by Dawn Brookes
‘Your husband told DS Cook you left the conference early and arrived home sooner than expected.’
‘I told him not to do that if you found out. I hoped you’d have found the killer by now and it would be immaterial.’ She sat down, knee jerking frantically. ‘Mother doesn’t know, but yes, I was just a few miles away on that day.’
‘We haven’t got much time, Caroline. DCI Masters will be here soon to take you in for questioning, so you need to tell me everything that happened a week last Thursday.’
Caroline’s knee continued to jerk up and down as she clasped the mug of tea with both hands.
‘As you now know, I was at a conference. Over lunch, I got it into my head I was going to come home and demand to see my mother. I’d invited her to come for Christmas; I was worried about her. Each time we spoke, she sounded more distant and fearful. He was suffocating the little bit of life she had left in her.’
Caroline blinked tears away before continuing.
‘I drove like a woman possessed all the way up here and stopped at a small café in Bakewell to gather my thoughts and plan how to tackle him.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Years of coercive control happened,’ she stared down at her trembling hands. ‘I chickened out. I knew I wouldn’t win, and recognised it would only make things worse for Mum. He’d make her life hell, but she couldn’t see through it, or didn’t want to – I don’t know which. The thought of her being too afraid to ring me again once he found out about the phone calls brought me to my senses. I resigned myself to the reality that any contact was better than no contact.
‘I sat in a car park for almost an hour, crying, if you must know. Bawling my eyes out for my kids, who’ve never met their grandmother, then for myself for losing my mother, and for… Matthew’s disappearance all those years ago.’
Carlos took her trembling hands in his and held them. She didn’t pull away.
‘You should have told me.’
Her eyes met his. ‘I wanted to. I know how it looks, but I wanted to. What I didn’t want to do was to admit how that man still had a hold over me after all these years.’
Carlos swallowed back a lump in his throat. ‘You were trying to protect your mum. Caroline, you were a child. Men like your… like Harold Sissons thrive on creating a cycle of fear.’
‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For understanding. But you see, it’s more important than ever you find out who killed him now I have no alibi.’
‘What time were you in that coffee shop?’
‘I left around five. As I said, I sat in the car. I remember the six o’clock news was on the radio when I started the journey home. I did go back into the coffee shop to wash my face before the drive, but I doubt anyone would remember me. The place was empty.’
The sound of car doors outside told Carlos he’d run out of time. Moments later, Masters was in the living room, pompously reading Caroline her rights. With the towel still wrapped around her wet hair, he placed her in handcuffs.
‘Is that necessary?’ snapped Carlos, fists clenched at his sides. Masters’s smug face closed in, facing-off. Carlos could smell the aftershave on the odious man’s chin and coffee on his breath.
‘As I said before, Jacobi, leave it to the professionals; we know what we’re doing. Amateur hour is over.’
Carlos thrust his fists in his trouser pockets to stop himself lashing out and wiping the grin off the prat’s face.
‘You’re making a mistake, Masters.’
Ignoring Carlos, Masters turned to the officers with him.
‘Take her away, lads.’
Caroline’s fear-filled eyes implored Carlos. ‘Please find out who did it and look after my mother.’
He nodded, following the entourage to the door. Three police cars were parked outside. Masters had clearly wanted to make a statement, but thankfully it went largely unnoticed, as the lane appeared quiet.
Carlos punched the wall in frustration as he watched the convoy drive away.
22
Carlos walked into the village, crossing the green. A large stone-bricked building stood a few minutes from the church. The sign displayed from a post at the head of a stone wall read simply: ‘Vicarage’.
Carlos headed up a tree-lined pathway to the front of the impressive house. His attention was drawn to the right by sounds of an axe being wielded. He followed the path around one side of the house where he found the affable vicar chopping wood.
‘Good morning, Vicar. I’m impressed.’
Barney looked up from what he was doing, his bulging cheeks reddened by the cold and exertion.
