The Frozen Shroud

by Martin Edwards

  The same might be true of Jeffrey and Quin. The Irishman had moaned about Jeffrey’s habitual snoring, and said that his partner hadn’t slept a wink. But if someone suffered from insomnia, what more natural than to get out of bed and go downstairs? Once you looked beyond Stefan, all kinds of possibilities opened up. Because Terri had never returned to Fell View Cottage, Robin Park had no alibi, but neither, he suspected, did anyone else.

  Bumping over the little bridge, he found himself looking towards Ravenbank. The tops of the trees were wreathed in mist, the beauty spot had become lonely and forlorn. On a day as dark as this, the Faceless Woman might be tempted to resume her melancholy promenade.

  He drove past Beck Cottage, with its drawn curtains. The journalists had finally departed; they must have decided that if they didn’t get away before the fog returned, they might wind up stranded for the night on Ravenbank Lane. A solitary figure stood guard outside the gates of the Hall. In the gathering gloom, he felt like Walter Hartright, catching a glimpse of the Woman in White. As he drew closer, she pulled down her hood, and he saw that in fact it was Melody, enveloped in a vast white puffer jacket.

  He jumped out of the car, and she ran up, and flung her arms around him. She was sobbing wildly, and he felt her body convulsing against his chest. He could smell alcohol on her breath. After a moment, he took a step back, taking hold of her shoulders and gazing into her reddened and tear-filled eyes.

  ‘What happened to Oz?’

  ‘He … he’s disappeared!’

  ‘Has he gone somewhere in the car?’

  ‘No, all our cars are locked in the garage. I checked.’

  Jeffrey had mentioned that, for some reason, the Knights had three cars, a couple of SUVs and a natty little open top sports car. No wonder money was tight.

  ‘When did you last see him?’

  ‘As you were leaving. Not long after, my mobile rang. I was half asleep, and didn’t answer. Some time later, it rang again and this time I took the call before it went to voicemail. It was Oz.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  Melody gulped in air. ‘“I’m sorry.”’

  ‘Sorry for what?’

  ‘That’s all. He sounded distraught, and rang off. I called him back, but couldn’t get through. I ran downstairs, and the front door was still open. Did you see where he went?’

  ‘As I drove off, he was walking across your lawn.’ Daniel pointed. ‘As if he were heading to the gardens. He’s probably gone for a stroll around the shoreline, a breath of fresh air to clear his head.’

  ‘We’re not … we’re not a pair of drunken sots, you know.’

  ‘Hey.’ He hushed her. ‘I never said you were.’

  ‘You thought it, though, didn’t you?’

  It hadn’t crossed his mind till now, but he’d seldom seen either of them without a drink in their hand. Even at Amos Books, he recalled. During lunch, they’d worked their way through a couple of bottles, and Oz had knocked back the greater share.

  ‘You think he’s gone for a walk and had an accident?’

  ‘Oz isn’t much into walking. I tease him about how he drives to the pillar box on the other side of Ravenbank Corner, when he wants to post a letter. Whilst I was waiting for you, I realised what’s happened. He’s gone out in the boat.’

  He put his hands on his hips, unable to hide disbelief. ‘In this weather?’

  ‘Yes. I found his mobile, he’d tossed it away on the path near to Letty’s grave. I went down to the boathouse. King Ulf is missing.’

  His head was spinning. ‘King Ulf?’

  ‘Oz named the boat after the Nordic chief who gave his name to the lake,’ she said impatiently. ‘He fancied himself as Ulf’s modern day successor.’

  She was speaking in the past tense. He hoped it was just that she was thinking back to when Oz bought the boat.

  ‘Please, come on,’ she said. ‘We need to find him.’

  ‘If Oz didn’t moor the boat securely, it may have broken loose in one of the storms we’ve had lately.’

  ‘Oz wouldn’t make a stupid mistake like that.’

  Daniel blinked. Oz had surely done nothing but make stupid mistakes for far too long.

  ‘Have you called the police?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not yet. I’d rather not get them involved if there’s no need. That’s why I called you. I need your help, your advice. I don’t know who else to trust.’

