by Dawn Brookes
‘I can’t believe it. So it’s over? Thank you so much. Car park, did you say?’
‘Yes, there are cameras overlooking it if you were in the one north of the patisserie.’
‘That’s right. It was a patisserie with a few eat-in tables. I remember the girl. I’m amazed she remembers me, though. Seemed a bit scatty.’
He laughed. ‘Scatty perhaps, but observant with it. You left quite an impression.’
Caroline put her hand out and shook Carlos’s firmly. ‘So there’ll be no further need for my new best friend solicitor. I wonder what prompted the man to come to my rescue? I must thank him.’
‘Sometimes good things happen. Give Meg my love and enjoy your Christmas. I’ll be in touch with any news.’
‘Thank you. And a happy Christmas to you and your family. If you need anything from my mother, please let me know. We can always fly down if necessary. Oh, I almost forgot. Your sister has a key to my mother’s house. Feel free to use it if you need to look for anything. I think we can trust you.’
‘Thanks. I’ll return the key Fiona borrowed yesterday when I go round.’
Caroline produced a warm smile, causing her eyes to sparkle. Maybe her luck will change, he thought as he closed the door.
31
Fiona woke at 5am. Noise from the pothole-ridden towpath outside had startled her. The moonlight revealed a man’s shadow standing just outside her kitchen window.
With heart rate quickening, she reached for the truncheon she’d held on to from her days on the beat. The shadow moved and the boat tilted under the weight of someone boarding at the side. The door handles turned, rattling as someone attempted entry.
Standing next to the doors, she slid the lock just as the person pulled hard. The doors flew open and the man fell back on to the hull. She leapt out, standing over him and wielding the truncheon high, ready to bring it down hard.
‘What the…?’ the man cursed.
‘Sir? What are you doing here?’
A crumpled DCI Masters stared back at her through bloodshot eyes, the moonlight making them seem eerily devilish. She held out her hand to assist him on to his feet.
‘You could’ve killed me with that thing.’
‘You were creeping around my boat at five in the morning, sir. Did you expect tea and a mince pie?’
Masters rolled over, laughing a deep belly laugh. Fiona saw the light flick on in her neighbour’s boat.
‘You’d better come inside before he reports you to the police.’
Masters belly laughed again. ‘You’re so funny, Cook,’ he spluttered. ‘Do you know what they call you down at the nick?’
‘I’d rather not.’ Fiona took the drunken man’s arm and hustled him through the narrow space into her living room. He almost banged his head, bending to get in through the low entrance. Shame it missed, she thought. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
Masters fell on to her settee, trying to sit up straight, but landing to one side. It would have been comical if she knew what the heck he was doing here.
‘You do realise it’s Christmas Day? I thought you were staying with the in-laws.’
‘It was all a ruse, Cook. She’s left me.’ He was spluttering and slurring. ‘Taken my kids and left me. Can you believe it?’
Yeah, I sure can, she thought, but asked, ‘What happened?’
‘I left the woods not long after you and that…’
‘Private investigator, sir.’
‘Him, yes. I went round to the in-laws. Her brother was there. Told me to beat it. Said Shirley had had enough and that I needed to find somewhere else to live. I smacked him one in the face, but her dad came out and threatened me with a rifle. Told me to get the hell off his property.’
Carlos is going to love this, was all Fiona could think. She had no sympathy for the wayward DCI, particularly after finding the planted evidence yesterday. Her eyes automatically shot to her mac.
Damn! I didn’t take it out of the pocket. She handed Masters a cup of tea and made sure she sat where he wouldn’t have a view of the mac.
‘Must have been quite a shock?’
‘Damned right it was. I drove home and things got worse.’
Fiona couldn’t wait to hear the next bit. ‘I wouldn’t have thought they could get worse than your wife leaving you.’ She tried to sound as though she cared, but struggled.
‘She’s changed the damn locks.’ He spat the words out.
Fiona turned back to the kettle to pour more tea and suppress the giggle forming in her throat.
‘Oh dear.’