‘Good morning, Carlos, although I think it’s afternoon,’ he corrected. ‘Do call me Barney, as you’re staying around for a while. Everybody else does, except for those who call me all sorts of things, but not usually to my face.’ He laughed before throwing a few pieces of wood on to a woodpile. ‘We have a wood burner, and the exercise is good for me, so the local quack tells me. I have to keep my blood pressure down, she says. Now, what can I do for you?’ Barney placed his axe in a small storage space to the side of the woodpile.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you. It was Doreen I was looking for. Is she around?’
Barney glanced at his watch. ‘She’ll be preparing lunch. Why don’t you join us? Follow me.’
Carlos didn’t get the opportunity to reply, so followed the vicar around to the back of the vicarage where a stable door, top half-opened, led to the kitchen. They paused at the entrance. The smell of homemade soup reminded him he was hungry and the baking aroma made him doubly aware.
‘Doreen!’ Barney called, but he didn’t open the bottom half of the door. Doreen turned from stirring soup and spied Carlos. She lowered the heat on the gas hob, and then beamed.
‘Hello again, Carlos. Is your sister back from Yorkshire?’
‘Not yet. They were stuck in traffic this morning when I spoke to Sophie. She’s gone into Derby for some last-minute bits and pieces.’
‘Did they have a good time?’
‘Not particularly; they spent the evening in casualty. Gary’s mother had a fall, but no fractures. She’s back home safe and sound.’
Doreen’s eyes widened. ‘Heavens! It has been rather icy over the past few weeks. All the rain freezing up. I heard it was bad in their part of the world. That reminds me, Barney, snow’s forecast for Christmas Day. I hope you’ve chopped enough wood.’
‘Don’t you worry, I’ve massacred the stumps Mason sent over.’
‘Well that’s something. Mason’s a local farmer – I bake for him and he gives us wood from an overgrown patch he’s clearing.’ Doreen addressed this at Carlos. ‘I hope Barney’s invited you to stay for lunch. I assume you’re here as part of your investigation.’
‘Your husband has been kind enough to invite me for lunch, and yes, partly that’s what I’m here about. I was wondering if you could keep an eye on Meg. I’m sorry to say that Caroline’s been taken to Chesterfield police station for questioning. I’m not sure when she’ll be released. I’d rather people didn’t know about this, but Meg will need someone.’
Barney’s jaw dropped open, mirroring that of his wife.
‘When? Why? Surely they can’t think she had anything to do with her father’s death. She hasn’t been here in years.’ Barney’s hand went to his head. His bulging sea-blue eyes threatened to burst through his face. ‘Oh no! Don’t tell me she murdered her brother?’
‘Barney, you’re running away with yourself again. Please go and get washed up and Carlos can tell us what’s happened over lunch. It’s ready now anyway.’
‘Good idea,’ Barney declared. ‘I do get carried away sometimes.’
Looking at Carlos, Doreen added, ‘Whatever’s going on, no-one will hear anything from us.’
‘Come with me, Carlos. Servants’ entrance for me until I’m cleaned up. I’ll point you to the dining room.’ Barney started off towards the opposite side of the
house to the wood pile.
Lunch comprised a tasty winter vegetable soup seasoned with cinnamon and mint.
‘This is superb. You’re a wonderful cook, Doreen,’ Carlos said.
Doreen kept the conversation to trivia, discussing people they had spoken to the night before, allowing Carlos to enjoy his lunch. And – he suspected – her husband’s blood pressure to settle. Only when he put his soup spoon down did the couple stop talking and turn towards him expectantly.
‘All I can tell you is that Caroline swears she had nothing to do with Harold’s death. It’s that the police are questioning her about. They don’t doubt Harold killed his son, as far as I’m aware. Caroline was away with her mother when the boy disappeared.’
‘I remember that now. Lorna reminded me when we spoke on the phone this morning,’ said Barney. ‘You were at the shops, Doreen.’
