Detective Sophie Allen Box Set 2

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘These will go to CID. Can you email me the file with the extracts? It’ll save us the bother of retyping and speed things up a wee bit. George will check that you haven’t missed any out. I think you’re right to be concerned, Mr Davis. It needs looking into, and I’ll make sure someone follows it up. But please don’t assume there was some kind of criminal conspiracy at work. Relationships break up all the time, well mine do anyway. I sometimes feel like topping the nutter who dumps me, but I don’t let it get to me.’

  ‘But it’s that last entry, Sergeant. You can see that she was in total despair. She obviously thought she might lose her job.’

  Rose nodded. ‘It does look that way. As I say, CID will look into it. How can they contact you?’

  ‘I’ll be going back to London late afternoon. My wife is going out for the evening, so it’ll be a child-minding night for me. Here’s my card. It’s got my work, home and mobile numbers on it. I can leave a set of keys with you, if you want.’

  * * *

  Tom Davis continued sorting and tidying after the two officers left, but discovered nothing more that gave any indication of his sister’s mental state in the days before her death. With time to spare before he needed to set off back to London, he decided to visit the neighbours. He’d talked to them before but that had been before his discovery of the small diary and its references to a relationship.

  The conversations got him nowhere. Neither neighbour was aware of any visits from a young woman, but then, they might easily have missed such calls. One couple had been away for several weeks at about the same time as the relevant diary entries, and the other neighbour was an elderly man with poor sight and hearing difficulties.

  He sighed. This short visit had been intended as the final act of his farewell to Eddie, an opportunity for closure, allowing him to move on. Instead it had opened up a whole new raft of questions. He sat in the car for a moment before starting the engine. It looked as though his plans to put the house on the market would have to go on hold.

  Chapter 2: Extracts From the Diary of Edwina Davis

  12 March. I’ve been asked if H can lodge with me for a couple of weeks. She’s recovering from an illness and her mother doesn’t want her left alone when the rest of the family are away on holiday in April. I’ve agreed as a favour, but I’m not sure I like H very much. Before she went off to university, I thought she was sometimes a bit immature for an eighteen-year-old. Still, I realise how vulnerable some teenagers can be, and how they need to be gently supervised during those first few months of recovery after mental illness. I agree it would be dangerous to leave her alone. Why don’t they take her with them? It’s in the university vacation after all. In the end I said I’d take her in.

  8 April. H is a bit irritating. She seems to follow me around and suddenly pops into view when I least expect it. It can be embarrassing. Today she caught me coming out of the shower with no clothes on. I thought she was still out in the garden. I was a bit worried because the incident could have been taken the wrong way, but H assured me she knew it was her fault. I pointed out how vulnerable my work as a senior midwife and ethics committee member made me, with her being identified as at risk, even though she’s nineteen now. She was so apologetic that I gave her a hug. Her smile was heart-warming.

  10 April. H has started dressing differently. More mature clothes. Slightly sultry. She’s wearing make-up more often as well. I wonder if she has her eyes on a young man?

  12 April. We had some wine with dinner this evening. H probably had too much because she was being a bit provocative. What she said didn’t seem to make much sense. Unless she’s guessed about me being a lesbian.

  15 April. H has been coming on to me again. I don’t know what to make of it. I wondered if I was mistaken the other night, but she made it pretty clear this evening.

  16 April. H and I were talking, late in the evening. She sat beside me on the sofa while we watched TV and started caressing me. I’m confused. I feel as if I want her to continue, yet don’t, both at the same time. It’s dangerous and thrilling. It’s made me realise how lonely I really am.

  18 April. This is ridiculous! She put her arms around me and kissed me. I’m so mixed up about it. She’s so much younger than me. She just giggles when I tell her.

  19 April. I think I might be falling in love with H. She kissed me again and I couldn’t help but respond. I refused to go any further than kissing though. It’s just too dangerous. She’s awoken feelings that I never thought I’d have again.

