The Playground Murders

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The Playground Murders Page 29

by Lesley Thomson


  ‘I think it’s Danielle,’ Jack said.

  ‘Lucie thinks it’s Carrie.’

  ‘Let’s hear it for open minds!’ Jack didn’t point out that Stella had spelled ‘grieving’ wrong.

  ‘If we only count the three stars, we have four suspects, actually five with Kevin Hood.’

  ‘I’d give him a one,’ Jack said. ‘The guy was on his knees, the only person he’d be likely to bump off is his bank manager.’

  ‘Hood had reason to be in Winchcombe. He could have seen Hindle, discovered where she lived and gone there to kill her. Only he killed Cater.’ Stella corrected ‘grieving’. ‘I think he was hiding something.’

  ‘I didn’t notice.’ Jack had been dreaming of getting a mortgage with Stella. ‘Lucie said he was creepy.’

  ‘You’re always saying Lucie’s a worse judge of character than me,’ Stella said peaceably.

  ‘Am I?’ Jack grabbed her hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Stella. You’re a good judge. You keep an open mind and stick to the facts. This list proves it. It’s only that I worry that you trust too easily, that’s all.’ He paused. ‘Stella, I’m sorry altogether. You were great with the kids.’

  ‘I’m sorry too.’ Stella went red.

  ‘The murderer didn’t kill Rachel on the spur of the moment. He or she brought the murder weapon with them. However frenzied that attack was, it was planned. Afterwards they took it away.’

  ‘I keep an emergency cleaning kit in my bag, it doesn’t mean I intend to clean.’ Stella could be obscure. ‘Hood was nice about Danielle even though she killed his friends. That rang strange to me.’

  ‘It could have been misdirection. We would definitely suspect Hood if he’d been horrible about Hindle.’

  ‘If you kill someone you don’t like, it doesn’t achieve anything,’ Stella said.

  Jack had a long list of who he’d like dead. Starting with Danielle Hindle and featuring Martin Cashman and Harry.

  Stanley was hovering at his feet. Jack patted for him to jump up. Mistake. Stanley resisted neediness. In many ways, Stella and Stanley were similar.

  ‘OK, I’ll take off a star,’ Stella said. ‘Are you OK with the rest?’

  ‘Joanne Marshall looked fit to kill anyone in her way.’

  ‘But we’ve got no evidence that she was in the UK. Shall I add another star to her?’

  ‘No, you’re right. Two is enough.’

  ‘Hey, I forgot! I took your advice. I asked Dale to find Marshall. If we get eyes on her we’ll be better placed to decide.’ Stella turned to him.

  ‘That’s great!’ Jack bit his lip to hide a silly grin. Now would Stella take more of his advice and airbrush Cashman from her life?

  ‘Martin says Hindle is innocent. He’s angry that we know her new identity.’

  Or maybe not.

  ‘When did you see him?’ Jack caught himself tapping his front tooth like Hindle.

  ‘He came to yesterday’s scene.’

  ‘I thought a man died alone in his flat. Was it a crime?’

  ‘A crime of sorts but no. Martin came to warn me off.’ Stella looked briefly upset.

  ‘Hindle was the one who told us who she is. He should take it out on her.’ Jack’s good feeling evaporated. ‘And leave you alone.’

  ‘I didn’t tell him what Christopher Philips said to me about Carrie. Her being a good girl.’ Stella was staring at her screen. For a moment Jack wondered if she was telling the truth. Then he hated himself for doubting her. Again.

  ‘We need to decide what to do,’ Stella said. ‘We should tell the police, if not Martin. Except you didn’t spot Carrie was a True Host when she came to the office.’

  ‘Christopher could have misheard. A True Host is a psychopath not a woman who kills her father’s lover in a frenzy.’ Jack felt pleased. Stella rarely referred to his True Hosts as a thing.

  ‘Or I misheard. It’s just why would he say Rachel told him Carrie was a good girl if he wasn’t worried that she was far from good?’ said Stella.

  ‘Let’s ask Carrie.’

  ‘Yes.’ Stella leapt from her seat, just missing Stanley. ‘You’ll know if she’s lying.’

  He’d been joking.

  When they first began working on murders Stella would have shrunk from asking a witness a question that might be considered rude or aggressive. Now she was all for going in guns blazing.

