Murder on the Marshes_An absolutely gripping English murder mystery

by Clare Chase

  His tone had been matter-of-fact.

  And then he’d gone back to his flat where, shortly afterwards, Blake and Emma had interviewed him. It made Blake full of pent-up anger to think how little they’d guessed at that point.

  Tyler denied following Tara by car the day she’d visited her mother. It must have been someone else in a green car, on her tail by coincidence. And of course, she’d always said it might have just been paranoia…

  Fifty-Two

  Five days after her release from hospital, Tara was back in the Champion of Thames, opposite Blake himself. Now that the case was going to court, he’d shared more things with her, including what Kit Tyler had said at his interview.

  He was off duty, and had a whisky in front of him as large as her vodka. She raised her glass and he followed suit, holding his to hers.

  ‘So, thanks again for the small part you played in saving my life.’ She gave him a look. ‘You know, what with the clue solving and spotting me in the water and everything.’

  ‘Teamwork.’ He swigged his drink. ‘We’d all been throwing bits of the jigsaw down onto the table, and then we saw the pattern. You commenting on how professionally the dolls were made, just before I drove through Kit Tyler’s childhood village – where he’d lived with his seamstress mother – made something slot into place.’

  ‘Bloody glad it did.’ She hadn’t known Mrs Tyler’s profession.

  ‘You and me both.’

  She met his gaze.

  ‘I keep replaying the clues Kit Tyler dangled in front of me,’ Blake said. ‘He told me he was born locally, before moving away. And that he came to the institute specifically because Samantha Seabrook worked there. He was clever – each time he fed me a titbit like that he was waiting to see if the penny dropped. I suppose he was testing me too. If I’d seen through him before he got to Chiara…’

  She took a large slug of her drink. She could see the anguish in his eyes. ‘It wasn’t just you,’ she said. ‘He told me he came to Cambridge for the professor too. But the clues he left for us were pretty tenuous really. What happened in his life had consumed him for years, so the lipstick he sent Samantha Seabrook and his sister’s old doll seemed like sirens to him. Absolutely un-ignorable. But to everyone else they were part of a cacophony of noise that life makes as it careers along.’

  Blake looked at her for a long moment, but then he nodded. ‘But I almost got blinkered too – just like the lead officer on your stalking case. I was convinced for a while that Askey was our man.’

  Tara nodded. She’d thought the same.

  ‘Have you heard the latest about him?’ Blake asked.

  ‘No. What?’

  ‘His wife’s expecting again. They had a minor scare, which meant a trip to Addenbrooke’s. That’s why he didn’t show for Samantha Seabrook’s memorial service. But apparently the scan showed all’s well, according to Professor da Souza.’

  Tara shook her head. ‘And I expect if we ask after him this time next year he’ll be Professor Askey, rather than doctor, too.’

  Blake nodded and gave her a wry smile. ‘Sadly, shit does tend to float.’ But then his face became serious again. ‘If I’d told you everything I knew, do you think you’d have worked out what Kit Tyler was up to before he abducted you?’ His eyes were dark.

  She’d thought about that a lot as they’d talked. She would have been better prepared if he’d at least tried to fill her in. There was a chance she might have seen the truth. But this wasn’t the time to make him feel bad about it. She understood why he’d held back, and he had saved her life. It was just as well he was a good detective…

  So she shook her head and changed the subject. ‘I’ve quit my job, by the way.’

  He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I couldn’t stand my editor any more,’ she said. ‘But I’ll try to sell the story to another outlet. I need the money, and it will be worth it just to annoy him, too.’

  Blake gave her a half-smile. ‘I like your style. Though I guess he might try to make things hard for you.’

  ‘I suspect you’re right, but let’s not think about him.’ She’d enjoy the challenge of beating Giles over the long term.

  Blake nodded. ‘Fair enough.’

  Suddenly, she realised she envied him. He was still beating himself up – wishing he’d solved the case more quickly – but at least his conscience must be clear when it came to what he’d been aiming for. Whereas hers was always compromised because the desires of her media bosses were anything but pure. Maybe if I worked for better publications… But there were only so many of those jobs to go around.

  Her mind drifted yet again to the privileged knowledge the police had access to. She’d never found out the truth about Bella Seabrook, Samantha’s mother.

  She mentioned it to Blake. ‘Can you tell me, if I swear not to pass it on to anyone?’

  He put his head on one side and paused for a long moment. ‘If it was anyone else but you,’ he said at last, and she felt something warm spark up inside her. ‘All right then. Bella Seabrook had a drink problem and it wore the family down. Samantha in particular thought that her father’s focus was always on Bella, and that no one cared about her. Eventually, she started to make her feelings felt. She’d pick fights with her mother, Sir Brian said.

  ‘On the night Bella died, she and Samantha were up on the galleried landing at the family home. Samantha hurled abuse at her mother in response to what she saw as her bad behaviour. But it was a dangerous move. Sir Brian said Bella was completely out of control that night. She rushed at Samantha with an empty cut-glass decanter in her hand.

