The Frozen Shroud

by Martin Edwards

  ‘This man you’re interested in, Roland Jones, what would you like to know?’

  Good question, not easy to answer. ‘I want to know more about him. What sort of man he was.’

  ‘He was an educator, yes?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s a long shot, but I wondered if he features in the papers you keep in the archives?’

  Charlotte Mason was already well known in the world of education when she moved to Ambleside in the late nineteenth century. Here she’d established the House of Education, dedicated to training governesses and others who taught the young; to this day, homeschoolers follow the methods she advocated, seeking to educate the whole child, not just the mind. Mason lived to a ripe old age, dying five years after the end of the First World War. Roland Jones had become prominent in liberal education, and Daniel wondered if the tutor had studied Charlotte Mason’s pioneering methods. Might he even have had a personal connection with her, and the training institution she’d founded, which once occupied premises next door to the Armitt? But this was tougher than looking for a needle in a haystack; Daniel wasn’t sure what to do with the needle, even if by a stroke of luck he found it.

  ‘We have so much material upstairs,’ Trjnitje warned him. ‘Even to skim through will take many hours.’

  ‘I’ve got all day. If I don’t find what I’m after, I’ll come back tomorrow.’

  She treated him to a brilliant smile. ‘So Roland Jones is a famous man in the history of Cumbria, yes?’

  ‘Not famous, no, but finding out about him might just help me to rewrite a page of that history.’

  ‘Amazing!’ She was thrilled. ‘Then we must give you all the help we can!’

  The PACE detention clock kept ticking. Fern could obtain an extension of the basic twenty-four hours for which Stefan could be held without charge, but ninety-six hours was the absolute maximum, and she’d want to make a decision long before then. Over a coffee, she reported to Hannah that she was losing hope of making the case against him stick.

  ‘Looks like we’re back to square one. This time yesterday, I’d never have believed it. When he claimed Terri texted him, asking for a meeting, I thought he’d overreached himself. Then what happens? His story checks out.’

  In his haste to catch the train down south, Stefan hadn’t noticed that his mobile had slipped out of his pocket. An honest passer-by had found it lying in the road in Oxenholme, near to where he’d parked his car, and handed it in at a nearby shop. A lucky break – but for Stefan, not the detectives aiming to prove his guilt. He’d deleted the text message, but the techies had retrieved it easily enough.

  ‘It might all be some elaborate stunt to throw us off the track.’

  Fern made a face. ‘No point in wishful thinking.’

  ‘Any joy with the murder weapon?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s over to the lab people. The plan is for them to mock up the scenario. They’ll try to replicate Terri’s injuries, along with all the evidence from the scene, and experiment with all kinds of possible blunt instruments.’

  ‘There must be cast-off marks on the ground, near where she was lying, and maybe on the sacking?’

  Drips of blood from the weapon, Hannah meant. Her gorge rose every time a picture of Terri’s body swam into her mind. Sometimes in the lab, they used slabs of pig meat to mimic the wounds. She couldn’t bear the thought of it.

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Should give us something to go on. Eventually. The snag, of course, is time. Even if I persuade the powers-that-be to pay whatever is needed to prioritise the lab investigation, it’s bound to take several days. Worst case scenario if the work takes its place in the queue is – weeks.’

  ‘They have to pay,’ Hannah snapped. ‘This isn’t a case of a teenager nicking a car, it’s a murder.’

  Fern stifled a yawn. ‘’Scuse me, it’s been a long, long day, and if I take in any more caffeine I’ll turn into a junkie. We need a lucky break. Without that, or Deyna changing his tune, we won’t know about the murder weapon any time soon. Certainly not before it’s time to decide on whether to charge him on the basis of what we’ve got.’

  ‘You’re not going to release him?’ Hannah’s voice was tight; she was struggling to contain her fury.

  ‘Not yet,’ Fern said. ‘We worked so hard to find him. I hate the thought of him slipping through our fingers. Fact is, though, it’s even worse if he’s not the man we’re looking for, and the real culprit is getting away with murder because we can’t see beyond Deyna. We can’t overlook the fact that this isn’t the first case of its kind in Ravenbank.’