‘Oh dear? Is that all you can say? Oh dear? Twelve years of marriage and she does this to me. Trouble with women today; you’ve got no respect.’
Fiona’s hackles rose. ‘Perhaps she didn’t get any respect herself, sir.’
Masters slurped back his tea. ‘Go on. Defend her. Women sticking together, is that what this is? What about sticking with your superiors? Hey? What about that, eh?’ He tried to get up, but fell back.
‘You’re my senior, sir, not my superior.’
Her retort was wasted. Masters lay unconscious, snoring on his back, dribble forming at the side of his mouth.
‘Don’t you dare be sick when you wake up,’ she snarled.
She went to the bedroom to collect clothes before taking a wash, determined not to meet Terry Masters in her thermal underwear again. She heard a loud thud as she turned the shower off.
Blimey! He’s fallen over.
Pulling on her clothes, she went out to the living room to find the galley doors banging open and shut against the boat. No sign of Masters. Her mac lay on the floor, scarf missing.
She’d been outwitted.
Was the story about his wife leaving a lie? She hoped not, but she imagined that having lost his family, he wouldn’t want to lose his job as well. She should have known he would have worked out who took the plant.
Oh well. He can’t very well accuse me publicly. They would both have to live with the knowledge that she knew he was dirty.
Fiona locked the doors and cooked a fry-up breakfast, her own special Christmas treat. She’d savour this story later, a Christmas present for Carlos.
After breakfast, she felt a chill in the air and watched the heavy clouds drop their snow. A white Christmas – what more could you ask for? She hummed the famous tune. The snow was settling fast, but she wasn’t due to go to Carlos’s for a few hours.
Perhaps I’d better drive to the edge of the village and wait there. I’m not missing out on Sophie’s cooking today. She put her mac on and stepped off the boat.
‘Good morning, Miss Fiona. Happy Christmas to ya.’
‘Happy Christmas to you, too, Pete.’
‘Did you know you had a leak in your roof, gal?’
‘Blimey, I forgot about it. Yeah, I noticed it the other night.’
‘Well you don’t have it any longer. Fixed it yesterday, I did.’
She beamed at her elderly neighbour. ‘I owe you one.’
‘Aye, that you do. I’ll have a wee dram next time I see you.’
‘You’re on.’
‘Who was that big bloke giving you trouble in the early hours? I almost called the police, but remembered that’s you.’ He laughed loudly.
‘It was my boss. He was drunk and daren’t go home to the wife until he’d sobered up a bit. He’s gone now.’
‘Aye, I watched him scarpering off like a bat out of hell – all over the place, he was. I thought he was going to end up in the cut. Are you sure he didn’t steal anything?’
‘Quite sure. See you around, Pete.’
Fiona chuckled at the image of her boss trying to run down the towpath, hoping he had fallen over a few times on the way. She arrived at her beloved Mini just as her phone rang. She didn’t recognise the number.
‘Hello, DS Cook here.’
‘Good morning, Sergeant Cook. It’s DCI Matlock here. Just to let you know I’m heading up the Sissons cases now. Report to me if ther
e’s anything new. I don’t expect you to work on it till after the holiday, unless you catch a break.’
‘Erm… Right, sir. What about DCI Masters, sir?’
‘Off the case. That’s all you need to know for now.’
‘Thank you for letting me know. Is this the number I call you on, sir?’
‘Yes, it is. I’m home with the family if you need me. As I said, I don’t expect you will need me today or tomorrow, Sergeant.’
‘Understood, sir.’ Take that for ‘Don’t you dare disturb me over the holidays.’ Climbing down into her Mini, she grinned happily. Could this day get any better? It might just have been worth contacting her brother for the short-term reward – she had no doubt this was also the work of the hotshot lawyer. Her smile turned into a frown – the bigger the favour, the bigger the payback.
Carlos and Lady returned from their run as the snow started to fall. He stayed outside and watched in wonder as the road turned white. Lady rolled around in it, trying to catch some of the larger flakes as they trickled down. Before long, everything was a beautiful white.
