Dying to Know (A Detective Inspector Berenice Killick Mystery)

by Alison Joseph

  Ashford, Berenice thought. I wonder if the Chief has told them to expect me. I wonder how long it’ll take until they call me in.

  The kettle had boiled. She poured more coffee.

  She flicked through the book, again.

  Perhaps I’ve brought this on myself, she thought.

  This God, that van Mielen believes in, his daughter too. Those physicists… they don’t seem to need God.

  And that nice vicar…

  And me?

  My God is a loud, angry God, the one I was raised with. The one who took my brother up to Heaven because I wasn’t good enough, because I didn’t deserve a brother…

  Did they say that? Did I just think it? Did my mother make it clear, without putting it into words?

  Is that my God now?

  She reached for the plastic folders that contained the hate mail.

  I wonder how long it’ll take before the Chief misses these, she thought.

  She read them, again, holding the plastic covers flat.

  There were six, all saying roughly the same thing. That the lab was bringing evil upon us. That it had to be stopped.

  Whoever’s writing these notes believes that the lab is dangerous. Whoever killed these physicists believes that murder is the lesser harm.

  The most recent looked slightly different. Same red pen, but the writing a bit neater, the wording more correct.

  She stared at it. It was Liam Phelps who’d reported it. It had come from Iain Hendrickson. And then Iain…

  The last note. The last death.

  And the notes had stopped.

  Perhaps the killer believes they’ve done their job.

  Or, he’s done a runner, and taken the poor kid with him.

  She gazed at the red ink scrawls.

  It doesn’t add up. Clem Voake is a small-time crook. A dealer in firearms. These notes are impassioned, steeped in righteousness.

  Perhaps the Chief was right to move me. I’m used to order. I’m used to criminals being criminal, and leaving traces, and being caught. The courts, well that’s up to them, but I’m used to doing my job well. But this… this is chaos. This is like smashing atoms and trying to see stuff in the mess, muons, mesons…

  Tobias’s box was sitting on the kitchen table. She pulled it towards her. She fingered the tiny bottles, the plastic lion, the postcard of the painting, Adam in the Garden, he’d said… She thought about Tobias’s orderly world where things could be grouped, managed, catalogued.

  I am out of my depth.

  What has any of this got to do with physics, or collisions? What makes three intelligent men all want to go to Hank’s Tower, one after the other, all meeting their death there?

  She bent to her case, and pulled out a plastic bag, in which was wrapped the green plastic lion. She took the lion out of the bag, and placed it carefully in Tobias’s collection.

  She clicked on her laptop. She pulled up a map, and traced lines on the screen; from the lab to the old Voake house; from the old house to Hank’s Tower; from Hank’s Tower to the Lab.

  Liam wandered through his flat, his hair still wet from the shower. There were papers in heaps here and there, on the landing by his bedroom door, on a spare chair outside the bathroom. He pulled on a sweater, went to the kettle, opened cupboards in search of coffee.

  ‘Breakfast, Jonas,’ he said.

  The dog sat at his feet, nosing at a packet of dry dog food.

  ‘Paw, Jonas,’ and the dog offered him a paw to shake.

  ‘Good dog.’ He put down the bowl of food. ‘The problem is, Jonas – ’ He went to the fridge, poured a glass of orange juice – ‘Women. Closed book. You’re lucky you don’t have to bother with all that…’ He glanced down at Jonas, who was watching him, one ear cocked. ‘Or perhaps you don’t see it that way. Impudent of me to presume, old chap…’ He sipped his juice. ‘I mean, I could call her. But then what? Last time I did that with a woman, got involved like that, it all went wrong, didn’t it, boy? Do you remember all that dumping of possessions outside my window? And it’s pouring with rain, and there’s me, running around trying to save the books, and half those chemicals were radioactive. Just as well she decided to run off to Almeria with a piano tuner.’

  Jonas returned to eating. ‘Oh, you’ve heard it all before, boy.’ Liam poured coffee, carried a mug over to the kitchen table. He shifted a pile of papers to clear a space, wiped some crumbs from the surface with the side of his hand, reached for his laptop. He sipped coffee, staring at the screen, idly scrolling.

