Murder Unearthed

by Anita Waller

  Murder Unearthed

  Kat and Mouse Book 3

  Anita Waller

  Contents

  Also by Anita Waller

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  A note from the publisher

  Love crime, thriller and mystery books?

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  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2019 Anita Waller

  The right of Anita Waller to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2019 by Bloodhound Books

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  Also by Anita Waller

  Psychological thrillers

  Beautiful

  Angel

  34 Days

  Strategy

  Captor

  Game Players

  Malignant

  Supernatural

  Winterscroft

  Kat and Mouse Series

  Murder Undeniable

  Murder Unexpected

  For Janet and Peter Stubbs,

  long-time friends who have

  supported my work from day one.

  It’s frightening how easy it is to

  commit murder in America. Just a

  drink too much. I can see myself

  doing it. In England, one feels all the

  social restraints holding one back. But

  here, anything can happen.

  W H Auden

  Chapter One

  Rain lashed down, turning the ground of Eyam churchyard into a quagmire. His wellingtons sank in the mud beyond ankle depth, and lifting the spade was an effort with the weight of the heavy mud on it.

  He could see little; a moonless night, although hampering his own vision, was also hampering the vision of the rest of the residents around the area, and that, coupled with it being the iciest night of the winter so far, was keeping everyone indoors. His fingers were numb with cold, but when he went out at the beginning of the evening he had no idea he would end up digging the earth out of a grave to put in a new body to join the current incumbent. He hadn’t brought any gloves. And he’d never killed anyone before, so didn’t know the routine of murder. If he’d known it meant doing this sort of thing, he’d maybe have reconsidered his actions. All she’d had to do was say yes.

  He dug until every limb ached and his eyes were stinging with rainwater. He judged he had gone down about three feet and he cautiously peered into the hole. What if he could see parts of a skeleton sticking out of the soil?

  Silly sod, he thought. It’s too fucking dark to see owt. But he decided enough was enough, no more excavating in case he found bones. That would proper freak him out.

  Her body was lying to the side of where he had been digging, and he tugged on her feet to drag her towards the hole. Her boot came off as he pulled and he dropped her in fright. He wasn’t cut out for this. He picked up her legs once again and slid her across the piled-up mud, balancing her somewhat precariously before giving her the final push that sent her toppling into the grave already sodden with water in the bottom. He shovelled the earth back in.

  He could hear his dad’s words echoing around his brain. Always carry a shovel and your wellies in your car boot between October and April, lad. You never know when you’ll need it living out here in t’Peaks. It had been the only advice his dad had given him when he’d rushed home with his driving test pass certificate; perhaps his dad should have told him that if a lass says no, you don’t kill her because of it. He was exhausted.

  He flattened the mound as much as he could, then walked up and down on it to compact it further before stepping back and staring at it. ‘Silly cow,’ he growled. ‘You made me do this.’ He spotted the boot that had fallen off. Picking it up he shoved it inside his jacket. He would throw it in somebody’s dustbin when he reached home.

  The area looked a mess, mud evident everywhere on the surrounding grassed parts, and he wearily trudged back down to the car, his shovel over his shoulder. He opened the car boot, threw in the heavy spade and decided against changing back into his shoes. He’d have to make sure he cleaned out the footwell before his dad saw it. He’d go mad at the muck in all the nooks and crannies.

  He hoped Eyam was far enough away from where he lived in Calver to put the cops off thinking he’d had owt to do with it; he’d have to lie low for a bit, no more drinking, no more going out at night, until the mud had cleared and no one would guess there was a new body in the graveyard.

  He didn’t look back as he drove away. He’d not got to know her: a first date. She hadn’t talked much, a quiet lass, said she lived with her mum in Castleton.

  He peered into the gloomy night as he drove, wishing he’d done something about the headlight that no longer worked. Good job it was gone midnight and there wasn’t much on the road. He undid his seatbelt so that he could lean forward. He could see naff all. He negotiated his way carefully; his windscreen wipers were nearly useless and that, combined with the missing headlight, was proving to be a pain. He put his foot down and headed towards Stoney Middleton.

  He didn’t see the man with the huge Alsatian until the last minute and he swerved to avoid them. He aquaplaned on the surface water pouring down from the hills and smashed into a stone wall. His car stopped without the use of brakes, and his head went through the windscreen. He came to rest atop the wall, with smoke puthering from the engine.

  The man with the dog dialled 999, explained where he was, and ran across the road. He dragged what he could see was a youngish chap from the wall and tried to get him away from the car. He didn’t like the look of the smoke.

