The Frozen Shroud

by Martin Edwards

  ‘You haven’t said yet what Stefan did that made you call me.’

  ‘Is this the right turning, love?’ the taxi driver asked.

  Hannah glanced out of the window. The new security lighting illuminated the area around Undercrag. No sign of that hulking brute hiding among the trees. Not that she expected Stefan to be quite so stupid as to stake out a DCI’s home on the off chance that his former lover might show up. She leant forward.

  ‘Yes, if you can drop us off outside the front door?’

  Once they were standing out in the cold night air, and the taxi had disappeared off back to Ambleside, Hannah said, ‘Well?’

  Terri hesitated. ‘All right, you did ask. He said he wasn’t going to let me treat him the way his wife did back in Poland. If he couldn’t have me, why should he let me go to someone else?’

  ‘And if you didn’t give in, if he absolutely couldn’t have you?’

  ‘Then he would kill me.’ Terri turned, and contemplated the moon. ‘To show he means business, he’s stolen my cat. I daren’t think what the bastard has done with poor Morrissey, but he’s dropped a hint by sending me a photograph with my head cut off.’

  ‘You need to make a formal complaint.’ They were facing each other on the massive sofa in a living room warmed by a roaring fire. A bottle of Bailey’s and a couple of half-empty glasses sat on the table in front of them. Hannah had decided not to fret about how she would feel in the morning. ‘I’ll give you the name of someone who can take steps to sort this out once and for all.’

  Terri shook her head. ‘We’ve been through this. It’s not a solution.’

  ‘Please, do it for me.’ Hannah grasped her friend’s wrist. ‘This is how violent men get away with it. They rely on terrifying their victims. Women who suffer repeated beatings, women who are raped. Even when they tell us what has happened to them, so often they are too scared to follow through. The CPS need evidence, and witnesses who won’t be intimidated, and time after time we see cases fall apart and the guilty walk free. So they can do it all over again.’

  ‘You make it sound like I’m letting the side down.’ Terri pulled her arm away. ‘I’ll be fine, promise. I just need a little time. Breathing space.’

  ‘Stay here as long as you like, that’s not a problem. But you must do something to protect yourself.’

  ‘Stefan is already up for trial after smacking the lad he worked with. Chances are, he’ll be deported soon.’

  ‘Don’t bank on it. His brief will wheel out the Human Rights Act and before you can say Strasbourg, he’ll be issuing a writ for false arrest. And how long will it take for the case to come to trial? There’s a massive backlog in the courts.’

  ‘Then what difference would it make if I did file a complaint? You’ve moaned so many times about how bureaucracy complicates the job of locking people up, and right now I don’t need any more stress. Anyway, the papers are full of people being let out of prison because they’ve run out of room. Stefan will go apeshit if some spotty young constable knocks on his door and says I’ve shopped him.’

  ‘And what about Morrissey?’

  Stefan had given Morrissey to Terri. Not that Terri was an animal lover; she’d never so much as kept a goldfish in the past. When Hannah was introduced, she couldn’t help thinking Morrissey was even more obsessed with his looks than his owner, but at least the gift seemed to mark a promising start to the relationship.

  Not for long. Since the break-up of her third marriage, Terri had rebounded from man to man. She’d taken this new job because hairdressing, make-up and all her other business ventures never made enough to finance her extravagant spending. Her shoe collection alone would turn Imelda Marcos green with envy. A shrink would have a field day with Terri. The men, the boozing, and now the facelift were all down to a search for something lacking in her life, something she’d yet to find. Hannah had no doubt that secretly, she craved stability. Her mother was dead, and her father had emigrated after falling for a Spanish-American woman who drank even more heavily than he did. More than ever before, she was on her own. Other than Hannah, her closest friends were all in steady relationships, and she’d managed to antagonise most of them, or their partners, at one time or another. ‘Me and my big mouth’ was a favourite phrase. In moments of self-awareness, Terri was at her most vulnerable, and that was when Hannah loved her most.

  At other times, she felt like shooting her.

  ‘It makes me sick to think of what has happened to the poor creature. Confession time, I’m not really a cat person. Morrissey and I didn’t really get on, he obviously thought I was common. But even so.’