  ‘Sir Brian said he arrived on the scene just as it happened. Samantha was standing with her back to the low bannisters, her mother running at her full tilt. He only had a moment to take stock of the situation. He pulled his daughter out of the way, to stop Bella knocking her over the railings onto the hall tiles below. But Bella was tall and unbalanced after all she’d drunk. She went straight over the bannister herself, and landed head-first on the floor below. It’s clear Sir Brian feels he was responsible for his wife’s death; but equally that if he hadn’t acted, he might have lost his daughter.’ Blake shook his head. ‘I can only imagine Samantha must have carried that guilt with her, too.’

  She’d wanted to know, ever since she’d first read the ‘died in an accident’ explanation, but now she wished she hadn’t asked. Kit Tyler was right: the world was an unequal place, and action ought to be taken so that no one had to suffer like Jane had suffered. What she’d gone through was appalling. But he’d been wrong to allot so much of the responsibility to Samantha. She was a product of her background just as much as anyone else, and she’d had a horrible time too. It couldn’t have been easy, growing up with an alcoholic mother, then watching her die as a result of a fight you’d chosen to pick. It had been a lot to deal with for a fifteen-year-old – that uneasy stage between child and adulthood. A time when you could make decisions that would affect your whole life, without having the maturity to fully understand your actions.

  ‘You can see why Sir Brian wanted to avoid the publicity,’ Blake said.

  ‘You can.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Speaking of bad publicity, I suppose I won’t be able to keep it quiet that Kit Tyler used my own knife to force me to drive into the Fens?’

  Blake shook his head. ‘Probably not. He had his own weapon too though. I guess using yours amused him. And yours was a bigger beast.’

  Great.

  They drank in silence, and Tara was aware of Blake’s eyes on her again. It was evening time and he was wearing one of his well-cut jackets over a crisp white shirt, open at the neck, and dark trousers.

  He leant towards her and she found herself responding in kind.

  ‘There aren’t many people like you around, Tara,’ he said, and for a second his warm hand rested on her bare arm.

  ‘Probably just as well.’ She tried to laugh, but a shiver ran over her and she felt her heart rate increase.


  ‘I…’ he looked down at his empty glass for a moment and pulled back. ‘I wanted to mention – well just to say…’

  It wasn’t like him to hesitate.

  ‘I wanted to say, I’ve really enjoyed working with you on this case, and the time we’ve spent together.’

  Blake was still only inches from her. She felt something flutter inside her chest and looked up at him.

  But then suddenly, there was a new look in Blake’s eyes. And for a second, his focus was on the table in front of them, rather than on her. ‘My wife and I have been having difficulties,’ he said. There was a long pause. ‘But we’re talking about giving it another go.’ He looked as though he was asking something of her. Understanding? ‘It’s odd timing.’

  She felt something sink inside her. ‘What happened?’ Why had she asked? It was none of her business, but she couldn’t think what else to say.

  ‘It’s – well, it’s complicated. A story for another day, perhaps.’

  ‘Of course.’ The story of Tara’s life. Complicated.

  She jacked up a smile and took in his eyes, and that dark stubble. He had the killer combination of scruffy and smart she had such a weakness for. ‘I hope it works out,’ she said, wondering if she’d managed to hide her feelings. Why the hell had she thought he was going to ask her out? It wasn’t as though he’d ever done anything to suggest he might.

  ‘Thanks.’ He looked away for a moment, then turned back and downed the rest of his whisky. He got up from the stool he’d been sitting on and stood close to her chair. Hell. Even the lines around his eyes were attractive. ‘I’ll see you before the court case anyway.’

  He put his hand on her shoulder for a moment. She had the urge to cover it with hers, but instead, she just nodded. A look passed between them and then she watched as he turned and walked over to the pub door, out into the sunshine.

  Back at home Tara looked again at the reply Kemp had sent to her message, telling him she’d resigned from her job. He’d emailed it before the one in response to her near-death experience.

  Your email made me laugh. The idea of you as a cop! You’d never wear being told what to do, or working in a team. Imagine it. You’re too like me – a lone wolf. (I mean that in a good way, obviously. I don’t regret leaving the force.) They’d benefit from your investigative skills though. Joking apart, it’s just as well that’s not the career change you want. I don’t think you’d find it easy to get in, after what you did to that journalist. The circumstances have to be pretty exceptional for them to overlook that kind of history.

  His message stung. If Tara put her mind to it she could do it. If she needed to fit in, she’d fit. She was disciplined. Hadn’t Kemp realised that? She paced around the cottage’s sitting room. She’d only sent the damned message to Kemp as a joke in the first place. What was his problem?

  He doubted her, that was the truth.

  But then she pulled herself up short and realisation swept over her. One short week ago she’d have agreed with Kemp 100 per cent. She had the wrong temperament for a job with the police, and she would never work for them anyway; not after the way they’d let her down.