  20 April. Oh God. We kissed again, and one thing led to another. She spent the night in my bed. It was wonderful.

  21 April. What future is there for us? The situation is just ridiculous!

  22 April. There’s a huge age difference but what does it really mean? Is it that important? H doesn’t think so. I love her for saying it so clearly, so unequivocally. She’s back at home with her family who returned from holiday this morning.

  26 April. What a glory her hair is! I pulled some leaves out of it today, they’d got tangled in her long, red locks when she pushed through a hedgerow on a walk near the coast.

  27 April. Oh, we’ve just had such glorious sex. I can’t quite believe it.

  3 May. Under the apple tree in the garden at the old pub — another kiss. We’d had too much cider! Is there such a thing as too much cider? And did I say kiss? I meant a long, sultry snog!

  6 May. H gave me a present. It was a book on ancient history with a really lovely message on the inside. It was wrapped in pink paper with a pattern of lots of lips about to kiss. Really sweet. She still only signs everything H though. She never uses her full name.

  11 May. I’m deliriously happy. I never knew happiness such as this existed in the world. Happiness has always been for other people, not for me.

  12 May. H wants us to go on holiday together. We’re thinking of a few days in Majorca. I’m free the second half of next week. She has a reading week before her exams start and claims that a weekend break will be exactly the right tonic for her. Dare I?

  27 May. It’s been a month of heaven. I must have pleased the gods to get a reward like this. Our break in Majorca was everything I hoped it would be and life has been amazing since we got back. I wonder. Will there be a payback later?

  6 June. Have I sold my soul to the devil? H is being petty. Really petty.

  14 June. This is pure torture. She says she’s found someone else. My sanity is hanging by a thread.

  15 June. Why is H doing this to me? Weren’t we happy? Why does she refuse to answer when I phone?

  17 June. I've eaten nothing for two days. I can’t face the future without her.

  18 June. Oh God. She’s turned on me. She says I’m a pathetic old crone and that she never loved me. She’s told her new partner about me, and she (the new partner) says I’m disgusting.

  20 June. I can’t believe this is happening. She’s hinted that she will tell my boss. What if she does? It’s just unimaginable. What have I done? I’ve broken every rule in the book, I know I have. They’ll go to town on me. I’ll lose everything. She’s told her mother and her new partner that it was all down to me, that I deliberately seduced her, that I assaulted her. They think it’s been going on for nearly two years, from when she was still seventeen. She even says I manipulated her original request to stay with me. I can’t see a way out. I’m finished.

  Chapter 3: Double Checking

  Detective Sergeant Barry Marsh pulled into the police station at Dorchester and slid out of his car. What was this visit all about? Why had they called on the violent crimes unit — of which Barry was second in command? One of the local CID men, Stu Blackman, had phoned him earlier but had been vague, merely saying that he needed advice on something unusual. Normally Barry would have tried to sort out the problem over the phone, but it was a quiet morning and his junior, Rae Gregson, could handle the current task. The boss, DCI Sophie Allen, was in Oxford for the day, attending an academic criminology seminar. Barry smiled. Blackm
an wasn’t the most astute detective in the county, far from it. But he was trying to mend his ways, now he was no longer under the influence of his long-time sidekick, Phil McCluskie, who had been steered into taking early retirement. Barry had even heard that the seriously overweight Blackman had joined a diet and fitness group since his transfer from Blandford. Whatever had happened, it had come just in time for Blackman. With staffing cuts biting deep across the board, there was no longer any room for passengers.

  Barry climbed the stairs two at a time. His fiancée, Gwen, had warned him that she expected him to stay fit after they were married. ‘It’s better for you, and it’s certainly better for our relationship,’ she’d said in no uncertain terms. Since their first date two years earlier, Barry had lost a stone in weight and he intended to keep it that way. No more pizza, fewer chips and regular exercise. That was the key.

  Blackman came out from his office to greet him and the two men shook hands.

  Barry looked at his colleague. ‘You look a lot fitter, Stu.’