  Hannah wasn’t a cat person either, but cruelty to anyone or anything made her gorge rise. ‘Are you sure Stefan has taken him?’

  ‘The woman who lives next door told me she’d seen him picking up Morrissey in the street when I was out at work. Said she didn’t think any more of it till I came round asking if she’d seen my cat. She’s as daft as a brush, thinks I’m after her husband because I took round cakes I’d baked one day when she was out.’

  ‘And are you after him?’

  ‘Give me a break. The feller’s seventy, he’s got one leg, and he keeps pigeons. I mean, I know you think I’m desperate, but honestly.’

  Terri always made her laugh, even at times like this. ‘This photograph you mentioned, when did it arrive?’

  ‘I was only working a half-day today. I came home and found it stuffed through the letter box. It’s a snap Stefan took of me at Bowness. I was looking rather tasty in my bikini top, though I say it myself. Anyway, it was a head-and-shoulders snap – converted into just shoulders. He’d cut off my head, from the neck up.’

  ‘Did any witnesses see him posting the photo?’

  ‘No, the neighbours were out. Pigeon Club annual meeting, more than likely. It had to be Stefan, who else? But it’s only a photograph. He’s not actually harmed anyone. Well, at least not me.’

  Hannah fought back a yawn. She wasn’t bored, but shattered. The clock said twenty past one, and she’d been up since six. She’d drunk too much, her temples were roaring, and if she didn’t go to bed soon, she’d crash out right here. How to make Terri see sense? One last heave.

  ‘If you won’t talk to the police, will you see a solicitor? I’ll come along too if it helps. Take out an injunction. Stalking is a crime these days, but there are civil remedies too. You could seek compensation.’

  ‘I’m not interested in money.’

  In the pantheon of Terri’s breathtaking statements, this was up there with ‘I don’t know why I was barred, I’d only had a couple of small vodkas’ and ‘He reckons he’s gay, but if you ask me, he’s open to persuasion.’

  ‘You wanted help,’ Hannah snapped, ‘but every suggestion I make, you throw back in my face. All right, I give up. I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Already?’ Terri’s face fell. ‘There was something else I thought I might …’

  Hannah groaned. ‘What?’

  A loud sigh. ‘Doesn’t matter, it’ll keep. I hadn’t really meant to bother you yet anyway. Sorry, Hannah. You’ve been brilliant, as always. What would I do without you?’

  ‘I don’t need thanks. What I need is to be sure you’re okay.’

  ‘Hey, I’ll be fine. When I found that photograph on the mat, it spooked me, but I’m over it now. Stefan won’t turn my life into a train wreck, believe me.’

  ‘Goodnight, then.’

  ‘G’night, sweetie.’

  Hannah blew her a kiss, and hauled her weary body up the stairs. Unlike Neil Diamond, she wasn’t a believer.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Terri was up first the next morning, looking bizarrely immaculate as she popped her head round the door, shrilling ‘Wakey, wakey!’ She insisted on cooking breakfast, and her exuberance was such that, despite her hangover, Hannah’s brain creaked into action. At last she realised what she’d been too knackered to figure out the previous night.

  ‘You’ve met someone else.
’

  Terri switched down the volume on the radio. She’d retuned it to some unfamiliar station playing gangsta rap. At least it made a change from ‘Cracklin’ Rosie’ and ‘Love on the Rocks’.

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Someone you think will protect you from Stefan. When really you should go through the proper channels.’

  ‘Fuck the proper channels!’ Terri pretended to scream. ‘I mean, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you can’t live your life going through the proper channels.’

  ‘I only want you to be safe. Not go blundering into one disaster after another.’

  ‘I can look after myself, thanks very much.’ Terri considered Hannah’s rumpled appearance. ‘Which is more than everyone can say.’

  ‘So who’s the man?’

  ‘I’m not uttering a peep. At least not for a day or two.’

  ‘Come on. You trust me, remember?’

