“Not off the top of my head. How long had the body been there?”
“Roughly three years,” Elwyn said.
“Like I said, we were busy. Plenty of folk visited the mill and those units. The bloke who fixed cars was open seven days until late. The poor sod you found could be anyone, and not necessarily someone from round here.”
Enough questions for now. Rita Pearce was becoming agitated. Rachel handed her a card. “If anything occurs to you, Rita, give us a ring.”
Back outside, the detectives looked up and down the road. A group of reporters were hanging about at the entrance to the mill.
“What d’you think?” Elwyn asked.
“What, of that bunch? Not a lot.”
“Not them. Rita Pearce. I thought she was twitchy. She gave me the impression she was holding something back.”
Rachel shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“What now?”
“It’s gone six, so I’m off home. I’ll drop you at the station.”
“Have that chat with Alan tonight,” Elwyn suggested. “It’ll clear the air and you’ll feel tons better.”
Good advice, but it could just as easily backfire. Her ex-husband would not take the news well. Rachel decided she’d give it some consideration.
* * *
The minute the detectives were out of the building, Rita Pearce helped herself to a brandy. She was shaking badly.
Kath Madison appeared from the back room and put a hand on her shoulder. “No need to tell me, I can guess. They were police, right?”
Rita nodded. She turned around and glanced into the corridor that led to their flat. She needed to make sure Jaz had left. “That body from the mill. They found my missing debit card with it.”
“It was stolen, everyone knows that. Perhaps some homeless bloke took it.”
Rita shook her head. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.” She took a slug of the brandy. “I think that body is Gav’s. And if it is, you know what that means.”
“Look, that brute you’re married to is a lot of things, but he isn’t a killer. He hits you because you don’t fight back. Gav was a big bloke, well able to take care of himself. If Ray tried anything, he’d have made mincemeat of him.”
But Rita wasn’t convinced. That body was Gav’s, she just knew it.
Chapter Eight
The A6 was busy and traffic slow, so Rachel had plenty of time to think on her way home. Elwyn was right, this wouldn’t keep. When it came down to it, she was more afraid of telling Mia, her youngest daughter, than anyone else. Mia’d know at once who the father of the unborn child was, and it would confirm her suspicions that Jed was her father too. Well, that particular uncomfortable truth must stay secret for now. Mia was only fourteen and wouldn’t understand. Apart from which, it would devastate Alan.
Darkness had fallen. The lane where Rachel lived was usually still and quiet but tonight her house was noisy, lights blazing out into the night sky. The house sat on a country lane in the Cheshire village of Poynton, and there were no nosey neighbours to peer in through the open curtains or hear the loud music and raucous laughter. Rachel had no idea what was going on, just that it appeared to be some sort of celebration.
An excited Alan met her in the hallway and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Rachel! Come through. We’ve got champagne on the go.”
What was the champagne for? “No, I couldn’t. I need to eat something first. I’ve hardly managed a bite all day. After that I could do with a word.”
Alan, her ex-husband, lived in the semi-detached cottage adjoining Rachel’s. It was an unusual set-up for a divorced couple, but the arrangement suited them. Their two daughters had the run of both houses and divided their time between them. For their sakes, Rachel and Alan had remained friends, so it worked out well.
He was smiling broadly. “Belinda’s here. We’ve got something to tell you.”
Belinda Bellamy and Alan had been an item for a while. She was a little older than Alan and ran a small local farm and shop, mostly on her own, which she complained about all the time.
“Is this what I think it is?” Rachel asked, scrutinising that smile. “Are you moving in with her?”
Before Alan could reply, Mia rushed up to greet her mother.
“Isn’t it great? Me and Megan will be bridesmaids.”
Rachel stared at Alan, who was nodding vigorously. “That’s right. Me and Belinda are getting married.”
“Married!” Rachel echoed. “Isn’t it all, well, a bit soon?”
“No, it’s just perfect. I love Belinda and she loves me.” He put a reassuring arm around Rachel’s shoulder. “It won’t change anything between us four. The girls will still be at the centre of my life and I will always look out for you.”
Rachel smiled. That wasn’t true. This and the baby would change everything. Life in the King household would never be the same again. “I wish you luck. You deserve to be happy, Alan. Will Belinda move in with you?”
“That’s another big change,” he said. “I’m selling the house.”
This really threw her off balance. Rachel was silent for a moment, stunned. Of course, she had no right to dictate where Alan lived, but having him next door had been a godsend while the girls were growing up.
“You’re moving in with her?”
“No, we want a fresh start, so Belinda is selling the farm. She’s keeping the shop — it’s doing well and gives her a reasonable income. We’re buying a property together. We’ve seen something we like in Bollington.”
Bollington was on the outskirts of Macclesfield. It wasn’t far. “You’ll have to take me to see it,” she said.
“I will. Come on through. I’ve made food. I’ll get you something.”
Her daughters, Megan and Mia, were in the kitchen chatting to Belinda. Belinda was a big woman but strong, not flabby. She came forward and almost crushed skinny Rachel in an enormous hug.