  ‘We don’t have a shred of proof that there’s any connection between the deaths of Terri and Shenagh Moss.’

  ‘You’re right. For the moment, anyway.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I don’t believe in that level of coincidence. Think about it, the MO is identical. Attractive woman abandons no-good lover for a better bet, only to finish up battered to death in the manner of the village legend. The only difference this time is that the obvious suspect lived to tell the tale. Doesn’t seem like a copycat to me.’ Fern exhaled noisily. ‘I’d say we have a double killer on our hands.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hannah took a breath. ‘Okay. So what are the other possibilities? Do you go along with Josh Higginbottom? He told me he thought Oz Knight might have killed Shenagh Moss.’

  Fern nodded. ‘Oz and Shenagh had a fling. This was before she moved in with Francis Palladino. The affair was no secret, even though Oz wasn’t long married to a pretty woman who worked for him. He revelled in his image as a Casanova, and Melody Knight turned a blind eye. As far as we could tell.’

  ‘Why was that? Was she playing away as well?’

  ‘My take was, she was just happy to have snared the boss.’ Fern didn’t hide her scorn. She had no time for women whose idea of a career plan was to marry the richest bloke they could find. ‘Trouble was, Knight couldn’t let go. He kept pestering Shenagh.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘When we checked her phone, we found she’d saved his texts. Not very edifying. An uneasy mixture of pleading and bullying. Didn’t seem to get him very far.’

  ‘Did Francis Palladino know anything about this?’

  Fern shook her head. ‘He had no illusions about Shenagh’s past, but he was convinced she was a reformed character. Possibly he was right. Like Melody, she’d got what she wanted. She didn’t tell Palladino about the texts, possibly because she didn’t want him to make a fuss. He wasn’t in the best of health. If you ask me, she saw their relationship as a five-year investment, give or take a bit. Once he was safely in the grave, she would be free to do as she pleased. And rich.’

  ‘Did Knight have any sort of alibi for the killing?’

  ‘That was the other problem. He and Melody had spent that Hallowe’en night in bed together, or so they both said. We found nothing to link him to the crime scene. Whereas there was no doubt that Meek had been on the spot.’

  ‘Terri worked for Oz,’ Hannah said. ‘And she’d fallen for another bloke. Are you thinking that Oz wanted her, and when he realised he couldn’t have her …?’

  ‘Stranger things have happened.’ Fern finished her coffee, and checked her watch. The press conference was due to start in ten minutes. ‘But without any evidence, we’re just pissing in the wind.’

  Hannah had promised to take Daniel and Louise out for a meal, as a thank you for their hospitality. Their chosen destination was the Brack Arms, lavishly revamped after a change of ownership, and recently lauded by The Good Food Guide. Ten miles away from the Cricketers, it might have been in a different country. And century.

  A slinky Greek waitress called Efthalia took their order. Hannah noticed her giving Daniel the once-over; he seemed unaware of the scrutiny. Like Ben, he had no ego. Over their starters, Hannah supplied a carefully edited account of progress – or lack of it – in the case. Much the same information, she assured herself, as would have been put out at the press confe
rence. That a 38-year-old man who had been helping with enquiries had been released without charge.

  ‘If, by any chance, Stefan didn’t do it,’ Daniel said, ‘there aren’t many suspects. Just the people who live in Ravenbank, and the guests at the Hallowe’en party. Including us.’

  ‘Daniel.’ Louise’s eyes flashed. ‘How could anyone imagine …?’

  Her outrage amused him. ‘Even solicitors aren’t automatically above suspicion. We were both on our own after we went up to bed, it would have been easy for one or both of us to go out via that separate staircase without disturbing Quin or Jeffrey. Are your bosses happy about your staying with us, Hannah?’

  ‘Fern’s relaxed about it, and it’s not a breach of any protocol. The fact your dad was very popular up here still counts for something, and it’s not as if we weren’t already friends. You two were on the spot, any information you can provide is likely to be trustworthy, and might just make all the difference. So if, for the sake of argument, we rule out the pair of you …’

  ‘Your colleagues went through the guest list with the Knights yesterday morning. We were at the Hall, with Jeffrey, Quin and the Parks. Coming to terms with the shock of finding Terri’s body. Most of the party guests were ferried away by coach at midnight, but a few went home under their own steam.’

