The Christmas Killer

by Alex Pine

  Annie knew all this because his father Ron was one of the elderly people who Janet visited on a regular basis as a carer. And, of course, there was no way she could resist passing on what she knew to her long-time friend.

  Annie still thought about Daniel from time to time but had long ago come to the conclusion that he hadn’t loved her, even though he’d made her believe that he had. She would never forget what her father said to her when he entered her room and found her crying after the break-up: ‘You need to pull yourself together and grow up, Annie. It’s time you faced up to the fact that you were being groomed by that pervert. To him, you were no more than a sex object.’

  Annie had told James as much as she’d dared about that phase of her life, leaving out only one important detail that she didn’t want him to know, something she hoped she would never have to reveal it to him. A secret she’d kept for almost twenty years.

  James had never come face to face with Daniel Curtis, and she was thankful that the man was now living a hundred or so miles away.

  Annie managed to get quite a few chores done before James called.

  ‘I’m just leaving the church,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you about it when we meet up. Let’s say, in an hour, at The White Hart. I’ve got a few things I need to do first.’

  ‘So you’re going to keep me in suspense until then?’ Annie replied.

  ‘It’s not long for you to wait, and it means I can crack on.’

  ‘Right you are then. I’ll see you in the pub.’

  Annie sloped off to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She was waiting for the kettle to boil when the doorbell rang.

  She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she hoped that Royal Mail wasn’t about to deliver another unwelcome gift that was too big to slip through the letterbox.

  It wasn’t, thank God. But she got quite a surprise nonetheless.

  ‘Hello there, Annie,’ her visitor said. ‘It’s good to see you after all this time. It’s been eighteen months, by my reckoning.’

  Her jaw dropped, and there was a moment’s hesitation before she was able to conjure up a smile.

  ‘Uncle Bill! What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you until the twenty-second.’

  ‘I decided to come early because I feared that if I left it any later the bad weather would make it impossible for me to get here.’

  He was standing on the doormat with a scarf around his neck and his hands buried in the pockets of a thick overcoat. Annie looked over his shoulder at the road.

  ‘So where’s your car? And why haven’t you got an overnight bag or case?’

  ‘Look, can we please save the questions until I’m inside? I’m so cold my teeth are chattering.’

  She stood back to let him in, and the first thing he did when the door was closed was to encase her in a hug. He reeked of sweat and tobacco, but she didn’t mind because the gesture was welcome and it caused an ache to swell in her chest.

  They hadn’t spoken since the bust-up at her mother’s wake – it wasn’t for want of trying, at least on Annie’s part – because every time she’d phoned him, he’d told her that he didn’t want to talk to her. She eventually gave up and accepted that he was set in his stubborn ways and a reconciliation was out of the question. Which was why she was so surprised when he accepted with alacrity her invitation to join her and James’s family for Christmas in Kirkby Abbey.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Annie,’ he said, pulling back from the embrace. ‘I’m here because I believe it’s time we put the past behind us and got reacquainted. I’m sorry I waited so long.’

  She felt tears well up as they stared at one another. She thought he looked much older than his sixty-eight years. The lines in his face were deep and unforgiving, and he had pale, bloodshot eyes that were rheumy under dropping lids. Patches of slate-grey hair clung to his shiny scalp, and his skin had a yellow tinge.

  He broke eye contact with her and thrust his chin towards the kitchen.

  ‘I wouldn’t say no to a brew, my dear,’ he said. ‘And you can tell me why you decided to move back to the sticks.’

  Annie made the teas and they settled in the kitchen to drink them. She started off the conversation by saying that she was meeting James in an hour and invited Bill to join them at the pub.

  ‘I’d love to but I’ve made other arrangements,’ he said. ‘I’m having an early lunch with an old pal. But after that I’m free for the rest of the day.’

  Annie was taken aback as well as disappointed. Her uncle had come all this way to see her and was already going off by himself.

  She chose not to make an issue of it and asked him how he’d been and what life was like in Penrith. In turn, he asked her about James and what had prompted the move from London. She didn’t mention Sullivan, and said simply that they’d both decided that they were fed up with the capital.

  The conversation was congenial enough, but the more they talked, the more Annie felt that Bill was trying to be careful what he said. Evasive, almost. And several times he appeared to lose his train of thought, which suggested to Annie that he had something else on his mind.

  She got the impression from what he said, and from his body language, that he felt more awkward than she did. He was clearly uncomfortable, and seemed far removed from the brash, imperious man she used to know.

  She started to wonder if there was something troubling him, and when he responded to her repeated question about where his car was, her curiosity was aroused even further.

  ‘It’s in the car park of The King’s Head,’ he said. ‘That’s where I’m staying. I arrived early yesterday evening and have booked a room for twelve nights. It’s really cheap.’

  ‘But why? I said you could stay here. I’ve made a bed up for you.’

  He shrugged. ‘I thought it best for everyone if I didn’t stay here. I know James and his brood aren’t keen on me after what happened at the funeral, so I made up my mind to have somewhere to go if things became difficult and I felt I wasn’t welcome.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous,’ Annie said, her voice rising an octave. ‘This is going to be a family Christmas in our new home. And you’re part of the family.’