“You’re not upset about this, are you? I know you and Alan are still close.”
Rachel shook her head. “We’re friends, that’s all,” She smiled. “I’m very happy for you both. A new house, too. Are you okay with that? That farm has been your life.”
“And my father’s before me. It’s time to let it go, Rachel. I’ve slogged away at it for far too long. It’s damned hard work and I hate the early mornings. The shop will do me fine. I’ll get stock from all the farms in the area and the family who are buying my farm will continue to supply me.”
“Wonder who I’ll get next door?” mused Rachel.
“He’s told the estate agent in the village. There have been a number of enquiries already, I believe,” Belinda said.
Whoever bought Alan’s cottage would have to be pretty easy-going. With two teenage daughters, at times the noise was off the scale. And soon there would be a baby to add to the mix.
“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Alan asked. “Important, is it?”
Rachel shook her head. “It’s nothing that won’t wait.”
Chapter Nine
Wednesday
As Rachel arrived at work the following morning she was greeted by an excited Jonny. “I’ve got an appointment with the manager from Shawcross Estates this morning, ma’am,” he said. “He didn’t sound happy about talking to us, or having a body found on the premises. Apparently, the mill is about to be put up for sale. He’s worried it’ll put prospective buyers off.”
“Why now, I wonder? It’s stood empty for years and all of a sudden, it’s on the market.” Rachel went to her office, curious about this development. She poured herself an orange juice and toyed with the idea of asking Jed. He was a developer and knew the property market in Manchester like the back of his hand. He was bound to know what was going on. But it would be tantamount to inviting him back into her life, and she wasn’t ready for that yet.
“Jonny!” she shouted. “I’ll come with you to see the bloke from Shawcross.” She’d have to speak to them about the tenants anyway.
“You do it, Elwyn. I’m off to see the manager of Shawcross Estates. It’ll do no harm to get a feel of what they’re like.”
“Orange juice?”
“Not my usual morning tipple, I know, but strong coffee is out the window at the moment.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Not really,” she said. “A lot to think about, both personal and workwise. We have to move on this one, Elwyn. Not a word to the others — I don’t want them rattled — but Kenton has given me a week to wrap the case up.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Cold cases get it. He’s not been in the job two minutes, and he’s penny-pinching already.”
“Never mind the case, are you okay?”
“I know what you meant.” She smiled. Elwyn had that concerned expression on his face, the one she recognised only too well. What to tell him? She wasn’t ready to discuss the Alan thing with anyone just yet, not even Elwyn. “Relax, Elwyn, all’s fine.”
* * *
Shawcross Hall occupied a prime position above the village of Prestbury, not far from Macclesfield. The house had been built by the first mill owner, Thomas Shawcross, and the family had run the business from there ever since.
As the house appeared at the end of the long, winding driveway, Jonny’s eyes widened. “It’s huge. More like a stately home than a family house. What d’you reckon he’s like?”
“I’ve never met any of them, so I couldn’t say. Back in the day, the Shawcross family were like royalty, particularly in Ancoats — not that they ever lived there. They employed most of the population around the mill and owned all the houses the workers lived in.”
“Wonder what he’s like, the main man?”
“I doubt he’s as grand as his ancestor. Thomas Shawcross must have really thought he was something to build a pile like this. Mathew is forty-seven and I would imagine he has to work hard for every penny like the rest of us. Cotton isn’t king any more, Jonny. That mill is rotting away, and I presume there’s no money to stop it doing so.”
“You’ve done your research, ma’am.”
“A quick internet search last night, that’s all.”
“I did some research too,” Jonny said. “He has some investments that must bring in a reasonable income, but I found nothing that would keep this little lot going.”
“Perhaps he’s living off family money,” Rachel said. “They made a small fortune out of that mill well into the twentieth century.”
“Don’t forget there were a number of court cases,” Jonny said. “Cotton lung was a killer. One successful claim back in the seventies opened the floodgates. I don’t know what’s left, but I’ll lay odds the firm’s funds were seriously depleted.”
They parked up by the main entrance, and saw a man approach from the rear of the car. Smiling, he tapped on the passenger window.
“Come on inside, I’ll organise some tea.”
Rachel wound down the window and showed him her warrant card. “We’ve got an appointment with the estate manager.”
“I know, but Andrew is busy with a domestic matter. You’ll have to make do with me, I’m afraid.”
“And you are?” Jonny asked.
“Mathew Shawcross.” He grinned. “There’s nothing about this place or the mill that I don’t know.”
So, this was the man himself. He wasn’t at all what Rachel had been expecting. He was a lot friendlier, for one, not at all put out by a visit from the police.
They followed him inside. The huge square hall was magnificent. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, with matching lights adorning the walls. The walls themselves were covered in an elaborate patterned wallpaper and adorned with family portraits. Against one wall stood a large antique cabinet, filled with porcelain figures. The whole place reminded Rachel of a museum exhibition.
