by Dawn Brookes
‘Oh yes. Caroline showed me. Can I help myself?’
‘Yes, I don’t need anything from out there.’
Carlos unlocked the garage and pulled open the wooden door. Harold’s car was parked where Caroline had left it. He marched around the car to find an empty space where the bike had been.
‘Damn!’
He returned the key, said goodbye to Meg and went next door. Sophie was just up.
‘Hello, big brother. Did you manage down here all alone?’
Carlos had left a note for Sophie the night before, explaining he was out with Fiona. By the time he got back, she and Gary were in bed.
‘Just about. How was your time up north?’
‘Freda’s okay, but we had a fright. Gary was in a right state. He’s gone into work.’
‘We’re ships in the night!’
‘I popped in on Meg when I got back yesterday. She told me her son-in-law was coming down. I thought he couldn’t make it because of the children? She was very muddled.’
‘I’ve just been in there myself. She’s got that vacant look again – in between humming tunes, that is.’
‘I’ve noticed that too. I think Caroline should call a doctor.’
‘Meg didn’t tell you?’
‘Tell me what?’
‘Caroline’s been taken in for questioning. It turns out she was in Derbyshire on the day Harold went missing.’
Sophie’s mouth opened wide. Her hand went to her face. ‘She didn’t…?’
‘I’m pretty sure she didn’t, but it doesn’t look good. She has motive, opportunity and no alibi. As you can imagine, DCI Masters made a right show of taking her into custody yesterday.’
Sophie recovered enough to pour them coffees. ‘Poor Meg. Can things get any worse for her?’
‘In a way, it’s a relief she isn’t taking it all in, but that presents its own problems. I can’t get any real sense out of her. Did you know Colonel Webb had a thing for her?’
‘Really? I haven’t been here long enough to hear village gossip. I suppose you heard it at the carol service.’
‘Saw him with my own eyes. There was real affection between the two of them.’
Sophie seemed puzzled. ‘Did you take Meg to the carol service?’
‘No. She turned up with Caroline, and the colonel made a beeline for her. Look, I want to go and speak to him. Do you know where he lives.’
‘He’s not involved, is he?’
‘I don’t know. I hope not, for Meg’s sake.’
‘If you go past Meg’s heading out of the village, he lives in a short row of cottages on the same side of the road. His is the first one, big red door.’
‘Thanks, sis. What are you doing today?’
‘I’ve got to go to a farm to collect the turkey and a few other bits. In fact, I’d better get a move on. I’ll pop in and see Meg when I get back. I’m afraid we’re out again tonight. It’s Gary’s work’s do.’
‘I thought he might accompany me to find another body.’
‘Not funny, Carlos. Not funny at all.’
He leaned down to kiss his sister while she put on her coat.
‘Speak later.’
‘Ciao.’
Funny how the colonel lives in the direction the other morning’s intruder ran in. This is starting to make sense.
He took a quick shower, fed and watered Lady, and went to leave.
‘You can sit this one out.’
Lady whined and rushed to the door, blocking his path.
‘No, Lady. Stay. No tantrums.’
Lady continued blocking the entrance. She had previously shown some of the behavioural issues his friend had told him about, but this was a first. Perhaps finding the two bodies had brought out some deep-seated insecurities in her.
He knelt down. ‘Look, girl, I don’t know if this man likes dogs, okay? If he does, I’ll come back for you. Now stay!’
She moved over and sat, but she was agitated. He could hear whining, followed by howling as he walked along Sophie’s drive.
What’s got into her? Good job the cottage is detached. He wondered whether to go back for her, but if he gave in to poor behaviour he might regret it later. He fastened his coat to shut out the ice-cold headwind forcing its way round him and thrust his hands in his pockets.
Carlos arrived at the cottage Sophie had described. It was in keeping with the vicarage, possibly built from the same local stone. A white Mondeo was parked in the drive. A sign was pinned to the front door.
‘VISITORS ROUND THE BACK.’