  ‘Thanks. I feel better. Maybe I can start dating again soon.’ Blackman chuckled.

  Barry didn’t know how to respond to this, so he decided not to comment. ‘What’s the problem? You were very cagey on the phone.’

  He followed Blackman into the office.

  ‘Some months ago we dealt with a case that was clearly suicide. It was a middle-aged woman, a senior midwife. The reason was never clear, not even to her family. She left a short note, addressed to her brother, saying only that she’d had enough and was taking the only way out. We all thought it was over and done with, but then her brother was here a few days ago to clear the house ready for sale. He came across a diary that she’d hidden. It seems to throw a different light on things. It’ll still be suicide, mind. I’m not saying she was murdered or anything. But it makes the background a lot more questionable. It’s a bit beyond me, to be honest. I need some advice, and your name sprang to mind.’

  ‘Okay. Show me what you’ve got.’

  Blackman handed over the diary and a single sheet containing the relevant extracts. Barry read it carefully.

  ‘I can see why the brother was troubled.’

  ‘So you think there might be something to it? Have you come across anything like it before?’

  ‘Not really. But if someone was intimidated to the extent that they felt driven to suicide, it has to be investigated. This isn’t as obvious as that, though. There’s no mention of direct threats being made, is there? What does your boss say?’

  ‘I haven’t told him yet. The thing is, Barry, I don’t want to make a fool of myself. I’m trying to make a fresh start and I can’t afford to make too many misjudgements if I want people to take me seriously.’

  ‘And that’s where I come in, is it? I’m a kind of filter. Where did this come from by the way? How did it get to you?’

  ‘It was Rose Simons who saw the brother. He phoned her when he found the diary. But you know what she’s like. She’s not going to go out of her way for me, is she? She might even be trying to trip me up — that’s what I’m worried about.’

  Barry scanned through the diary. ‘It looks genuine enough on the face of it. My gut feeling is that the house might need another look, just to check that the brother didn’t miss anything else.’ He looked straight at Blackman. ‘And I don’t believe for one moment that Rose Simons would try to trick you. She may have an odd sense of humour but she’s totally honest, and a first-rate cop. So did she get transferred here as well, during the staffing reorganisation?’

  Blackman nodded. ‘So you think it’s worth following up?’

  ‘I think so, but keep it short. And you’d better check with your boss. There might be other more pressing priorities.’ Barry looked again at the paper in his hand. ‘The thing is, it doesn’t alter the fact that she took her own life. It just gives a reason for it where there wasn’t one before. What you have to ask yourself is what would you have done if this had been found at the time? You’d have probably dug around trying to find out who this H was, and then tried to speak to her. Does it make much of a difference now we’re a few months down the line? If there’s time available, do it. If there isn’t, report it and leave it to your boss to decide.’

  Barry had a cup of coffee with Blackman, and then drove back to police headquarters at Winfrith.

  * * *

  Blackman’s boss gave him the go-ahead to investigate further, so he visited the dead woman’s place, spoke to the neighbours and carried out another search of the house. He discovered nothing suspicious. He also visited the local hospital’s maternity unit, where she used to work, but made no progress there either. No one had heard of a young woman whose name started with the letter H. Edwina had been a very conscientious, hardworking team leader, and respected by all, but she had kept her private life exactly that. Private. Her work colleagues knew nothing about her personal relationships. One colleague did say that he’d once spotted Edwina walking on the coast path with a much younger woman, but they hadn’t stopped to chat. He seemed to remember that the young woman had long red hair, but he couldn’t be totally sure.

  Blackman contacted Edwina’s brother to let him know that the enquiries had drawn a blank, and that no further investigation time could be justified. He asked if anything else had come to light in the meantime, but the answer was negative. Copies of the diary and documents were filed and the originals returned to Tom Davis, who was told that the house clearance and sale could go ahead.

  And so the exact nature of the tragic circumstances surrounding the suicide of Edwina Davis remained obscure. At least, nothing came to light at the time. Then, several months later, something happened that gave Detective Sergeant Barry Marsh cause to remember the odd entries in Edwina’s diary.