  ‘The Knights didn’t have anyone staying at the Hall overnight?’

  Louise said, ‘No, I talked to some friends of theirs who live at Silloth, and had arranged to spend the night at Ravenbank Hall. During the evening, their son called. His pregnant wife had been rushed into hospital, so they shot off to lend him a hand.’

  ‘And the catering staff had gone by the time you went ghost-hunting?’

  ‘Yes, they were bussed in from Penrith, and left before midnight. Nobody who works at the Hall lives in. Though one of the guests may have parked down the lane, and then hung around waiting for Terri to show.’

  ‘All the people who drove home themselves were couples,’ Daniel said. ‘Not a solo murderer among them.’

  ‘Someone might have come by water,’ Louise said

  ‘Nobody could swim from any distance,’ Hannah said. ‘That stretch of the lake is a challenge for swimmers even in the height of summer. People have drowned close to the shore on perfect days, and the water’s freezing cold.’

  ‘But arriving by boat …’

  ‘At that time of night, and year, you’d have to be tired of life to make the attempt.’

  Louise said, ‘Ravenbank Hall has its own tiny harbour. Melody said they have a boathouse. Oz Knight fancies himself as a sailor. But …’

  ‘Fern hasn’t quite ruled out someone arriving by boat, and it’s also possible that the killer drove to Ravenbank, as Stefan did, in the hope of finding Terri. But both scenarios seem unlikely, to say the least.’

  ‘If you rule out Stefan, and don’t count us,’ Daniel said, ‘that leaves just the Knights, Jeffrey and Quin. Together with Miriam Park – and son Robin, if you don’t accept that he was out of action due to sickness.’

  ‘This stomach bug,’ Hannah asked. ‘Any reason to think he might have faked it?’

  ‘Quite the opposite,’ Daniel said. ‘Terri was in no doubt that he was genuinely ill, and she didn’t strike me as easily fooled.’

  ‘No,’ Hannah said. ‘She may have been hopeless at picking men, but she wasn’t gullible. And she could see through malingerers.’

  ‘She said she’d have stayed with Robin, but he only wanted to sleep. So she and Mrs Park went to the party.’

  ‘Terri was a party animal, but what about the old lady?’

  ‘She spent years working for old man Palladino as a sort of part-time housekeeper, and jumped at any excuse to go back to Ravenbank Hall. The legend of the Faceless Woman fascinates her. If you ask me, she actually believes it.’

  ‘Robin’s illness was crucial to what happened,’ Hannah said. ‘A stroke of bad luck. It created the chance for someone to murder Terri. If he’d been fit and well, the two of them would have stayed together and slept together.’

  ‘An opportunistic murder, then?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Most crimes are opportunistic, aren’t they?’ Louise said, as Efthalia brought their food, giving Daniel a broad smile as she shimmied around the table. ‘Suppose the murderer acted on the spur of the moment. He or she somehow seized the chance of a late-night get together with Terri, and it didn’t go as planned.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Hannah said.

  ‘You don’t sound convinced.’

  Hannah tasted her moussaka – aubergine, spinach, and lentil, Fern would have hated it – before explaining that, if Stefan was telling the truth, he’d been lured to Ravenbank by a fake text message purporting to come from Terri. It was always a judgement call, where to draw the line, how much information to dole out in order to get something in return. She didn’t plan to drop any hint that Oz Knight had come under suspicion in the case of Shenagh Moss.

  ‘You believe the murder was premeditated?’ Louise’s eyes widened. ‘Someone wanted to make Stefan a scapegoat?’

  ‘Just like Craig Meek.’ Daniel said. ‘And possibly like Letty Hodgkinson, all those years ago.’

  ‘I’m not saying there wasn’t an element of opportunism, taking advantage of Robin’s illness. Did anything unexpected happen at the party?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Daniel said. ‘As you’d expect from a couple who specialise in events management, Oz and Melody are very good hosts. They’ve invited me back to the Hall tomorrow.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Melody rang. She and Oz are still reeling from the shock of Terri’s murder. I told her I was researching the Gertrude Smith case, and she invited me over for lunch.’

