He swivelled in his chair to gaze into her eyes, and then, as if disappointed with what he saw, looked away through the glass doors. She followed his gaze. Outside, a paved terrace overlooked the river and wooded lower reaches of Dunmallard Hill. Years ago, she and Marc had walked up there, and picnicked by the remains of the Iron Age hill fort at the summit. The Jazz Lounge’s patio must be idyllic when the sun shone, but all the parasols had been dismantled for winter, and the tables and chairs were cocooned in waterproof sheets. Not even the hardiest local would fancy al fresco snacking on a day so misty, cold and damp.
‘You mustn’t be cross with Terri for not telling you about us.’
‘I’m not cross.’ Was that true? Didn’t she feel somehow let down, as well as puzzled? ‘Just surprised.’
‘She was about to break the news to you. The day after the party.’
‘I’m not sure what difference the party made?’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, doesn’t matter.’
‘She was worried …’ He fiddled with his napkin, folding it again and again before squashing it in his palm. ‘I think she was worried how you would react. To her starting a serious relationship again, so soon after breaking up with Stefan.’
‘All I wanted was for her to be happy and safe.’ Shit, why did she sound so defensive, like an overprotective parent mithering about an unreliable offspring? And was he right about Terri? ‘Her love life was her own business.’
‘Terri was the first to admit she’d made a lot of wrong choices. Especially when it came to men. She assumed you’d think I was just one more good-for-nothing.’
‘She used to say I was bossy. Meddling with her life, wanting her to play everything by the book. Getting in the way of her indulging her instinct for having a good time.’ Hannah hadn’t meant to say what was in her mind, but the words just spilt out. She’d been wrestling with this ever since learning of Robin Park’s existence. ‘That’s why she kept schtum, isn’t it?’
‘Don’t punish yourself, it’s not your fault.’ Reassurance so swift and so slick that she was sure he’d used that line before. True or not, it was the sort of thing people liked to hear. ‘She looked up to you, put you on a pedestal. It was always Hannah this, Hannah that. To be honest, I was in awe of meeting you. The paragon.’
She waved away the bullshit. ‘I simply didn’t want her to be hurt again. So many of her Prince Charmings turned into frogs.’
Robin’s grin made him look like a cheesy TV presenter. Very white teeth, tanned skin. Easy not to notice his anxiety. But those pianist’s fingers kept tapping the table top.
‘The worst kind of frogs, from what she told me. Idle, penniless wastes-of-space. And then the last one turned violent. When she told me her life story, I finally realised how she could tolerate being with a two-bit jazz pianist.’
Easy to understand what Terri had seen in him, Hannah had to admit. It wasn’t just the dazzling blue eyes and the trim bum. Terri would have found his self-deprecating manner and hint of vulnerability equally hard to resist. Just as she’d fancied Marc, another handsome man whose affability concealed a streak of weakness.
‘How did you meet?’
‘At a jazz concert the Knights organised. In Ambleside, at a place that had just opened up.’
‘Not Balotelli’s? She took me there for a drink, last time we went out together.’ God, it seemed like half a lifetime ago. ‘The night before Hallowe’en.’
‘Yeah, she told me. Our original plan was to spend that night together, even though she hadn’t moved in with me on a permanent basis. You know Terri, she cherished her independence. With all the hassle from Stefan, I hated the thought of her being on her own. God knows, how right I was.’
Hannah waited.
‘Unfortunately, it was the anniversary of my dad’s death. Mum’s always a bit low when that day comes around, and she wanted me to spend the evening with her at Beck Cottage. I couldn’t let her down. When Terri phoned me, and I explained, she decided to stay with you instead.’
‘That’s one mystery solved. She didn’t tell me who she’d called.’
‘Oh, she loved being mysterious, didn’t she? Said she was matchmaking, but you wouldn’t play ball. In her opinion, you and Daniel Kind were perfect for each other. Small world, eh? Who would have thought I’d meet him for myself at the Knights’ party?’
Hannah swallowed some more coffee. She had no intention of discussing Daniel, especially not with a man she’d only just met. This mustn’t become a cosy chat between two people sharing their grief. Robin had been present in Ravenbank the night Terri was killed. His sickness had given someone the chance to commit the crime. And there was an alternative that she couldn’t yet rule out. Sickness could be feigned. It was too early to presume he had nothing to do with her death.