  ‘Recorded luminosity of a hundred and sixty-three point two. But you see, Jonas, at one inverse femtobarn…’ He scrolled some more. ‘These are weird. If these aren’t strong WW bosons…’ He flicked through some papers at his side, pulled out a sheet of figures. ‘I’d show these to you, but you chewed the last lot.’ He rang his finger along the paper. ‘It’s the generation of the W Boson mass. Perhaps Murdo was right about the Higgs mechanism… It still doesn’t explain all this.’

  It doesn’t explain three killings either.

  He’d had sister on the phone, ‘For Christ’s sake Liam, who’s next? Just get away from there, it’s all very well that bloke on the news going on about round-the-clock policing, you’re my only living relative, well, apart from Jake but he’s just my husband…’

  And Lisa. And Tobias.

  I ought to find out what’s happened.

  Helen would know.

  He stood up and refilled his mug. Jonas had finished eating, and was looking at him. ‘If I call her, what then? And if I don’t…?’ He went back to his computer and stared at the screen. ‘A married woman,’ he said. ‘Typical of me. It’s never straightforward, is it boy?’

  Jonas’s tail thumped loudly on the kitchen floor. Liam scrolled down his screen, scribbling numbers on the papers at his side.

  Helen watched her husband. She sat with a cup of tea in front of her, her chin resting on her hands. He was spreading butter on a piece of toast.

  ‘Elizabeth said she’d go to the police this morning.’

  He looked up. ‘Why?’

  ‘I told you,’ she said. ‘We found the hair band. And the dog.’

  ‘Why?’ he said. He laid his knife down beside his place. ‘Why are you getting so involved in all this?’

  He was paper pale, the window bright behind him.

  She might have said, Because I care. She might have said, Because I’ve got nothing else to do, nothing else to live for…

  ‘You’re just the same,’ she said.

  ‘Virginia’s a parishioner,’ he said, and she wondered how he knew that’s what she meant. ‘I didn’t spend all that time with the police for fun,’ he said. ‘She has to have someone on her side.’

  ‘What’s she got to hide?’ Helen stood up, bent to put her plate in the dishwasher.

  ‘Hide?’ His voice was sharp behind her.

  ‘Yes. She had the book. She was dead keen to pass it on to you. Why?’

  ‘Her husband,’ he began.

  ‘Her husband was in love with Elizabeth.’

  ‘Your new best friend,’ he said.

  She stacked mugs, plates, loudly into cupboards. ‘Wasn’t he?’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’ He stared at the table. ‘Yes, he was.’

  She turned to him. ‘See what I mean? Too much to hide.’

  ‘Why is that hiding anything?’ The chair scraped the floor as he stood up. ‘She’s struggling, surely you can see that? Her husband killed, that poor boy she cares for under suspicion, all these rumours of her husband’s infidelity – ’

  ‘More than rumours,’ she said.

  ‘Well you’d know all about that,’ he said. ‘Who went with you?’

  ‘When?’

  ‘When you visited the caravan and bumped into the Merletti woman.’

  She breathed. ‘I went alone,’ she said.

  A mutual pause. They stared at each other. Then he turned, picked up his jacket from the back of the chair. ‘I have to s
ee the archdeacon,’ he said. ‘Insurance renewal. And then…’

  ‘And then?’

  He turned back to her. ‘Virginia…’ he began. ‘Just a short visit… after that Detective woman yesterday, Tobias is still in danger of being arrested…’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said.

  His eyes held hers. ‘I…’

  She waited.

  He fiddled his keys into a pocket. ‘I’ll be back for dinner.’

  She heard the front door slam.

  The house was cold. Even her studio was cold. She stood in the silence, one hand on the barre, immobile, staring at the sea, at the gathering rainclouds.

  Berenice’s mobile rang loudly on the table.

  ‘Mary - ’ she snatched it up.

  ‘Are you hiding?’

  ‘Something like that, yeah. Any news?’