  By the time the ambulance arrived they found him sitting on the kerbside, his dog by his side, and a dead young man held in his arms.

  ‘Aye,’ he murmured, ‘he’s gone.’

  Chapter Two

  Doris Lester looked around the cottage and smiled. Finally she had found the place she had been looking to buy ever since selling her home in Sheffield and moving in with her granddaughter, Mouse.

  The death of Alice Small had seen this beautiful little cottage come onto the market and it seemed so simple; Alice’s will stated that it must be sold, the contents auctioned, and the profits split between cancer re
search and her church, St. Barnabas in Bradwell. Doris had been a cash buyer, and had said take it off the market and I’ll pay your asking price today. The executors of the will had agreed immediately.

  And here she was, standing in her new lounge, the keys clutched in her hand.

  ‘Nan,’ Mouse called from the front door, ‘if I find the box with all the kettle stuff, will you put it on?’

  ‘I most certainly will.’ She took one more look around the lounge and headed towards the hallway. The items she had put into storage when she left Sheffield wouldn’t be arriving until the following day, but the bits and pieces she had been collecting were split between their three cars, and Kat and Mouse had said they would unload everything. She was to take it easy.

  They had made her “take it easy” for several weeks after a fall that had caused some damage to her shoulder, and she couldn’t wait for the time when “take it easy” was no longer the order of the day.

  She wandered upstairs. The front bedroom overlooked the village, and despite the rain, the view was spectacular. She understood why Alice had loved it so much. Doris stood at the window for a moment watching as Kat and Mouse collapsed into gales of laughter. She decided it might be better not to ask what had tickled them so much. The rain didn’t seem quite so torrential, and she felt grateful. Her cardboard boxes might get inside without being soaked through.

  Going into the back bedroom gave her the most pleasure. This room was for Martha. She didn’t intend losing any of the pleasure she gained from looking after Kat’s six-month old baby. Martha would be able to stay over occasionally, and have her own room at Nanny Doris’s house for as long as she needed one.

  Alice had used the room for her craftwork; Doris had seen it when she came to view the house, but everything in the cottage had been removed; the rare antiques, collectibles and beautiful items that Alice herself had made, sold under the terms of the will. Mouse had attended the auction and wiped out any opposition when buying the Robert Thompson breadboard; she never admitted how much she had paid for it, simply saying “the right amount”.

  It had pride of place in Mouse’s kitchen at the flat.

  Doris decided the back bedroom needed to be white, with pretty floral accessories in keeping with the cottage feel of the place, but still sweet enough to be for a tiny baby. She rather thought her own bedroom would end up like that one day, but for the time being it would remain as Alice had decorated it, peach and cream.

  ‘Kettle’s in the kitchen, Nan,’ Mouse called up the stairs, then headed out the door to bring in some more boxes. There was a small second reception room, and everything was being stacked in there.

  Nothing could take the smile from Doris’s face. This felt so right, this move. She hadn’t known Bradwell and the surrounding area before going to look at the cottage; it had really only been a name on the map. She had enjoyed exploring the different parts of it, and it was indeed lovely. She had delved a little into the history via the Internet, and she knew she was going to be happy here.

  She filled the kettle and boiled it, then poured the water away and refilled it. That would have to do for getting rid of any manufacturing dust inside the new appliance, her girls would be thirsty. She made the tea and carried the drinks through to the lounge. Kat had brought her a folding garden chair from her home, giving a nod to Doris’s age, but Kat and Mouse were sitting on the floor, their backs against the wall for support.

  ‘Right, Nan, it’s all in,’ Kat said. ‘You’re to leave everything as it is. We want you to take it easy.’

  ‘I can’t take it easy forever, you know,’ Doris said mildly. ‘At some point I shall stop taking it easy and start to give you two a run for your money again.’

  There was a knock at the door and everyone looked startled. Mouse scrambled up, placed her cup on the windowsill and leaned around to see the front door. ‘It’s Tessa,’ she said, and went to let her in.

  DI Tessa Marsden’s normally bouncy brown hair was flattened by the rain. She ran her fingers through it and then shook it. Drops flew everywhere.

  ‘Thanks, Tessa,’ Kat said. ‘It’s like having a dog.’

  ‘I’m dripping.’

  ‘We can see.’

  ‘Why?’ Doris asked, suddenly realising this wasn’t wetness from coming from a car, this was proper wetness from being out in the rain for some considerable time.