  Chapter 4: Dancing Ledge

  By mid-morning the stormy weather had moderated, just as the forecast had predicted. Even so, some members of the Chatty Ramblers walking group struggled against the stronger gusts of wind that still whistled across the coast path every few minutes. Flick had wondered whether to cancel November’s walk, but in the end she’d stuck to her guns.

  ‘Let’s have some faith in the forecasters, shall we?’ she said. ‘If you want to pull out, then that’s fine. But I like being out when the weather’s a bit breezy, and so do a lot of the others. It’s bracing. You get a wholly different feel for the coast path in these conditions. Just make sure you’re wearing suitable waterproofs and boots, and bring your walking poles. You’ll be fine.’

  True, the group was only half its normal size, but enough ramblers had turned up for the walk to go ahead. Flick was walking beside Pauline Stopley, now a regular in their ranks. Pauline’s cheeks were pink and her eyes alive under her maroon bobble hat.

  ‘Have you gone blonde, Pauline?’ Flick asked, trying not to peer too obviously. Maybe she needed an eye test. Pauline had been a brunette during the year she’d been a member of the group and had never mentioned wanting to change her hair colour.

  ‘Ah, you noticed. I’m not convinced yet but I’ll give it another week or two before I finally decide if it’s for me. Tony seems keen anyway. He’s not been able to keep his hands off me since I got it done. It’s just incredible how something as simple as going blonde can fire up a man’s libido, don’t you think?’

  Flick nodded warily. That was the trouble with Pauline. You started a simple conversation and you just couldn’t tell where it would end up. ‘So you’re saying it’s true? Blondes really do have more fun?’ Flick’s own hair had always been a mousy brown. Maybe it was time for a change.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I had plenty of fun as a brunette. But some men prefer blondes, and Tony seems to be one of them. I would never have guessed.’

  ‘He’s a vicar, isn’t he?’ Flick tried to sound nonchalant.

  ‘Makes no difference, though.’ Pauline smiled. ‘When it comes to sex, men are men. That’s what I’ve decided. Well, most of them anyway. Long may it continue
.’ She walked a little closer to Flick. ‘We’re talking about getting married, but keep that to yourself at the moment. I shouldn’t really tell anyone, but I’m so excited that it just bubbles over. It’s been twenty years since I lost my first husband and this is just the best thing that’s happened to me since. I know people think I’ve been a bit of a merry widow, but that’s not entirely true. A lot of it was just down to desperation on my part. It’s clear to me now, but that’s hindsight for you. You never see things at the time, do you?’

  Flick wasn’t absolutely sure what Pauline was referring to, so she merely smiled back. ‘That’s great. I’m happy for you.’

  The small group had reached the fence overlooking Dancing Ledge, so Flick made to turn east.

  ‘Can’t we get a closer look?’ one of the men asked.

  Flick looked at her watch. ‘We’re ten minutes ahead of schedule, so I suppose we could. The path down is quite steep once we cross the stile, so use your poles. If you’d prefer to stay back here, please do.’

  All eight ramblers decided to have a closer look at the famous ledge, so they scrambled across the stile and followed the narrow twisting track down to the flat shelf. The sound of breaking waves became louder as they approached the base of the cliff, but at least the wind was less strong here. Now that they were in the lee of the tall limestone cliff face there was no longer a need to shout. The sea was still rough but Flick guessed it was much calmer than earlier that morning. A blue shape, bobbing in the waves caught her eye. She pointed.

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked no one in particular. ‘Can I borrow your binoculars, Jim?’

  She focussed on the floating object.

  ‘My God. I think it’s a body.’

  The chattering suddenly stopped and everyone craned forward to get a better look. Flick was right — the bobbing blue shape, half submerged in the grey water, was undoubtedly a body. The wind had changed direction during the previous hour and the shape was slowly moving eastwards towards the far end of the rocky shelf. Flick took her phone out and dialled 999.