  ‘Nada. Though, what do I know, the Chief’s been in hiding with his homies from the Met all morning. Nah, I just thought I’d wish you a nice weekend. Seeing as we’re off the case.’

  ‘Weekend?’ Berenice looked at the rain-spattered window.

  ‘Oh, Boss, don’t tell me – ’

  ‘I just thought I’d call into the lab. They’re clever guys, I can ask them all about everything.’

  ‘Even though – ’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was firm.

  ‘You mean, they can take the case off the girl but they can’t take the girl off the case?’

  Berenice laughed. ‘Something like that. What about you?’

  ‘London, since you ask. Hen night. Remember Issy from college?’

  ‘She’s never getting married.’

  ‘To a girl.’

  ‘Ah.’ Berenice said. ‘Lucky her.’

  ‘See you Monday. Or, tomorrow. If they cancel all leave again.’

  Her phone clicked off. The kitchen seemed even quieter. Berenice put the Book into her bag, picked up her car keys and left.

  I need him to save me from myself.

  Helen crossed the room and sat down at the table.

  I need Chad to see…

  She stared into a cup of cold tea.

  He’s the last person I can ask. My own husband…

  How has it come to this? The man I love, taking refuge in that weird cottage…

  If only… if only he’d reach out to me instead.

  She saw him, wind-blown, coat flapping, striding along the cliffs towards that woman’s fireside. She recalled Elizabeth’s words about Amelia, how she was angry with Gabriel…

  A car engine approached. Perhaps he’d come back, perhaps he, too, had realized that all that was left to them was to cling together, hold fast, wait for this tide of chaos to wash back out and leave them alone once more…

  The car engine faded away to silence.

  The silence was shattered by the ringing of her mobile phone.

  Liam, she saw, answering it.

  ‘Hi,’ she said.

  His voice was low, warm, apologetic.

  ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘The lab. I’ll see you then.’

  One tiny decision, Helen thought, accelerating away from the lights. Should I, shouldn’t I… So, you say yes. And then everything follows from there, and then the decisions aren’t small any more, they’re huge great big things…

  She turned on to the ring road out of town.

  Life is too short to turn away from love. Or, life is too short to do the wrong thing.

  Not a decision at all, in fact. Just fumbling my way through the chaos. Knowing that I have to see him again. Wanting so much to see him again that I can hardly breathe.

  In the fields around her, the grass glinted wetly, the frost thawing in the sunlight.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘It was you I wanted to see.’ Berenice thumped her briefcase down on Liam’s desk.

  ‘Me?’ He looked up at her. ‘What do I know?’

  Berenice pulled up a chair next to him. ‘This case. It’s about physics. And it’s about men. And you’re an expert in both.’

  He laughed. ‘Not me, lady. I’m an expert in neither. The truth of my work is elusive. And as for being a man… completely in the dark about that. But fire ahead.’

  She smiled. ‘OK. What we know is, there’s something about the experiment you guys are working on. There’s something that’s drawn three physicists to Hank’s Tower. And then, between Iain and Murdo, this Elizabeth – ’

  Liam held up his hand. ‘That was years ago. From what I’ve heard, there was gossip, sure. But then Elizabeth was in Italy.’

  ‘And then she came back.’

  Liam adjusted his desk chair.

  ‘This experiment,’ Berenice pursued. ‘There’ve been odd results.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you want to tell me?’

  He eyed her, as if making a judgement. ‘It’s dynamical symmetry breaking, strong WW Boson scattering.’

  ‘Right,’ she said.

  ‘The force that arrests the growth of the collision rate is also responsible for generation of the W boson mass. That’s what we’re looking at.’

  ‘Go on,’ she said.

  He hesitated. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘It’s all about the three generations of spin-half particles, measured in units of Planck’s quantum. What we’re looking at is asymmetry, where matter dominates. At the point where you’re colliding protons at ten giga electronvolts, B-mesons are visible.’

  ‘Visible how?’

  ‘By the patterns of the particles in the collisions.’

  Berenice nodded. ‘Right,’ she said.

  There was a small silence. ‘I told you I wasn’t an expert,’ he said.

  ‘Sounds pretty clever to me,’ she said.