  ‘Ring them now. They have people at Robin’s cottage, they can be here in two minutes.’ He looked into her eyes, but didn’t see any hint of a meeting of minds. ‘It’s the logical thing to do.’

  She shut her eyes. ‘Haven’t you figured it out yet, Daniel? I’m really not a logical person.’

  You can say that again. Fighting to contain his frustration, he dug his mobile out of his inside pocket. ‘Let me phone them, if you won’t.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll call them. But come with me to the boathouse first. Let’s see if we can figure out what he’s done. Maybe we can catch sight of him.’

  She set off without him, breaking into a trot as she headed across the grass for the path they’d taken together on the tour of the Hall grounds, waving for him to follow her lead.

  A crazy thought flitted into his mind. Nobody else knew he was here. The fog was descending over Ravenbank, and soon darkness would fall too. Suppose he was walking into a weird kind of trap?

  Fantastic. Yet not impossible? What if Melody was afraid he was about to give them away, what if she or her husband had let something slip that would link them to Terri’s murder, or Shenagh’s, or both? He’d already worked out they might sleep in separate rooms. What if …?

  No, no, no.

  He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Now wasn’t the time to get carried away by his obsessive interest in the drama of murder. Melody was many things, but she wasn’t a deranged psychopath. In a momentary flash of bravado, he told himself he’d stake his life on that. Whatever her failings, this was a woman who did not betray; she had suffered betrayal. A victim, not a culprit.

  Melody reached the path and turned to face him.

  ‘Come on!’

  He sucked cold Cumbrian air into his lungs, and set off after her.

  Hannah’s brain was hurting by the time she packed her notes into her briefcase and locked her office. She didn’t have the time or inclination to agonise about Greg’s resignation. He was a grown man, and had to take responsibility for his own decisions. The notes Les had given her raised endless questions, and she’d decided to beat the deteriorating weather and try to work out some answers at home. His experience meant that he’d distilled a handful of telling details from the morass of information facing him as he waded through the Blue Book and the background papers.

  Half a dozen people were on the spot in Ravenbank at the time of both murders. Whatever else he’d done, Stefan probably wasn’t guilty of bludgeoning Terri to death. He’d been someone else’s cat’s paw. And if that was true of him, it was likely true of Craig Meek. The key to the mystery lay in the killing of Shenagh. Find the motive for that crime, and you’d find the culprit.

  The fog was closing in, and the journey back to Undercrag took twice as long as usual. She decided to invite Fern to stay for the night. The last thing she wanted was for Fern to risk driving home later in lousy conditions after a long and exhausting day. She didn’t fancy any more visits to the bedside of RTC victims. Besides, she could do with Fern’s company. After a couple of nights at Tarn Cottage, the prospect of tossing and turning in her lonely bed at home had zero appeal.

  Once at home, she made herself a coffee and resumed her study of Les’s notes. Fern called to say she should arrive in another half an hour, the cue for Hannah to order the pizzas and garlic bread. When the doorbell rang, she thought the pizza delivery man had made it in record time.

  Marc stood on the doorstep, his face muffled by a scarf his mother had knitted, a padded envelope in his hand.

  ‘Here are the keys. I th
ought I ought to let you have them, so you won’t be worrying that I might make any more unwanted calls now I’m out of hospital.’

  She’d seen him look prettier, but he was in one piece, and so far as she could tell, the cuts on his face were beginning to heal. She held out her hand.

  ‘Thanks.’ No way was she going to invite him in. ‘You needn’t have bothered to deliver them in person, especially on a night like this.’

  ‘I felt I had to do it, as soon as I was discharged. Sort of symbolic, if you know what I mean. End of an era, and all that.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘I’ll speak to the estate agent tomorrow. I’m assuming you don’t want to make me an offer to buy out my share?’

  She shook her head. ‘This isn’t a house for one person. I rattle around too much. I need a change. A small cottage, maybe.’

  ‘Greg isn’t moving in?’

  She gritted her teeth. Even when he tried to be on his best behaviour, he couldn’t resist a dig.

