‘Do you want me to speak to her?’ he asked. Johnny had been the one who’d been there for Nikki when the darkness drove her to the edge. He’d arranged PTSD counselling, but he could only go so far.
‘Why should you?’ Kelly said.
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Because I don’t want you to and I’m not involved. It’s not a problem, really.’
‘To be honest, I think she’s worked out by now that you’re on my side. Don’t bother. If she does it again, I’ll block her.’ It was the end of the conversation. She was determined not to let it sour her good mood, and she pushed Dave Crawley and his self-pity out of her mind.
She said goodbye to Johnny, who planned to take Josie shopping for the morning in Kendal. It wasn’t Bond Street, but it had some cute boutiques, and he’d be back in time for lunch.
She was given the news about Miranda Cooper’s fatal car accident on her way to see Graeme Millar. She could have brought him in, but they were supposed to be friends. It was Saturday, so she’d given herself a luxurious lie-in until 8.30. Matt had probably slept in the office again; she’d had two missed calls from him before her alarm even went off.
She seriously couldn’t get her head around Graeme being somehow involved, but the facts indicated differently, and Matt seemed hell-bent on the new angle. She’d toyed with Philip Tooting about Occam’s law, but now it was staring her in the face: the simplest explanation was usually the correct one, and Graeme Millar had been in too many convenient (or inconvenient) places during the inquiry. Last night Johnny had told her that Graeme had brought a girl to the pub who’d been asking all sorts of questions about the case. He thought she was called Millie until she showed him a picture and he confirmed it. Tilly Knight was cleverer than anyone gave her credit for. A journo would have done her homework, and there was no reason why she couldn’t have found out about the boatyard and got to know Graeme. She was young and attractive: what single man could resist? Graeme had some explaining to do. And Kelly wanted to know if he’d ever served with Leo Brown.
What Matt had told her about Professor Cooper sat heavily on her mind. ‘She was trying to get hold of you, Kelly. We don’t know yet if she was on hands-free, or whether the accident had anything to do with loss of concentration.’
An onerous knot had sat in her stomach since that moment, and she couldn’t shake it. She’d found Miranda Cooper aloof and arrogant, and she couldn’t think why she might be trying to make contact with her, unless she had some information. Matt also mentioned that the driver of the lorry involved had scarpered, scared to death, no doubt, and they had no idea if he was injured.
‘Number plate check?’
‘Done. It was a Ravensword vehicle that had been out for most of the day. The driver was returning it to the yard and we got a name, but when we checked his address, he was asleep at home. He hadn’t been in to work, and his alibi checks out: he and his wife had been up with their daughter for most of the night; she’d kept them awake with a vomiting bug.’
‘Shit,’ Kelly said.
‘Quite.’
‘CCTV?’ she asked.
‘None. And no witnesses. Plenty of people saw the pile-up and the aftermath, but everyone was concentrating on the state of her car, and no one saw the driver leave, or whether he was injured. What are you up to today?’ he added, as if she might be meeting a friend for tea and cake. It was a weird situation. She’d been in Matt’s company for three long days, shoulder to shoulder, living and breathing a joint investigation, and it was surreal being on the phone to him every five minutes now. She knew she should tell Johnny, but she didn’t know when to do it, and how, or even why. It was irrelevant, but not.
‘I’m interviewing Graeme Millar. What did Leo Brown’s aunt say?’
‘She hasn’t seen him in years. We did a cursory search: no antique racing shells or anything worth anywhere near half a million quid. How is it up there in the sticks?’
‘Fuck off.’
She stopped at some traffic lights close to Keswick and glanced sideways. Her heart stopped as she recognised Dave Crawley in the driver’s seat of a Land Rover. He was staring at her, and she froze. Her exes seemed to be crawling out of every crack at the moment. She felt vulnerable and shifted in her seat. The lights changed and she willed the traffic in front of her to move forward. His gaze was still fixed on her in a hateful scowl; she was glad of the protection of the car.
He’d gone to prison because of her, but he deserved to be there. She was only doing her job. Still, the look on his face made her question her sanity. The traffic freed up and she pulled away. He turned off in a different direction and she breathed a sigh of relief, but she noticed that her hands were shaking. Adrenalin hitting her stomach made her feel queasy, and she pulled off the road at the next petrol station to buy a full-sugar Lucozade to calm her nerves. Her armpits were sweaty and she looked over her shoulder several times.
The first slug of the cold, sugary liquid soothed her, and she put her head against the steering wheel and closed her eyes. She knew that her job made her a target for irate criminals. Being banged up was the end of the game for somebody like Dave. She was also acutely aware of how going against the tide of ingrained belief and hearsay in a small community like theirs took balls. To an outsider, or a criminal pinned down by the wealth of evidence she threw at them, she came across as just that: ballsy and indomitable. But inside, she was just a normal human being. Sometimes she hated finding out the things she did, but it didn’t change the fact that bad people should be held accountable. She told herself to hold her nerve. She could always get a restraining order against him; any magistrate would do that for her. It was common in cases like this where perps were released early, vowing revenge. Not that Dave had done that, but he’d looked at her like somebody who wanted to kill her, and she knew it would ruin the rest of her day.