  ‘If a dying person told me the name of the person who attacked them, I’d believe them.’ Stella was riffling through her Filofax. ‘If Carrie is innocent, she’ll be upset that her dad believes her capable of murder.’

  Jack nearly said that nothing would convince him that Stella could murder. But he didn’t want to hear the false ring in Stella’s response when she said the same about him.

  ‘We’ve got a good solve record. Carrie could expect us to solve this one. She was taking a chance hiring us,’ Stella said.

  ‘Maybe, subconsciously, she’s hoping we’ll hand her in.’

  ‘Simpler to confess.’ Stella didn’t do ‘subconscious’.

  ‘Or as we considered, maybe Hindle’s also protecting Carrie,’ Jack said.

  ‘How would that work? The CCTV gave Hindle an alibi, not her daughter. Although at Lucie’s Hindle let us think it might not be her. Martin said the whole family is winding us up.’

  Stella kept calling Cashman Martin. What did that mean? ‘I think you and I are both able to distinguish fact from fiction.’ Jack was haughty. ‘As it happens I don’t see Hindle protecting anyone but herself.’

  ‘Let’s see Carrie and test her reaction.’ Stella began an email. ‘Where shall I suggest we meet? The office?’

  ‘What about the playground?’ The Martin thing was getting on his nerves.

  ‘Perfect.’ Stella began to type.

  Stella never failed to surprise him. Jack was still getting over his astonishment when he realized that Stella was looking at him. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘There’s something that I haven’t told you.’

  Chapter Forty-Four

  2019

  ‘Clean Slate Cleaning Services, Trudy speaking, how can I help?’

  ‘It’s me, Trudy.’

  Stella hadn’t appeared for their meeting. It was Trudy’s favourite time of the day, early, before the others arrived when she had Stella to herself. This meeting would be special.

  ‘Where are you?’ Trudy fought disappointment that Stella was on the end of the phone instead of in her office.

  ‘I’m going to work from home. With Jack.’

  ‘Oh!’ Trudy chucked her pen onto the desk.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘What? Yes!’

  ‘After yesterday, with your bug.’

  ‘I’m fine. Thank you.’

  ‘Best leave early. Give yourself time to recover.’ If Stella asked Trudy what was wrong, it would be an opener to what Trudy had really been doing yesterday. If she told her, Stella would come in. But Trudy wanted to see Stella’s face when she told her. Jack’s too.

  ‘Please look over the leisure centre contract. Cancel those estimate meetings and rearrange for next week.’ So Stella planned to be out all day.

  ‘I need to talk to you about yesterday.’ Trudy was glowing. Stella needed her every step of the way.

  ‘Don’t explain. Just get better. Actually, please could you block out tomorrow too? I’m going to concentrate on the case. We’re nearly there.’

  After Stella ended the call, Trudy sat without moving.

  We’re nearly there.

  Well, that had to be wrong.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  2019

  ‘Terry did meet Hindle.’ Jack laid down the last letter.

  ‘She was lying,’ Stella snapped. ‘Martin said Terry never would have met.’

  ‘How would Cashman know?’

  ‘They worked together. They were best friends.’

  ‘Do you tell your best friend everything?’

  ‘Yes.’ Stella thought of Jac
kie.

  ‘Men are different.’ Jack ran his fingers through his hair. ‘If Terry did meet Hindle, and I mean if, he would implicate Cashman by telling him. I imagine he would have wanted to avoid that.’ Jack nodded at the letters. ‘Did Cashman know that Hindle wrote these?’

  ‘No, or he’d have said.’ Stella had wanted Jack to be sure that Terry hadn’t seen Hindle.

  ‘How come you never found the letters before? You said they weren’t hidden.’

  ‘There’s stuff up there I haven’t looked at.’ Stella had never told Jack about the last of Terry’s unsolved cases.

  ‘How did she smuggle letters out of prison?’ Jack wondered.

  ‘She could have given them to a visitor.’

  ‘Not easy. As we discovered.’ Jack said. ‘But we’re prison-visiting novices. Bet it’s easy for a hardened criminal.’

  ‘Hindle was a hardened criminal,’ Stella said.

  ‘She was born one and she’s stayed one.’ Jack still had Hindle as the prime suspect. Stella wanted to see Kevin Hood again. She didn’t really think it was Carrie.