  ‘I know, and I’m grateful, but this way I won’t feel under so much pressure.’

  Annie was sure that there was more to it than that, but she didn’t think it likely that he would open up to her just yet.

  ‘I did pop over here to see you soon after I arrived around five,’ Bill said. ‘But there was no answer even though the lights were on inside.’

  ‘As a matter of interest was there a parcel on the doorstep addressed to James?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not that I recall. I’m sure I would have seen it if there had been.’

  ‘So what did you do then?’

  ‘I went for a walk through the village and delivered some Christmas cards to a few former acquaintances. After that I headed back to The King’s Head for a drink in the bar before going to bed.’

  Annie was still trying to get her mind around what he’d just said when he went and dropped another bombshell.

  ‘I did get a bit of a shock when I was walking past the primary school,’ he said. ‘There was a bloke standing across the road under a tree and he caught my eye when he lit up a fag. I got a good look at his face, and saw that it was your old flame, Daniel Curtis. He has a lot less hair now, but I’d recognise that pervy bastard anywhere. Did you know he was back, Annie?’

  She started to reply, but the words got stuck in her throat.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After phoning Annie, James called headquarters and filed a brief report on the vandalised grave. He sent across pictures he’d taken on his phone with his notes, though he knew full well that not much would come of it. Theft and vandalism at churches across the country were a growing problem and the culprits were rarely apprehended.

  He also made arrangements for a patrol car to pick up the card and the mirror containing Father Silver’s prints. He did conside
r driving them over to the lab himself, but decided his time would be better spent making some enquiries in the village.

  Before leaving St John’s, he’d obtained an assurance from the priest that he’d keep quiet about what he knew.

  It had been an interesting meeting, but James came away from it none the wiser as to what was going on. Keith Patel had struck him as a troubled individual, but not someone who would get his own back by murdering – or threatening to murder – those people he believed should have visited his mother before she died of her injuries. All the same, James did intend to speak to him later and perhaps even seek a warrant to search his home. But he knew that once the process became official the word would spread and it could trigger unnecessary panic among the villagers.

  He decided that before meeting Annie at the pub, he’d visit the general store to check whether it sold those Twelve Days of Christmas cards. On the way, he took out his phone and called DCI Tanner to update him.

  The boss was none too pleased to hear that another card had turned up. He admitted that he hadn’t expected it, and was concerned that it’d get picked up by the media.

  ‘If that happens it’ll be blown out of all proportion and whatever we do won’t be enough,’ he said. ‘So try to keep a lid on it at least until we can be sure what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘It would help if I’d been living here longer,’ James said. ‘As it is, I’m still not that familiar with the village or those who live here.’

  ‘Well, DS Stevens used to reside over that way before moving to Burneside. You can pick his brain. Or, better still, look up Giles Keegan. He had my job here until five years ago when he retired. It’s my understanding he still lives in Kirkby Abbey.’

  ‘He does, guv. I’ve already met him, and that’s actually a good call.’

  ‘Do you need his phone number?’

  ‘He gave it to me. I was planning to ring him so that we can arrange to have a drink together.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll know everything there is to know about the village and you can get him to dish the dirt on his friends and neighbours. Hopefully he’ll know of anyone who has form or a screw loose in the head.’

  Kirkby Abbey was much busier than usual because of the monthly farmers’ market. About twenty small covered stalls were crammed into the village square, everything on sale locally grown, produced or caught, including meats, cheeses, breads, vegetables, beers, eggs, fish and cakes.

  Villagers were mixing with visitors, and it appeared to James as though everyone was immersed in the season of goodwill. In the centre of the square stood a large Christmas tree adorned with bright coloured lights and surrounded by a fence about two feet high.

  Above the village, the wind-blown clouds had taken on weight and mass, and it had become shockingly cold. People were wrapped up in heavy coats and scarves, and breath formed in front of their faces.

  The general store was just off the square and was part of a traditional limestone terrace. It stocked most of what the village needed to be self-sufficient, and also doubled up as the post office.

  A wheelchair ramp was attached to the front and was used mainly by the woman who ran the store with her husband.

  Maeve King had been paralysed following a stroke three years ago but continued to work behind the counter as often as she could. Peter King put in most of the hours these days, with the help of a part-time assistant.

  He was the one who was working today, but before approaching him, James headed for the display of Christmas-related products at the opposite end of the store. It contained wrapping paper, decorations, festive ornaments, plus a wide range of cards. James found what he was looking for as soon as he started sifting through them.

  The same Twelve Days of Christmas cards that had been delivered to his home and the church were here in packs of ten and there were two packs left. He picked one up and took it to the counter.

  King was a florid-faced man in his sixties with fleshy pink lips and hair the colour of sea foam. He recognised James and beamed a smile at him.

  ‘How are you today, Detective Walker?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ James said, placing the cards on the counter. ‘Is your wife not with you today?’