  ‘I’ve been to a scene.’

  ‘A crime scene?’

  Tessa hesitated. ‘I don’t know. It’s why I went. There was an RTA on the Stoney Middleton road as you head out to Calver, in the early hours of this morning. Young lad crashed his car into a stone wall, no seatbelt on. Must have died instantly. There was a witness who tried to help, but the lad went straight through the windscreen, and he was travelling pretty fast. The witness said he was dead when he pulled him from the wall. He thought the car might go up in flames, there was a lot of smoke, and he wanted to get him out of the way of that. But he said it was obvious he was dead. When first responders got there, the witness was sat on the kerb holding him. It seemed straightforward. Accidental death, bad weather, speed too high, young driver, and the witness said only one headlight was working.’

  They waited. There was obviously something else.

  ‘I wasn’t involved at this point, RTAs don’t come to me, but then I got a call from the coroner. He’s not done the full PM yet but there were a couple of things giving him cause for concern, hence my galloping over to the scene to have a look around. I didn’t expect to find anything there, obviously, but I needed to see it.’

  Kat stood up. ‘Tessa, hang on a bit with the rest of it, and let me get you something to dry your hair, and a hot drink. You’ll feel more civilised then.’

  Doris laughed. ‘We’ve only got tea towels, no proper towels yet.’

  Tessa took the tea towel Kat handed to her and towelled her hair, then wiped her face. She once more ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to bounce it back into shape, then gratefully took the cup of tea from Kat.

  ‘Delicious,’ she said. ‘But will somebody remind me to keep an umbrella in my car, it would definitely have helped.’

  Doris held up a hand. ‘Let me tell you a little bit of history I’ve gleaned about Bradwell. Samuel Fox was born here. He invented the steel-framed umbrella mechanism, used silk at first but then when nylon became available he used that. He eventually moved to Stocksbridge to open up a much larger factory, and that’s still there today.’

  ‘I’ll think about him when I get an umbrella, I promise.’ Tessa gave a short burst of laughter.

  ‘So… back to your coroner chap.’

  ‘Yeah, he was concerned. The victim, one Jacob Thorne, was covered almost head to toe in mud. He was dripping wet through from the rain, so whatever he’d been doing it was an outdoor activity, and when they cut off his coat they found, tucked inside it, a ladie’s boot. Size four. Obviously not a large lady. The coroner sent me a picture of the boot, and it’s not one that any elderly ladies would wear.’

  She paused, as if gathering her thoughts.

  ‘He was wearing wellingtons, and when they opened the car boot there was a shovel, thick with mud and wet through, claggy clay mud.’

  ‘You think he’d been digging last night, presumably?’ Kat asked.

  ‘Sure of it. But doing what? Where? And where is the person who owns that boot? It would have been a cold wet walk without that boot on their left foot. And Jacob Thorne definitely wasn’t gardening in that weather. His parents knew he was out, apparently, but they didn’t know where or what he’d been doing.’

  ‘Nobody’s been reported missing?’ Doris looked concerned.

  ‘Not so far.’

  ‘Then fingers crossed nobody is.’

  Tessa cast her eyes around the room. ‘You’ve not got much furniture, Doris.’

  ‘I’ve got a chair,’ she said and patted the arms of the garden chair.

  ‘When do you get the rest?’

  �
��Tomorrow. It should be here for nine, and then I can start to have a home again.’

  ‘So that’s why Carl has booked a couple of days off, is it?’

  ‘We need his arms for carrying sofas and suchlike,’ Kat grinned. She had been seeing Carl for a little over four months, and they had quickly become an item.

  Mouse and Doris had called a “round the desk” chat with Kat once they’d let her know they knew she had a new love in her life, and suggested they move out of her home where they had been living since before Martha’s birth.

  The meeting had ended with gales of laughter, and Kat realised her life was moving into a new phase. Doris and Mouse did make stipulations before they moved out; they were to be considered first in any babysitting requirements, and they would take charge of Martha’s future IT skills. They couldn’t leave important stuff like that to her mother.

  And now, sitting on a wooden floor in an almost empty house, the trio had become three separate individuals once again, as it had been before Leon Rowe, Kat’s late husband, had created havoc in their lives.

  But it was a trio united by Connection, their thriving private investigation business. And it was with her Connection head on that Kat raised the next question. ‘And supposing you do get a missing person’s report in? Where, in the whole of Derbyshire, do you start to look for a small place where digging has been happening?’