  ‘I wrote Terry letters.’ Stella was taken aback when the words slipped out.

  ‘I guess living away from him, and when the phone was expensive, it was a good way to connect. Where are your letters?’ Jack looked about the kitchen as if expecting to see a folder labelled ‘Stella’s Letters’.

  ‘I never sent them to him.’

  ‘Oh. Goodness, Stell!’ Jack shuffled his chair close and took hold of her hands. ‘When I was at boarding school there was time after tea when we had to write letters home. Mine were to my mother. I handed them in to the teacher. My mum was dead, so they couldn’t have sent them. I still wonder what they did do with them. If Dad was given them he never said. What did you do with yours?’

  Stella knew that Jack was chatting on to save her face.

  ‘Threw them away.’ She looked at their clasped hands.

  They listened to the digital tick of the clock. At last Jack spoke.

  ‘Listen, darling, Terry kept Hindle’s letters as evidence. If you’d sent him letters, he’d have kept them. Not in the attic. In pride of place, maybe by the bed where he would have reread them.’ He kissed her fingers. ‘Like I do with the kids’ notes.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Stella squeezed his hands and got up. She began whisking about the kitchen tidying. ‘I’d hoped that the letters would give a clue to Danielle’s thinking.’

  ‘They have. She comes across as manipulative and evil.’ Jack leafed through the letters. ‘This one about meeting Terry in the playground gives me the creeps. I know it’s hard to contemplate, but could she be telling the truth?’

  ‘Martin said not.’ Stella slammed the milk carton in the fridge. ‘Terry never broke the law.’

  ‘No, well, it could be a fantasy. Return to the scene of your crimes with the detective who caught you.’ Jack was leafing through the papers. ‘To be honest, Stella, I’m thinking these letters are authentic.’

  ‘I’m not saying they’re forgeries.’ Belatedly remembering the milk carton was finished, Stella took it out of the fridge and put it in the bin. Why had Terry kept them?

  ‘There’s one letter missing.’

  ‘What? How do you know?’ Stella stayed by the bin. Her innate rationality had deserted her. The letters had become Hindle herself and Stella wanted them out of the house.

  ‘She says, “I’ve given you my new address, please write and tell me what’s going on.”’ Jack looked at her. ‘There’s no address on any of the letters, not even on the headers. So either Hindle told Terry where she’d moved in person, or she put it in a letter. In the last year of Terry’s life, Hindle wrote to him every month.’ He held up the sheets of paper. ‘Between these two there’s a gap of two months and then…’

  ‘He died.’ Stella finished Jack’s sentence. ‘Dad did not meet her.’

  ‘Then there’s one missing.’ Jack stacked the letters. ‘Who’s been here?’

  ‘Not Martin.’ Stella’s head ached.

  ‘Of course not.’ Jack examined his hands.

  ‘Justin and Milly.’

  ‘There’s no way my kids steal,’ Jack exclaimed. Stanley shot out of his bed, ears alert.

  ‘You asked me who’s been here.’ Stella felt her head might explode.

  There was silence. The rapprochement was still shaky.

  ‘Danielle Hindle,’ they said together.

  ‘Except that makes no sense,’ Stella said. ‘I hid the letters under my mattress. Hindle never went in there.’

  ‘She’d been in prison, checking under a mattress is first base,’ Jack said. ‘Stella, I know it’s always me going on about rehabilitation. But I’ve found my limit. I don’t buy that Hindle’s childhood crimes were an aberration. She reeks of True Host. She was alone here when you took the twins to the office. Plenty of time to do the place over.’

  ‘The bedroom door was locked.’

  ‘I thought Justin polished the whole house? Didn’t he do there?’ Jack sounded disappointed to hear that his son had missed a room.

  ‘No.’ Stella had read the experts’ reports stating that, no longer a danger to the public, Danielle Hindle could be released. Experts could be wrong. ‘Danielle never left the study. That’s where Justin found her.’ She saw Jack’s expression harden at the mention of Justin meeting Hindle.

  ‘A shame you didn’t make copies.’

  ‘My memory. I did copy them.’ Stella smote her forehead. ‘I took the letters to work the morning after I found them.’ She went to the hall, Stanley trotting behind.

