by Dawn Brookes
‘You’re quiet, Carlos,’ Gary interrupted his thoughts.
‘Just trying to process the two crimes. A long time’s passed for either of them to want to take revenge, and by all accounts, Meg and Caroline believed the boy, Matthew, had run away while they were staying with Meg’s sister some twenty years ago. Their shock was genuine; they didn’t know Matthew was under the floorboards upstairs. I’m certain of that.’
‘You obviously know more than we do; you’d better fill us in. Shall I make hot chocolate?’ Sophie asked.
After Carlos had taken Lady for a quick walk up the lane and they were settled with hot milky drinks, he told them everything he had learned from Caroline.
‘She never spoke to her father again,’ he said when he had come to the end of the sorry tale, ‘only having telephone contact with her mother, except for her wedding fifteen years ago.’
‘I’m surprised he allowed her to the wedding,’ said Gary.
‘It was the one and only time Meg’s parents intervened on her behalf. Harold went away on a manufactured business trip according to Caroline, but she didn’t want him there anyway.’
‘So what about the police? Didn’t they try to find Matthew?’ asked Sophie, tutting.
‘I suppose they must have been informed. I expect they’ll pull the files from the missing persons case in the morning or on Monday if they haven’t done so already. Everyone assumed he’d either come to harm on the journey or run off elsewhere. That’s what Caroline told me. Her horror at the find seemed genuine.’
‘And was she in Edinburgh last week?’ asked Gary.
‘I guess so, and sincerely hope she was, for her sake,’ answered Carlos, knocking back the final dregs of the hot chocolate. ‘All alibis will be checked by Fiona, whatever Masters may do.’
‘There has to be some other reason for Harold’s murder,’ said Gary. ‘Some local feud or a tragic accident. Perhaps he fell over in the woods and hit his head on a stone or something.’
‘And buried himself?’ Carlos chuckled.
‘Oh yes. I forgot about that. I’ve been trying to put it out of my mind, to be honest.’
‘And so you should,’ said Carlos kindly. ‘He wasn’t a popular man with some, though, according to the locals, and he did have an argument on the day he went missing. That’s something I’ll be chasing up. We need to go to the carol service tomorrow evening so I can talk to people again about Harold Sissons. Preferably before they find out he was possibly a child killer.’
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Gary.
‘Because, my dear brother-in-law, when people find out things like that, they tend to imagine all sorts of things and embellish the truth. Before you know it, we’ll have witnesses swearing he’s a serial killer. I need them to give unbiased accounts.’
‘Carlos, why don’t you drop the case? You are on holiday, after all, and it turns out Harold wasn’t the man we thought he was. He…’ Sophie tailed off, lifting her large brown eyes pleadingly.
‘I know, Sophie. I find the whole thing as distasteful as you do, but the man was still murdered. We don’t know what the motive was yet, but whether you and I think he deserved to die or not, there’s a killer out there, probably in your village. Don’t you want to know who it is?’
Sophie shook her head, tears falling. ‘I’m not sure I care. Is that terrible?’
Gary took his wife’s hand. ‘Me neither. I’d rather the police find whoever is responsible.’
‘And what if the deaths are related?’ asked Carlos.
‘Then good luck to them, I say.’ Gary pulled Sophie close.
Feelings were running high. Carlos believed that when morning came, his sister and brother-in-law would think differently. It had been a long day.
‘On a happier note, how did the anniversary meal go?’
Sophie’s eyes brightened. ‘At least we finished it before your Sergeant Cook came round. Look what he bought me.’
She held out her left hand to show an eternity ring studded with five black diamonds cushioned between her wedding and engagement ring.
‘If you’re not careful, you won’t be able to use that hand with all the weight.’
As they managed to laugh again and relax a little, Carlos decided to stay off the subject of bodies and murder. Lady fidgeted at his feet; he stroked her head. Poor girl, she had certainly earned her bread over the past few days, he mused.