Graeme was waiting for her at the marina. His demeanour had changed dramatically since the last time she’d seen him. It looked like all the humour had drained from him: he wasn’t his usual happy, casual self at all.
‘Hi, Kelly. Do you want a cuppa?’ He smiled, but not with his eyes.
‘No thanks, Graeme, I’m good. Can we go somewhere private?’
He nodded and led her through the back entrance to a yard that his staff used for smoking. There was a tin ashtray, full of fag butts. They sat on plastic chairs. The yard was in sunshine, and it was pleasantly warm.
Kelly got out a pad and pencil. ‘Do you mind if I take notes?’
‘Is it formal?’
‘I’m afraid the detective in charge of the case is breathing down my neck about some unanswered questions, and I’ve got some of my own too.’
‘Right. What about?’
‘I’m not going to lie to you, Graeme, it looks bad. If I have to take you in, I will. At the moment, no one is requesting your arrest, but it stinks.’
‘What? What the hell are you talking about?’
‘I believe you’re working for Sebastian Montague-Roland?’
‘He asked if I could project-manage the refurbishment of Allerdale House.’
‘The place doesn’t even belong to him.’ It was a slight massaging of the facts, but up until recently – and perhaps not until she read the documents – it was true.
‘What?’ It was genuine shock.
Dave Crawley’s face came back to her. She hoped Graeme wouldn’t let her down like Dave had. She studied him and tried to find signs of truth or deceit; she could detect neither.
‘How many times have you been to the house?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Isn’t it a little convenient that you saw some men posing as surveyors? Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I found a dead body; it was nothing to do with the house then.’
‘Do you know Leo Brown?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know Tilly Knight?’
He opened his mouth.
‘I see. Where is she, Gr
aeme?’
‘How do you know her?’ he asked, avoiding the question.
‘She was the last person George spoke to from Allerdale House before he was killed.’
‘She didn’t tell me that.’
‘What else did she forget to tell you? Do you know where she is now?’
‘Safe.’
‘What?’
‘There were some suspicious guys hanging around her guest house, and when I went up to her room, it had been turned over. They took her laptop; it has everything on it that she was working on.’
‘What did George tell her?’
‘I’m not really sure. All I know is that she’s terrified, and it has something to do with what they were doing in some lab in London. She said that Alex told her—’
‘Alex? She’s been in contact with Alexandros Skarparis, in Cyprus?’
‘Yes.
‘Jesus. You have to tell me where she is, Graeme. If you withhold the information, you could get into a lot of trouble.’
‘It sounds like I’m in trouble already. I’m quite happy to be hauled into a cell if it means she’s safe.’
‘Don’t be an idiot. You’ve only known her for five minutes.’
‘So what?’
Kelly saw then that he really cared for her. Perhaps their relationship was genuine, on his part at least. It was touching, and she softened.
They sat in silence for long minutes.
‘I asked an old sailing pal of mine to look out for some of the goods that were stolen from the boathouse up at Allerdale House.’
‘How do you know about that?’
‘Everybody knows! Anyway, Sebastian said he wants to replace the antique oar boat, though not in not so many words. He’s not the sharpest tool in the drawer. I think he genuinely thought I wouldn’t put two and two together. I know quite a lot of people in the sailing industry; he asked me to source a replica, without actually telling me that his Grandfather’s had been stolen.’
‘Do you think he was involved with what happened to George?’
Graeme looked away, then back to her. ‘He’s difficult to work out, you know? He acts like the dim laird, but he’s shrewd. He lives and breathes money. I’ve never seen him show interest in anything else other than acquisition.’
‘You know he wasn’t even supposed to get the money. It was all put in trust.’ She watched Graeme’s face.
‘Jesus.’
‘You seem shocked. Why is that?’
‘He’s never really shown any… you know… emotion about what happened to George. It’s as if it was an inconvenience. I also get the impression that his grandfather didn’t approve of his lifestyle, so it’s perhaps not surprising to anyone but him that he’d be cut out of his inheritance.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s gay, Kelly.’
‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’ She made a note to look into the old peer’s voting history on homosexual legislation. ‘Has your sailing friend got back to you yet?’
‘Yes. He gave me the name of a small business in London.’ He looked at his phone. ‘The name meant nothing to me, so I saved it for you.’
He showed her the screen, and she jotted down the name, not letting on that it was familiar to her. ‘Have you made contact?’ she asked. He shook his head.
‘You know Sebastian never locks the doors up there? I told him he should, but he still doesn’t, not even after the burglary and murder. That’s odd, don’t you think?’
‘In what way?’
‘Do you know any homeowner who takes violation like that so lightly? It’s his property – well, at least that’s what everyone thinks – and George Murphy was supposedly a friend of his grandfather’s.’
She shook her head.
‘So. Where is she?’
He didn’t reply.
‘George paid her ten thousand pounds.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘Then she’s definitely better off staying where she is.’
‘Let me talk to her,’ Kelly said. ‘Go on, call her and tell her who you’re with. She should have worked out by now that we want to speak to her.’
‘But you can’t protect her.’