In her head, she heard Terri speaking. ‘Hey, kid, relax. Can’t you forget, for once in your life, that you’re a police officer?’
Oh sweetheart, easier said than done.
‘Tell me what Terri did on Hallowe’en.’
‘She and Oz called in at the Theatre by the Lake to discuss Quin and Jeffrey’s premiere. Later, she spent an hour setting up a Hallowe’en party in Keswick. By half two, she was back at my cottage – by which time I’d well and truly succumbed to the bug.’
‘Did any of your neighbours know you’d been taken ill?’
‘Probably all of them. Terri popped round to the Hall to pass on my apologies to the Knights, and she called at Watendlath to give an update on the discussion about the show. Between you and me, Oz didn’t keep her fully occupied. There wasn’t much business coming in, and they were helping with the show mainly as a favour to Jeffrey and Quin. She’d heard Oz the day before, ranting at his accountant, something about an overdue tax payment.’
‘Was the company in trouble?’
‘Sounded like it. But I’ve never taken much interest in business or money.’ And he hadn’t needed to, Hannah thought, once his mother used the legacy from Palladino to buy him a home. ‘Anyway, I was out for the count, but I didn’t want that to spoil Hallowe’en for Terri.’
‘Or your mother?’
‘Exactly. Mum was looking forward to the party. Until Francis Palladino died, she worked at the Hall, and she still helps Melody out every now and then. It’s not about money, she just loves the Hall, and she’s never minded getting her hands dirty. Any excuse to relive the old days. I insisted the two of them go without me.’
Ah, the selfless invalid. The more they talked, the more he reminded her of Marc. ‘While you stayed at home in bed?’
‘Well, I was staggering back and forth to the loo every two minutes. Or that’s how it felt. Ghastly, trust me. You really don’t want to hear the details.’ The cheesy grin reappeared. ‘All I could do was obey Mum’s words of wisdom. Drink gallons of water and get as much rest as possible.’
‘Ravenbank is a dangerous place at Hallowe’en. Weren’t you worried about Terri? Bearing in mind the murder of Shenagh Moss, and the legend of the Faceless Woman.’
He made a performance of choking on a mouthful of shortbread. ‘Are you seriously suggesting that Terri’s death is connected with that Frozen Shroud rubbish?’
‘I’m not suggesting anything. In a murder case, it’s essential to explore every avenue.’
‘Including a barmy story about the ghost of a woman without a face?’
‘Almost the last time anyone saw Terri was during the ghost hunt.’
‘They just did that for a laugh, everyone was pissed, by the sound of things. Nobody in their right mind would take the story seriously.’
‘Is your mother equally sceptical?’
He sighed. ‘Mum belongs to a different generation. You have to realise, she’s spent most of her life in this small corner of Cumbria. She can barely use a computer, and probably thinks One Direction is a road sign. They may be a dying breed, but there are still people like that, you know. As for the legend, Esme Palladino swore she’d once seen Gertrude Smith’s g
host walking down Ravenbank Lane, and that was good enough for Mum.’
‘But not you?’
‘Esme was an old soak. She’d probably been on a bender the night she claims she saw the Faceless Woman.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Don’t get me wrong, the legend is fun. But – it’s a ghost story. Not real. It has nothing to do with what happened to Terri.’
She wiped shortbread crumbs from her mouth. ‘How can you be sure about that, Robin?’
Daniel squeezed his car keys in his palm. Quin’s affair with Shenagh had tormented Jeffrey Burgoyne. Five years after her death, he wasn’t over it. At The Solitary Reaper on Saturday, a mere expression of sympathy – ‘poor Shenagh’ – had been enough to get under Jeffrey’s skin. Daniel remembered their exchange of looks, charged with meaning, yet inexplicable to anyone who didn’t know. As soon as they were alone, recriminations must have begun, and the upshot was that Jeffrey slapped his partner on the face.
‘Whenever Shenagh is mentioned, it’s obvious Jeffrey despised her, but Quin was a fan. I wondered if that made Jeffrey jealous.’