He obeyed, walking around a narrow path to a stable door painted in the same red as the one at the front. Unlike the one at the vicarage, top and bottom were bolted together.
He knocked. The door inched open, but there was no reply. He knocked again, causing the door to open a little further. He peered around the door and shouted.
‘Hello?’
He was debating whether to go inside when he heard rustling coming from behind. Before he got a chance to see who it was, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground, reaching out, trying to grab the door handle. A second blow rained down, this time to the side of his head. Through blurred vision, he saw a lanky figure bearing down on him, holding what looked like a spade.
‘Sorry, Lady, I should have listened,’ he murmured as everything went black.
25
Fiona tossed and turned all night, disturbing thoughts invading her subconscious. Her sleep wasn’t helped by rain hammering down on the fragile roof of the boat. The leak in the corner of the sitting room – if she could call it that – was worse than ever. Drips seeped through, falling into the pan she had placed on the floor before she went to bed. Too tired to inspect the damage properly, she got up and placed a larger saucepan on the floor.
The rain now sounded heavier than ever. One of the things she liked about living on the boat was the pattering of rain on the roof, but not right now. Worried about what might be happening, she dragged herself up and left the bedroom. She knew her way around in the dark, but flicked the light switch before going over to the corner and checking. Rainwater had spilled over the sides of the pan and soaked the floor beneath it.
‘Blimey! I knew I should have fixed that leak.’ She found a large bath towel amongst a pile of washing and mopped up the mess, placing the sodden towel in a plastic bag that served as a laundry basket. ‘I suppose that means a trip to the launderette,’ she groaned.
Replacing the emptied pan, she was grateful she could no longer hear the rain. It was almost morning anyway.
‘Things always seem better in the morning.’ She heard her mum’s voice whisper in her head, just like when she used to reassure her after Fiona arrived home from school, crying from being teased about her scruffy clothes. But then her mum went and died, and things weren’t better in the morning. Not for many years.
Just as they were getting back on their feet as a family, her dad had an accident at work that left him in a wheelchair. Fiona ended up being a teenage carer while her dad’s compensation money was eaten away by her younger brother who couldn’t keep away from trouble. Fiona’s bubbly personality was inherited from her mother, because life hadn’t given it to her.
Boiling the kettle, she made a mug of tea and flopped down on the only piece of the sofa visible. She knew her life was spiralling out of control again. Money was tighter than she’d let on to Carlos, and her happy-go-lucky attitude was under constant threat as the realities of her situation closed in. She was a messy person both by nature and through stubbornness, but the chaos she lived in now was worse than it had ever been.
Sipping her tea, Fiona contemplated her situation. It wasn’t so bad. At least she had a place of her own. She loved her boat and all it needed was a little bit of a clean. She’d sort it on her next day off. Soon, if she could solve this case.
Why was Carlos so convinced Caroline was innocent? Caroline Winslow was just the type to have snapped in a moment of madness.
She could have belted the man she obviously hated over the head with a spade. The bad blood between Fiona’s boss and Carlos was spilling over just like that damn rainwater, clouding both their judgements.
‘Male testosterone. Thank goodness I’m a woman, I don’t know how they get through the week. The pair of them need their heads banging together. Why do men have to take things so personally and why are they so damn competitive?’ She raised her voice to the empty room. ‘And what the heck have you got yourself into, little brother?’ She and Carlos hadn’t mentioned Steve last night, but he was on her mind constantly. At least her dad was happy. That phone call could have been a lot worse.
After showering, Fiona called her boss.
‘Hello, Cook. You’re back, then?’
‘Yes, sir. I understand you’d like me with you to interview Mrs Winslow this morning?’
‘We’ve been granted an extension for questioning, so no rush. Let’s leave it till this afternoon, let her stew a bit. I’ll meet you back at the nick. Perhaps you could question the mother again. See if she knew her daughter was in the area the day her husband went missing. They could be in it together.’