  But over the course of the Seabrook case she’d come to admire Blake and his methods. And at the same time, she’d had cause to re-examine her own work; to wonder how it might feel to use her investigative skills to a different end.

  And then Blake had jokingly floated the idea of her switching careers… though she’d laughed pretty heartily at the time, the idea had started to take root.

  For a second, her mind went back to what Blake had told her in the pub. Kit Tyler had confessed to following her on several occasions over the course of the case, but not when she’d driven to her mother’s. Had the car she’d spotted on her tail gone the entire distance with her by coincidence? Or was there more to it?

  Until the stalker from her teens was caught, she’d always live with bated breath; with that feeling that life was precarious. If she joined the police, she might even be able to access her old case files; see if she could succeed where the lead officer had failed…

  Even as her heart rate increased at the prospect, her insides sank. Applying for a job that involved contact with Blake might not be the best idea. But anything she did would involve two years in uniform first, she knew that much. And there was no reason she had to be in Cambridge. She could let her cottage out. She needed a fresh start; she was finished with being used by people like Giles.

  Ten minutes later, a large glass of red in her hand, she started to google entry rules for police officers. It looked as though they might let her in – even after her assault – if the circumstances had been exceptional. And they had been.

  She made a note of who to contact.

  Up yours, Kemp, she thought, smiling, as she closed her laptop lid an hour later. We’re not alike at all.

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  Author’s note

  Murder on the Marshes is set in Cambridge, and I’ve tried to remain generally true to the city’s streets, architecture and open spaces. However, locals will notice I’ve taken a few liberties, in particular by adding a fictitious college or two, and giving Tara Thorpe a house on Stourbridge Common, where none exists. The villages outside Cambridge are entirely made up.

  Although I have worked for the University of Cambridge – and one of its colleges – none of the characters in this book is based on any real person, living or dead. The people I met in the course of my job were some of the nicest I’ve known, and therefore unsuitable for inclusion in a murder mystery!

  A Letter from Clare

  Thank you so much for reading Murder on the Marshes. I do hope you enjoyed it as much as I liked writing it. If you’d like to keep up to date with all of my latest releases, you can sign up at the following link. Your email address will never be shared, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

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  My idea for this book came to me on a train journey to London; public transport is great for people watching (and it saves me from listening at keyholes…!). The interactions I overheard between parents and their offspring got me thinking about how childhood experiences can affect a person later, sometimes in unpredictable ways. After I’d finished worrying about the effect I might be having on my own kids, the idea for this story started to emerge. As ever, the seeds of the plot developed against a Cambridge backdrop. It’s my home city and inspires me in all sorts of ways. In this case, its high-achieving, pressure-cooker atmosphere was important to elements of my story.

  If you have time, I’d love it if you were able to write a review of Murder on the Marshes. Feedback is incredibly useful, and it also makes a huge difference in helping new readers discover my books for the first time.

  Alternatively, if you’d like to contact me personally, you can reach me via my website, Facebook page, Twitter or Instagram. I love hearing from readers.

  Again, thank you so much for deciding to spend some time reading Murder on the Marshes. I’m looking forward to sharing my next book with you very soon.

  With all best wishes,

  Clare x

  www.clarechase.com

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to begin with huge thanks as ever to my beloved family, Charlie, George and Ros, as well as to my wonderful parents, Penny and Mike – and also to Phil and Jenny, David and Pat, Helen, and my tremendously supportive wider family and friends. Special thanks too to my lovely colleagues at the RSC and to the Westfield gang, as well as to Andrea, Shelly, Mark, Hilary, Margaret and Ange.

  I’d also like to say how much I appreciate the writer friend
s I’ve made both in real life and online – I really enjoy being part of such a friendly and supportive group. Most recently, I’ve been introduced to my fellow Bookouture authors, who are a fantastic bunch. I’m hugely grateful to them for making me feel so welcome.

  Thanks as well to the wonderful book bloggers I’ve got to know, whose generosity, kindness and enthusiasm has been amazing.

  I’m also hugely grateful to my readers. Getting messages via my website, Twitter and Facebook page is truly special.

  And last, but definitely not least, I would like to thank everyone at Bookouture. I’m so grateful to my amazing editor Kathryn Taussig, whose ideas, advice and encouragement have been second to none, as well as to Maisie Lawrence, whose input has also been fantastic. I’d like to relay heartfelt thanks to Peta Nightingale for her encouragement when I first submitted work to Bookouture; it meant a lot. And massive thanks too, to the human dynamos, Kim Nash and Noelle Holten, who do the most incredible amount to promote our books! I also much appreciate the regular updates from Peta, and also Oliver Rhodes; it’s great to feel so involved with Bookouture’s plans and developments. This is my first book for the company, and I know there are many more people I’ve yet to connect with – I’d like to pass on thanks to them too.