‘Jealous as hell.’ Oz Knight’s gaunt expression twisted, as if he had toothache, and Daniel saw that he too had been devoured by jealousy. ‘He didn’t understand that Shenagh was playing a game. Seducing a gay man was a challenge, like I said. To her, it meant nothing more.’
He wasn’t trying to hide his bitterness, any more than he’d bothered dying his hair or combing over that bald patch. It was as if he’d abandoned the persona he’d adopted for so long, leaving in its place just one more miserable middle-age man. Like Clifford Hodgkinson and Francis Palladino before him, the murder of a woman had ripped up his life. In the space of a few days, he’d segued from lord of the manor to sad old loser.
‘Are you sure?’
‘She as good as admitted it. When I told her it was wrong to treat people as playthings, she told me to fuck off. Said she’d spent half her life being treated as a plaything. Now it was her turn.’
‘You don’t think she’d have left Francis Palladino for Quin?’
‘No way!’ Oz scoffed. ‘She’d tied everything up so cleverly with Francis. Shenagh was sorted, believe me.’
Was that true, or what he wanted to believe? ‘Did the relationship with Quin fizzle out?’
Oz frowned as leaves gusted across the lawn. ‘She’d stopped confiding in me by then.’
‘Was she still seeing Quin at the time of her murder?’
‘This is a game to you, isn’t it?’ Oz didn’t sound angry, just defeated and disillusioned. ‘Next stop, Keswick Museum, to see what stones you can lift up. For some of us, it’s not an intellectual puzzle. It feels like a blade, ripping through my guts.’
He turned on his heel, and strode out across the lawn, boots squelching in the wet grass. His gait was uncertain, and Daniel didn’t think it was just down to the Rioja.
Five years after her death, Shenagh’s ghost still haunted Ravenbank. She’d played for high stakes, but in the end she’d lost. Perhaps she’d pushed one of her playmates too far.
‘Terri’s murder is horrific,’ Robin said. ‘It’s destroyed everything we dreamt of together. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it. But her death has nothing to do with what happened five years ago. Surely there’s an overwhelming case against Deyna?’
He ventured a tentative smile. Hannah wasn’t giving him any encouragement. She sampled the millionaire shortbread: pretty good.
‘I mean, the man can’t deny he was at Ravenbank that night. Or that he made a run for it. What more proof of guilt do your colleagues want? Why would anyone act like that, if he had nothing to hide? It’s bizarre that they’ve let him go. A scandal. I don’t suppose you’re able to explain what the hell your people are up to?’
‘You suppose right. Besides, it’s not my case.’
‘Oh, Hannah, please.’ He was finding it a struggle to remain Mr Nice Guy. Those fingers started drumming again, louder than before. Tap, tap, tap. ‘I’m not a total simpleton.’
‘I never thought you were.’ True enough, but she couldn’t yet decide whether he was bewildered and distraught, or had some ulterior motive she was yet to fathom.
‘Well, then. You’re matey with this Larter woman, aren’t you? And she’s in charge of the investigation. I met her five years ago, and she struck me as pretty smart. So why would she free the prime suspect?’
‘You’re right, DCI Larter is a first-rate detective. They don’t come any better. If she’s made a decision, she’ll have her reasons.’
‘So where do we go from here?’
‘You tell me.’ She stifled a yawn. Although the bed at Tarn Cottage couldn’t be more comfortable, she hadn’t slept properly since the night of Marc’s car crash. ‘Terri’s mobile went missing on Hallowe’en, I hear.’
‘That’s right.’ Tap, tap, tap.
‘I couldn’t get my head round that. Terri was constantly messing with her phone. Calling friends, texting, playing games. She hardly ever let it out of her sight.’
He gave a helpless shrug.
‘Any idea what happened to it?’
‘I don’t have a clue!’ Two pink spots showed on the tanned cheeks, as if she’d accused him of petty larceny. ‘Before she got ready for the party, she mentioned she’d mislaid her phone. She was upset, as you’d expect, but by that time, I was out for the count. Feeling awful, and very sorry for myself.’
‘So you’ve no idea when she lost it, let alone how?’
