby to now charge Connor James, before having to let him go free as well, the Crown Prosecution Service would likely never get a conviction in this case. A murderer would go free.
A Shimmer of Hummingbirds Page 29