  ‘As a matter of fact, he’s moving on. He’s applied to be redeployed as part of the team restructure.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I told you, the other night was a dreadful mistake. I know it, and so does Greg.’ Though that wasn’t quite the point he’d made earlier this afternoon. ‘Anyway …’

  ‘I’d better get back to Grange, before this fog worsens.’ He paused. ‘It’s rotten about Terri, I know you thought the world of her.’

  ‘Yes, I did. Thanks very much for bringing back the keys. Give my love to your mum.’

  He gave her a look, as if to say: Who are you kidding?

  ‘Goodbye, Hannah.’

  ‘Take care.’

  She closed the door, and tossed the envelope onto a small table in the hall. Well, well, her life was getting less complicated by the minute. First Greg, now Marc. And it might be foggy outside, but her head was clearing.

  There was a reason why she felt nervy and excited – though she’d refused to admit it, even to herself – each time she heard Daniel’s voice. It wasn’t because he was his father’s son. He was interested in her, but he was determined not to show it, because he felt she wasn’t ready. Considerate of him, but clever as he was, he’d miscalculated. The truth was simple. He meant more to her than Marc and Greg put together.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Melody demanded.

  She and Daniel stood side by side on the shore, peering into the empty boathouse. It jutted out over a tiny inlet, close to the tip of the promontory. The Knights had replaced the rotting timber, and given it a fresh coat of white paint, as well as tiling the roof with new green slates. Daniel dared not guess the cost. A rich man’s whim, but now the rich man had gone AWOL.

  ‘What do you think is in his mind?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘I daren’t imagine,’ she said. ‘I’m so afraid.’

  ‘Does he often row over to Patterdale, or Glenridding?’

  ‘Hardly at all these days, the novelty has worn off. And never in weather as foul as this.’

  The chill air nipped at Daniel’s skin as if it had teeth, but she wasn’t talking about the temperature. Fog was rolling down from the fells that circled Ullswater, anonymising familiar scenes, blotting out fields and houses with a relentless tide of grey. Visibility was shrinking by the minute. Soon the lake would disappear beneath a cold and eerie blanket.

  Yes, nobody in his right mind would row out on such an afternoon, but Daniel was no longer sure Oz Knight was in his right mind. It still wasn’t impossible that he’d simply wandered off on his own to blow away the cobwebs. Melody couldn’t be one hundred per cent certain he had taken the boat out, but he’d thrown away his mobile close by, and King Ulf was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Is something preying on his conscience?’

  ‘What?’ She almost choked with anger. ‘He’s facing bankruptcy, and the last time I let him try to make love to me, he couldn’t even get it up. So much for the smart businessman and the smooth Lothario. Is that enough to satisfy your curiosity, Daniel, is that what you want to hear?’

  Her venom made him flinch. ‘About Terri’s death. If there’s anything …’

  ‘No!’ She cried out as if in pain. ‘What are you suggesting? Oz isn’t a violent man. He liked Terri. He’d never have harmed a hair on her head.’

  ‘What about Shenagh – might he have harmed her?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid!’ she shrieked. ‘My husband would never kill anyone. Let alone a woman who drove him almost insane with lust. He’s beaten, don’t you see? Everything he’s worked for is in ruins, and Terri’s murder is the final straw.’

  He clenched his fists, fighting for calm. ‘Sorry, Melody, but we won’t help Oz by arguing. Will you ring the police or shall I?’

  She pulled out her mobile. ‘I’ll do it. And I’ll go and fetch the people from Fell View. It will be quicker if I run along the shore, than going back down Ravenbank Lane.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll stay here till reinforcements arrive.’

  She hurried away down the shore path. He saw her speak into the phone, and when the call was over, break into a graceful, loping run. He watched until the path climbed upwards and away from the water, and she vanished into the trees.

  He gazed out across the lake. The fog was freezing, and denser than it had been even five minutes earlier. What was Oz Knight playing at? Was he intent on suicide? His throat dry, Daniel wondered if he might yet come face to face with a corpse for the second time in a week. For all the warm lining of his jacket, he found it impossible to stop shivering.