‘Your coat is dirty in comparison, girl.’ He stroked the excited dog and crouched down next to her, hugging her neck. ‘It’s like one of those fairy-tale films Sophie loves,’ he said.
Shaking the snow from his shoes and coat and removing both, he went upstairs for a shower. By the time he arrived back downstairs, Lady was lying by a coal effect gas fire, drying off.
Sophie hugged him. ‘Happy Christmas, Carlos.’
‘Happy Christmas, Sis.’ He noticed the turkey already out in the open. ‘Can I help you with anything?’
‘No thanks. It’s all under control. Gary promised, as it’s our first Christmas in our new home, he’d help prepare dinner.’
‘In that case, I’ll make myself scarce. I’m going to phone Fiona and get her to come early in case we get snowed in.’
‘Great idea. Feel free to use the snug when she comes.’
Fiona was already driving when Carlos called and arrived within minutes. He opened the door and hugged her.
‘You left early, then? Good thinking.’
‘I didn’t want to miss out on your sister’s amazing cooking. I’ve got news for you. You’re going to love it.’
Carlos’s interest was piqued. ‘Let’s get you a hot coffee. You can tell me in the warm.’
Fiona removed her mac and Carlos hung it up for her. She also removed her boots. Carlos collected two coffees and, after Sophie had called a polite greeting and happy Christmas to Fiona, they left her to concentrate on the task in hand.
‘Come on, Fiona, we’ve been banished to the snug,’ Carlos announced, loud enough for Sophie to hear, ducking as a piece of broccoli was hurtled his way. ‘Hey! Remember I’ve got a sore head.’
‘Don’t be such a wuss. It’s hardly death by broccoli,’ his sister retorted.
Still giggling, he and Fiona retired to the snug. Lady reluctantly left the fireside, where she’d settled back down after greeting Fiona, to follow them and park herself at Carlos’s feet.
‘Come on, then. Tell me this great news,’ he said, patting his faithful dog’s head.
‘The not so great news is that Masters was lurking around my boat at five o’clock this morning. He only just escaped being bashed over the head with my truncheon.’
‘Shame he wasn’t.’
‘He was sloshed as hell, but still had the wherewithal to retrieve the planted evidence from my mac pocket while I was in the shower. He’d collapsed in a heap, so I thought he was asleep. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because I wouldn’t have done anything with it.’
Carlos frowned. ‘I’m not happy he was snooping around your boat. Sometimes I think he’s unhinged. You don’t know what he might do if he feels threatened.’
‘Nah, I’m not worried about him. Now for the good news. I shouldn’t be happy about the first thing, but I am. His wife’s left him and changed the locks to their house. I guess there was one affair too many – I’m sure he’s fraternising with a PC at the station. She wound me up big time yesterday, but I put her in her place.’
‘I bet you did. As much as I like the idea of him being locked out of his own house, is that it?’
‘Nope. The best bit is he’s been taken off the case.’
‘Courtesy of your brother’s employer, no doubt?’
‘I expect so. I’d have loved to have seen his face when he got the call. I don’t think he knew about it when he was with me. Although he was so drunk, you wouldn’t know.’
‘Yet sober enough to get what he came for,’ said Carlos. ‘Are you certain he wasn’t putting it on?’
‘He might have been a bit. Obviously when he collapsed unconscious – that could have been an act. Nevertheless, any awkwardness I would have felt about the scarf is no longer an issue.’
Carlos drained his coffee mug, still concerned about what might hit Fiona further down the road because of her deal with her brother’s boss.
‘Who’s in charge now?’
‘A regular bloke. DCI Matlock, family man. He called me this morning and more or less told me to leave it alone over the bank holidays, which is fine by me.’
‘Interesting name for a Derbyshire policeman,’ chuckled Carlos.
‘Changing the subject, have you heard from Rachel?’
‘Yes. She phoned this morning before going to bed. She sounded exhausted. I’m taking her out to dinner on Saturday.’
‘I remember those days. Pounding the beat on Christmas Eve is no picnic.’