Fiona punched the air, imagining it was her boss’s nose. Another pointless exercise. Meg Sissons was not on this planet. How could she get any sense out of the old lady? She’d be lucky if Meg remembered what she’d had for breakfast.
‘Yes, sir. Anything specific you’d like me to ask?’
‘Find out if she knew about her daughter being in the area. Didn’t you hear me, Cook?’ he snapped.
‘Bad line. I must have missed it.’
‘And Fiona?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Keep Jacobi out of it. Understand?’
‘I’ll do my best, sir. Where will you be if I need you?’
‘I’ve got to drop the family off at the in-laws in Matlock. We’re staying there for Christmas. I hate this time of year. Nonstop rounds of people I’d rather not see. What are you doing over Christmas, Cook?’
‘Erm… having dinner with friends,’ she lied.
‘Good, so let’s get this case wrapped up neatly. See you later, then.’
Well, that’s a first. Terry Masters has never asked anything about me before. Too busy flirting with the next woman on his list. Everyone knew about his extramarital affairs apart from his wife and kids.
‘Poor woman.’
Fiona eventually stepped on to the towpath as sunlight appeared through the clouds. The only sign of the previous night’s rain was the raised water level in the canal and deep puddles in the potholes along the path. Carlos was right. There were plenty of better mooring spots. This marina barely survived the last recession, but the boat owners were loyal and she liked being out of the way. At least she was unlikely to come across anyone from the day job here.
Her faithful black Mini, also in need of replacing, was where she’d parked it the night before. Squeezing in, she turned the key in the ignition, holding her breath. Relief flooded through her as the engine burst into life at the first attempt.
Forty minutes later, she pulled up outside Carlos’s sister’s. Ignoring Masters’s request to leave him out of it, she wanted to see if Carlos would like to accompany her, knowing her boss wouldn’t be heading this way this morning.
Carlos’s pride and joy was parked in the driveway. The Volkswagen Golf she assumed belonged to his sister wasn’t there. Distraught barking was coming from inside and the door banged as Lady threw herself at the wood from the other side.
Fiona’s pulse quickened. Worried something might have happened to Carlos, she rang the bell and peered through the letterbox. The barking got louder. One of those draught excluders that must be a postman or postwoman’s nightmare blocked her vision. She pressed the bristles down and felt hot dog breath panting in her face.
The dog stopped barking temporarily as Fiona tried to reassure her through the letterbox. Perhaps he’s gone out and left her desperate for the toilet, she reasoned. No sound came from inside. Fiona dialled Carlos’s number and tried to listen through the letterbox. Still no sound. The phone went to voicemail.
‘Hi, Carlos Jacobi here. Sorry I’m not available at present. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I’m free.’
‘Carlos, it’s Fiona. Your dog’s going demented in your sister’s house. I’m going next door to speak to Meg. Join me if you’re free.’
As Fiona turned back down the drive, Lady’s barking got louder and more desperate. Carlos had told her Lady had issues. Perhaps she suffered from separation anxiety?
Fiona shook her head and headed next door.
26
Fiona knocked on Meg’s door. Aiden Winslow answered.
‘We meet again, Sergeant,’ he said with a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Where’s my wife? Why are you holding her?’ he growled.
‘She’s assisting us with our enquiries. She lied to us, Mr Winslow. And so did you. You’re lucky I’m not arresting you for obstruction.’ The lack of sleep was catching up on her. She was in no mood for games. ‘Is your mother-in-law home? I need to speak to her.’
‘She’s gone to the shops in the village. You can wait if you like. Look, I’m sorry about just now. I’m worried about Caroline. I believe her when she says she didn’t see Harold on that day, and my wife’s not capable of killing anyone.’
‘We are all capable, Mr Winslow, given the right circumstances. If you want to help your wife, you need to be honest with yourself. Maybe she snapped. Her dad sounds like he’d cause anyone to snap.’