‘You didn’t tell her about Matthew, did you?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t need to. That’s what she was asking about. The local press have reported the story and are running with a piece in tonight’s paper. Lorna gets alerts about stories to do with Peaks Hollow; she says it could make national headlines, but I doubt it. Harold’s death only made the inside of local pages, not the nationals. I was keeping the sad news until after Christmas, but now she’s coming up after work tonight.’
Doreen sighed. ‘Ordinarily, I’d be pleased to see our daughter, but she’ll be more determined than ever to unveil the truth concerning Matthew’s disappearance. She took it very hard at the time.’
‘From the sounds of it, it’s clear what happened. That should keep her out of mischief. Unless she decides to go after the Harold Sissons story. She can be dogged when she wants to.’
‘In that case, it might be better if I ask someone else to watch over Meg,’ said Carlos.
‘I feel it would,’ said Doreen. ‘Although, I’ll pop in this afternoon and see how she is. So why have they taken Caroline? I don’t understand.’
Carlos trusted Doreen and Barney, but he didn’t want to compromise them with their daughter, knowing what journalists could be like.
‘I’m not really sure. It seems she attended a conference in Derby on the day her father disappeared and they want to clarify the time between when she left the event and when she arrived home. Her husband told the sergeant that she came home early as she doesn’t like driving at night. I’m sure it will all be cleared up, but just in case of red tape, someone needs to keep an eye on Meg. I would have asked Sophie, but I don’t know when she’ll be home, and Gary’s found the whole experience distressing.’
‘I wonder if Isabel Daniels from the village shop would look in on her if it drags out?’ said Doreen. ‘We don’t need to tell her why. She’s the only one who sees Meg regularly, apart from me.’
‘Doesn’t she have family visiting for Christmas?’ enquired Barney.
‘No. They’ve gone on a cruise, but her Frank won’t sail. Not since he was parachuted into the sea on an RAF exercise.’
Barney chuckled. ‘He tells everyone that story. It was in the 1960s. They were out on manoeuvres when his co-pilot accidentally pressed the eject button and Frank Daniels ended up in the North Sea.’
Carlos joined their laughter. The thought of an RAF pilot being accidentally ejected from his plane appealed to an ex-army soldier like himself. The RAF were renowned for having it easy while soldiers traipsed through mud and much worse. He remembered when he and two men lived on a tin of spam for a week while RAF colleagues stayed in first-class hotels.
‘Did the plane crash?’ he asked.
‘No. The co-pilot realised his mistake and landed it, reporting the whereabouts of Frank so the air-sea rescue could bring him in. Frank has hated the sea ever since.’
‘Anyway, I’ll ask Isabel to look in on Meg until Caroline returns,’ suggested Doreen.
‘What does Meg know about Caroline?’ asked Barney.
‘Nothing yet. She was shopping when Caroline was taken in. I’m going to see her now; I’ll just tell her Caroline’s gone to the station to answer some questions.’
‘Which is the truth,’ said Barney. He handed Carlos a card with the address and telephone number of the vicarage. ‘In case you need it.’
‘Thank you,’ Carlos said, handing one of his own PI cards to the vicar. ‘In case you need it.’ Smiling wryly, Carlos went to shake hands with the couple, but was pulled into a warm embrace by both.
‘I’ll pop round and see Isabel this afternoon, and then go to see Meg myself,’ said Doreen. ‘Whether this will keep our tenacious daughter away from you, Carlos, is another matter.’
Carlos hoped he didn’t meet Lorna Milnthorpe if she was an interfering journalist.
‘I do hope we’re not going to be inundated with press.’ Doreen added.
That’s all I need, on both counts, thought Carlos.
Carlos went straight to the Sissons’s house from the vicarage. A flushed Meg opened the door a couple of inches.
‘Is it okay for me to come in?’ he asked.
‘I’ve got a visitor and have just made tea. We don’t like to be disturbed when we’re having tea. Would you come back later?’
Back to the OCD Meg, he mused. Despite being curious to know who the visitor was, he decided against asking.
‘Right. I’ll call later if I need to. It’s just, erm… I need to let you know that Caroline is’
‘At the police station. Yes, Aiden called. He’s driving down later today.’