  He strained his eyes, peering into the murk. An image sprang into his mind from the macabre story he’d read at Watendlath. A flesh-creeping picture of a misshapen oarsman, a great grey nodding sponge, rowing to his doom.

  The fog, like the nameless evil in ‘The Voice in the Night’, was slow and silent and remorseless, consuming everything it encountered. Soon it would devour Ravenbank. All the landmarks he could identify were disappearing, one by one. The clawing intensity of the cold gnawing at his skin possessed a vindictiveness he’d seldom experienced before; it had become an enemy, intent upon destruction.

  He realised now that to think of the fog as a blanket was too cosy, too comfortable. There was nothing homely about this scene. He might be anywhere, or nowhere. Sinister and irresistible, the fog was spreading and stretching. Soon it would devour Ravenbank, as if in punishment for a history of one hundred years of violent death.

  Already the lake had disappeared. Buried beneath – how eerily appropriate – a frozen shroud.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘They must find him soon,’ Melody whispered. ‘He wasn’t wearing any waterproof gear and he’s been on the lake for over an hour now. How long can he last … in this?’

  They were standing on the shore, peering out into fog and darkness, because they didn’t know what else to do. Quin and Jeffrey Burgoyne had joined them; so had Robin and Miriam Park. Like mourners at a graveside.

  The police officers at Fell View Cottage had triggered a Lake Rescue Plan. There was an established routine when someone got into trouble on Ullswater, starting with a ring-round of declared resources. The volunteers from Patterdale Mountain Rescue Team were at the heart of things, coordinating operations along with the coastguard team, and the fire brigade.

  The team leader, himself a former cop, had quizzed Melody, looking for flesh to clothe the bare bones of a whereabouts feasibility study. Was there a particular destination that Oz would make for? What might be in his mind? Flailing around like a rag doll, Melody offered no clues. Oz had never done anything like this before. She felt she was living a nightmare from which she’d never wake up.

  ‘There’s no shortage of boats out looking for him,’ Jeffrey said. ‘The Outward Bound Trust, the steamship company, the Mountain Rescue team, they’re all on the case. Searching the shoreline, traversing the lake. The police have organised divers, the Mountain Rescue Team’s dogs are searching the shore to see if he’s run ag
round. They will find him, you can depend on it.’

  ‘They’ll find his dead body, you mean.’

  Melody buried her head in her hands. The cool, elegant woman from the conference – was it really less than one week ago? – had become flaky and frightened. She began to wail, a hideous, keening sound, like an animal caught in a trap.

  Miriam Park wrapped a strong arm around her, squeezing tight, trying to hush her. The family liaison officer had offered to stay with them, but Miriam had said there was no need; she’d spent a lifetime looking after people.

  ‘You have to grit your teeth, dear,’ she said. ‘It’s the only way to survive when things go wrong.’

  ‘You don’t understand. It’s … over.’

  ‘Hush, you don’t know what you’re saying.’ Miriam hesitated, and Daniel imagined her mental cogs whirring. ‘In any case, what on earth do you mean?’

  ‘We’re both ruined. Our business is dead in the water.’ A bitter laugh. ‘And so will Oz be, if this goes on any longer.’

  ‘You don’t think that he had anything to do with … what happened?’

  Melody shrieked, as if a knitting needle had been stuck into her stomach. ‘I don’t know what to think any more!’

  One of the police officers had told Daniel that, within minutes of receiving the call, the Mountain Rescue team was in the thick of the action. They’d launched their rigid inflatable craft from the pier at Glenridding. Twenty feet long, with massive lights rigged up on a gantry, he said. But in a white-out as dense as this, light scattered when it hit an object – you couldn’t see further than the hand in front of your face. Melody needed to cling to the volunteers’ years of experience, and their track record of saving countless lives, often out when all else failed.

  ‘The rescuers will find him soon.’ Jeffrey was in tower-of-strength mode, as if playing a part in a British stiff-upper-lip movie made just after the war. ‘Depend upon it. He may have found a sheltered spot. Near the bay at Howtown, perhaps.’