  Terri dunked her bacon in the swimmy egg yolk. ‘The diet resumes tomorrow! You know, Hannah, it’s been lovely, just being with you. The two of us, together again, like the old days. And I nearly told you everything last night, but now I’ve sobered up. So don’t spoil things, huh?’

  Hannah suppressed the urge to bang her head on the breakfast bar with frustration, but only with an effort of will. ‘Aaaaaaagh! I give up.’

  ‘Thank you. And don’t feel bad about it,’ Terri mumbled with her mouth full.

  Hannah drank some coffee, not caring that it scalded her tongue. ‘He’s married, isn’t he?’

  A hunted look came into Terri’s eyes. ‘Leave it, won’t you?’

  ‘That’s why you’re so enigmatic, because you’ve hooked up with someone who hasn’t unhooked himself yet. Meanwhile, that bastard Stefan wants revenge for being given the elbow. Oh, Terri, will you never learn?’

  Terri ripped the top off a pot of yogurt. ‘You don’t have a clue, Hannah. Listen, I’ve no intention of starting the day with a row, especially with a poor wretch who looks half-dead after a single late night, so why don’t you just finish your breakfast, put on some lippy, and comb your hair properly before we go, huh? You’re an incredibly gorgeous lady, and I’m luckier than I deserve to have you for a friend, but you do yourself no favours by not looking your best.’

  Hannah swore, and said again, ‘I give up.’

  This time she meant it.

  They took a cab to Ambleside, where Hannah had left her car. The short journey was controversy-free, as they kept away from the subjects of Stefan, Marc and Greg, and talked about Terri’s new job instead.

  ‘Oz and his wife Melody live in this fabulous old house on the far side of Ullswater. Think Wuthering Heights, but with all the mod cons you could possibly imagine. I’d never even heard of Ravenbank till they invited me round for a meal one evening. Can’t wait to get back there for tonight’s party.’

  Oh God. Surely not even Terri was capable of carrying on with her own boss under his wife’s nose? Hannah feared she knew the answer. Better not speculate. Let Terri tell her about the mystery man at a time of her own choosing.

  ‘Have a fantastic time.’

  ‘You bet I will. It’s such a perfect venue for Hallowe’en. Really creepy. They even have their own ghost. A housemaid was battered to death there, about a century ago. Now a woman without a face prowls the lanes at dead of night.’ Terri feigned a shiver. ‘Wonder if she’ll do the rounds this evening?’

  Hannah swung into the car park. ‘Enjoy.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Terri dropped a kiss on her cheek. ‘So what are you doing for Hallowe’en?’

  ‘Nothing much.’ No way would she mention seeing Greg Wharf. Not after last night. Two could play the game of keeping quiet about encounters with unsuitable men.

  Terri, well versed in the art of deception, had disbelief scrawled all over her face. ‘Well, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  ‘So I’ve got plenty of latitude, then?’

  Terri grinned. ‘I’m right about Daniel Kind, by the way. Trust me.’

  Hannah patted her friend’s hand. ‘If you change your mind about talking to someone about Stefan, let me know.’

  ‘The proper channels? Well, maybe. I’ll be a good girl, and think it over, okay?’

  ‘Fine.’ Hannah grinned. ‘And if you can’t be good, be careful.’

  ‘You bet.’ Terri tottered off in her high heels. ‘See you soon.’

  On the way to the kitchen at HQ for another shot of caffeine, Hannah bumped into Greg. When he asked after Terri, she found herself telling him about Stefan, and Morrissey the cat.

  ‘I feel bad about it, but what can I do? I can’t get involved personally, or I might find myself carpeted by Professional Standards, and that won’t help Terri. If she doesn’t make a formal complaint, we don’t have a leg to stand on if someone tries to talk sense into Stefan.’

  ‘Sounds to me like your mate’s crying out for a bit of Alternative Policing. Want me to speak to a couple of people I know? They could have a quiet word with him in a dark alley.’

  Every now and then, Hannah glimpsed something below Greg’s rather appealing surface. Something dark and dangerous. One of her DCs, Maggie Eyre, reckoned he ought to come with a government health warning.

  ‘Definitely not.’ Sure that he thought her a wimp, she made a conscious effort not to say they must go through the proper channels. ‘Too risky.’