Gary and Sophie went to bed and Carlos sat for some time, mulling again over the events of the day. He checked his phone in case he’d missed a text from Fiona. Then he texted her and waited, but no reply. Frustrated, he decided it was time to get to bed himself. Just as his head hit the pillow, his phone vibrated.
‘On the night train to Edinburgh. Signal intermittent. Speak tomorrow. F x’.
15
The Edinburgh train pulled in at 6am. Fiona grabbed her rucksack from the luggage rack and joined the queue lining up to try to be off first, leaving behind crisp and biscuit crumbs on the seat. She’d barely slept despite having a sleeper compartment; instead, she had spent the night wondering how she was going to deal with DCI Masters and his loathing of Carlos. Their animosity was a threat to the investigation, of that she had no doubt.
She had only worked with Masters a few times and, despite his surliness, they got on. He liked her humour. If she was honest, she found him attractive, but over the past couple of days she had seen a different side to him.
He hadn’t shown any interest in her as a woman, but even if he had, she wouldn’t have given in. He had a reputation around the station with regards to his flings, none of which were known to his wife. He also went for the younger, slimmer model. Fiona had recently turned thirty-seven and her figure left a lot to be desired.
Edinburgh station was illuminated with Christmas decorations and festive songs played over the loudspeakers in between regular, if not continuous, announcements of what train was arriving or departing from what platform. The station was busy; it was the last Sunday before Christmas, so many people were arriving or departing for the holidays.
Masters had insisted she speak to Aiden Winslow in person and also check Caroline’s alibi with her boss. Fiona had argued the toss, suggesting the checks could be carried out by the local force and over the phone, but with Masters’s mood worsening by the minute, she had given in.
Poor Caroline Winslow had no idea she was under suspicion, and Fiona wasn’t at all convinced that she was anything other than a victim, born into a dysfunctional family. There was a deep sadness about this family, and now Meg Sissons had closed down. Fiona had been a DS for almost a year now, and was a PC for many years before that, but she never got used to speaking to people ripped apart by tragedy. Not only had this woman lost her husband, it looked like she had also lost her son at the man’s hands. Now Terry Masters was determined to put the old woman’s daughter behind bars, mostly because she’d hurt his pride by hiring Carlos.
There was no reason for a police sergeant to travel all the way from Derbyshire for this mission; perhaps she should have dug her heels in. Had Masters found out about her friendship with Carlos? That’s what had really bothered her all night, but no-one else at the station knew, so she couldn’t see how he could have worked it out.
She walked along the concourse. Gurgling sounds in her gut reminded her of how hungry she was. The smell of bacon and sausages reached her nostrils. She spotted an open café.
‘Food is just what I need,’ she said out loud, marching towards the smell.
Twenty minutes later, the empty plate that had once held a full fry up with potato scones and black pudding – the only differences between a Scottish and an English breakfast – sat on the table in front of her. Downing a second mug of strong tea, she dialled.
‘Fiona! I hoped you’d call this morning,’ Carlos sounded out of breath.
‘Good morning to you, too,’ she laughed.
‘Sorry, I’m out for a run with Lady. That wasn’t the politest greeting.
How was the journey, and need I ask what you are doing in Edinburgh?’
‘The journey was long, too long, but not really long enough for an overnighter. Couldn’t sleep.’
An announcement in the background drew her attention away from the call.
‘Could Fiona Cook please make her way to the customer services desk.’
Fiona groaned. ‘That’ll be Steve.’
‘Did I hear that right?’ Carlos sounded concerned. ‘Your brother lives in Edinburgh?’
‘Just outside. It’s going to be hell, but I wasn’t going to try to find an empty hotel or B&B. It’s almost Christmas. Not to mention the fact the DCI might not sign the expenses sheet, the mood he’s in.’
She heard Carlos chuckling. Ignoring the reference to Masters, he replied, ‘Blimey, I’ve just remembered your brother. Isn’t he a criminal?’
Fiona sighed heavily. ‘Yep, that’s the one. He’s got a flat and a floor I can sleep on, so let’s drop that conversation,’ she snapped.