‘I repeat, Caroline would not kill anyone. She’s highly strung, but she’s rational. She wouldn’t risk being away from the children. They are her life. My wife has issues from her past, Sergeant, but we are working through them. She’s a good mother and a wonderful wife.’
‘So why lie in the first place? If she’s innocent as you say she is, why didn’t she tell us about being in the area?’
‘Once she realised Harold Sissons had disappeared on the same day she was in Derbyshire, she was going to tell the police if you asked. But when Meg told her about how incompetent you lot had been when she reported Harold missing, Caroline knew what would happen. And now she’s being held against her will to assist with your enquiries. It’s just as she feared.
‘My wife tells me everything, Sergeant. We share things; she would have told me if she’d done this. Personally, I wouldn’t blame her, but she didn’t do it. She came home on the Thursday night upset, feeling she’d failed her mother again and hating herself for it. I’m telling you, Caroline did not do this.’
‘That’s what Carlos believes. Have you spoken to him?’
‘Is he the private detective?’
Fiona nodded.
‘No, I haven’t met him yet. Meg told me he came round earlier – wanted to look in the garage, then left in a hurry, she said.’
‘Do you know what he was looking at in the garage?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know, Meg didn’t go with him. Harold didn’t allow her in the garage,’ he mocked. ‘I only met that man once, but now I know what he did to Matthew, I wish I’d come down here years ago and rescued Caroline’s mother myself.’
Something nagged in the back of Fiona’s mind. ‘I went next door before I came here. Carlos’s dog’s there, but he’s not. I think she might be desperate for the loo. Does Meg have a key?’
‘I’m not sure. There’s a key rack by the front door and one in the kitchen, but that one’s for outside stuff.’ Aiden stepped back into the hallway and examined the keys. ‘What’s the surname?’
‘Cole…’
‘Here you are.’ He handed her a front door key labelled, “Coles”.
‘Thanks. I’ll bring it back later.’ She took the key and headed next door. Lady’s barking sounded hoarse, but she was just as determined, throwing herself at the door. Fiona inserted the key and opened it.
‘It’s all right, Lady…’
Lady was past her in a
n instant, running down the drive. The crazed dog paused for a moment outside, putting her nose to the ground, and then raced off out of the village.
‘Now what have I done? The stupid dog’s going to get run over.’ Fiona pulled the door to and managed to arrive at the road in time to see Lady disappearing in the distance. Wishing she was fitter, she gave chase.
‘This is ridiculous, Fiona Cook,’ she complained to herself.
Lady turned a bend and was out of sight. Fiona was bent over double, gasping for breath, when she heard barking in the distance. Breaking into a slow trot, she followed the sound. She arrived at a row of cottages and heard the barking coming from the back of the first one.
‘What’s she got now? A cat?’
Fiona paused again and walked slowly, sucking in breaths as she went. The ice-cold air caused her to go into a coughing fit. She could hear Lady hurling herself at a door.
‘What is it with this dog?’
She turned into the back garden just in time to see a man leaning over the top half of a stable-type door, pointing a rifle at Lady. Fiona stopped coughing and found her voice.
‘Sir, stop! It’s all right. I’m police.’ She took the ID out of her pocket and showed it to the tall, wiry elderly gentleman.
‘That dog’s mad. Needs putting down. Is it yours?’
‘No. She belongs to a friend. Lady, sit!’ Lady stopped barking and sat next to Fiona, letting out a low, persistent growl. Something wasn’t right, but Fiona wasn’t about to tackle a man wielding a rifle.
‘I hope you have a licence for that, sir?’
‘Of course I have a flaming licence,’ he snarled. ‘People should have licences for dangerous dogs, if you ask me.’ He was still pointing the rifle at Lady’s head.
‘Perhaps you could put the weapon down, sir.’
‘What? Oh yes. Of course, Sergeant… Cook, was it?’
‘Yes. And you are?’
‘Webb. Colonel Martin Webb.’
Fiona’s warning siren blared inside her head. ‘Has a private detective been to see you this morning, Colonel? This is his dog.’