Why didn’t I think of that? Carlos berated himself.
‘That will be nice for you. I’ll call round later if I need to speak to you again. You know where I am if you need me.’
Meg closed the door, leaving him staring at the dark blue wood. He pulled the vicar’s card out of his pocket and punched in the number on his way back next door. Barney answered.
‘Hello, Reverend Milnthorpe here.’
‘Barney, it’s Carlos. Emergency over, Meg’s son-in-law’s driving down from Edinburgh,’ he explained. ‘Mrs Daniels won’t be needed. I’m not sure Doreen needs to visit either. Meg has a visitor just now and wouldn’t let me disturb her.’
‘Well I must say, my prayers aren’t usually answered this quickly. I must be doing something right,’ laughed the vicar. ‘Thanks for letting us know, Carlos.’
Carlos ended the call. Lady hurled herself at his legs as soon as he entered the cottage, almost sending him flying out again.
‘Lady! We’ve talked about this. You have to control yourself.’ Sometimes the doggie issues that made her unsuitable as a police dog resurfaced when he least expected. He bent down to stroke her. She placed her front paws on his shoulders. ‘That’s not allowed either. What is it with you? You find a body or two and think you can do what you like.’
He tickled her tummy as she withdrew her paws and rolled on to her back. Disentangling himself from his overexcited dog, he closed the front door, spying a note in the letterbox. He withdrew a folded piece of expensive stationery addressed to Carlos Jacobi. It had no other name on.
Opening it out, he read:
‘IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BOY, ASK THE COLONEL.’
Carlos stared at the piece of paper and made his way into the kitchen. He prepared coffee in the machine.
‘Mm. What does this mean, Lady?’
Lady barked and waited at the back door.
‘Sorry, girl,’ he said, opening the door to let her out. He poured coffee and checked the note front to back. Nothing else to be seen. Manila paper, thicker than the usual 80gsm most people used in printers these days. It could have been typed in an office and he was certain the top part, which would have revealed a company or personal address, had been cut off.
Carlos smoothed his hair from his forehead as Lady came back inside, leaving a trail of muddy pawprints after her. The frost from the morning had well and truly melted. He shut the back door, towelling her paws before opening cupboards beneath the sink to find floor wipes
. After cleaning up his dog’s mess, he picked up the mug of hot coffee.
‘And there I was thinking at least the Matthew part of the puzzle was solved. Who could have sent such a note and why?’
His phone vibrated on the kitchen bar where he’d put it when he came in.
‘Hello, Fiona. When do you get in?’
‘Not until six-thirty. Why don’t you meet me at my place? There’s a pub down the road where we can eat, or an Indian not too far away. Apologies to your sister and brother-in-law, but I don’t want to be seen at yours. Masters believes he’s got his killer.’
‘She didn’t do it.’ Carlos recounted what Caroline had told him this morning.
‘And you believe her?’
‘It would be hard to make up, although she’s had time to work on a story if I’m being cynical. We need to track down the café she stopped at and see if anyone remembers seeing her. You’ll be able to ask her if she remembers anything about it tomorrow. That’s if you’re still holding her.’
‘Oh, Masters will hold her all right, even if he believes her story – however unlikely that might be – if only for hiring you. I can’t really talk right now. I’m in the loo, balancing this damn phone while trying to take a pee. The carriage is packed with Christmas travellers. Blast…’
He heard her scrambling around and the familiar loud chugging of a train in motion.
‘Fiona? Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, dropped the phone. I’d better go before I lose the damn thing down the hole. I’ll text you my address when I get back to my seat. That’s if I still have a seat and the bloke with his three kids from hell haven’t ensconced themselves in it by now.’
Carlos laughed at both visions Fiona had conjured up in his head. Busy train toilets were not where you wanted to be when trying to have a serious conversation.
‘I don’t suppose the man will stay there for too long if he has.’
‘Seven-thirty okay with you?’
‘I’ll be there. See you later.’
A minute or so after he rang off, his phone pinged with the address, causing him to put his head in his hands again.