‘Of course we can, and if she puts me in touch with Alexandros, I can protect him too.’
He made the call.
While Kelly waited, Matt called and she answered. He told her that Tilly Knight had been positively ID’d by a uniform stationed outside George’s house on Tuesday, but she’d given her name as Madeleine Cromer and had done a very good impression of a concerned friend.
‘I think I might have found her,’ Kelly said.
‘Let me know when she’s in custody.’
‘We have a problem. She’s terrified, and I’ll need to set up some kind of house protection.’
‘Do it.’
She hung up and listened to Graeme speaking. He passed her his phone.
‘Tilly?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is DI Kelly Porter. You’ve caused us some headaches trying to find you. I need to speak to you.’
‘I know. I don’t feel safe. Did Graeme tell you what happened?’
‘Yes, and I’ve just spoken to my boss about getting you some protection. I need to make contact with Alex as well. He’s likely in danger too and he has nothing to fear by speaking to me. I can fly him out of the military base and have him safe by the morning.’
‘Will Graeme bring you to me?’
‘I’ll arrange it. Thank you.’
She handed the phone back to Graeme, then closed her notepad. The name she’d jotted down from his phone regarding the racing equipment was Brenda Light, from Marine Light Nautical Antiques. Leo Brown’s aunt. She also knew that Leo had served with Graeme, albeit very briefly, in 1997. Graeme had been a young and inexperienced second lieutenant back then. He’d also been Brown’s platoon commander. She would discuss that with him in the car.
But first she tasked Eden House with an alert to all units to look out for the two men suspected of turning over Tilly Knight’s hotel room, who could possibly still be in the area.
Chapter 38
Kelly used the journey to get more information out of Graeme. She was confident that he wasn’t involved with George’s murder, though she had no proof for that just yet. But what he’d said about Sebastian had stoked her interest and she wondered if he’d been pinned down in London yet. It was only a matter of hours since she’d last spoken to Matt about it. She dialled Rob Shawcross at Eden House and asked if the warrant that had been secured by Emma Hide was ready yet.
The answer was not what she wanted to hear. The firm of solicitors was now saying that the dispute was no longer company business and they’d have to speak to a separate legal department. It was maddening. All they needed was a copy of the original will.
She listened to Graeme talking about his little cottage, and why he’d chosen to take Tilly there. After his divorce, he had taken some of the equity from the family home and bought a tiny stone dwelling in Bampton Grange, just north of Haweswater. It was miles away from anywhere, but an epic base for the best walks in the National Park, and it was all his. It had two open floors, a range in the kitchen, and one bedroom. He said the solitude had provided therapy at the time as he’d pondered what to do with his life. Eventually he’d worked through his feelings of grief and betrayal and had seen a vision of what his future might look like, but even though he’d bought a flat in Portinscale, he couldn’t bear to get rid of the cottage. Now, when he didn’t have the girls staying with him, he went there to think and to walk quiet trails. He’d nearly told his ex-wife about it, but had second thoughts. It was as if it was somehow symbolic of how he’d survived without her.
It was a lengthy explanation and it made Kelly re-evaluate Graeme. The depth and confidence he showed impressed her. He spoke like a survivor, and she guessed the divorce had been extremely painful.
‘You must trust her,’ he said.
‘Tilly?’
He nodded. ‘You’ll understand when you meet her. I’ve never met anyone so passionate and driven.’
It was what Johnny said about Kelly.
She drove expertly along the tiny twisting lanes, passing Haweswater reservoir. She felt a pang as she thought of little Lottie Davis, who’d gone missing there so many years ago. The family had been walking along the gnarly shoreline and Lottie had been playing hide-and-seek with her brother. She gripped the steering wheel tighter.
They spotted Lowther Castle in the distance, sitting majestically among the trees. She’d never been there. This side of the Lake District was gentle and rolling, the dry-stone walls weaving across bright green fields for miles. Tourists rarely ventured over this way. Soon Graeme told her they were almost there. She’d never been to Bampton or Bampton Grange. The village itself was tiny and charming. Rolling fields surrounded stone cottages and the narrow roads were deserted. She imagined it must be hell for a journalist sniffing a story to be holed up here. The irony.
Graeme told her where to park. He looked about furtively.
‘Does she have any idea who might want to hurt her, or who might have her laptop?’
‘No. She just knows that whoever it is killed George and his work colleagues.’
‘What makes her so sure?’
‘Why don’t you ask her yourself?’
He took a key from his jeans and walked down a pretty path to a cottage standing on its own. The garden was mature and well looked after. The curtains were closed. Inside, it was stuffy and warm.
‘Graeme?’ a female voice shouted down the stairs. It had an edge of panic: the woman was scared indeed.
‘Yup. I’ve got Kelly with me.’
They heard footsteps, and a petite woman wearing sweatpants and a sloppy jumper padded down into the main reception room. Her face was fresh and she smiled warmly at Kelly, who offered her hand. Graeme said he’d put the kettle on.
‘So, Tilly, we’ve been looking for you. You obviously thought you’d take matters into your own hands. I think my priority now that I know where you are is contacting Alexandros. We desperately need to talk to him.’
Bold Lies Page 19