  King shook his head. ‘She doesn’t like to venture out if it’s too cold. But a friend’s spending the day with her so she’s making the most of it.’ He picked up the cards to check the price. ‘You’ve made a good choice with these. It’s such an eye-catching design, and they’ve proved very popular.’

  ‘Have you sold many of them?’

  ‘Indeed we have. They were in a mixed batch of over a hundred packs we got in eight weeks ago. I’m not sure how many of that particular design have gone out, but I believe there are only a few left.’

  ‘So I reckon a lot of villagers will be sending each other the exact same card.’ James said.

  King laughed. ‘Happens every year, but it’s to be expected since we’re the only retailer in Kirkby Abbey selling cards.’

  ‘Tell me, Mr King, is it possible to keep track of who buys which packs?’

  King wrinkled his brow. ‘That’s a strange question, Detective. Why do you want to know?’

  ‘I’m just curious. That’s all.’

  King shrugged. ‘Most people pay in cash and only the batch number shows on the till receipt anyway. And, of course, we stocked the same brands last Christmas, so I expect some people still had them in a cupboard or drawer at home.’

  As James paid for the cards – with cash – he nodded towards the CCTV camera on the wall to the right of the counter.

  ‘It’s great to see that you take security seriously. I’ve been told that some shops in the area don’t even have cameras installed.’

  King followed his gaze. ‘Between us, it’s not been working for weeks. I need to get it repaired or replaced.’

  James left the shop disappointed. It was obvious that it would be impossible to identify who had purchased the cards that had been sent to him and the priest.

  But at least it now seemed certain that they’d been bought in the village store by a local, which narrowed the list of potential suspects down to … hundreds of people.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The White Hart was the oldest of the two pubs in the village. Unlike The King’s Head, it didn’t have rooms for rent, and it was in a better position overlooking the square.

  There was a gabled entrance and bay windows on the outside. Inside it was a typical cosy Cumbrian pub, with timber floors, open fires, worn leather sofas and a low oak-beamed ceiling.

  Country oddments and pictures of the Dales lined the walls, and an archway led from the bar into a restaurant with about fifteen tables.

  There were plenty of Christmas decorations, and as James entered, he heard the Mariah Carey classic All I Want For Christmas Is You playing in the background.

  He was there before his wife and ordered a bottle of her favourite Chardonnay from the landlady, Sonia Jenkins.

  James felt sure that there weren’t many women in the village as attractive as Sonia. She had a pretty face, stunning figure, and a smile that lit up the room.

  But she wasn’t smiling now, for whatever reason. After taking his order, she said, ‘Will your wife be joining you, Mr Walker?’

  ‘Any minute now,’ he said. ‘So I’ll need two glasses with that and a lunch menu please.’

  ‘Make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring them over.’ Then she hesitated a moment before continuing. ‘I’m sure Annie mentioned what happened at the school yesterday evening after the nativity play. So when she arrives I’d like to take the opportunity to apologise to her. Would that be okay with you?’

  James arched his brow. ‘Actually, the only thing she told me was that the play was a roaring success.’

  Sonia blew out an audible breath. ‘Oh, well, perhaps I didn’t make as much of a fool of myself as I thought I did.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s true,’ James said. ‘So what did happen?
’

  She was about to explain when her attention was suddenly drawn to a point beyond him.

  ‘I think I’ll leave it to your wife to provide you with the gory details,’ she said. ‘She’s just arrived.’

  James turned to see Annie walking towards them while unzipping her parka.

  ‘Right on cue,’ he said to her. ‘I’ve ordered wine and if you’re hungry we can get some lunch. But first Sonia wants a quick word with you.’

  Annie acknowledged Sonia with a pleasant smile as she stepped up to the bar.

  ‘I just want to say that I’m sorry for my little outburst at the school yesterday,’ Sonia said. ‘It’s true I’d had a couple of gin and tonics after I was told about Janet and my husband. So I found it hard to control myself. But I shouldn’t have caused a scene in front of you and everyone else. I feel really stupid.’

  Annie held onto her smile as she shook her head and told Sonia not to worry.

  ‘It was over in a flash,’ she said. ‘So you shouldn’t let it bother you. We all allow our emotions to get the better of us from time to time.’

  ‘Thanks for being so understanding, Annie,’ Sonia said. ‘As a token of my appreciation the wine is on the house. Now, go and find somewhere to perch yourselves before the place starts to fill up, which it will soon enough.’

  They chose a table in an alcove, and after Sonia brought the wine and menus, Annie told James about the altercation at the school between the two women.

  ‘I forgot to mention it because we both got so wound up talking about the parcel,’ she said. ‘But it was pretty unpleasant, and the funny thing is I wasn’t quite sure who to feel sorry for.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ James asked.

  Annie shrugged. ‘I’m not altogether convinced that Janet was being honest when she denied having a fling with him.’

  They didn’t dwell on the subject for long because there was so much else to talk about.

  Having decided what to eat, James went to the bar and ordered pea soups and crusty bread before filling Annie in on what had happened at the church. She was appalled when she saw the photos of the defaced headstone and expressed sympathy for Keith Patel.