  Hannah sipped her wine, thinking about what Josh and Fern had said. Was it possible that Oz Knight had fancied Terri, and been so jealous of her relationship with Robin that he’d begun to stalk her? Or had Melody been the jealous one?

  ‘I find it so hard to believe someone we met that night could do such a thing,’ Louise said. ‘Everyone we met was pleasant company. No deranged lunatics, no monsters. What would drive an ordinary person, not only to kill Terri, but also to disfigure her so horribly?’

  Hannah forced herself not to think about the damage done to Terri’s lovely face. She didn’t care whether Stefan was responsible, or one of the supposedly pleasant partygoers. Never would she rest until the killer paid the price. It wasn’t simply a matter of doing justice. Her grief was so raw that she wanted revenge. She caught Daniel’s eye, and felt herself blushing. It was as if he could read her mind.

  ‘Hey,’ he said softly, ‘let’s not talk any more about murder, shall we?’

  ‘What you mean is,’ Louise said, ‘you don’t want to be distracted while you gorge on your Chateaubriand.’

  He grinned at Hannah. ‘Can’t get away with anything, can I?’

  The moment they arrived back at Tarn Cottage, Daniel brought out a bottle of cognac. Not Hannah’s favourite tipple, and it was years since she’d last tasted the stuff, but she let him fill her glass to the brim.

  ‘Tell me about your day,’ she said, curling up in the vast armchair like a well-fed cat. After feasting at the Brack Arms, she felt as though she’d put on half a stone. Worth it, though. And the brandy tasted silk-smooth. ‘What news of Gertrude Smith?’

  ‘We agreed we wouldn’t discuss murder any more.’

  ‘Terri’s murder is one thing. Gertrude Smith’s is different. None of the people involved is alive. It’s much more remote. What Miriam Park overheard seems like a puzzle, a challenge to be solved.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ve been piecing scraps of information together about the dramatis personae. I found some titbits at the Armitt this morning, and a few more this afternoon in Kendal. The Carnegie Library holds the archives of most of the county’s old newspapers.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Are you sitting comfortably?’ he said with a grin. ‘Then I’ll begin.’


  His sister contrived an elaborate yawn. ‘I’ve already heard the edited highlights. To be honest, I’m knackered, must be delayed reaction after the horrors of yesterday. Daniel, you finish off my brandy. I’ll … leave you two to it. Goodnight.’

  Her parting smile was almost as suggestive as Efthalia’s. As the door closed behind her, Daniel uttered a low groan.

  ‘Sorry about that. You’ll have gathered, Louise fancies herself as a matchmaker. Worst possible timing, and horribly embarrassing. She’s not usually this insensitive. Just ignore her.’

  The food and the cognac and the company had mellowed Hannah. Just as well, after recent events. Not that she was mellow enough to make a fool of herself with a man twice in quick succession. She waved away his apology.

  ‘Louise has been great. I’m just interested to hear about your researches.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘It wasn’t hard to put together biographies for Roland Jones or Dorothy Hodgkinson. They were both sufficiently well known to merit obituaries in the local press. Roland made quite a name for himself as an educator, and specifically for writing about Robert Southey. I guess he was drawn to the Lakes by his love of one of its major poets.’

  ‘I don’t know much more about Southey than his name.’

  ‘Most people don’t, but he was a celebrity in his day. Chum of Wordsworth and Coleridge, and a radical supporter of the French Revolution who mutated into a pillar of the establishment. So much so that he became Poet Laureate. His sarcastic line “’twas a famous victory” belongs to one of the first anti-war poems ever written. He recognised Charlotte Brontë’s talents, but told her a woman shouldn’t pursue a literary career. Shades of the guy who said The Beatles would never amount to much.’

  ‘Any idea why Southey’s work appealed to Roland Jones?’

  ‘I’m sure it’s because they were both romantics. I’ve not read Roland’s book about Southey, but a Google search suggests it’s devoted to the poems, not his biographies or his politics. Unlike Southey, Roland never married.’