He shook his head. ‘Might have been when she was with Oz, in Keswick. Or she may have dropped it in her own car. Though the forensic people have gone over that with a fine toothcomb, as well as all the possessions she kept in my cottage. Her handbag, her computer, you name it.’
‘She didn’t mention calling Stefan that night, to arrange a clear-the-air meeting with him?’
‘Do you seriously believe I’d have let her run the risk?’
Hannah folded her arms. ‘Let’s assume for a moment that Stefan didn’t kill Terri.’
‘For God’s sake! Why should we assume that?’
‘Because his guilt hasn’t yet been established. And we do want to get at the truth, don’t we?’
‘Of course.’ He reminded her of a sullen little boy. Or Marc, on occasions when things didn’t go his way.
‘In which case, the murder of Shenagh Moss is bound to come under scrutiny.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because,’ Hannah said, ‘it’s impossible to believe that two more or less identical killings, committed in the same place five years apart, are not connected.’
‘Everyone knows Shenagh was killed by Craig Meek! He was as bad as Stefan. A mad stalker, with a grudge against a pretty woman who’d made a few bad judgements in her life.’ His voice wavered. ‘But who didn’t deserve to die.’
‘Did she make a bad judgement with you?’ Hannah asked quietly.
‘For God’s sake! Are you suggesting that I slept with Shenagh?’
‘It’s a question that is bound to be asked.’
‘Okay, the answer is simple. Watch my lips.’ He tried to mimic Bill Clinton. ‘I did not have sexual relations with that woman.’
She studied his white, distraught face, and decided he was telling the truth.
‘Sorry. I felt I had to ask.’
‘I wanted to meet you,’ he said in a muffled tone, ‘because we had Terri in common. Terri meant the world to me. Okay, we’d only known each other a short time, but that didn’t matter. And before you ask, we never had a cross word. No rows, no tantrums, nothing but love and laughter.’
He stared out through the sliding doors. Had she done him an injustice? It was selfish to assume her suffering was more intense – selfish and almost certainly wrong. He’d been Terri’s lover, the man she’d chosen to spend her life with. The latest in a long line, admittedly, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t fallen head over heels. The depth of Terri’s passion might explain her reluctance to mention him. Perh
aps she’d wanted to see Hannah fixed up with Daniel before boasting about her own new relationship.
‘I’m sure she did, Robin. Is there anything you can tell me about Shenagh? Did anyone in Ravenbank have reason to want her dead?’
‘Dead?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not saying she was everyone’s cup of tea, but – for someone to want to murder her, and in such a brutal way? It’s incredible. I refuse to believe it.’
‘She’d shacked up with a lord of the manor twice her age. A sexy woman, with lots of money, and time on her hands. It’s a recipe for trouble.’
‘You’re barking up the wrong tree.’ He was beginning to sound more confident. ‘The femme fatale with the boring old bloke who takes a younger lover? Shades of Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice. Surely that would make Francis Palladino the prime candidate for a murderous attack on a dark night? The poor old boy found her body, after all.’
‘Suppose Shenagh was happy with Francis, and that made someone else jealous?’
He gazed at her in silence. Making, she thought, some kind of calculation.
‘Is this Oz Knight we are talking about? Or Alex Quinlan?’
Jeffrey Burgoyne couldn’t control his temper. Sitting behind the wheel, waiting for a chance to get past a tractor lumbering along the narrow road, Daniel flinched at the memory of the stinging blow he’d witnessed. An aberration, perhaps – but its casual brutality suggested otherwise. This morning, the imperfectly concealed mark on Quin’s cheek suggested another bust-up. Plenty of apparently respectable men still assaulted their wives because they’d deluded themselves into imagining they had the right. Jeffrey was no different, except that he was gay.
He held the purse strings, and that might be all that kept the couple together. If he had a violent streak, Shenagh’s seduction of his partner might have provoked him into losing control. Quin was stylish and sexy, and twenty years his junior. If he felt insecure … suppose he’d killed Shenagh, and then – somehow – Terri had discovered what had happened five years earlier. He’d have a motive to silence her before she betrayed him.
The Frozen Shroud Page 22