Her little brother was a sore subject at the best of times. In the old days, he would have been referred to as a scoundrel, but he was a constant source of embarrassment to Fiona and her dad. Nevertheless, they loved him.
‘He’s a trouble magnet, that’s all. Look, I’d better find him. I’ll call you later and fill you in, but suffice it to say, I’m here to speak to Aiden Winslow and Caroline’s boss.’
‘Good luck with the latter. There aren’t many civil service departments open over Christmas week.’
‘Just a quickie, how’s Meg?’
‘Fast asleep when I left. The doctor gave her a heavy dose of sedation, and as far as I’m aware, it worked. I haven’t seen Caroline yet. Speak later, ciao.’
‘Bye, Carlos.’ Fiona slipped the phone back into her mac pocket and headed across the concourse towards customer services. A pleasant surprise greeted her when she caught sight of Steve. He’d smartened up, a good sign that he wasn’t drinking or doing drugs. The glow in his dark green eyes melted her heart.
‘Hey, Fiona.’ He pulled her into a hug.
‘Hello, you.’ Not comfortable with the sudden demonstrative hug from her brother, Fiona pulled away and automatically checked his pupils. No signs of opiate or cannabis use, just the happy eyes she remembered from their youth before they went their separate ways.
‘What?’ He stepped back as she continued staring.
‘Nothing.’ She shrugged. ‘Good to see you, sorry it’s been so long.’
‘And now you’re using me for a place to stay,’ he joked.
‘That’s about it. Where’s your car?’
‘I don’t have a car. I came on my bike.’
Irritated, Fiona gawped. ‘How the hell…’
He burst out laughing just like he used to and grabbed her bag before putting his arm around her shoulders.
‘Gotcha!’
Fiona melted again and joined in his laughter. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
‘You haven’t changed at all,’ but the truth was, he had changed dramatically since the last time she’d seen him. She’d collected him from prison when he finished a sentence for dealing. He’d promised her and her dad he’d change, but was back to his old tricks soon afterwards. Now they only kept in touch through the odd phone call.
She realised as she followed this confident, well-dressed man out of the station that they hadn’t spoken in a while. The designer clothes concerned her, if she was honest. Where had he got the money for them? Then she got a glimpse of the Rolex on his wrist and her heart sank.
‘What ya doing up here, then, sis?’ he asked. She was struggling to get used to this new brother who wouldn’t normally show any interest in her, or anyone else for that matter.
‘Work,’ she answered, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
The Volvo parked in the station car park, although old, was in immaculate condition. The interior was polished and clean. Steve continued the chat as they drove out of the city to the suburbs of leafy tree-lined avenues. If she’d been surprised at her brother’s confident air and happy demeanour, she was more surprised by his sudden interest in her and her world.
Fiona found herself checking around the car for any sign of drugs and felt guilty doing so, but this area was posh. Even though she was almost falling asleep by the time they pulled on to a large driveway, her stomach knotted. Was he dealing again?
‘Where are we?’ she asked.
‘Home,’ he answered, studying her reaction. ‘Come on, Fi.’ He leapt out of the car with an agility she’d never witnessed before. The more she looked at him, the more she didn’t recognise her own brother. Guilt pangs at not keeping in touch settled over her stomach.
She moved cautiously, stepping on to the pristine block-paved driveway. The large house was Victorian with huge bay windows and painted blue frames. A blue composite front door swung open.
A shapely young woman emerged and hurried towards Fiona, enveloping her in a hug before she had time to react.
‘Fiona, I’ve heard so much about you.’ The woman smiled warmly. Fiona disentangled herself from the stranger’s embrace, her jaw dropping open.
‘Hi,’ she replied. That’s good, because I’ve heard nothing about you, remained unsaid.
The two women stood for a moment, appraising each other.
‘Fi, this is Jen.’ Steve kissed the woman, who gazed adoringly into his eyes.
Okay, now I feel sick. Was it the fry up or the twee suburban couple in front of her making her realise her brother was a stranger?
Jen broke the silence. ‘You must be tired. I heard you got the overnight. Come on in, I’ve put the kettle on.’