  He shook his head. ‘If I was really clever, I’d be able to explain it in a way you’d understand. You see, however many equations you do, it can only explain a tiny part. It’s like the Buddha’s handful of leaves.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘The Buddha, with his disciples in the forest, he holds out a handful of leaves, and he says in terms of what they could know, there are all the leaves in the forest, but they only need that. Just the handful he’s offering them.’

  ‘A scientist and a hippy too,’ she said.

  ‘You’d be surprised.’

  ‘I thought you scientists were supposed to be finding the answer.’

  ‘To everything?’

  ‘Isn’t that what we’re paying you for?’

  He laughed. ‘That’s what I love about all this.’ He waved his arm, as if to take in the grey office walls, the piles of papers on the floor, the thin strip of light across the ceiling, the plastic blinds on the window.

  ‘You do?’ she said.

  ‘Over at CERN,’ he said, ‘they’re replicating the conditions of the universe when it was less than a trillionth of a second old.’

  ‘And you’re telling me they don’t know why they’re doing that?’

  ‘What I’m saying is, we know what questions to ask. And we have the technology to set up the experiment to ask those questions. But no, we don’t know the answer. And if we did…’ He flicked at the plastic blinds, glanced outside. ‘If we did, we wouldn’t bother with the experiment, would we. It’s a huge act of faith.’

  ‘Oh. And there’s me thinking that science was about evidence, not faith.’

  ‘But you can’t have one without the other. That’s what I love about it. We’re a tiny planet on the edge of a minor solar system. We’re tiny life forms, on a tiny planet. We’re investigating the smallest possible components of matter, smaller than anyone’s ever seen. When we look outwards, we see stars, solar systems so far away they don’t even exist by now. And we ask questions. We investigate it, get to know it, get to know more about it… But we can’t do that without accepting, first and foremost, how little we know. We’re adrift in the chaos. You have to start from that. You can call it God if you want, and then it has meaning, it has a story, a reason… but if you don’t have God, i
f you trust in Science, as I do…’ He looked up at her. ‘That’s what science is. Being brave in the chaos.’

  ‘And is there still a story?’

  He glanced towards the window, then back at her. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘There’s a story. But you have to be careful about who’s doing the telling of it. If it’s God, you see, then you have the True Story, already written, In the beginning was the Word, all that… If it’s just us, here, now, then you have to be careful. You can’t just make it up. You have to be clear about what you can say about it.’

  ‘Hence the very expensive tunnel,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘And you don’t mind the chaos?’

  He smiled. ‘I don’t need my life to make sense.’

  Again, the glance towards the car park.

  Berenice smoothed her jacket. ‘Well, that’s physics covered. What about men? Murdo Maguire and Iain, and the Professor…’

  His laugh faded. ‘We’ve lost three very good scientists,’ he said. ‘Two of them more than very good. Irreplaceable. And in such circumstances… we’re all very jumpy here, you know. Did you send those heavies to man the front gates?’

  ‘Um…’ She hesitated. ‘Not me personally, no.’

  ‘My sister thinks I need a personal body guard, not bouncers,’ he went on. ‘Tell me honestly…’ He fixed her with a clear gaze. ‘Do you think we’re all in danger here?’

  ‘Do you?’ she countered.

  ‘You’re the expert,’ he said.

  She got up, went over to the window. She turned and faced him. ‘Like you, my job involves seeing patterns in things. Seeing order in chaos. Murdo, Iain, Alan. They’re all connected. There’s the land sale, from the Voakes, which has got the wrong side of Clem, the old house on the edge of the lab. There’s Tobias, and his connection with the book, the van Mielen thing. And…’ She returned to her seat, looked up at him. ‘There’s the relationship between Elizabeth, Murdo and Iain.’

  ‘They were friends,’ he said.

  ‘How much would you have known, you and the rest of the lab?’

  ‘Good scientists are team players. They don’t keep secrets.’

  ‘Even from each other?’

  His reply was measured. ‘We knew, you see. Those three. We just accepted it. And then Elizabeth left, and the other two went back to normal.’