‘I’ve been thinking about this note.’ Carlos placed the piece of paper on the coffee table and spread it out. ‘If we could find the person who wrote it, we might have the answer to the Matthew Sissons case and why the colonel covered it up, or whether it was all down to him. It would be good to wrap up one of the cases. I don’t believe for one minute he’s going to tell us what happened himself.’
Fiona sighed. ‘The only thing that stands out is it’s fancy paper, and a distinctly darker than usual shade for manila.’
Sophie knocked and entered. ‘Would you like a sherry?’
Carlos glanced at his watch. The time had flown since he and Fiona came into the snug. It was almost one o’clock.
‘I won’t say no,’ said Fiona.
Gary appeared behind her carrying a bottle and four glasses on a tray. He poured, then they all lifted their glasses.
‘Happy Christmas!’ Gary announced.
‘Happy Christmas,’ they replied in unison.
‘Dinner’s under control, so we have time for a game.’ Sophie started clearing the table and saw the note. ‘What have you got to do with Peaks Rest Home?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Carlos.
‘That paper. I recognise it from the care home just outside the village, Peaks Rest Home for the Elderly. We’ve been defending them in a negligence claim. The firm I work for works in medical negligence,’ Sophie clarified for Fiona, who nodded. ‘The home’s owned by a local GP and his wife.’
Carlos couldn’t believe their luck. He leaned over and kissed his sister.
‘Thank you, Sis. Do you recognise the writing?’ He showed her the note.
‘Oh. Interesting. I take it this was anonymous. It’s difficult to say from the few words, and they’re all in block capitals. You need to speak to Josie Reynolds. She’s the manager and head nurse.’
‘Josie Reynolds who I met at the community centre on Friday, the church on Sunday and spoke to on Monday? Now it’s starting to make sense. There’s friction between her and the colonel. I wonder what she knows.’
‘Unless she’s playing you for some mischievous reason of her own,’ said Fiona.
Sophie stuck her chin out. ‘Well you can wonder on for a while longer. It’s Christmas Day and I’m playing a game before dinner.’
Carlos poured them all more sherry. ‘You’ve got it. Game it is. Cheers.’
32
Carlos pulled his Capri up outside the Peaks R
est Home. Five miles away from the village, the home was set back from the road in a beautiful part of the countryside. He and Fiona climbed out.
‘Wow, some building,’ she remarked.
Carlos agreed. Sophie had informed him the building was a converted convent. Ideal for a care home for the elderly. The familiar sandstone walls made it even more impressive.
An elderly woman stared out of one of the large bay windows as they made their way to the arched entrance revealing a pair of double doors. Carlos rang the bell.
‘Solid oak,’ he remarked.
They had to ring twice before anyone came. ‘It is Boxing Day,’ said Fiona. ‘Probably working on a skeleton staff.’
A middle-aged woman in a grey uniform eventually opened one of the doors. Fiona showed her detective ID.
‘DS Fiona Cook, and this is PI Carlos Jacobi. We’d like a word with Josie Reynolds. I understand she’s working today.’
They had called Josie’s home after getting the number from the ever-helpful vicar, Barney Milnthorpe. Josie’s daughter told them she was at work.
‘Come in. Please wait there.’ The woman hurried off.
Bells rang continually, demanding attention, and care home staff rushed back and forth. Carlos and Fiona stood in a huge hallway with high ceilings and freshly polished dark oak panels. A table with a visitors’ book was set to one side; two armchairs in the waiting area nearby and plush carpet lining the floor.
‘Smells fresh as a daisy,’ said Fiona.
‘What did you expect?’
‘Pee, if you must know. Some of the homes I’ve been in stink. Mind you, they were in less salubrious parts of London. This one’s well-maintained. I’m surprised there’s a negligence claim against them.’
‘Looks can be deceiving, although I agree with you.’
Fiona was becoming impatient when five minutes had passed and still there was no sign of Josie Reynolds.
‘I’m going to be ringing one of those call bells if she doesn’t hurry up.’
Carlos smiled. ‘She’s probably dealing with a resident.’