The woman sounded nervous and Fiona would have to get used to the posh Edinburgh accent. Suddenly, she felt scruffy. Her precious plastic mac had seen better days and was fraying at the wrists; her brown ankle boots with flat heels were akin to walkers’ boots. She must have looked like she had hiked to Edinburgh rather than taking the train.
She followed Steve and Jen up four stone steps and through the front door into a wide high-ceilinged hallway with polished real-wood floors. They turned left into an expansive lounge.
Steve and Jen removed their shoes on entry and stepped into fur-lined slippers, but Fiona kept her shoes on. She didn’t do fancy pants show at the best of times, and she was preparing for a swift exit if required. If it had been possible to have a double, she could well believe that this was her brother’s double, or that someone else had inhabited his body – the transformation was frightening and maybe a bit forced.
Now you’re just being unkind, she chastised herself.
The polite conversation dried up an hour later and Fiona noticed Jen’s mask slip once or twice as she exchanged glances with her brother and stared wide-eyed at Fiona’s boots. Or was it the trail of leaves that had accompanied them, parking themselves on the highly polished floor? A large white fur rug took centre stage; at least she hadn’t stepped on that.
Eventually, Steve cleared his throat.
‘Erm, I wonder, Fi…?’
Fiona sensed his discomfort but was saved by the ringtone of Fight Song coming from the hallway where she’d hung her mac. Apt, she thought.
‘I need to take this,’ she said.
Once in the hall, she rolled her eyes when she saw who was calling.
‘Hello, sir.’
‘What have you got?’
‘The train was late, I’ve only just arrived,’ she lied.
A pause at the other end. ‘We need to wrap this up, Cook. There’s pressure coming down from on high. We need to teach these civil servants they can’t throw their weight around, understand?’
‘Yes, sir, but—’
‘But what?’ he snapped.
‘What if she’s innocent, sir? There’s no proof Caroline Winslow’s done anything wrong.’ She swallowed hard, waiting for a barrage of abuse, but Masters seemed to be thinking about what she’d said.
‘Just
find out what you can. If she’s innocent, we’ll go after the old girl, find out if she had an affair.’
Another lead weight settled in Fiona’s stomach. I wish I hadn’t had the big breakfast now, she thought, but replied, ‘I’ll do my best, sir. I’ll contact you as soon as I have anything.’
‘Not today. I’m, erm… busy. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
Fiona heard a woman’s voice in the background. Playing away again, sir? she thought.
‘Righto, I’ll call you in the morning after I’ve contacted Mrs Winslow’s boss.’
Masters rang off, leaving Fiona standing in the huge hallway, angry. Muffled voices came from the lounge. She made a few ‘Mm’ sounds as if she was still on the phone and crept closer to the slightly ajar doorway.
‘You didn’t tell me she was a slob,’ hissed Jen.
‘She’s not a slob, she’s just… she’s just Fi.’
Fiona smiled, grateful for her brother’s attempted defence, then remembered how unkempt he’d looked the last time they met. At least she washed!
‘Well she’s not going up my stairs in those clodhoppers. Look at all that mud! I’m going to have to get the cleaner in again, and it’s Christmas week.’
‘It’s just a few leaves, Jen. You could…’ Fiona’s brother decided not to finish the sentence. ‘Look, she’ll be gone in the morning. She’s been good to me, I told you that.’
‘A thousand times,’ Jen huffed.
Fiona exhaled heavily, sat on the stairs and untied her laces. She pulled off her boots and lay them on a shoe rack in the hall.
‘Behave yourselves,’ she muttered to them before rejoining Steve and Jen in the lounge. ‘My boss,’ she explained, ‘never a moment’s peace. By the way, Jen, I’m sorry I forgot my manners. I’ve left my boots in the hall. If you have a vacuum, I can clean up my mess.’
Jen’s face reddened as Steve shot her an “I told you so” look.
‘Oh, no. No problem. I have a cleaner. I am a little house-proud. Steve likes it that way.’ Jen giggled nervously.