“Those are my bloody ancestors,” Shawcross explained. “I’d shift the lot of them if I could, but he —” he pointed to one, “that’s the man himself, Thomas — stipulated in his will that the place was to stay just as he’d left it. Which is a bit of a bugger, to be honest. There’s nothing comfortable about nineteenth-century furniture.”
He took them into a large dining room and then through that to a much smaller sitting room with a conservatory attached.
“We tend to live in the rooms on this side of the house. The place might look impressive but it’s far too large to use all of it, and it’s cold, even in the summer.”
Rachel looked around. This room was modern with two large sofas and a large flat-screen TV on the wall. Tidy enough, except for a pile of cardboard boxes stacked in a corner.
“Those belong to my daughter, Millie,” he explained. “She’s about to move out. Millie and a friend have got themselves a place in town. Can’t say I’m thrilled, I’ll miss her, but what d’you do? You can’t keep them for ever and she’s old enough to please herself.”
Rachel knew from her research that Mathew Shawcross was a divorcee and had only the one daughter. He would be lonely, rattling round in this huge pile on his own.
“You do know about the body that was found in the mill?” Jonny asked.
Shawcross gestured for them to sit down. “Yes, of course, dreadful business. I did hope it was nothing untoward. A homeless person, perhaps, who’d fallen foul of the weather. That would have been bad enough, but it was murder, I’m told.”
“Yes, it was,” Rachel said. “We urgently need to find out who he was and then contact his family.”
“Anything I can do to help, just ask,” Shawcross said.
“A list of all your tenants going back three years will do for starters,” Jonny said. He passed Shawcross an image of the leather jacket. “There’s this, too. Do you happen to know who it might belong to?”
Shawcross took a good look and shook his head. “I should have said, I haven’t actually set foot in the mill for years. In the days when we let the units, my manager collected the rents.”
“We’ll need his details too,” Jonny said.
“Yes, of course. He still works for me. Back then there were others too, but they have left.”
A young woman entered the room and put a suitcase down beside the boxes.
“This is Millie, my daughter,” Shawcross said. “These are police officers,” he told her. “They’re here about the body found in the mill.”
Millie Shawcross was staring at Jonny. “Jonno?” she said. “It is you, isn’t it?” Her face broke into a smile. “It’s been ages, but you’ve hardly changed at all.”
Jonny Farrell looked embarrassed. “Millie and I knew each other at university, ma’am.”
Millie was attractive, tall with blonde hair. She looked very like her father.
“Police? I was convinced you’d join your father’s empire, Jonno. What happened? Wouldn’t he have you?”
Jonny shrugged. “I didn’t fancy it, and anyway I always wanted to be a detective.”
She pulled a face. “But the things you do, the sights you see — the murder in our mill being a case in point. That building should have been pulled down years ago. If it had, perhaps that poor bloke would still be alive.” She looked at her father. “I don’t know why you insist on keeping it. It’s obviously a death trap. Some poor sod was killed there, surely you have to do something now?” She turned to Jonny. “I’ve got to get on, this lot wants putting in my car.”
Jonny picked up one of the boxes. “I’ll give you a hand.”
“Millie doesn’t understand,” Shawcross said as the two of them left the room. “How can I pull the place down? It made this family’s fortune and provided a living for most of Ancoats in its day. Thomas would turn in his grave if it was destroyed.”
“But it is dangerous, Mr Shawcross,” Rachel said. “It’s crumbling away, and the roof is unsafe. The local kids keep breaking in, and at least one young man is using it as a venue to deal drugs. They have been warned but that won’t stop them. There could be a nasty incident anytime. Health and Safety have looked around and they’re not happy.”
His face fell. “I know. They’ve been on the phone. Whether I like it or not, Shawcross Mill is coming to the end of its days. I’ll just have to face facts. I’ve had my head in the sand for years, but it’s a terrible decision to make. I’ll be tearing down my family’s history.”
“A difficult decision,” Rachel said. “But it’s a brownfield site within hailing distance of the city. I’m surprised the developers haven’t been falling over themselves to take it off your hands.”
He smiled. “Well, if they are, they haven’t spoken to me.”
“And your security firm — the locals are running rings around them,” she said. “Given the dealing and now the discovery of that body, it needs tightening up.”
“The firm I use only does the rounds every twelve hours. They patrol the perimeter and the ground floor.”
“The locals have their routine sussed, as do the kids who play in there,” Rachel said.
“I’ll get on to them, increase the watch,” Shawcross said. “I’d hate it if anyone else got hurt. One is bad enough.”
Rachel stood up. “If you give me those details, we’ll be on our way.”
“Yes of course. Give me a moment.” He got to his feet and disappeared. Minutes later, he returned with a printout. “Here you are. Everyone who’s had anything to do with the mill during the last three years. It’s all there, the security firm and the details of my employees.”
Rachel smiled. “Thanks. You’ve been very helpful.”
“I’ll see you out.”
They walked back through the opulent hallway to the front door. “Have you ever thought of opening this place to the public?” asked Rachel.
FORGOTTEN VICTIM an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detective Rachel King Thrillers Book 4) Page 4