  ‘I like cats,’ Greg said unexpectedly. ‘We had one when I was a kid. I wept buckets when she was run over by a Ford Fiesta. The driver raced off without a second glance. I swore to kill the bastard, but of course I never found him. Pity. I was below the age of criminal responsibility – they’d have let me off with a pat on the head, and a few sessions with a social worker.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why you became a detective.’

  He grinned. ‘Wasn’t for the money or the working conditions.’

  ‘Anyway, we don’t even know for certain that Stefan has harmed the cat. There’s nothing we can do unless Terri changes her tune.’

  ‘Sure.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘But that’s how bullies get away with bullying.’

  ‘And vigilante justice is how innocent lives get ruined.’

  He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could speak, a nervy girl from Media Relations clattered down the corridor on her wedges and accosted Hannah.

  ‘It’s the ACC, ma’am. She asked to see you. Right now, please.’

  Lauren Self was white with fury. A newspaper had phoned to demand how the police budget cuts would affect the county’s well-regarded Cold Case Review Team, and the Media Relations people were wetting themselves. The press must have inside information. Leaks from the police happened constantly, but not on Lauren’s watch, unless she did the leaking. Time for rapid rebuttal. A suitably bland, reassuring and mendacious news release insisted the proposals were not cut and dried. Everyone was determined to build on the extraordinary successes the team had achieved since being set up on the ACC’s personal initiative.

  ‘Brief the troops in the next half hour,’ she told Hannah, ‘but brief is the operative word. Don’t be lured into discussing matters of detail. Refer anyone who asks about the implications for themselves to HR. We’ll draw up a set of FAQs to set minds at rest.’ A pause for effect. ‘Though naturally FAQs can never be definitive.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And Hannah, one other thing.’ For once, Lauren looked almost dishevelled. Lipstick smudged, errant blonde hairs straying into her eyes. ‘This isn’t merely a breach of security, it’s a breach of trust. Believe me, when I find the person responsible, they’ll wish to God they’d kept their trap shut.’

  ‘Of course, ma’am.’ She knew Lauren suspected she’d had a hand in the leak, but she wouldn’t dignify the slur with an attempted denial. ‘If there’s anything else I can do …’

  ‘Thank you.’ Lauren in Ice Queen mode. ‘That will be all.’

  The briefing was an ordeal, for Hannah and for everyo
ne else in the team. Her attempts to put a positive spin on the fact that cold case reviews would continue sounded hollow even to her own ears. Their work might go on, in some guise, but most of those who had built the team’s reputation would no longer be part of it. Even stolid, dependable Maggie Eyre was close to tears. Only Les Bryant remained as phlegmatic as ever.

  She fled to her room and shut the door. Thank God they weren’t yet in open plan. At one point, she’d feared her voice was about to break with emotion. But the respite lasted no more than two minutes.

  Greg Wharf marched in, slamming the door behind him. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Do I look okay?’

  ‘You had the worst of all worlds out there. You’re forced to toe the party line, and so the junior team members want to shoot the messenger. At the same time, I bet Cruella is making your life a nightmare. I wouldn’t put it past her to blame you for tipping off our pals in the fourth estate.’

  ‘But I didn’t.’

  ‘Never dreamt you did, you’d worry it was disloyal. And before you ask, it wasn’t me, either. But hats off to whoever’s responsible.’

  ‘It won’t make any difference, you realise. The money has to be saved somehow.’

  ‘Yeah, but more fun to go down with a bang not a whimper, eh?’

  She forced a smile. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘Believe it or not, sometimes I am. Are you still on for that drink?’

  ‘I said maybe, remember?’

  ‘You meant yes.’

  Another smile, genuine this time. ‘I meant maybe. And absolutely not in any of the usual pubs, either. I don’t want to bump into any of the DCs drowning their sorrows.’

  ‘There’s a pub out your way I quite like. The Cricketers, know it?’

  When Hannah shook her head, he said, ‘Exactly. The landlord is the ultimate party-pooper, he makes Les Bryant look like Paris Hilton. You’d think he was paid to make customers feel unwelcome.’