  The photocopied sheets were tucked in the laptop compartment of her rucksack. ‘Danielle couldn’t have found them. I kept this in my bedroom and obviously I took it into work the next morning.’ Stella flicked through the pages. ‘It’s not here.’

  ‘That exonerates Hindle. And the twins.’ Terry had met Hindle. She had given him her address face to face.

  ‘She must have met Terry. It’s the only thing that makes sense.’ Too often Jack read her mind.

  ‘Let’s go to bed,’ Stella got in before Jack said that he was leaving. If Jack went now their relationship was over.

  They trooped upstairs. For the first time in bed they faced different ways. Stella buried her face in the mattress. Jack counted and recounted bars of light slanting through the blinds as if they were Hindle’s letters, until he fell into a fitful sleep. Downstairs in his nook by the fridge only Stanley snoring in his bed slumbered peacefully.

  *

  Stella awoke from a dream that she hadn’t had for months. She’d been searching in vain for a WC with a lockable door and a toilet not overflowing with shit. She flung on her dad’s dressing gown and went to the bathroom. Her own lavatory was intact. She peed and washed her hands, regarding her reflection in the mirror. Dog walking and cleaning gave her a year-round healthy glow, all the same she looked terrible. Drawn and every one of her fifty-three years. With no chance of sleep, Stella padded into her office and turned on the computer.

  Dale had Skyped a message back to her. She was ludicrously pleased. She didn’t know Dale well. Their childhoods had been separated by history and hemispheres.

  Dale had done more than pop a half price voucher for his restaurant through Jo Marshall’s door. He’d knocked.

  The bloke who answered had never heard of Joanne Marshall. He’d lived there for thirty years. Are you sure it’s the right place?

  Stella guessed not. Five thirty a.m. was afternoon in Sydney. She Skyped Jo Marshall. It rang out. She tried again.

  ‘Hello?’ The screen stayed blank.

  ‘Hello? Jo?’

  ‘How can I help you?’ Jo Marshall sounded official. Had she forgotten who Stella was?

  ‘It’s Stella. Stella Darnell? I’m investig—’ In the nick of time, Stella remembered her story. ‘I’m writing about the murd— the Hindle murders, for my dad’s autobiography?’

  ‘Biography. Yes?’ Jo sounded cold. Stell
a should have texted first. She’d ambushed Marshall. Stupid. She too was unprepared. She couldn’t say that she’d sent her brother round and he’d discovered Marshall didn’t live where she said she did.

  Jack advised that, if lost for words open your mouth and see what comes out. Advice that had landed Stella – and Jack – in hot water. Still…

  ‘I need to confirm your address so that I can send you the book before it’s printed to check for facts. But you must be happy about it because if—’

  ‘I trust you.’ Jo Marshall cut off Stella’s incontinent flow.

  ‘You shouldn’t. I mean…’ Stella’s dressing gown fell open, exposing her breasts. She yanked it shut and hoped that she was on audio only.

  ‘I texted my address already.’ Now Jo sounded annoyed.

  Stella’s brain went into overdrive. She’d run out of nonsense. Had Dale got it wrong? ‘It’s just—’

  A bell rang. The sound shrill and reedy over the line.

  ‘It’s not a practice,’ Jo shouted at Stella.

  ‘A practice?’ What did she mean? Life isn’t a rehearsal.

  ‘It’s a real fire!’ The line went dead.

  Stella stared at the screen. A fire alarm. Jo Marshall had had to evacuate her flat. Of all the times. If it had happened. Stella scrolled down her Skype contacts.

  ‘Hey, sis.’ Dale’s face was bathed in Australian sunshine.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  1980

  ‘We’re did a compatshon and Kevin won. He can’t beat you. He’s a wanker for saying it!’ Jason was beside himself.

  ‘Don’t swear.’ Danielle spun her chewing gum around her finger. She’d come to the playground looking for Lee because when she’d called for him his mum said he was out. But her brother and Kevin were alone. ‘Seen Nicky?’

  ‘She’s down the cemetery with her mum,’ Kevin said. ‘I saw them go. With flowers. They didn’t see me,’ he said as if it was mission accomplished.

  Cheered by the definite absence of Nicola and still hoping that Lee might turn up, Danielle bothered with the boys. ‘What competition?’

 

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